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| - Under better circumstances, Dathomir might be considered a beautiful planet, covered in thick forests and grassy savannahs, snow-capped mountains and broad lakes. It has its fair share of less pleasant environs, as well, but fortune has smiled and brought this pilot's parachute to rest in a forest. Unfortunately, it's also the /night/ side of the planet on a chilly, foggy night, and the parachute has gotten extremely tangled in the criss-crossing branches of the forest's canopy. The tree cover is thick enough that the sky is all but blocked out, but the air tastes faintly of smoke and ozone from crashed craft. The trills and buzzing of insects float on the air, accompanied by the sound of running water - a river, maybe. Breathing heavily from the adrenaline still rushing through his veins, Raxis grunts and looks up to make sure his parachute is connected to the trees securely, and then naturally looks downwards, pulling his pen-light from his utility belt. Turning it on, he points it downwards to get an idea of how far above the ground he is. It's difficult to tell for certain, but it looks like it might be between an eight or ten foot drop to the gently sloping ground below. On the plus side, it's covered in soft-looking grass, and there don't appear to be any critters lingering beneath the tree. "Damnit..." Raxis sighs, looking about. Breath forming to fog in the dark, he looks to the side for a tree to climb down. Reaching out to a nearby tree with a grunt, he starts to swing himself lightly in the direction of the boney tree, fingers extended. The parachute is tangled between enough different branches that the weight is pretty well distributed, so the swinging doesn't cause more than a rustling of leaves in complaint. The tree is a bit damp from the fog, but getting a handhold doesn't prove too difficult. A little awkward, but far from impossible. With a grunt, Raxis' fingers slip around a branch and he pulls himself to rest upon it. Releasing the buckles and tie cords to disconnect his parachute, he clicks his locator beacon on and pulls the emergency kit off of his back. Pulling out his flashlight, he flips it on and begins to take a look around. The ground seems quiet. Perhaps the ruckus of the crash drove whatever wildlife that was in evidence into hiding. The tree Raxis is now perched in is one of many in a thick forest that extends seemingly for miles in all directions, covering a long slope. Between the branches, the light catches on something in the distance, but whatever it was is soon blotted out of sight by rustling leaves. "Oh for the love of..." Raxis curses, pulling his heavy Bryar pistol out of its holster. Panning in the direction of the rustling leaves with the pistol in one hand, braced against the flashlight much like a security officer would. Eyes narrowing, he keeps his ears sharp for sounds, opting not to drop to the ground until he feels safer about his surroundings. The light catches something again, but this time, it holds it - two eyes, an unfortunate shade of red. Whatever they belong to, it's staying still and staring directly towards the light, but the leaves around it are still rustling. In fact, the rustling seems to be slowly spreading out in a wide arc around Raxis' tree. "...was better off with the fleet." Raxis grunts, pulling a flare out of his pack. Slamming it against his hip, it ignites with the smell of burning sulfur and an intense flare of light. With more radial light to his advantage, he quickly scans beneath him at the movement, and clicks his blaster's safety off, ready to fire. "If you're sentient respond to me, I come in peace." Raxis calls out, looking around. When the flare lights up, the rustling very suddenly stops. Although the more spread out light is fainter than the direct light of the flashlight, it's enough to catch a dozen more sets of red eyes staring out at the pilot from the trees, spread out in a U-shape where the opening is facing further up the slope. No response comes to the call, though the set of eyes the blaster is pointed towards leans out from the leaves, revealing the simian lifeform that they're attached to. A bit smaller than the average human, and a good deal fuzzier. "Do you have a language?" Raxis asks, realizing that there are many more of these nearby, and begins to desperately hope if this gets bad he has enough firepower for this situation. "I'm not here to hurt you." He adds, nodding to the simian. Gripping his blaster a little bit tighter, he keeps its bead on the approaching simian, keeping his flare held tight. A pair of the simians off to the side exchange a look before returning their attention to Raxis, the leaves of their trees rustling quietly as they shift their weight. The apparent leader of the pack, the one whom the blaster is aimed at, is silent a moment longer before letting out a loud shriek and slamming its fists against its branch. It's not Basic, but the others seem to understand it, and soon the air is full of shrieks and loudly rustling leaves as the simians begin a rather more... rapid and direct approach towards the pilot. Aiming to terrify, Raxis pulls back the trigger of his Bryar pistol, unleashing a booming blaster shot, aimed to whoosh right past the leader's head. Everything going from bad to worse, he squeezes the trigger again, readying a follow up shot on the leader if that doesn't stop him. The shots are close enough to singe the fur on the leader's head, and this time, it doesn't shriek - it snarls, the light catching its long, curved canine teeth. While that simian darts back into the trees, the others continue springing from branch to branch towards the pilot, sending the fog swirling as their hoots and shrieks echo into the night. In the distance, there's a loud noise muted by the trees as another ship crashes into the hillside. Turning, Raxis levels his blaster at the approaching simians, taking potshots from one simian to another as they bound towards him. His heart starts racing again, and he drops from the tree. Landing in a crouch he waves his flare like a torch to fend off a monster as he begins to move towards the sound of the crash. Two of the simians are hit, tumbling from the trees and hitting the ground with dull *whump*s. Shortly after Raxis hits the ground, five of the remaining creatures drop to the ground behind him to pursue from the ground, the leaves still rustling up above as the others move ahead up there - whatever they are, they appear to be pack hunters. The crash site is easier to find by sight. From the ground, light can be seen further down the slope, across the river that cuts through the trees perhaps fifty meters away. The light's source is a fire. Squeezing off another shot at one of his predators, Raxis turns and sprints towards the riverbank. His own breath streams behind him in the cold air as both he and a trail of smoke from his flare race towards his immediate exit. A campire meant sentients, and hopefully something he could communicate with. Legs pounding, he blind fires twice behind him to hopefully give the creatures a pause to follow. Narrowing his eyes as second by second the river nears, he growls and launches himself towards the bank on the other end. After one of the shots, there's a short shriek and the sound of something going tumbling - fortune smiled and one of the blind shots hit. While Raxis' speed is enough to catapult him the vast majority of the way across the water, the simians come screeching to a halt at the bank, the remaining five in the trees dropping down to join them in looking disappointed in the loss of their catch. The river is four feet deep... not enough to sweep Raxis away, but the smaller creatures would have no chance. The pilot's escape is a success. The fire in the distance seems too large to be a campsite, though, and the smoke that drifts up on the wind is dark and foul-smelling. There's an urgent banging coming from its direction, too, and another noise that's too muffled to clearly make out. Pausing for a moment, Raxis sighs and runs the thought of what to do through his mind. Leaving the flare on the ground, Raxis pulls out his flashlight and begins to creep slowly around the foliage in the direction of the campsite. Holding his breath and releasing it slowly, he keeps his blaster in hand. Fearing he's traded one bad situation for another, he presses forward. The closer Raxis comes, the louder the urgent banging gets, and it soon becomes obvious why - the fire /is/ the crash site. A battered X-Wing is spewing flames from its aft section, black smoke billowing out into the trees. The banging is coming from the fore of the ship, where the pilot's fists are bashing against the cockpit's canopy from the inside. "Oh hells yes..." Raxis smiles, rushing over to the cockpit of the Xwing. Taking a moment to assess the situation, he looks into the cockpit at the pilot and waves. Looking to the rear of the X-wing to check the status of the astromech, he kicks open the cargo hold of the X-wing to find the spare tools in hopes to help the pilot escape the X-wing. The pilot's expression flashes relief when he sees Raxis outside - but that doesn't mean he's done banging against the cockpit, particularly when Raxis vanishes from view. The astromech is... well... one of the things currently on fire. It won't be of any use. The cargo hold is close enough to the spreading flames that getting at anything inside it will be a challenge. Given the intensity of the fire, the ship could go up at any moment. No tools, no help from the astromech, Raxis has little time to waste. Decisively, Raxis turns to the X-wing's canopy and pulls on the manual external emergency release for the canopy. Grunting, he pushes all of his weight to freeing the pilot. "C'mon..." He grunts, pushing to lift it up. The release is a little warped from the crash, but it doesn't look like it's warped so badly that it won't lift. The pilot stops banging against the canopy and instead plants his hands against it and shoves as hard as he can to try and help, gritting his teeth. It takes a minute of solid shoving, but the canopy pops open under the assault from both pilots, leaving the human inside looking /very/ relieved. "Thank the Force!" he gasps, extending his hands towards Raxis. "Gimme a hand out of this thing?" The left leg of his flightsuit has a wet red stain on the thigh, but it doesn't look like it's too serious a wound. It'll slow him down, but he's hardly crippled. Taking the pilots hand, Raxis tugs to give the pilot his shoulder and help him down the nose of the X-wing and back to where his flare was. Limping the pilot, he keeps his blaster arm free as they move. "Spider, Falcon squadron." Raxis says in greeting to the pilot, still wearing his helmet for protective purposes. Nearing the flare, he sets the pilot down and pulls his small medical kit from the emergency bag and begins administering first aid. "Do you have a radio? Did you see anyone else come down on the way in? Got a weapon?" Raxis asks, keeping one eye on their surroundings. The pilot grits his teeth and limps along with Raxis, leaning gratefully on him. The rapid-fire question get a chuckle out of him as he drops down to sit in the grass, leaning back on his hands and coughing a few times before he replies. "Hotwire, the 234th," he replies, reaching up to tug his helmet off and drop it off to the side with a relieved sigh. "Radio's busted, 'fraid not, and back in the --" The pilot's words are cut off by an explosion back the way they came, and a brief chorus of wildlife calls that soon fade back into quiet. "...cockpit," the pilot finishes lamely. "Kark..." Raxis spits under his breath, looking over the wound. Putting the bag on the pilot's lap he takes out some of the spare bacta and spreads it over the wound and begins wrapping it. "Wildman from the Ghosts came down this way too, but I don't know what we've got to work with. We've got this bag, my gun...which is more than a marine would say we need, but we've got to find shelter." Raxis replies, looking over his work on the pilot. "Can you walk on it? Better yet, can you even move it on your own?" "I'll manage," Hotwire replies, teeth still clenched as Raxis tends to his wound. It's a good sized gash, but pretty shallow - the bacta and wrapping will probably take care of it just fine. "Once I find a decent walking stick, I'll be fine. Thank you," he says honestly, grinning tiredly at Raxis. As far as shelter goes, there are an awful lot of trees, and not much else. No caves, no real structures. A few twigs are carried downstream into the darkness by the river. "You'll owe me a beer when we get home. I thought I saw some women in the other direction." Raxis replies, musing a bit to keep the situation light. Sighing, Raxis looks up and scans around some more, keeping his blaster in his hand. "Okay, I'm not gonna nerf you. I got chased from the other side of that river by these...apes with teeth. They stopped and didn't seem to want to cross the river. I don't know alot about what to do but there's plenty of fire by your downed X-wing and if a rescue party comes, that's going to be where we want to be near." Raxis replies, handing the pilot the flare and yanking a warped stick out of the bushes. Helping the pilot up, he gives the man his walking stick. "We need fire and lots of it, unless you have a better idea. I've got a week's worth of food so if push comes to shove I can kill something..." "Beer and women. Sounds good," Hotwire replies brightly, beaming even as he's helped up to his feet. The grin helps hide the pained grimace. He accepts the flare with one hand and takes the stick with the other, testing its sturdiness with his weight, before he nods in satisfaction. "Look at this place.. there's bound to be something worth eating in this mess somewhere. It's alive," he says approvingly, taking a few labored steps back towards his crash site. "All I know is that if we stick near my boat, we wanna be upwind. We don't need to be breathing that crap in, it can't be healthy." "Yeah well upwind might carry our scent but it's going to at least have the fumes from the X-wing included. That might scare a few things off. Push comes to shove we can use debris to find wreckage or...if the force is -really- with us today...repair the radio and see if anyone down here's talking." Raxis replies, staying close to Hotwire as he enters the crash site's clearing with him, surveying the wreckage. "All your protons get spent?" He says, stopping to watch the large fire before them. "I'd rather worry about burning fuel..." The X-Wing isn't really an X-Wing anymore. The explosion tore the fighter apart and it is now scattered in its makeshift clearing in chunks of various sizes, some big - like the wings - and some small. Most of them are still on fire. "I'm not sure anything's in good enough shape to be used for repairs, unless you've got parts in tht bag," Hotwire says reluctantly, eyeing the wreckage with a mournful expression. "I was running on empty by the time I hit the ground, so that should be fine. I think the kaboom took care of the rest of it." "Allright...keep that flare up let's see what we've got here..." Raxis starts with Hotwire towards the upwind side of the wreckage. Finding a spot near some boulders, he pulls his gloves on. "Okay stand watch here..." He adds, pulling a large chunk of wing towards the area. "We've got water, a water purifier, some food...I'm going to make us a shelter and some fire. If you hear -anything- strange treat it as hostile..." He finishes with a grunt, dropping the wing portion and going back for another. "We can hold out a long, long time, especially with the clearing in the tree canopy the explosion made." Nodding, Hotwire keeps the flare up as he rests against one of the boulders, peering around at their surroundings while Raxis gathers up supplies and starts reciting what they have. "Sounds like we're in pretty good shape, considering," the pilot muses, his tone distracted as he keeps watch. "They'll come for us. We just have to be patient, but they'll come for us." "Damn right they will." Raxis replies, setting another piece down and starts a small shelter. "Look, I'm not going to jinx us...but I made it through the space battle, led a charge on three star destroyers, got shot down, survived, battled carnivorous apes and found another survivor. I've got a feeling that luck is on my side today and I'm not going to let that change." He adds, smiling as he wedges a large portion of a broken wing into the side of the boulder. "Damn right they're coming. Let's just hope there are Ewoks on this planet. I could use some friendly indigenous." "Ewoks are Endor, man," Hotwire laughs, grinning broadly as he straightens up to make room for the wing to be propped up. "There's bound to be somebody friendly out here, though. You saw this place from orbit, it's /gorgeous/. Paradise like this is bound to have nice folk somewhere." "Yeah...well let's hope they see the crash and come this way. In the meantime don't get comfy. Tree-dwelling carnivores also means there's a reason why they stay in trees. So I'm going to get enough wood to spread out a ring and maybe web in some traps because I don't know a damned thing about this place I've yet decided I liked." Raxis replies with a wry smile, setting the other portion of the wing in place. "When it gets light out we can find high ground." Hotwire moves his flare to try and get a better look at one of the larger pieces of wreckage, then looks up towards the sky - it's clear and full of stars... as well as the occasional light streaking across the sky to vanish in the distance. "If we want people, maybe we should follow the river downstream," he suggests. "It should lead out of the woods, and maybe it'll go near a settlement. Can worry about /that/ when it's light, though," he chuckles. "For all we know, someone'll find us before sun up." "It's a possibility. But if I know anything about critters, they tend to stay close to the water sources as well. Plus, I don't know what's -in- the water." Raxis replies, shoving the other wing into place, making a small lean-to. With a grunt, he wipes his hands off. "There...shelter. Yeah when it's light let's take a look around, leave messages of our passing. Last thing I want to do is accidentally fall into a mudslide or off a cliff. Safe over sorry. This groundpounder junk isn't my field." "If the boarding team got off in time, we've almost assuredly got ground pounders down here somewhere," Hotwire offers thoughtfully, regarding the makeshift shelter with an odd smile. He nods confidently, leaning against his stick and flinching slightly at the shift in weight. Even as an animal croons in the distance, the pilot is unworried: "We're gonna be fine, Spider." "Yeah well then maybe we should stay put. No use putting them on a wild bantha chase." Raxis replies, looking in the direction of the animal's crooning in the distance. Using a scrap of X-wing to dig a hole, Raxis puts a large amount of firewood in and lights it. Tossing Hotwire the blanket from his pack. "I'll take first watch, you keep that leg elevated." He adds, putting his helmet down beside a rock so that it can be propped. "I'll wake you up in a few hours." He adds, crouching in the dirt to stand guard for what promised to be a very long night.
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