RPlog:Vornskr Attack

Cleared Area (Before Main House) - Karrde's Base - Myrkr

Central to the base is this open area between the main buildings is this open expanse, with its meticulously trimmed bluish-green grass and the occasional dotting of wildflowers. When necessary this area can be used for anything from special (and discreet) picnic-type gatherings to the organization of certain cargo before and after shipping. Often the clearing is the location of Karrde Group employees exercising, playing some simple lawn games, or simply enjoying the outdoors in between duty shifts. The main house is just to the southeast of the clearing; far to the west is the hanger, while the barracks are situated against the trees to the north.

The Players:

Simon: Before you is a young human male of average height and narrow build. His hair is a deep brown, parted and cut short. A strong jawline and deepset eyes of blue-gray give the man a stern look at a glance. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: aware. Simon is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Strapped diagnolly across his chest and back is what appears to be some sort of harness. It's worn in the way some people wear a bandolier, yet there is nothing attached to the device. A long shaft of cylinder rises over his left shoulder, a rod sheathed where some warriors sling their sword. Orson: This stocky human male stands at only about five feet, thick arms, chest and fingers making up somewhat for his diminutive height. Dark hair is kept in a utility-conscious style, clipped short to his round skull - prominent specks of white hair pepper the sides. A too thick brow and angled face help the impression of heaviness about the figure; the face is complete with a broad nose and large square teeth that appear to be just a little crooked when his wry smile reveals them. Small folds of skin around his eyes and mouth indicate more years than his vigorous face would otherwise show. He is wearing fur pants, white, bordering on cream, large and billowing at the legs. A black tank top covers his thick barrel chest; while fit and stout, he is not overly muscled. A gray scarf encircles his waist, evening the dark and light on the man and helping keep his clothes in place. It has been knotted on one side and trails almost all the way to the ground. Soft-soled but thick boots cover his feet. An oversized set of goggles are strapped to his head, stretchy material securing them in an 'X' shaped band around the back of his skull. The lenses are tinted rose red. Jessalyn: The composure of this young human woman is probably the most striking thing about her. Though otherwise unassuming, her expression is one of surprising coherence and calm, belied only by the slightly mischievous gleam in her leaf green eyes. Shining dark red hair falls in unruly silken waves down to the middle of her back, framing her wide cheekbones and smooth, pale skin not as fragile as most redheads'. She is relatively tall for a human woman, with long-boned limbs and a natural grace amplified by her skills. Jessa is dressed in a drab green sleeveless shirt, and a pair of kakhi pants with plenty of pockets. Around her waist is a black leather utility belt. Her hair is held back from her face and clipped behind her head, though stray curling locks continue to fall into her eyes. The fit of her trousers and the sturdy brown suede boots on her legs emphasize her narrow waist and the long-legged rhythm of her strides. Toby: Unstyled, yet not unkempt dark hair crowns this human male's head. It has not been cut in some time, but is not long. Gray eyes that would ordinarily be piercing instead have a sort of soft glow. His jaw, not strong enough to be considered square, is clean shaven. The man tops out at about two meters, but despite his size doesn't carry the scowl and confident stride of many "tough" men of many species throughout the galaxy. Instead he walks slowly, breathing in the smells of whatever planet he happens to be on and drinking in the sights through his eyes.

Synthetic leather boots show scuffs of wear and the dust of travel on many worlds. The beige pants he wears appear to be built for action. Brown, ribbed pads cover the knees and thighs, a part of the pants. A black utility belt fastens the pants securely to him, a data pad snugly in a holster. His brown, long-sleeved tunic fits close against his torso, but not tightly. A black undershirt completes his garb.

Drew: Drew is a tall, leggy blonde. You know the type; legs up to her chin, arms down to her ankles, lots and lots of crazy blonde hair. Her bedroom eyes are of a grayish, peridot green, her skin is a peachy tan, and her nose is heavily freckled. The hair is of a honey color, in artfully disheveled waves down to her shoulders. She's past her teens, and probably most of her twenties too, but it's hard to tell with her. She has the kind of body an athlete would have, good shoulders, a narrow waist, and coltish limbs. Her cheeks have a constant blush to them, much like some who live in cold weather; her nose seems to have been broken sometime, it is a tad long and slightly hooked.

She wears a standard spacer's outfit. Comfortable brown pants reinforced at the knee with darker leather, tucked into soft ankle boots and a tan, stretchy shirt. If weather and situation call for it, she carries a blaster in a shoulder holster under a dark brown leather jacket.

The early morning dew clinging to the grass also dampens the tips of Jessalyn's boots as she trudges alongside Simon through a narrow path winding its way into the forest outside Karrde's base. She was a little braver about venturing this far with a lightsaber now at her side once more, considering the curious Force bubbles that impaired her senses. Especially her defensive ones.

She's quiet for the most part until she pauses to stoop next to the path, nudging the bud of a flower with a fingertip, and glancing up at the still dimly lit sky. "They're not going to open till the sun is further up," she says with a disappointed sigh. "I want to pick some to put in the barracks. It's so dreary in there." The mindless chatter distracts her from the more serious issues facing them; enough has been said for now, and she would rather focus on more mundane things, at least for the moment. Straightening back up, she brushes off her knees and looks over at Simon.

Yet another new staff is in Simon's hands as he and Jessalyn make their way through the thick, lush growth. It was easy for the Selas to lose himself in the feel and scent of the trees. Sunlight streams through the umbrella of leaves above in rays, framing Jessalyn in a a golden aura from Simon's perspective. He watches as she bends toward the green, still folded flower. If the rest of the galaxy were to fade away into nothing and leave just the two of them here, in this place, alone, Simon would die a contented man.

He takes a step toward the Jedi as she speaks to him, careful not to damage any of the undergrowth with his staff. He says, "It is only dreary when you are away, Jessa." In his mind, he sees Drew frowning at him for his words and directness. He quickly adds, "That is to say, you..." He trails off, at a complete loss for words. Well, he was a warrior, not a poet.

The trail curves down into the forest, moving deeper into the thick woods. The path is barely trodden but clear, obviously maintained by Karrde and his people but rarely used. It's near enough the compound that a very occasional glance will land on the camp through the trees. The path rides the ridges and wrinkles of the land, banking to one side or another in a man-made effort to keep from having to remove very large tree specimens. The heavy fronds of some abundant dark purple plant hang into the pathway.

This morning, wispy fingers of mist still float along the trail, reluctantly creeping back into the wood as the day becomes progressively warmer. There are enough of them to swirl and play about the couple's legs.

A sinister echo filters down the path: some sort of dry cackle-purr, a heavy whump, and a human voice giving an abbreviated yell. The sounds of something crashing through the underbrush, and then the cry repeats itself. "Help! Arh!" On this morning, in these woods, warriors were far more valuable.

While the forest is still quiet, Jessalyn smiles at Simon's somewhat clumsy attempt at complimenting her. Fighting back a little embarrassment, she brushes her hair out of her eyes in an attempt to disguise her blush. "You're trying too hard," she teases, taking a step towards him at the same time the disturbance can be heard off in the woods. She straightens her back and turns in the direction of the sound, reaching involuntarily to grab at Simon's arm, body tensed and poised to run. "What was that? It sounds like a person."

Self-reproach is lost to the sound of the cry, and Simon stiffens, an echo to Jessalyn's reaction to the sound. His knuckles crack as his right hand clenches his staff severely, and his eyes turn immediately in the direction of the disturbance. Once more, he wishes again for his connection to the True Source to return, cursed as it may be.

Taking the hand Jessalyn had put on his arm in his left, Simon pulls on the red haired woman in an effort to get her to follow him. Before tearing off toward the sound of the cry, he yells, "Quickly! This way!"

Drew hears Simon's yell, over Orson's scream down the path. She bursts through the door to her room to see Simon and Jessa running past. "What! What is it?" she yells past them.

And then, a sharp cracking sound and another scream, preceeded by a deep, gurgling, growl and two blaster shots fired rapidly in succession. Avian creatures, startled by all this fuss, leave their roosts above with little hops and lazy flaps of the wing. A few more of Karrde's operatives wander into the clearing before the wooded path, straining for a look into the woods. And bringing weapons.

Though she hears the cries of the other operatives leaving the base at the sound of the disturbance, the screams and blaster shots tell Jessalyn there is no time to waste -- especially when she realizes whose voice it is doing the screaming. "It's Orson!" she screams out, hoping those back at the base will hear her. Following in full pursuit behind Simon, who pulls her along after him, she unclips her lightsaber with her free hand, igniting it before they reach an area where the vegetation has been clearly crushed underfoot by something very large.

Orson. Knowing who it was did not really change anything for Simon, though he did spare a thought for the sounds coming behind he and Jessa. Would knowing that it was Orson affect their decision to come help or not? He knew full well that there were some within Karrde's compound that felt Orson was responsible for the troubles that had come to them. Would they forget their honor and avoid risking their necks for one suck as Orson? Or would they live, and perhaps die, as real men?

The snap-hiss of Jessalyn's weapon brings Simon's thoughts back to the matter at hand, and his eyes trace the expanse of the destruction of the undergrowth. It didn't look like a human had done this, nor anything else that stood upright on two feet. Good. Without the True Source, neither Simon nor Jessalyn would be much good against blaster fire.

Drew doesn't have to hear Simon or Jessa's reply to the question she yelled out at them, if there was one. She heard the loud noises for herself once she was outside her room. She runs right behind them, pulling her heavy blaster out of its holster. There isn't much to think about beyond getting to Orson quickly, except for how much she wished this /wasn't/ happening.

Cluttered with heavy underbrush and tangles of roots, this small clearing lies just off the path in a shallow depression of earth. Naturally bordered by massive trees and wall-like structures of roots, Orson is crouching with his back against a tree trunk, a very narrow stick - a twig - in his hand, fending off a too-large beast. Shiny black and hungry, or angry, a large specimen of vornskr stands crouched in front of Orson, narrow dot-like red eyes keen on the short man's bloody shoulder. Rows of teeth jutting out at odd angles clip together as it lunges forward, just barely restrained by Orson's frantic jabs. The vornskr whips its tail back and forth, the long poisonous barb on the end whistling dully through the air. It turns a tiny ear in the direction of the approaching group, but seems more intent on Orson for the moment, and lifts a set of sharp claws on the mechanic again. A small blaster lies in the wet grass beside the path.

Had Jessalyn been able to tap the Force, she would have been able to consider other options than attacking, that are open to a Jedi. She frowns in frustration as she sees Orson cornered among the massive root structure, her lightsaber awkward in her hand without benefit of the Force. She lets go of Simon's hand and charges into the clearing to flank the vornskr, giving an angry shout in an attempt to distract it from its prey.

Toby walks slowly, the pace of a man on a nature hike. He hears the commotion and starts to scan the area for the source.

The Jedi and the Selas arrive upon the commotion of the huge beast, and are nearly too late. As Jessalyn moves around with her blue-green blade of light, Simon breaks off to head to the other flank, his brow drawn into a tight frown. The vornskr didn't appear to give Jessalyn or Simon a thought. Saliva drips from the creatures fangs. It draws back away from Orson for a moment, drawing into itself like a coiled spring, then launches itself at the mechanic with cunning, lethal speed.

Reflexes take over, and Simon moves. With two quick, running steps, he plants his staff into the earth and uses it like a pole vault, launching himself at the bulkiest part of the vornskrs body. A few centimeters short of the creature's claws striking Orson's chest, Simon's soft booted heals connect with the vornskr's underbelly, knocking its attack away and causing both he and the vornksr to roll bodily in the leaves at Orson's feet.

Drew arrives a few seconds after the two, to see Simon launch himself at the vornskr. With two Jedi fighting the thing at such close quarters, and her holding a blaster, maybe she shouldn't be shooting at the thing. Not from a spot where she could miss, anyway. And there is Orson, bleeding. She runs to him, in an attempt to help him get out of the way of the monster. Can he walk? She gasps, "Orson, c'mon.."

The mechanic shrinks back, thrusting his twig uselessly at the beast and steeling himself for what, from his perspective, is going to be a very painful if not mortal wound. He blinks a few times from behind his goggles, face moist with sweat as the animal is suddenly not there. As Drew skitters in along to his side, he swats her reflexively, the thick reed-like twig whacking her on the shoulder. "Drew!" Orson yells, completely surprised, falling back against the root walls, feet slipping beneath him. Bright red blood runs in a narrow river down his opposite arm, leaking from a slash which extends from collar bone to arm.

The vornskr cackles in a huff as Simon strikes it, whumping the ground heavily and sliding from the force of the blow. But it twists and rights itself with cat-like agility, narrow limbs spread wide to take in this whole scene. A more attractive target is found in Simon; while it'll have to work a bit more, the Selas has sent its Force-detectors buzzing. No time for Jessalyn at the moment, but its shifting gaze is obviously wary of the flashing blade.

Watching as Simon and the vornskr go rolling into the brush, Jessalyn doesn't even hear herself screaming out his name. Obliquely aware that Drew has rushed to Orson's aid, she grips the hilt of her lasersword in both hands and acts on pure instinct and adrenaline as she leaps over the underbrush toward the vornskr, the bright blade waving aggressively in her clumsy hands. She lands between the beast and its target, crouching and poised, waiting for the thing to attack.

Toby takes off at a run, quickly assessing the situation. He sees Orson on the forest floor, bleeding. He slides a blaster pistol out of a hidden holster under his tunic. Identifying the assailant, Toby drops to a knee so as to not hit the growing armada around the mechanic. He snaps off a shot, a brilliant scarlet stream of coherent energy lancing out towards the wild beast. It flies by the animal's ear, sizzling as it scorches the skin. The vornskr lets out a howl, staggering forward slightly towards Orson, Drew, and Jessalyn.

As brave as he may have looked a moment before when he'd collided with the beast, Simon's rapid, backward scamper away from the vornskr looks like a terrified manuever. With his back parallel with the ground, he moves on his hands and feet, his eyes widening with fright as he looks into the face of the vornskr.

"Jessa! No!" He screams when the Jedi moves to rescue him. He rolls himself over onto his belly so as to push himself up to his feet. He grabs his staff off the forest floor and turns back around brandishing, his blue eyes locking into the heaving, thrashing monster. As the blast from Toby's whizzes by, he turns his head in the direction for the briefest of moments. That shot had been close.

Drew curls one arm around Orson's lower back and pulls him to his feet. She hastily asks, "Can you walk?" Doesn't seem like she cares though, as she practically drags him out of the way of the scuffle, big girl that she is. He should be able to keep up. She'll think about helping the Jedi out in a second, once she gets him out of there.

The vornskr tenses as Toby's poorly aimed shot nicks its ear, battle-primed and angry. Now, with all these people around, it switches from angry-hungry to angry-survive, and the beast flattens its stance, growling low and switching its look from person to person, swiping a sharp-clawed paw at anything close. Mean, and now ... cornered. The vornskr leans back and suddenly lunges, moving as if it will run at Simon, but then changing course quickly on the loose footing and looping its whip-like tail the other direction and angling its poisonous barb low and then up at Simon's chest with dizzying speed, slicing the air. That's all reflex for the animal though, and as it moves, it reverses course again to swipe at Jessalyn's side. Two Force-users at once, and then the animal can make it, if it can clear that band of blue-green light and the distant blaster.

"Argh!" Orson yells again, biting down on his lip. Drew would be more effective if she was a little shorter and could let him put his feet squarely on the ground. He makes the best of it, wrapping an arm around her and wielding his twig in his damaged arm like a sword, just in case. Drew deserved a bonus this month; if, for nothing else, to buy her some new clothes. Blood and dirt from Orson's body instantly stain them.

As Jessalyn watches the vornskr's tail whip toward Simon, she neatly anticipates and sidesteps the swiping of angry claws, and they whoosh through the air where she had stood a millisecond before. Her lightsaber blade curves in a graceful arc through the air to severe the barbed tail before it can impact the Selas's chest. There's a tremendous howl that shakes the tree limbs, and, frightened for what comes next, Jessa simply thrusts her lightsaber defensively in front of her as she staggers backward, tripping over a fallen tree trunk.

The vornskr clenches its teeth together, continuing to howl in pain and turns its attention to Jessalyn as she trips. Toby continues on a dead sprint towards the animal, throwing an approving glance at Drew dragging Orson away. "Hey!" he all but snarls at the vornskr to distract it. Almost as vicious as the beast, Toby's challenge to it is completely out of character to those who know him. The vornskr, more interested in the Jedi, snarls at Toby and turns so that its attackers are on both sides instead of in front and behind and begins to back up, suddenly without a tail and on the defensive.

As Jessalyn watches the vornskr's tail whip toward Simon, she neatly anticipates and sidesteps the swiping of angry claws, and they whoosh through the air where she had stood a millisecond before. Her lightsaber blade curves in a graceful arc through the air to severe the barbed tail before it can impact the Selas's chest. There's a tremendous howl that shakes the tree limbs, and, frightened for what comes next, Jessa simply thrusts her lightsaber defensively in front of her as she staggers backward, tripping over a fallen tree trunk.

The vornskr clenches its teeth together, continuing to howl in pain and turns its attention to Jessalyn as she trips. Toby continues on a dead sprint towards the animal, throwing an approving glance at Drew dragging Orson away. "Hey!" he all but snarls at the vornskr to distract it. Almost as vicious as the beast, Toby's challenge to it is completely out of character to those who know him. The vornskr, more interested in the Jedi, snarls at Toby and turns so that its attackers are on both sides instead of in front and behind and begins to back up, suddenly without a tail and on the defensive.

Simon sees the tail coming toward him, but his feet are planted too firmly on the ground, and he can't twist or turn enough to get out of the way. His life flashes before his eyes. He closes those eyes tightly shut, wincing before the impact should come. At the sound of the creature's cry, he opens one eye hesitantly, then blinks when he sees the neatly cauterized wound where the tail had been.

Seeing Jessalyn fall encourages him to move again. Holding the staff like a spear, with one end directed toward the vornskr, Simon circles over to offer a hand to help Jessalyn up. Should the vornskr try and leap, he should be able to press it out of the way with his staff. Should.

Well. It's either that, or carrying him. "Well, can you?" Drew says through gritted teeth, once she sees their predicament. Maybe she was a bit overzealous in her role of the rescuer. She continues to drag anyway, regardless of Orson's comfort. She yells out at whoever could be around... Anyone with a medkit? She belatedly notices that the words never quite made it out of her mouth.Again, she tries, louder. "Anyone with a medkit?! He's bleeding..."

The vornskr relies on its forward motion to carry it past Jessalyn, stunned and hurt from the loss of its tail. Its snickering growl is suddenly silenced, punctuated by a harsh yelp. It pauses and sways in its stance, expressive red eyes watering from pain. It turns and leaps for the root wall where it had originally pinned the small mechanic, clearing several meters through the air on a whim. It hits the top of the wall and scratches madly, scuffling over the top of that tangle and hopping over the top of the roots, its neatly bobbed tail disappearing without a look back. Like heavy equipment retreating through the underbrush, it bounces away, whimpering in its distinct voice.

"It's alright," Orson protests quietly, holding up his stick-sword in front of Drew to halt her progress. "I think I can walk." His speech is a little slurred and his head lolls just a bit, but he seems determined to help with the walking.

As the wounded creature disappears back into the forest, Jessalyn reaches up with one hand to grasp Simon's, levering herself up. She had come closer to severing her own arm with her lightsaber when she fell than she wants to admit, but luckily the device deactivated, and she re-attaches it to her belt as she stares wide-eyed after the vornskr, her hand shaking now as she clings to his hand. "Thank you," she says in a low voice, before glancing after the others and following them. "Come on, let's make sure Orson is okay."

Toby moves over to the wall to be sure of the animal's flight, pistol still in hand. Peering over tenatively on his tiptoes, he finally holsters the weapon and wipes his brow. He walks over to Orson and the others, a step behind.

Simon nods his agreement as he looks Jessalyn up and down, making sure she herself wasn't injured. Obviously, Jessalyn rated higher on his priority list than the near human mechanic that had saved their lives a couple of times. Seeing no obvious injuries on the woman, he turns his attention toward Orson and Drew, then toward the stranger with the gun.

As he and Jessalyn move up behind Orson and Drew, Simon keeps his eyes on Toby. He must have been the one that had fired the shot earlier. A meter or two one direction, it would have hit Jessalyn. It was a hard thought to put out of Simon's mind. Orson's blood staining his hands and clothes was enough to do it, though. Simon asks the obvious question, "Are you all right, ship captain Orson?"