Mandalorian Onslaught: Aurek

[Talespinner]

Vanquo, Republic Aid Station
VIE Miners' Mess Hall

Six standard months ago, this grimy mess hall would have been mostly empty. Today, it's packed.

Before the Mandalorians began ripping off chunks of the Outer Rim, this was a central supply depot for Vayl Industrial Extraction (VIE), the mining company contracted to supply Taris's hungry factories with ore. Then the stream of refugees began, thousands, tens of thousands, more. Refugee camps sprang up everywhere, battered and starving; there was never enough food to go around. Soon the miners began to simmer with resentment at these impoverished invaders.

The Republic response was, as usual, sluggish. Despite extensive holovid reporting of the sentient misery on Vanquo's surface, the Senate was hesitant to get involved in anything that might lead to war with the Mandalorians. It was only recently that the megacorporations of Taris petitioned for the Republic to defend their interests, earning Taris admission into the Republic and securing it a broad defensive corridor. Vanquo ended up inside that corridor, which only increased the refugee flood.

In a halfhearted response, the widely-stretched Republic Navy established a single aid station on Vanquo, taking over the VIE central depot. Surrounded by warehouses stacked with droid parts and high explosives, a skeleton crew of Navy personnel operates a perpetually packed soup kitchen, serving tasteless but nourishing military rations to an unending stream of skinny, hollow-eyed refugees. But they weren't equipped to serve so many, and the rations are already being rationed.

"Half portions only today," the protocol droid at the head of the line announces, and a groan of dismay ripples through the grubby crowd, many of whom have ribs clearly visible against their tight-stretched skin. The lone squad of Republic troops at the kitchen door grips their blasters a little tighter, wondering if today's the day they'll have to use them to prevent a run on the kitchen. The few miners eating in the mess, rough and tumble folk, grunt darkly and hunch over their own corporate rations.

The Aid Station is simmering with desperation, fear, and resentment. It wouldn't take much to send it over the edge.

[Miltonian]

Valik slipped into the depot quietly, trying to remain unobtrusive. The place stank of fear and anger, and in such a tinderbox, you had better slither carefully. She avoided the food line, kept a close eye on anyone getting too near her tools, and made her way towards the miners.

She knew a few of them, if not by name then by face. The high quality of her work tended to get her repeat customers, especially among those who relied on droids like many of the mining operations did. She could repair a droid faster and better than most specialists she knew of, with a few added modifications to make it more efficient if the customer wished. Still, in these desperate times, she was not sure if the miners would care to remember who she was and that she was not one of the refugees. Therefore, she adopted her polite, business-like attitude instead of a warmer, more familiar one.

"Good morning," she said smoothly, "I heard that some of your mining droids were having problems with their servomotors. I am here to make sure those are dealt with."

[Hazuki]

Ara leans against one of the walls of the Aid Station, dressed up like a Vanquo local in her heavy leathers and the thick cloth that's wrapped around her narrow frame. She has her helmet on, because she's not here for food. Not that she could stomach it with the overwhelming presence of desperation, hunger echoing out of the crowd, through the Force, and into her. If she really wanted to, if she really got hungry, she could rely on the Force to help her get a meal. But she wasn't going to steal from any of the folks out here - she could fake dignity enough to at least steal from someone richer than the poor miners and refugees.

But she does have something of a plan. She approaches the nervous Republic troopers with an easy gait, her hands far from any pockets or holsters. "Hello," she said, restraining herself from giving them the respect she was taught to grant among the Jedi. "Quick question for you. Any kind of wildlife around here? Edible kind. Figure you must have that stuff in your records."

[AvatarVecna]

Viim gets his half-portion without much complaint, pocketing the rations and getting out of the way. Thankfully he didn't tend to stand out a in a crowd, so he more or less ghosted around as just another one of the mass of refugees. After a few minutes of keeping an eye out, he spotted some ragamuffins thinner than they should be, and gifted them some of his food - ignoring his own rumbling gut for another day. He'd be fine, he always was.

[Thundercracker]

Brock Handor

Brock had been told there was a republic staging area here, not a refugee camp. As he looked around there, there didn't seem to be any any significant military force gathered here, just a small supply station and a whole lot of refugees fleeing the Mandalorians.
He frowned, perhaps his information had been incorrect?

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

Adira was watching from a corner table, her back against the wall and her were eyes scanning the room. These past few weeks have been hard--harder than they need to be anyways, but what can you do when the politicians are a bunch of sheep holding back the Republic's finest from doing what they signed up to? Not much. That's why she was sitting in this little dump and just waiting for the orders to come in to provide close air support or a bombing run or something, not just sit here twiddling her thumbs while those Mando bastards were killing good people for what? Honor? Glory? Conquest? She didn't know and she didn't care, but she did know this: This messhall was probably going to get violent here soon with all the disgruntled refugees and the overworked troops.

She pursed her fingers on her blaster as she sipped a glass of water, still watching the room. It was a shame that it was probably going to come to this, but these people were living in manufactured shelter buildings and getting skimped on rations. It wouldn't take much more than some guy with a bit of fire behind his words to get these people up in arms and she knew that, hence why she was just sitting in her corner and waiting for the sparks to fly. Such is life when you're stuck in some refugee camp instead of actually doing your job.

[Talespinner]

At first the miners clustered around the table looked up at the newcomer with thinly-veiled hostility, but that faded after a moment. They knew Valik; she'd made herself useful keeping their equipment running for a while now, and the looks on their faces showed how much they valued that. "Karking glad you earn your keep around here, Mourn," a grizzled Tw'lek woman offered with a respectful nod. "Not asking for handouts," she added, directing a glower at the refugees.

The Republic troopers stiffened as Ara approached, fingers tightening nervously around their worn blasters. "Not much wildlife left around here, miss," a freckled young lad finally replied. "Overhunting over the past few months. Some folks have been catching mynocks to eat when new shuttles land." He shrugged. "Can't say I'd recommend it, I hear they taste like garbage. I'd take your half-portion and wait for the supply shuttle to come in. We've submitted a logistics request."

The ration packets Viim collected were thin, greyish wafers smeared with a tan nutrient paste. They looked and smelled impressively unappetizing, but hungry eyes followed every set of them that made its way out of the kitchen. When the drifter passed them out to a few gaunt children, they stared at him in disbelief. Several snatched them and scuttled away, afraid he might change his mind. But one, a little Cathar tween with golden-brown fur, stayed to smile up at him.

"Thanks, mister," she said, and pressed something into his hand before hurrying away. It turned out to be a glow rod.

Spotting Adira's uniform, with its Lieutenant's insignia clearly visible, a pair of grubby humans dressed in ragged clothing hesitantly stepped up to her. "Um, please, miss... Officer... We, ah..." From behind the woman's legs, a small boy poked out his head to watch. He was far too skinny, and his skin was ashen. "Please, our son is sick. He's not getting enough to eat. He's losing so much weight, we're afraid that... well, we... Could we please have a little more? I know the miners have..."

Sitting at a neighboring table, a hulking Besalisk growled low in his throat, silencing the father. The heavyset miner turned slowly on his stool. "That's it, then," he hissed, towering over the pair even while seated. "You take our mess hall. You take our bunks. Now you're going to take food out of our mouths, too? We WORKED for our keep." With one meaty fist the alien scattered his empty tray across the room, the clatter drawing everyone's attention. The mess hall fell instantly silent.

A tall, powerfully built Cathar in ragged clothing stepped out of the crowd, shoving the half-risen Besalisk back into his seat. "You don't know what we've been through," she hissed, "or you'd have a little karking empathy! A big tub of fodder like you can't pass up one meal for a KID?!" Across the room, the miners at Valik's table rose instantly, hands closing around tools. Refugee hands tightened into fists, unarmed but furious.

The Republic troopers raised their blasters uncertainly, not sure where to point them. "Let's, uh, settle down..."

[Hazuki]

"Shame. Keep up the good work." Ara flashes a thumbs-up at the Republic trooper and leaves them with a stroll just as casual as her last. Not the kind of news she was hoping for, but, well, what did she expect? Hunting is hardly a novel concept. And the kind of people these miners are, well, it makes sense that they'd try to do something about their situation - work hard, get your rewards, job done.

But that positive view on them has taken quite the beating since she crash-landed and an example of why shows itself when one miner starts slamming his fist and causing a ruckus. Not the first time she's seen it happen, but not the last, and it's the kind of argument that sends her gut all twisted up. A better Jedi would be able to smooth this over with their words. A better person, too. All she has is one trick and the hope that it'll be enough for one more day.

"Easy," she says as she meanders towards the confrontation. "Nobody's going to come out of fighting any less hungry." She looks to the outraged miner, the apparent focus of the outrage and probably the focal point of all his friend's rage. "Don't you want to calm down before some good people get hurt?"

Using Mind Trick.

Taking 10 for 22.

[Miltonian]

Valik inclines her head towards the Twi'lek woman, though cannot seem to recall her name at the moment. A small smile tugs at the edges of her reptilian lips. "I would hope," she says, "That I am welcome not just because I do work, but also for the quality of my work. It is a matter of personal pride, after all, to a Sluissi."

She curls her lower body into a coiled-rope position, torso remaining upright in the middle. "Still, even the greatest skill is little good to a freelancer if the price of food continues to climb. Perhaps you would be willing to recommend me to your higher ups? They, at least, seem to be able to procure enough for you."

She uncoils quickly when the miners rise and fumbles with the grip of her sporting blaster, though doesn't draw it yet. Rather, she checks it, quickly tweaking it to her liking. A friend had convinced her to buy one, and the license for it, for a camping expedition a few years back. That felt like a lifetime ago. Now, it served as deterrent for anyone who might want to steal her credits.

Using a standard action to adjust my blaster to optimal firing calibration, just in case. Leaving it in the holster, though.

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

Adira shakes her head with a sigh of disappointment, ignoring the request for rations as she gets to her feet.

"Soldiers, lower your blasters; my name is Lieutenant Delarra of the Republic Navy and I think this can be settled peacefully," she orders before turning to face the group of disgruntled refugees.

"Allow me to make one thing clear to you all: If you so much as harm a hair on any of these soldiers' heads and you will be in violation of countless laws. I know you're probably thinking that it doesn't matter, because you're already hungry. Let me make something clear to you all: These men are trained for combat and will defend themselves. They are armed. You are not. And more importantly, even if you do win, you will ultimately be placed in Republic custody and likely summarily executed for your assaults or even murders of the people who are doing humanitarian work here today."

She takes a long pause to survey the situation before continuing.

"Rations are limited because food is running out. They are trying to ensure you have food to eat until supplies come in, because having a half-empty stomach is a lot better than having a completely empty one. Now then, I encourage you all to think carefully on your next moves, because if you harm these men, there will be no more supplies and you'll have the feast you so desperately crave until there's nothing left and then you'll simply waste away because none of you had the foresight to think more than a few steps ahead. I highly encourage you all to watch your tempers, lest things get worse for you than they already are."

[Thundercracker]

Brock Handor

Brock’s eyes widened at the Lieutenant’s words. Depending on how starving the refugees were, they were exactly the sort of thing which would incite a mass charge on the rations. Starving people didn’t care about next month, week, or even tomorrow. If they thought the food was running out, they’d do whatever they needed to do to survive another day. He knew from personal experience, if you were hungry enough, you’d take your chances charging blaster fire and dodging Republic law enforcement rather than face certain death... at least the ones who weren’t already dead would.

His hands inched towards his blasters in case he needed to defend himself.

[Talespinner]

Mid-stumble, all four hands curling into fists, the Besalisk's furious face suddenly went slack. "I want to calm down," he mumbled, fingers slowly relaxing, "before people get hurt." He slumped back in his seat, looking sullen and unhappy but no longer enraged. All eyes were off him anyway; everyone around the table was staring openly at Ara, particularly the hungry parents and the Cathar who had intervened. Poking his head out from behind his dad's legs, the skinny kid mouthed "Jedi?"

The broader situation still sat on a vibroblade's edge. As Valik and Brock thumbed their blasters, seeing how easily this crowd could turn, Adira's voice carried clearly across the mess hall. Panic flicked through desperate eyes at the threat of execution or starvation. The fight went out of some, but those words just stoked the rage in others. The freckled young Republic soldier standing by the door, sensing the change, felt rising panic of his own, and the muzzle of his blaster swung up.

"You heard her," he said, his attempt at authority undermined by a voice crack in the third word, "back off. You'll get your turn." The mother of the small child, clearly frustrated by the Lieutenant's decree, stormed over to him, dirty blonde hair streaming behind her, chin raised in defiance. "My son is dying," she spat, refusing to slow her march, "and you're going to make a fething exception to your rules."

It was hard to see what happened; the hall was packed. Different parties would report it differently in the aftermath. The troopers would claim the mother had grabbed for one of their blasters, and it'd gone off in the scuffle. Refugees standing nearby would claim that was poodoo, and she'd just raised a hand to gesture at the young soldier. All that those standing a little further away could tell was this: there was a flash, and the young woman spun to the floor with a burn up the left side of her ribs.

For an instant, no one moved. Then, a wordless scream of rage. Four refugees, armed with kitchen trays and improvised knives, rushed the troopers as the hall exploded into chaos. Most everyone else ran for the doors, trampling each other in the scramble. In seconds, one way or another, there would be violence... barring dramatic intervention.

[Thundercracker]

Brock Handor

As the mess hall erupted in chaos, Brock reacted quickly, overturning a table and ducking down behind it in case the republic soldiers started shooting into the crowd. He drew both pistols and waited to see what happened.

[AvatarVecna]

For the brief moment of calm, Viim's mind focused more on the Jedi woman than anything else. That touch of mental power, straightforward and perhaps mistimed as it was, was still more than he could really do right now. As the crowd erupted into chaos, the thought of the trooper's panicking and firing into the crowd gave him a bad feeling in his gut. But would attacking them more directly really solve anything here? He glanced at the Lieutenant, and the Jedi, who were much closer and could see what had happened better. What side would they be on?

A flipped table catches his attention and his legs carry him over behind it instinctively. He hunkers down behind it before registering the man, two pistols readied for whatever combat was about to ensue. Viim said nothing, preferring to get a sense for how things were developing without leaving his new cover (his passive awareness of his surroundings usually sufficient for such observation).

Moving behind cover, then Sense Surrounds.

UTF (DC 15): [roll0]

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

"Soldiers, shoot to incapacitate! No fatalities," she screamed at them as she ran over to the shot woman.

Adira knelt down beside her and pulled out her surgical kit to try to save this woman's life.

[Thundercracker]

For the brief moment of calm, Viim's mind focused more on the Jedi woman than anything else. That touch of mental power, straightforward and perhaps mistimed as it was, was still more than he could really do right now. As the crowd erupted into chaos, the thought of the trooper's panicking and firing into the crowd gave him a bad feeling in his gut. But would attacking them more directly really solve anything here? He glanced at the Lieutenant, and the Jedi, who were much closer and could see what had happened better. What side would they be on?

A flipped table catches his attention and his legs carry him over behind it instinctively. He hunkers down behind it before registering the man, two pistols readied for whatever combat was about to ensue. Viim said nothing, preferring to get a sense for how things were developing without leaving his new cover (his passive awareness of his surroundings usually sufficient for such observation).

Moving behind cover, then Sense Surrounds.

UTF (DC 15): [roll0]

Brock Handor

“Hi there, I’m Brock,” Brock said over the rising commotion. He chanced a peek over the top of the table before ducking back down.
“When I woke up this morning this is not what I expected, how about you?” he asked.

[AvatarVecna]

Brock Handor

“Hi there, I’m Brock,” Brock said over the rising commotion. He chanced a peek over the top of the table before ducking back down.
“When I woke up this morning this is not what I expected, how about you?” he asked.

"Viim," he replies with a nod, eyes twitching as he seems to watch the ensuing trouble despite the solid table in the way. "Can't say I did, no. Worst comes to worse, maybe more rations for us if we make out of this, yeah?" he adds with a shaky laugh that belies his obvious worry.

[Miltonian]

Malik blinks several times as the shot rings out and takes the few intervening seconds to tally up her options. She was NOT the target of the impending mob violence, though she could easily be swept aside by it. She was too far from the door to make it out before she got trampled. There were no droids around she could order to protect her. And soon, whether she liked it or not, there would be blaster bolts whizzing through the air.

She did not like this situation. She came to fix droids, not shoot or get shot at. Still, the refugees would attack the troopers and the troopers would shoot them back. Currently, she and the miners were not on anyone's little black list of people to bash in the head. At the very least, she could keep them from getting hurt.

"I think we should stay down and keep out of this," she says evenly to the Twi'lek woman and slithers behind the cover provided by the table. "Help me make a barricade."

[Thundercracker]

Brock

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinkin'," Brock said, "not plannin' to shoot anyone unless they're shootin' at me first."

[Hazuki]

Ara stays silent as the officer in charge starts to try to instruct the crowd with threats. No, making people feel more helpless is not the way to make them submit. She knows that better than anyone. Then things start to escalate even more, a woman is shot and her stomach lurches. She could get to her, pull her out, put her in a trance until she can get to safety. But then the officer is talking again, orders the troopers to shoot! Like they haven't already done too much of that. But at least she's tending to the woman, and that leaves Ara with the prospect of an imminent gunfight.

Ara retrieves the fire extinguisher from her pack and sprays it between the troopers and the knife-wielding refugees, creating a cloud of smoke that ought to prevent either from seeing the other and making things.

[Talespinner]

Of all the people packed into the mess hall, perhaps only Viim could really tell what was going on.

He could sense the injured mother's heartbeat, frantic and weak, as her lungs heaved for breath. He could feel the troopers' panic being subsumed by the instinct to obey orders as Adira's words washed over them. Stun blasts lashed out, but in the confusion of the fire extinguisher mist they went wide, pinging off of tables and discarded stools. Viim could pierce that concealment, watching the attacking refugees trip and splutter in the cloud of foam, their momentum lost.

"Yeah, good call," the Twi'lek woman told Valik. Between them, they managed to force a few tables into a rough bunker.

By the time the mist settled, the mess hall was mostly empty. Men and women had fled the chaos, streaming outside to avoid weapons fire, and only those involved in the scuffle remained inside. For the moment, the conflict seemed to have subsided, each faction eyeing the other warily. On the floor between them, the Lieutenant's knelt over the wounded woman. She was breathing more steadily now, stabilized by Adira's efforts. She had a good chance to pull through.

The young trooper who'd fired the first shot looked badly shaken, staring between the woman and his gun. "Do we... do we arrest them, Lieutenant?" The refugees pulled more tightly together at that, clutching their improvised weapons, daring anyone to try. But at that moment, another sound filled the mess hall - the distant whine of many, many engines, streaking across the sky somewhere above. "What the feth is that," the Twi'lek beside Valik muttered.

And then, much closer, something exploded. Screaming filled the compound, and dozens of refugees streaked back through the doors, covering their heads with their hands and diving for cover. "Mandalorians!" Someone yelled. "The Mandalorians are here!"

[AvatarVecna]

"You might wanna rethink that 'shooting second' idea," Viim mutters to Brock as he began repositioning to put the makeshift cover between him and the doors. "One thing after another...think this'll be enough?" Viim asked, glancing at the makeshift bunker that had been formed elsewhere.

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

"We'll deal with disciplinary action later, but right now, I need a sitrep on the total number of refugees here and the number of military personnel here," Adira's said. "Once I have that sitrep, I need a headcount of refugees and then we're going to get the rest, escort them here, and lock this place down. If you've got alarms, now is the time."

She turned to the flood of refugees as she gets to her feet, "I'll be leaving one of the soldiers here to take charge of the situation and then a squad once we have the men rallied. Follow their directions and more importantly, once everyone is here and accounted for, barricade these doors. In the event that they break through these doors, fight them with everything you've got. Knives, trays, forks, I don't care--but don't go easy."

As Adira barked orders to the soldiers and refugees, she couldn't deny to herself that she was just as scared as they were, but she couldn't let them see that--not right now. She knew she had to maintain order though, because if she didn't then what? These people would be sitting here in panic the whole time and if the Mandalorians got in, they'd be sitting ducks. Not that they weren't going to be anyways, but maybe if they fought back, the Mandos might at least make it quick. If they didn't--well--she remembered the holovids of Dorus IV. Some things are best left unseen and those classified holovids are definitely one of those things and if these people just sat back and did nothing, well, there are some fates worse than death and these monsters seem to be capable of it just fine.

[Miltonian]

Valik had just pulled out her toolkit in preparation to start welding the tables and benches of their barricade together when a different noise catches her attention. It is an odd sound. Disturbing. Unknown and unwanted. She tilts her head to the side, trying to pinpoint it's location. She remains unruffled by the Twi'lek's foul language and simply says, "I do not know."

The announcement of the incoming attack does give her pause. So, the destruction that had taken other planets had come for her home too now. Well, now everyone was going to die. She blinked slowly and turned to the Twi'Lek. "How many droids do you have?" she asks, "If we have time, I could reprogram them."

[Hazuki]

Ara lets out a long breath once it's clear that her concealment plan worked, tucking her fire extinguisher away once more and taking stock of the scene. The refugees are fine, the woman who was shot will live. It seems like the world has some mercy.

That doesn't last long. Mandalorians make her clench her fists at her side. Well, so much for her disguise. She can't leave all of these people, at an aid station no less, to the whims of Mandalorians. She grabs the leather-wrapped handle of her saber and approaches Adira, the apparent officer.

"I'm Cad," she introduces herself, then leans in to whisper so the woman won't feel like she's being made to concede in front of her troops. "I've been doing some merc work around here. I can help whatever squad you're fighting the Mandalorians with. Let the woman off any charges and I'll consider that payment enough."

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

Adira whispers back, "We've got bigger problems than this little incident, but if it helps--I had no plans to bring her up on charges. Ever fought Mandos?"

[Hazuki]

Ara nods once, her mind flashing back to her last encounter and the crashing ship and...things she opts not to focus on for the moment.

"Small squads."

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

"Good. I doubt this is more than a platoon, but we need to move quickly--you know as well as I do what these animals are capable of."

[Hazuki]

"Yeah." Ara leans out of their whisper, less they seem far too conspiratorial. "Might want to ask if there's anyone else who can fight. You never know." There are enough refugees here that somebody's bound to have learned at some point.

[Thundercracker]

Brock

“Depends how many there are,” Brock said, “there’s droids and explosives in the warehouses, you comin’?”

Not waiting for a response, he leapt up and shoved his way outside to get a look at the invading force.

[AvatarVecna]

Viim shrugs and follows Brock - better to keep close to somebody who seemed to have a good head on his shoulders, at least.

[Talespinner]

More explosions followed the first, closer and closer, regular and sequential. Bombing runs.

Between the teeth-rattling detonations, the whine of engines grew louder and louder. Refugees huddled beneath the tables and flattened themselves against the floor, covering their heads. "It's just us, Lieutenant," the young trooper replied, swallowing hard. "We're stretched thin." Four Republic troopers in the entire compound - it wasn't much to stand against a determined invasion force, the kind of massive fleet that had been accumulating at the protective corridor's edge.

The troopers moved to barricade the doors, pushing tables and stools in front of them, but it was slow going; the occasional refugee was still streaming through them. The engine noise grew almost overwhelming. Brock pushed his way through the front doors and was immediately given reason to regret it. Hovering just above the middle of the compound, about to set down in the gap between buildings, a Mandalorian troopship was descending. In the sky behind it, dozens more. Perhaps hundreds.

Hovering around the dropship were half a dozen Mandalorian troopers, their jetpacks keeping them aloft like insects buzzing around a bantha. They spotted Brock and Viim as soon as they opened the doors and immediately began to descend, raising their blaster rifles. They were the vanguard, ready to clear the landing zone. Behind them would follow dozens and dozens of Mandalorian warriors, savage and well-armed, determine to kill or capture every man, woman, and child present.

Past the grim scene, Brock and Viim spotted a lone freighter on the outpost landing pad. They'd seen it around the aid station before, ferrying around rations from the Republic fleet. It was probably the only hyperdrive-capable vessel in a hundred kilometers that wasn't presently being crewed by dozens of bloodthirsty Mandalorians. But as they watched, a hulking, clanking, bug-like metal form descended from the sky and landed in front of it - a Basilisk war droid.

That terrifying machine was now blocking the only avenue of escape, pinning everyone down until the troop ship landed.

For now, the occupants of the mess hall faced more immediate problems. Blaster bolts streaked down around the two who had poked their heads outside as the jump troopers opened fire, working to clear a path for the dropship. Most pinged off of the building, but a well-aimed blast caught Viim in the hip, searing through his clothing in a blaze of agony. Inside, the Twi'lek frantically turned to Valik, answering her questions as best she could.

"We've got a couple of kitchen droids in here, but all the mining droids are in storage in the warehouses. If you want to get to them, you'll have to get through... all that out there!"

[Miltonian]

As panic begins to fill the room, Valik remains outwardly untouched. However, the quickly approaching threat of being blasted to smithereens (or at least through the heart), a certain haste overtakes her. It is like panic, but without the screaming, crying, and abject terror. That may still come, if things deteriorate further.

"Kitchen droids," she repeats, "Lots of knives, sharp point things. Those can look dangerous, if nothing else." And she shoots off towards the kitchen to find them.

"Congratulations," she says once she does and begins pulling out her tools, "You've been drafted into the Republic Army."

[Thundercracker]

Brock Handor

Brock let out a wordless cry of anger and frustration and fired a single blaster at the incoming jump troopers before ducking back inside, taking cover within the building.

standard attack: [roll0]
damage: [roll1]
move just inside the doorway so he can still peek around the corner to take a full attack next round.

[Hazuki]

With the sound of explosions in the distance, Ara has to steady herself. The Mandalorians are here and it's time to fight them. She makes her way towards the source, knowing that she can't confront them just yet as one man who pokes his head out eats a barrage of blaster bolts for his troubles. She approaches the door, but doesn't get within line of sight from the outside, hiding herself from the Mandalorians. Her lightsaber ignites with a green glow and she brings a finger to her lips as she looks around at the others ready to fight, lest thy suddenly start announcing 'Jedi' and giving her presence away before the Mandalorians fall into their bottleneck.

I'm going to Ready the Move Light Object action of Use the Force, readied to catch a grenade if the Mandalorians throw one and throw it right back at them. Feel free to make the roll to do so for me if they do throw one.

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

"Fight with everything you've got people! I know you're scared, I know you're afraid, but this is life or death now and I need you all to give everything you can," she screamed at the soldiers and refugees as she scrambled for cover.

From her cover, she fires at the same one that Brock fired at.

Standard Action: Blaster Pistol Attack

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

Swift Action: Born Leader

All allies within Line of Sight gain +1 to Attack Rolls

[Talespinner]

Within the mess hall, the kitchen droids directed their blank stares at Valik. "Madam," one of the gangly, multi-limbed units buzzed in reply, "I must protest. I am a chef, not a soldier." Still, it was clear to the technician that the two droids' many knife attachments could definitely serve as improvised weapons. The depot would likely need all the weapons it could get just now. There was no telling how many soldiers were aboard that one troopship, or how many more were behind it.

Adira and Brock crouched at the front doors, pulling Viim to safety back inside the mess hall before opening fire at the onrushing jump troopers. One of them twisted past the Lieutenant's shot, his jetpack taking him out of its path... and right into the gunslinger's blaster bolt. Brock's shot punched cleanly through the gap between the Mandalorian's helmet and breastplate; the marauder died instantly, his suddenly uncontrolled jetpack sending him careening into the side of a building.

The four Republic troopers took up positions just behind the doors; they couldn't fit in to shoot past Brock and Adira, who were taking cover on either side of the doorway, but they could open up on the Mandos once they tried to force entry. Among them, Ara's lightsaber sprang to life, its emerald beam reflected in dozens of desperate eyes. There was a general gasp, but nothing further. The young Jedi waited, trusting in the Force, suspecting that a different mode of attack was on its way.

With the two shooters ensconced in the cover of the doorway, the Mandalorians quickly realized that they didn't stand much chance to taking them down at range. They descended rapidly, trying to close the gap and negate that advantage. Two of them lobbed grenades at the doorway, trying to force its defenders back and cover their descent, while the others continued to open fire. One of the shots nearly hit Brock, but he ducked back behind the doorframe just in time, feeling the heat of the shot.

The of the shots went wide - far more dangerous were the grenades. But Ara had been waiting for that to happen. Feeling the small objects in the Force, she seized one of them midair and sent it streaking back at the descending Mandalorians... just as it exploded. The grenade ripped through the descending squad. There was a grisly confusion of armor, jetpack fuel, and blood. When the cloud cleared, the jump troopers were gone.

The other grenade exploded against the doors, and bits of shrapnel made it through, cutting bloody furrows into Brock and Adira. Outside, the dropship continued to descend. Its main boarding ramp began to ease open early, and standing on it were what could only be a Mandalorian second wave. There was a moment to prepare, but soon even more enemies would be flooding the depot. If there was a plan to get past the Basilisk and reach the freighter, it was time to put it into action.

[Thundercracker]

Brock

Brock let out a whoop at the lightsaber, which turned into a grunt of pain as he caught the edge of the grenade's blast.

"Anyone got a plan, now would be a good time to figure out how we're going to get past that Basilisk!" he shouted.

He leaned out of the doorway and fired a pair of shots at the second wave of Mandalorians on the drop ship then ducked back behind cover.

attack: [roll0] +1 born leader oops
damage: [roll1] +2 weapon spec I forgot, sorry.
attack: [roll2] +1 born leader oops.
damage: [roll3] +2 weapon spec I forgot, sorry.

What's the range to the Basilisk and the Freighter? Is there any cover in between? Does Brock know anything about how tough Basilisks are and what their capabilities are?

[Hazuki]

Ara nods imperceptibly as her suspicion proves correct and the initial Mandalorian squad is destroyed by their own grenade. She feels each life flit away from the Force as they're torn apart, but forces that feeling aside as the dropship opens its doors to deploy another group of the vicious monsters attacking an aid station. She holds position, not suspecting them to throw another grenade after how their comrade's just turned out, but prepared should they decide to. As soon as they have a chance to breathe, they can start making real plans, so for now she just tries to get a sense for how many people are present - and how many Mandalorians they're facing.



Also, using a Swift Action to use Sense Surroundings with Perception.

[roll0]

[Miltonian]

Within the mess hall, the kitchen droids directed their blank stares at Valik. "Madam," one of the gangly, multi-limbed units buzzed in reply, "I must protest. I am a chef, not a soldier." Still, it was clear to the technician that the two droids' many knife attachments could definitely serve as improvised weapons. The depot would likely need all the weapons it could get just now. There was no telling how many soldiers were aboard that one troopship, or how many more were behind it.

"And we don't need chefs right now. We need soldiers," Valik replies evenly, "Please enter shutdown mode for a moment. This won't take long. I will return you to your primary functions afterwards."

She pauses and considers something. "Pretend the Mandalorians are uncultured, but very vocal, food critics."

With that out of the way, she begins a quick and dirty reprogramming of the droids. It lacks the usual elegance of her work, but there is little elegance in being blasted by bloodthirsty savages. Aesthetics must bend before expedience at times.

[AvatarVecna]

Viim hisses and gets behind cover. He searches mentally for something to maybe throw at it, or use as Cover. "How much punishment can those things take? We got a chance doing anything but running and hoping it shoots us last?"

UTF for Sense Surroundings (Swift): [roll0]

If there's something he can throw/use for cover, he's probably going to do that for his standard, depending on whether Brock thinks we can take it or not.

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

Adira's stoicism faltered for a moment at the sight of the Basilisk. For a fraction of a second, a look of terror washed over her face before it flashed with a look of clarity. "Jedi, can you hold off the Basilisk while we get the refugees to safety?"

[Hazuki]

A chill runs down Ara's spine at the prospect of facing off against a Basilisk alone. Her eyes flick to overturned tables, the refugees. "I can distract it for a time. You should separate the weak from the strong, those who know the land, get the former to the freighter and scatter the rest. Not everyone will fit."

[FoxWyrd]

Lieutenant Adira Delarra, Republic Navy

"How many can we get in there?"

[Talespinner]

Brock's expertly-aimed shots punched through two Mandalorians, and the armored warriors dropped soundlessly from the ramp to land in crumpled heaps on the ground far below. There was a scramble behind them as their fellows react to the sudden appearance of resistance, and a moment later the dropship adjusted its angle of descent... bringing its guns to bear. A heavy turbolaser battery and concussion missile launcher pointed themselves directly at the mess hall's front doors, charging to fire. A full volley would likely vaporize the entire face of the building, along with anyone standing behind it.

A moment later, as Valik finished reprogramming the two chef droids, she noticed hot white lines burning their way through the kitchen's rear service doors, where food was normally brought in. Fortunately, it seemed they had been locked as a precaution against starving refugees, and that now gave her and the modified droids a moment to ready themselves. The door burst inward in seconds, and a trio of Mandalorian warriors charged into the kitchen, brandishing blaster rifles. They looked surprised to see anyone ready for them, and their surprise cost them the opportunity to shoot first.

The mess hall was long, with about 30 meters between the kitchen and the central doors. Anyone who wanted to help Valik would have to dash back there, but at least they would be temporarily out of range of the dropship's heavy weapons. Ara couldn't sense much about the situation beyond the fact that pandemonium was raging outside; the Force rippled with emotions all around her, fear and anger, clouding her sight. Viim had more luck. He could sense that a second wave of Mandalorians, probably from another ship that had landed nearby, was advancing from the back of the compound.

Some of them seemed to be switching to stun blasts; rumor held that they often conscripted the conquered.

The squat freighter on the landing pad could perhaps take fifty passengers, if they were really crammed in. The window of opportunity to seize it, though, was quickly closing. Unless its shields were raised, the dropship could easily obliterate it on the landing pad if it looked like a threat; it was probably only being left alone so that the Mandalorians could capture it and add it to their invasion fleet for the next world they came to plunder. The Basilisk stalked around in front of it, its durasteel body plugging the alley between two large warehouses stacked with heavy mining explosives.

[Thundercracker]

Brock

“That’s three,” he thought as the bodies fell to the ground.

Brock’s eyes widened as he saw the dropship’s missile launcher and turbolaser adjusting to aim right at his face. With the troopers having pulled back because he’d just killed two of them, there was a brief window of opportunity.

“Run for the warehouse, now!” he yelled to whoever around him could hear.

He followed his own advice, sprinting for the nearest building before his cover vaporized into plasma of its component atoms.

[Hazuki]

Ara sprints after Brock.

[Miltonian]

Valik draws her pistol as the white lines burn their way through the door. It is only a sporting model, but you go to war with the army you have, not the one you want. When the Mandalorians appear, she does what is necessary and fires a single blaster bolt at the first one to enter her sight and takes some cover behind the kitchen counter.

"Attack," she orders the two droids.

[AvatarVecna]

Viim curses and calls on the Force to protect him before rushing across the battlefield after the others, even as he knew it wouldn't hold up against ship cannons if they targeted him.

Force Shield: [roll0]

[Talespinner]

As Viim, Ara, and Brock sprinted out the doors of the mess hall, making for the nearest warehouse, the dropship opened fire. The three of them felt the heat of the explosion on their backs, though Viim's Force shield kept the debris from pelting them. The mess hall was half-destroyed, its front wall simply vaporized, revealing the confusion of tables and chairs now scattered around inside. The trio stumbled through the warehouse doors, reinforced durasteel intended to contain explosions. Before them, stretching some twenty-five meters to the high ceiling, were dozens of pallets stacked with supplies.

A great many of those supplies turned out to be fist-sized mining charges, each intended to pulverize a dozen square meters of rock at a time. Reinforced doors or no, a chain reaction would level this warehouse and probably turn the entire center of the supply depot into a smoking crater. The charges would probably slice through Basilisk armor like warm nerf butter, provided that the ragtag group could find a way to use them against it. They were timed charges, carefully designed not to detonate on impact, though the timer could be set to any length the user desired.

There were enough charges in the warehouse that the party could have used one a minute and not run out all day.

Back in the kitchen, Valik's serving droids followed their new programming. "YOU REQUESTED YOUR STEAK RARE," one robotic chef trilled as it surged forward, "AND THEREFORE SHOULD NOT COMPLAIN OF UNDERCOOKING!" The pair ran at the startled Mandalorians, their vibro-knives humming to life. One of them leapt full on at the lead Mandalorian, bearing him to the ground. "THE. FISH. WAS. NOT. DRY." it buzzed angrily, punctuating each word with a vicious stab that wormed its way between the warrior's armor plates. The Mandalorian had only time to gurgle in shock before he died.

The other two pulled back slightly, raised their rifles, and riddled both droids with blasterfire. The two chefs, vengeance served at last to their imagined food critics, tumbled into a smoking pile. As the Mandalorians prepared to take aim at Valik, the Republic troopers leaned around the door and opened fire, their blaster bolts glancing off of heavy armor but providing cover. "Get back behind the wall!" the freckle-faced trooper yelled at Valik, trying to pull her into cover behind the divider that separated the kitchen from the serving lane.

Outside, the dropship continued its descent. It would land soon.

[Hazuki]

Ara stares over the oodles upon oodles of explosives that stack the shelves, silently wishing that there had been more food stockpiles than there were explosives. But at least they offered a chance.

She looks to the gunslinger who she ran in with. "If we activate some explosives and strap them to a pallet, I can throw it at the droid."

[Thundercracker]

Brock

“I was thinking we could set them all to blow up as a distraction while you use your laser sword to cut through the wall facing the freighter. We run, the warehouse blows up, the basilisk looks that way, and we blast off of this rock before they know what happened. Anything we don’t destroy is going to taken by the damn mandalorians anyway,” Brock replied.

“I’m not very good with explosives though, are either of you?” he asked.

Realizing they didn’t have much time, he started stacking mines on a pallet anyway, and looked for windows or doors facing the basilisk.

[Miltonian]

In a less 'life or death' scenario, Valik would be amused by their rage. However, they go down far quicker than she was hoping for. The Mandalorians are no joke, even if one did die to the maddened droids.

She looks at the trooper and decides that he probably knows what he is talking about. Probably. She gets behind cover, as he suggests, and says, "I have a pistol, but we could really use some grenades right now."

[AvatarVecna]

Brock

“I was thinking we could set them all to blow up as a distraction while you use your laser sword to cut through the wall facing the freighter. We run, the warehouse blows up, the basilisk looks that way, and we blast off of this rock before they know what happened. Anything we don’t destroy is going to taken by the damn mandalorians anyway,” Brock replied.

“I’m not very good with explosives though, are either of you?” he asked.

Realizing they didn’t have much time, he started stacking mines on a pallet anyway, and looked for windows or doors facing the basilisk.

Viim takes a moment to recover from the blast a little bit. "Not really," he puffs out. "Tinkering around with explosives always seemed a good way to get blown up, y'know?" he chuckles, despite the situation. "...think we're lucky enough these are the type that explode on impact?"

Taking the Recover action, and talking.

[Thundercracker]

Viim takes a moment to recover from the blast a little bit. "Not really," he puffs out. "Tinkering around with explosives always seemed a good way to get blown up, y'know?" he chuckles, despite the situation. "...think we're lucky enough these are the type that explode on impact?"

Taking the Recover action, and talking.

“Unfortunately no,” Brock replied as he hefted some explosives onto a pallet, “they’re set with a timer.”