Stranded RPG

"Nice reaction, but poor target." Virek said sneaking back into the brush, "You see, there's one issue with you all, very little close combat, a single skilled blade may spell the end of you." He began to circle the crash site, "But fate is on your side, we're both from the same side and stranded here on this insufferable planet, working together may be our only option, for now it's win-win." He stood on the opposite end he came on, "So what do you say, start on a new foot, I'm Virek a close-combat specialist, last of my crew, rest were killed in the crash." His voice sounded sincere, yet his words seemed to have a sour taste in all the honeyed words.

Startled by an insane Eldar firing his phantasm Grenade launcher, Staril's instinct overcame him and he fired "fanged lightning". Luckily or unluckily Staril hit a branch which was close to intruding Eldar's neck, his shard covered in toxins scythed through a surrounding branch. The branch quickly turned black and shrivelled into a blob of toxins poisoning the surrounding ground.

Staril lurched his hand back from his weapon, wondering what the hell happened. The quick flash caught him off guard (he would never admit that) and put his body in a momentary state of shock. He instantly recovered only to notice the Eldar that appeared from the foliage had comfortably turned into a leisurely stroll around the group. Staril thought who the hell does he think he is?. This group was filled with arrogant snobs who did not recognise his supreme skill. Staril glanced back and made an inner sigh, Sarmand was still alive.

Staril gathered his senses and asked to the group "Who in Commarragh's name fired the Phantasm Grenade launcher, who are you a witless Mon'keigh!?" Staril asked with naive confidence annoyed at the interruption. Staril stood elegantly while he waited for the fool's response.

Tor jolted back, his back leg flexing straight as it tried to keep his balance but to no avail as the rest of his body's momentum was too great. The aggressive blast took him backwards, his cannon's carrying strap slipping from his shoulder as he went. With a dull thud his back landed in the undergrowth as his leg twisted around the uncompromising barrel of the splinter weapon. A sharp snap sent every nerve aflame in Tor's body. If he had just broken his leg there was no way the others would suffer his presence slowing down their escape.

Cautiously he righted himself, sitting upright with some difficulty. The contact point were the piece of debris from the grenade had slammed into his chest stung to the point it was hard to draw a full breath. At least his heavy armor had taken the brunt of the damage. His leg....he didn't think was so lucky. Upon a quick examination, as the others around him seemed content to goad each other with barbed words, his leg appeared unbroken. A little sore, but battle ready. His primary weapon however, was not so lucky.

The sharp crack had been a splinter carriage snapping inside of the ammunition feed. While problematic this was not the first raiding campaign for the veteran Trueborn. With expert knowledge and practice he removed the broken, oozing round, his fingers sizzling against the violent toxins and cleared the chamber. With a heavy slap he reloaded the weapon, checking it was battle ready before standing to his feet. Content to let his hot headed survivors bicker their petty squabbles away, Tor kept his mouth shut. Surely it wouldn't be long until some new force showed up to the destroy them and robbed them of the chance to kill each other. Instead of holstering his cannon he kept it in hand, at the ready, his fingers ready but decidely off the trigger. No need to waste more ammunition on his meat shields.

K'shar's face went blank as he thought to himself, this stranger definitely has skill in the jungle, perhaps now that we understand one another, he can be of use to me. Looking over the rest of his compatriots he decided that Staril would make the first and best shield when the need should arise. For now, he decided he had enough with the endless babble of some of them and it was time to move. Looking around, and making a decision, K'shar began to stride directly away from the wreck and the others. If they followed, so be it, if not they would provide a distraction to anything that was attracted to the crash site.

Once more Sarmand have to agree with Staril. Maybe this pilot wasn't that stupid as Trueborn thought. They were quite noisy already, but now after explosion, they are dead men for sure. Soon this place will be filled with mon-keigh and it's time to pick initiaitive. Sarmand found the needle of hypex that K'shar trew away. Hopefully, the needle wasn't damaged, wich is a good sign. Trueborn quickly put it inside drug dispenser in order to prepare it to next use.

"All good, Tor?" He noded towards Trueborne's splinter cannon, which apparently recieved some damage. But it seemed like he managed to make a swift repair and cannon was fine, as well as Kabalite himself. Then he turned his head to survived newcomer and noded. "Welcome to our group, Virek. Hope you are here to survive and get off here. We can use a hand in close quaters."

Soon the eldar responsible for such loud noises decided to move his own way. Once more Sarmand raised his shardcarabine, but now towards K'shar. His eyes were searching for weak spot and finger was on the trigger and ready to fire. A quiet sound of charged gun came across the crash site.
"If you make one more move without our agreement, K'shar, I'll shot your legs and leave you on this mud ball, full of Mon-Keigh. We are all in the same trouble and if you plan to go around and blow things up - I wil lstop you right here."

Still aiming noisy Trueborn, Sarmand took position, so he could see all at this crash site and then started to talk with all survivors. "Maybe I sound wierd, but in order to survive we need every gun and act as one. We are not in Commoragh to argue and to plot against each other. Are you ready to unite and get of this rock?