Stranded RPG

     Zooming above a sea of jungles, you have been ordered to report to a stronghold not far from here. No more than one hundred kilometers that is. Although suddenly you heard it, Brssh!
     Your team's venom suddenly lost it's left wing from a surprise attack in the jungles below. The squad's pilot, Staril was able to stay steady for a bit over thirty seconds before the ship jerked right and plummeted into the trees below.

Tor stood slowly, stretching his pale, lithe limbs, willing the dull ache from the crash away. He carefully inspected his heavy segmented kabalite armour. His lack of injuries were assuredly a result of the protection it offered. A few cuts and bruises were nothing that concerned him. Looking across several smoking pieces of shrapnel from their venom transport he spied the barbed silhouette of his splinter cannon sticking out from a mass of mud and bright colored, thorned flowers.

Tor surveyed the area around him. He could see a few of the others in various states of recovery. They could look after themselves. The harsh unforgiving Catachan jungle was a far more pressing concern. Tor took a few cautious steps toward the unusual plants that seemed to twist and turn towards him as he moved. Their brilliantly colored petals opening in a way that seemed to snarl at the Trueborn heavy gunner. Picking up a twisted section of railing from the venom, Tor carefully hooked his splinter cannon, dragging it out of the mass of flowers that seemed to coil around it, either trying to keep it in place, or drag the eldar closer. After several hard tugs the cannon came loose, dragging across the ground to Tor's feet. A high pitched noise emanated from the plants as they shook and slowly settled back down.

Tor casually picked up the cannon, inspecting its surface and mechanisms. His lip curled in disgust as he eyed the large amount of caked on mud. With a few brushes of his talonned gauntlet he cleaned most of it off. Satisfied, he holstered it against his sore back and turned back to the wreckage that was his squad.

Staril clutched his head slowly. His head was throbbing with a sickening pain, and he had a nauseating pain in his stomach. Glass was scattered all around him, as he laid in the glass covered fauna. A deep humid hit him like a ton of bricks, and he started to sweat. His cockpit was air conditioned, he thought sorrowfully.

Scrapes and scratches were laid out all over his armour. A chink here and there, but no real damage was done. Staril tried to flick on his heads up display, but it flickered out almost instantly. A giant dent was fixed in the back of his helmet, and he struggled to take it off. As he took his Reaver helmet off, a cold wave of air hit him, only to be replaced with same old humid temperature which felt distant to the nice cold chill of Commorragh. Staril sensed some trickling down his head, a sharp tang of fear went up his spine into what was bleeding. He quickly grasped the back of his head and scooped up the blood. He then tasted some, just to check it was his, he liked the taste of sweet blood, even if it was his own.

Staril placed the helmet beside him as he struggled to get onto his feet, he nearly fell over as a swift sick feeling rushed over his head, he was suffering some blood loss,but it didn't hurt very much. As he got up, a sharp spike of pain stabbed into his legs, bruises were on show through the ripped parts of his leather gear. Staril wondered where he had earned those bruises, and recollected that he had jerked too hard in his vain attempt of rescuing the already plummeting Venom craft. He swore he would have his vengeance on who ever shot down his beloved "Star tearer".

Staril finally glanced around, the debris of his spectular crash surrounded him, like it was humiliating him, a mental scar that would add to his list of failures that pierced his mind. Bodies were lying all over the place, all of them miraculously alive and recovering, he'll get to them later he thought.
The young Dark Eldar saw his gun in the distance, his Shardcarbine "fanged lightning" stood defiantly above the flames of the crash. It was somehow unaffected by the explosion, and once again Staril thanked his lucky heads.

Staril woozily stumbled over to his exquisite gun, he then noticed he had two carbine cartridges on his belt, and screamed mentally with joy. Staril thought this was his lucky day, well apart from the crash, and the bruises, as well as the blood loss.
He got to his carbine, and clutched it into his hands, bringing it into his embrace. His dead-like hands touched the smooth cold metallic surface of the gun, lightning graffiti was sprayed onto the gun, Staril thought himself as an artist. He then raised the gun in a defensive stance and put his helmet back on, he then took a few steps around the crash, desperately trying not to fall over.

He gazed out into the thick jungle fauna that was shrouded with the darkness of the canopy, something was out there he thought, and he wanted to kill it. The Dark Eldar glanced back to his "comrades" and tried to recognise them, he didn't know them at all, he rarely looked back at the intruders on his Venom, he thought they disrespected his beloved craft, so he tried to pretend they were not there when piloting the venom. Now he had to get to know these fools, and he rarely enjoyed that, preferring to stick to what he understood and what he loved, things that were fast.

In the distance he saw a Trueborn, covered in a pile of leaves and branches, lucky fool he got a comfortable landing thought Staril, and he looked the least damaged. Staril glanced at him in disgust, but his face was masked by his Reaver helmet. The Trueborn murmured something in a confident manner, but Staril could not hear him, he had to walk nearer.

Staril readied himself, quickly walking up to the other True kin feeling doubtful, but his headstrong nature pulled him through. With "Fanged lightning" I'm sure he could make some new friends, or at least shoot them and steal their stuff.

he answer in the kabalite's mind was quick and more or less logical. In order to survive, he needed his shardcarbine. His armor was damaged, although not as bad as he would've thought. A few scratches, some dents - nothing serious. His body however was not in as good a condition, and it displeased him. He began walking towards his shardcarbine, each step was painful and hurt. He snarled in disgust but knew that it would be impossible to survive in such harsh conditions without his gun. This forest was not a place for the weak or wounded, even if you are one of the dark kin. Kneeling, he grapsed the handle of his dirty gun, and was happy that it wasn't really damaged from the fall. This made Sarmand smile - at least he could take somebody out with him. Although death wasn't a part of his plans.

When the ringing in his ears finally stopped, he turned and faced the wrecked venom. It was nothing more than scrap now, and you didn't need to be a genius to realize it was unrepairable. But either way, he had to go back to his squad so they could make a plan. Usually in this type of situation he wouldn't be interested as to who survived, although in such a harsh enviroment their only strength was in numbers. Trying to ignore the pain in his body, he raised his gun and walked towards the venom. When the pain got to harsh to ignore, he activated his drug dispenser and injected himself with a needle of hypex. His pain slowly numbed and his senses began to sharpen. Soon his entire body was released from the chains of agony and he began walking to the venom. He was used to taking drugs, so he didn't get angered when taking them. Hard discipline was the key to survival, and not being a hotshot maniac.

From his surprise one of his squad members was there. Staril was quite alive, at least for now. By Staril's stance, Sarmand could tell that the man thought he wasn't as hurt as the others. Maybe that was because of the comfortable seat he had as a pilot. Staril probably noticed him as well, but the warrior couldn't be for sure since he had a helmet on.
"I see you survived." Sarmand said with no emotion in his voice, "Have you seen anyone else who's done the same?

K'shar loosely held his haywire blaster in his right hand and pulled up the targeting display for his Phantasm Grenade Launcher on his helmet and began to scan the woods for prey. Prey brought down the Venom and prey was what he came on this raid for! Nothing would keep him from getting his vengeance.
As he scanned the area he saw his targeting display wouldn't be much help in the dense underbrush. The jungle was teeming with prey. It would be hard to differentiate sentient prey from the masses of life forms. As he continues his survey, he saw Tor getting up off the wreckage of the venom near the cockpit. Tor was approaching a splinter cannon that had landed amongst what appeared to be Zehonanian Devourer Vines. K'shar chuckled to himself and prepared to savor the exquisite agony that was to come. Fortunately, Tor was more cautious then K'shar expected and was able to retrieve his splinter cannon.
Disappointed K'shar continued his survey of the area noting the pilot speaking with Sarmand. It was good to see that Sarmand had the sense to grab his gun before coming to the wreckage. Perhaps, K'shar thought, I can use this group to get off this hot, humid, hell world and get back to Commorragh.

Kharanor gripped the trees as the venom plummet to the ground. He watched the one one as Saramand separate as the ship fell. He watched for a moment waiting for a second explosion once they landed; when I didn't happen Kharanor decided that they would not need him. If they hadn't survived so far then they did not deserve to. Regardless he still needed them to get off this rock, so he sought out what was needed to do.

If the enemy had heard the crash, they would come searching for them.   With that in mind Kharanor stuck to the trees, leaping branch to branch scouting the area around the ship. After an hours pass, he turned about and began to return toward the wreckage seeking if any of the others had survived. Kharanor had decided that if he went alone for Saramand their chances would be slimmer if he were injured. But there would be some safety in numbers and he headed toward the area near the wreckage. Kharanor all the whole kept above in the trees hoping to avoid any detection.

The well built Eldar approached him. Towering over him like a God over men. Staril quickly calculated what he was going to say next. The Eldar clearly disliked him and so did he, but an argument in this Jungle could attract unwanted attention, and he could sense things watching him right now.

Staril walked in a calm and sophisticated way almost mocking the tall Dark Eldar by just walking. He raised his head up and took off his helmet. He then stopped a few short paces away from the lithe Eldar, analysing his weapons. He had 10 needles of many types of drugs and stimulants. He liked drugs Staril thought to himself. The long Eldar also had a shardcarbine and a combat sword, neither of them were as finely crafted as his, he thought smugly. He could just shoot the Eldar and take his stuff, but Staril crushed that thought. It would be too easy, and the more meat shields in front of him the better, but as soon as he got his hands on a jetbike it would be a different story.

Staril posed in a rather dramatic way, showing his spiteful nature about interacting with others. His face was expressed in a rather cold smile that betrayed his inner emotions as he exclaimed

"Well that was a fun landing" he said mockingly

"Greetings I am Staril, I'll be your pilot for today" he said with an overload of Sarcasm and wit.

"How are you?" he asked waiting for a response.

The tall figure just stood there, seconds felt like minutes as he waited for a long-awaited response.

Tor strode across the thick jungle floor, striding carefully between brightly colored and surely deadly plants, and massive thick trunked trees that soared almost beyond sight into the darkened canopy. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the other trueborn, the gathering pair, and the single one off to his side. He had seen how he looked at him as he retrieved his splinter cannon, leaning forward with a slight eagerness that told Tor that he clearly had expected him to be devoured by the strange carnivorous flora of the planet. Tor was not some tube from the street to make such a careless mistake. His smug thoughts were quickly evaporated by that damned pragmatic voice in the back of his mind. None of those around him were some tube from Low Commorragh. Each was a killer worth a hundred primitive mon'keigh. Still nothing compared to him....but at least useful enough to worth keeping alive....for now.

Shaking his head slowly as he ghosted closer to the pair of dark eldar before him the gears in Tor's mind were hard at work putting the events before the crash, the crash, and now the status of his situation into the complex puzzle in his mind. He had run through things three times now and each time he came up one trueborn short. Somewhere, hopefully close by was the trueborn specialist that had been next to him in the venom. He remembered seeing the envenomed kabalite jump from the wing of the skimmer and assumed he was somewhere overhead at the moment. A dangerous position for himself and those below on the ground.

With caution for those in front, and the potential for those above, Tor slowed within talking distance of the gathered pair. "Greetings I am Staril, I'll be your pilot for today," said the smaller one, his helmet held in his hands. "How are you?" He asked the larger. Before the trueborn bedecked in grenades could answer Tor spoke up.

"Tor, your reaper for the day." He didn't pause in his steps, continuing up to the kabalites. "Keep the introductions brief, unless you would like to feed the fauna and flora of this planet. Or worse, fall to some mon'keigh monkey who picks up on our idle chatter." He paused, stopping several meters away. "Or maybe stabbed in the back by one of your -own-," he said the last word with a tinge of malice but pointed skyward to the trees as he did.

 Virek looked around his surroundings, a dense jungle ripe for ambushes of any other enemies. He began to head east, the next crash could hold equipment, or possibly some men to aid him along the way. He used the dense vegetation to help hide his movements, he wasn't sure what fauna roamed this planet, but he would rather not find out. He could smell  blood and fumes in the air, it was exhilarating, to bad he has yet to see an enemy, be it Ork or Man. He saw smoke in the air, he was nearing the crash site, perhaps this squad had better luck than his.

Kharanor clung to branches dense with foliage. Something did not feel 'right' about this jungle. Kharanor thought it wise to remain hidden for now.

"This world means death for us all." He thought to himself. "In this jungle, the predator has become the prey. For now, I shall stay above and keep them in my sights.

He watched the pair introduce themselves, making so much noise for no reason. Any manner of creature can be on this world, and they announcing themselves to all. He would not act so foolishly.

"They carry heavy weapons, heavy armor. They make too much noise. The shadows shall aid me this night. One cannot move around so loud and clumsy as they are. This shall give us an advantage, if any attempt to ambush us." He tilted his head silently. "I shall reveal myself when the time draws right."

Kharanor held himself low to the branch and continued to observe the group, hidden in the leaves and the night.

"If not this mon'keigh scum, this flight could be far more better." said Haridar with hatred. If there was no helmet on his head, he would spit on the ground, so much anger was in him. For a moment he felt a disturbance in air and warrior came silent for the time, listening to the wind. Hypex sharpened his sences and he felt that something or someone is coming. It was not a human for sure, for it's footsteps were light and swift. Soon, he noticed Tor, coming from the forest. This was a relief, because the more survivors - the better.

"It seems you hit your head pretty bad if you don't recognise him." He answered to Staril with steel in his voice. Eldar was not that optimistic that this pilot, espessially with all his body in pain. "If we were not in such situation, I would suggest to kill you right now. You're got lucky today, Staril."
Unfortiently, noise of gun fire could alert anyone in the woods. Sliting throat would cause all beasts to follow the smell. This is not the thing that any of Kabalites wanted. If they want to survive - they have to unite.

"We need to find cover and make a plan in order to get of this rock" he said to everyone. Sarmand prefered to be silent most of the time, but this time they were in serious situation. He turned to Tor and noded. "Have you seen anything, where we can take cover for a time? I don't want to be killed by something here. And have you seen Kharanor, by the way?"

K'shar strode over to the pilot & Sarmand. "Pilot, I hope you navigate better then you fly" sneered K'shar. "What heading do we need to take to reach the stronghold and how far did we have left to go?" Turning to Saarmand, K'shar said, "I saw Kharanor leap  from the wing as we were landing. I assume he is somewhere in the canopy."

Virek heard the sound of the voices up ahead, possible allies, yet this would be the best time for a power grab, he continued to walk within the brush. When they were in sight he crouched down, keeping his eyes moving around. It was another crashed venom, possibly another squad of Trueborn, there was five of them, he could hardly recognize any of their faces, he knew well enough how often they changed to care. However they did appear to be decently equipped which would make them important allies, however he wasn't sure how much they could be trusted. He moved to a better angle, his blade at the ready in case any of them noticed or assaulted.

Staril glanced at the fellow trueborn with disgust. These incompetent snobs were questioning him like some young pup, like all the others he thought. Staril looked at the unusually stocky elder that was before him. The Stocky Eldar looked down on him. Staril thought he could quite easily take him on, people always underestimated him, and he used that to his advantage.
Staril quickly responded to K'shar's taunt or "question".

" Well how will I bloody know? I had the track downloaded on my Venom's directioner, which as you see is now broken to you're incompetence of not defending my beloved "Star tearer"

A sharp tang of fear sprang into Staril's mind, what use will he be if he could'nt find where they were going? They will quite easily despose of him if he had no use. Staril quickly thought of any lies or deceit he could use to keep himself alive.

"But, remember I may be the only person who can get us off this vile planet. You get me access to any crude Mon'keigh vehicle and I will be able to get you back to Commorragh in a cycle" he added with an air of confidence.

Staril didn't know how to fly any Mon'keigh technology nor could he get them back to Commorragh in a cycle. Better leave it up to luck Staril thought, he had seemed to have a lot of that today.

Staril was right at some point, but Sarmand kept silent to his complains about a crashed vehicle. It happened because of nasty human scum, not them. Now they had a more difficult problem - to get a transport, able to move into open space or at least as far from here as possible. The problem is that most of all Kabal's vehicles are gone, so they need to get another aircraft, but it is guarded for sure. But they are Trueborn, elite warriors of their army, they can take down entire battalion of enemy troops. With enough ammunition and cover, of course.

"Yeah, yeah, but you still aren't in charge. And I don't think that aircraft of these savages use same tech as ours." replied Sarmand and noded to Staril. After that he raised a hand, so everyone could pay attention to him.
"If anyone needs some patch up, you'd better to say it now. I don't think we have too much time to sit here. Soon this place will be full of mon-keigh. Also we need to find a transport. Any ideas where... "

A strange sound was caught by eldar's ear. Something or someone could be there. It seems, that it was not mon-keigh - too light step that creature had. That can be someone from their crew, or even their light cousin. Thinking about these wrechted kin made trueborn filled with malice again. Acting like nobles, but still doing everything from shadows.
Sarmand silently shown to all around him to shut their mouths and pointed towards the direction, where he heard the noise. Now he was really sure that someone is here, watching them. He raised up his carabine and with ease aimed the weapon into the jungle, waiting for the moment to pull the trigger.

Finally! Something to kill! If it is stalking us, its not friendly, K'shar thought. It was going to be the useless excuse of a pilot, (how could he not even know the heading they needed to take???), but perhaps he would be useful in getting through this. Someone stalking them on the ground though, he definitely wasn't friendly. Aiming his Phantasm Grenade Launcher in the direction Sarmand indicated he prepared to clear out the underbrush. If something thought he was prey, it was about to learn the truth.

Virek looks at the warriors, already alert and ready to fire. "Good," he thought,"perhaps this group will fare better than the last, at least until they reach command."  Virek emerged from the shroud of the foliage, noting the group that was here. Trueborn, better yet specialists, "Alert, good already better than the last group, best you lay down your arms, no need to kill each other, unless one of you have a death wish." He said tryingly as he stood tall, his power sword and pistol at the ready, if any of them dared attack he would charge and relinquish them of their position.

Staril was just about to respond to the fool named Sarmand, but then he heard a noise.Staril quickly glanced to the lone Kabalite that just emerged from the surrounding foliage. Staril raised "fanged lightning" instinctively and prepared to blast the poor thing into oblivion. Then a thought occurred to him "What happens if I shoot Sarmand as well, the bastard insulted me and my venom, and just for that he deserves to die. Staril held the finger on the trigger, deciding to see what would happen next, maybe he could take out both of them in one go? Two birds with one stone as they say, and I've got a pretty large stone. Staril thought as he waited impatiently.

Tor's lip curled into the slightest grimace as he took his finger back on the trigger. He straitened, eyes focused toward the newcomer as he assessed the possible threat this dark eldar warrior posed him and his unit. He did not know if any of the others would be looking at him instead of the new face but he regardless chose to do his best to play off his single wild shot to have been a simple warning shot for the unknown figure emerging from the undergrowth. With much more subtle movement he flexed his trigger hand, wanting nothing more than to feel perfect dexterity but feeling a dull stiffness. Perhaps he had not been as unscathed as he had previously thought from their crash....

Still flexing his hand open and closed, he moved his cannon to his other shoulder, leaning the long, barbed barrel back behind his head as his eyes continued to follow the stranger. Another blade would benefit their survival on this thrice-cursed mon-keigh world. Better yet, the fact that this warrior was even more of a stranger to the group than they already were to each other would mean everyone would be cautiously suspicious of every possible movement the ghostplated kabalite made. Tor said nothing, but nodded slowly and carefully toward him, acknowledging Tor's acceptance of him in stoic silence.

The sences of Sramand were sharp and he clearly understood that his group is surrounded by enemies. At least one was in front of him. And the sences, which have been sharpened by Hypex were not lying. A Dark Eldar emerged from his cover, but Sarmand wasn't familiar with him. The sharcarabine was still poinetd to source of danger.
"Another survivor, as I see" his voice was not really pleased, but it wasn't angry. "It seems that this whole planet may be covered in bits of our raid."

Trueborn noticed that his allies were quite glad to see another survivor, but Sarmand kept suspisious to him. Who knows, what this eldar has in mind.
"If you plan to stay with us, you'd better to say who you are and what you are able to do." he adressed to unknown Kabalite "I'm planinng to escape this rock, as well as all my crew. I don't see point to carry someone like a child."

After a moment, Sarmaned started to laugh. The sound was not really loud, so noone but surrounding eldar could hear him. He lowered his shardcarabine and shown him to group up with otheres. While doing that, he activated his drug dispenser and took out a needle of hypex. Then, he handled it to K'shar.
"Take it, if you plan to survive. We have a long march up ahead."

Kharanor felt the sting as the projectile went through his leg. He looked up and snarled like a beast. With a quick twist his eyes turned toward its direction. He moved through the tree tops, doing his best to deal with the pain. When above the group, Kharanor simply dropped below, approximatly three feet between him and the group. He remained behind his visor, glaring in silent rage at his shooter.

Lay down my arms?!?! Does the fool think I am a coward, or worse some wretch that fears death? K'shar tightened his grip on his Phantasm Grenade Launcher and fired in front of the fool's feet judging the distanced involved to not kill him, but show him he wouldn't intimidate them.