The crash had been short but violent. The wreckage lay strewn about the soft underbelly of the dense forest. It was nothing short of a miracle, or rather their training, that they were still alive. Battered and bruised, maybe even hurt, but alive. The forest was thick though, which was partly why their predicament was all the worse. Between the nearly 100m canopy and the turbulent atmospheric anomalies that had gripped their ship in the first place, sending a distress signal out was nearly impossible. It could be done if perhaps if there were only one issue, but never as long as both continued to exist.
There was a ridge, far off in the distance. Perhaps from there they could send their message, free of interference from the foliage. They only had four days though to reach that ridge before the follow up mission departed. After that, there would be no hope for rescue. They would have to push through the thick of the wild, in an alien and unfamiliar environment, surrounded by Force knew what. Survival was their goal, but it would not come without a fight.
Nariah woke with agonizing pain in her head and shoulder. Blood was running in her eyes, oozing from a nasty cut just above her eyebrow. The Jedi Hunter glanced around the over turned cockpit. Smoke was rising up filling the cockpit making the air hard to breathe. The krath, unharnessed from the co-pilot seat, knowing she had to get herself out of the smoldering wreckage, landing hard on her shoulder. Shard glass and hot metal cut and burned into her skin. Her shoulder was excruciating. Wincing in pain, Nariah got to her feet looking around in search for her companions there was no sign of them the cockpit was empty.
There was large gaping hole in the port side of the ship. Nariah carefully inched her way to the hole struggling to maintain her balance. The pain in her body so intense it took everything she had to keep from getting sick but she pushed forward. By the time the Plagueian made it to the hole she had to rest and catch her breath.
Stepping out of the ship Nariah saw Furios was lying in a pool of blood on his back not moving. Voden was nowhere to been seen. Bits and pieces of the ship and cargo was everywhere, little fires scattered the landscape.
Nariah rushed to the Dark Jedi Knight's side blood was everywhere. He had cuts and a large open gash on is his left arm. There was another opening on his right side that would be stitched close. Nariah searched the area for anything she could stitch up her companion's arm. She noticed a medic bag close by, fumbling to open the bag she worked through her own pain to stop Furios's bleeding. Once she was satisfied he was not going to bleed out. Nariah tried to make the Plaguian as comfortable as she could. She attained to her own injuries one by one. Leaning against a nearby tree she tried to rest her battered body hoping Voden was okay.
It had been a planet, once.
That was a very long time ago.
On the very edge of the galaxy, so far out it could look upon the black nothing beyond the galaxies edge, the pirate haven of Glesias orbited a small and dying star. The planet itself had died eons ago and only its dense iron core remained. At the very edge of its primaries gravitational pull, it was subject to an elliptical orbit of extreme proportions and it was only by virtue of the density of that iron core that it maintained enough gravity of its own not to go spinning off in to space. No more then a couple of hundred kilometres across, the molten core had cooled too quickly for it to assume a spherical shape. It shared more in common with a comet then a planet.
And yet, in spite of its extreme remoteness and hostility beings lived here.
Glesias was built in to the craggy, cavernous surface of the planet. Through some miracle of physics and technology a dense atmosphere was present deeper down and this was where the residents had set up shop. A network of buildings, mostly salvaged bits of space-craft and some purpose made modular units, peeked through a thick, omnipresent haze and though the sun never shone here the brilliant boreales lit up the sky. Landing pads and warehouses dominated the low-atmosphere zone, accessible enough that even large craft could make planet-fall. The “town” itself was home to a cantina, an inn, a town hall and not much else.
Popular with pirates and smugglers, “No Port” as they called it, was so far removed from galactic affairs that it tended to attract a particular kind of being.
There was only one street and it ran the length of the town, the cantina and inn opposite the town hall at its centre. A number of warehouses and prefabricated buildings with modular additions stretched away and up the street towards an arrangement of assorted landing pads. The ground was bare without any soil to speak of, the buildings had to be anchored to the hard iron-rich rock. Aside from the sentient population, which was largely transient, the Port was home to bacteria and lichen, transplanted here accidentally and able to thrive in the low lying atmosphere giving the illusion of an ever present moisture, a dank wetness not unlike a coastal port.
It had not always been like this and that was thanks to one woman; Vilena Mordrin.
She had adopted the surname with the passing of her husband. Since that time she'd implemented a number of changes and this was the result. Vilena now ruled the Port though her loyal Akatski, warriors faithfully loyal to her and trained in the ancient assassination techniques of their ancestors. Gone was the religious fanaticism, replaced with a fervent loyalty to criminality. They, as a people, were as much changed as the Port itself had been and it was all down to her; Vilena, Queen of The Port.
The three Dark Jedi who had just crashed due to "atmospheric anomalies" were about to be in for the struggle of their lives. The forest they had landed in was just one of the myriad daughter projects of the late Dacian Fanta, a man whose mysterious disappearance could only be attributed to his ruthlessly efficient wife Vilena. Since then, his numerous experiments had been discontinued, until today. Their crash was the byproduct of his first invention, and now the forest, "The Forest of Death", was his second. A forest of synthetic creation, created parallel to No Port with the original intention of recreating foliage and fauna on the planet. Since then, its once domesticated animals had grown ravenous and fierce, and it now served as the perfect trap for three force users. They would not survive.
Vilena was certain of it.
* * *
Minutes before Nariah came to...
The crash had left Voden disoriented. He examined himself for injury but to no avail. Other than a gash above his right eyebrow and a minor concussion, he was well. Furios and Nariah, who had been unstrapped and in the cockpit, seemed to have taken the brunt of the injuries. He watched as Furios ambled out of the demolished ship, leaving a trail of blood as he struggled along. Voden unstrapped himself and stood up, giving his legs a moment to recuperate with the newfound weight they were supporting. He then proceeded over to his fellow Plagueian whom he helped out of the ship, and letting go of him just out of the ship.
"Thank you, Voden. Do not worry though, I can handle myself now." Furios spoke softly, as if in a slight daze. Voden didn't blame him, he was losing a lot of blood.
"Can you get Nariah by yourself?" The young Mandalorian didn't wait for Furios to respond, as the nod the man gave him was good enough. With that, Voden began to analyze his surroundings. This planet -- it resembled Dxun, the Erinos-Mandalorian forest planet he had been trained in the ways of the Mando'ade upon. He grimaced, hoping it didn't share the same feral predators as well. To the north, in a slight opening in the canopy above, he recognized what seemed to be a cliff. With any luck, the three of them could contact the follow up crew and get a lift off from this backworld planet.
He glanced once back at Furios who was awkwardly getting back onto his feet. Well, at least he was still concious. That was a good sign. Leaving that thought as the only assurance he needed, he began to rush through the forest, climbing upon the trees and leaping from branch to branch to get the best bearing. With any luck, he would effectively serve as a recon element and find nothing dangerous. Both Nariah and Furious would be patched up and prepared to make it to the cliff where they would await transport off-planet...
Voden tried to ignore the nagging worry.