Draven's dudes came into orbit, and slipped down on to the face of the gruesomely dark planet, mist engulfing the dropships as they tried to pierce the thick veil, and land in the marshy swamp lands, the pilot grumbled to the co-pilot of the dropship as he hovered down, and landed. They had been tracing a group of slavers, and the trail had stopped here. The ships powered down completely, not wanting to let off energy signals, at least not as large as three dropships. Each of the three squads of The Dudes began to suit up inside the ships, men swarmed through the bay areas as they climbed into the massive mech suits which laid dormant. Once the huge metallic creatures whirred to life, and the warm light of the interiors blinked on, they were ready to go. The Dudes stomped out into the marshy, swampy land scape, and immediately found themselves with issues. They were up to the knees in thick, marshy water, and the mud beneath provided unsure footing, the dudes slipped and fell constantly, their huge mechs sloshing down into the water, before having to push and pull themselves up. The massive suits were not as useful as they would be on dry land, and their bulky forms had to struggle to stay together as the first squad of ten began to comb the area for any enemy combatants. Finding none, they began to set up base camp, unloading the dropships and assembling pop up platforms which they could get sure footing on, made of metal, to keep them out of the water. Draven sat in the bay area of the dropship, overseeing all of this, while he fingered his sabers, icy blue eyes looking over the desolate land scape, and a grim expression set on his face. He was not particularly happy about the landscape, but he was happy to kill slavers.
As he looked out over them, the troopers chattered, dull blue lights illuminating the thick veil of mist every now and again, from their platforms powering up and whirring to life, as they continued to set up base camp. The glowing blue cubes which they brought with them for light sources worked perfectly, and were just standard lights. Draven took a deep breath, and putting up his battle visor, stepped outside. Cool oxygen flooded his lungs, as the Jedi stepped down into the water. He took each of his sabers, and clipped them to the inside bottom of his chest plate, for the weapons would short if they were completely submerged in water, leaving him weaponless. This was of course, only if he had them in their unassembled state, as they were now. The dudes worked fast, ripping smaller trees and gnarled roots from the ground, and clearing landing zones for the others, while the two other squads patrolled around the area, clearing it of any and all wild life. Draven's form amongst them was quite noticeable, his shining white armor, stark against the gloomy outcast look of the planet.
They continued to work, and chatter back and forth for quite a while, the loss of their comrade weighed greatly on The Dudes, and it had reminded them of their own mortality. They chirped back and forth once, but now, they were grim, "Do not go out into that mist alone boys, stay close to each other, and wait for back up. Don't wanna step on anyone's toes. Again." Draven said into the comms, his voice crackling, and he was replied with by grunts of acknowledgement and approval. They were hard men, and had not liked seeing weakness when their master, and person they were charged to protect, had been disciplined. Rumblings had started down the chain of command, which had not gone unnoticed.
