As Condor descended through the cloud of smoke, the pit in his stomach turned into a black hole. The ships' sensors were picking up heat signatures from the Wookiee city, but only two of them seemed to be wookiees. That was nothing compared to the hundreds who'd lived in the city previously. Unless there was some major wookiee hoedown happening elsewhere, something was definitely amiss. Condor gathered that the disappearance of the wookiees, and subsequently his friends, had something to do with the destroyed Republic cruiser he'd seen above the planet. His only real lead was the small gathering happening on the makeshift spaceport, so Condor decided to slowly land the small, derelict freighter less than a hundred meters from the gathering.
Knowing that the small party would most likely be armed and, given the situation, most likely quite jumpy, Condor decided that the best course of option would be to leave any weapons in the ship. He kept his wings, however. If anything went wrong, he wanted to be long gone before anybody could get a shot off.
He stepped out of the ship, keeping his hands open and away from his body to indicate he was unarmed. As he got closer to the group, he called out, "Hey! Any of you happen to have seen some wookiees? Tall? Shaggy? Smell like week old garbage? Look kinda like the two furballs you have behind you?" He tried to keep a jovial, amicable tone in his voice. The more friendly he appeared, the less likely he was going to be shot.