Soldier of Misfortune

[Myles Davorak]

(Open to all who wish to join!!)

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Naboo: Wildlands​

10 km from Keren​

20 km from Theed​

His head hurt from tremendous pain. All Myles could hear was a constant ringing bellowing in his ears. Double vision was hindering him from gathering his bearings as he lay on the warm ground. Moving killed him a little on the inside but he had to get up.

Fire was roaring ten feet away from him. Wreckage and debris was littered around the vicinity. It was a crash. Right?

"Karkin'.....hell.....Hale?......Hawkins?"

Myles made an attempt to reach Raven Squad over his comlink but to no avail. The comlink buzzed with static as Myles tried sitting up. What even happened? He thought to himself.


The ship he was in managed to make its own clearing among a rather dense forest. The sky was littered with snow white clouds that cast a cool shade over him. Myles had blood over his body but couldn't feel any deep lacerations but he sure as hell got his lip busted. The taste of blood was reminiscent of his days on Naboo. Training.

His blaster carbine lay beside him, to which Myles was going to use as a walking support like the old man he was.

The Soldier of Fortune; Myles Davorak has found himself on his homeworld of Naboo once more. Only this time, it was on ill circumstances. He was taking a shuttle to the city of Keren to complete a contract.

All Myles remembers is that the pilot of the shuttle tried to turn on him and shoot him; Myles was able to shoot first and this sent the shuttle into a weaving fit as it pushed toward a treeline.
Did someone order a hit on him? Did he get double-crossed by his client? He wasn't really sure.

He was sure of one thing: Getting back to the Tempest, but without comms; this would prove to be a difficult task. He rummaged through the wreckage to see if he could find any supplies. All he found was a [Basic Med-Kit] & [Signal Flares]

Finding the flares poised an idea.
First he patched a minor wound on his forearm with the bandages that were supplied in this Basic Med-Kit.
Grabbing the flares, he ignited them and tossed them over near the wreckage. With the flares visible above the treetops, Myles ducked back and hid in the brush.

Waiting. Patiently. Myles waited to see if further combatants would respond to the crash scene. Perhaps he could find out what was going on.

 

[Luther Lewis]

Naboo - Wildlands

Zai screamed in pain, twisting and turning under the rubble. From the front, sharp shards of metal lacerated his skin, while an intense heat licked his back. His mind snapped and an animalistic fever overcame him. With a surge of adrenaline, he pushed the flaming scrap off him and leapt to safety. He rolled onto the grass, dousing his fiery clothes.

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His tumultuous life had finally calmed down. Now comfortably wealthy, Zai had retired from all his dodgy pass-times. Salvaging, running and gunning; he had shed those habits like a snake shed its skin. And it was liberating. He could do whatever he wanted in the galaxy. So he took a holiday to Naboo.

Zai and transports had a bad history. They had a habit of colliding with the ground. Surviving so many crashes was either extremely good or extremely poor luck, but Zai rarely walked away unscathed. After the wreckage on Tatooine had left its scars, Zai had resolved never to travel in large transports again. But the amount of fuel to get his own transport to Naboo was costly, and he yearned to see new sights. So he had boarded the transport, nervous, and convinced himself that everything was fine. The ship was not going to crash...

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Everything hurt, but most especially the cuts along his torso and burns across his back. His clothes, a fine blue suit, were torn and brown with mud. "I must be in hell" he muttered, tasting blood. If it was hell, then it looked a lot like the forests of Naboo. A bright light surfaced nearby and flew towards him, prompting to Zai to actually contemplate his previous statement.

The flare hit him square in the nose, blinding him and prompting Zai to utter a string of curses that would make sailors cringe. The raised his hands in surrender. "Friendly!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Hold fire". Why they would use a flare to attack him was confusing, but it was pretty effective and he didn't want to risk their ire, lest they had more flares.

| [member="Myles Davorak"] |​

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