Log:Jedi: Varmints

The Jedi attend to an issue with raiders.

OOC Date: May 17, 2023
Location: Yelsain
Participants: Lira'una, L'orera, Galen Dawnstar, Zev and Qutha Buvu Pah as GM

The edges of Tradetown are distantly north, with the green fields and the packed dirt road between the depths of woodlands and the city. Trunks of trees easily five meters in diameter mark the 'young' growth on the edges, reaching heights of one hundred and fifty to tower over the landscape and cast green shadows.

It was here that the Jedi, called to help the outer rim world, had come.

The people of Tradetown had been harried by brigandry that were reported to sweep from the forests, assailing the outskirts of the city to raid farmers bringing in their harvest, caravans hauling goods to the outliers who didn't wish to travel the city itself, and even some of the city edges itself. Injuries were plentiful, no loss of life reported yet - but not without the expertise of local physicians and emergency crew.

Qutha and Galen with a group of younger Jedi were standing, easy looking targets... the old Zelosian watching with his hands folded behind his back, "Any y'all reckon an idear of what're we gonnar do here?" Does he not know? He's done this enough, it's likely a test for the younger ones.

"Find the bandits?" Lira'una chimes up with a little quirk of a grin on her lips, her big blue eyes casting up to Qutha. She had the black hood of her robe pushed back from her face -- the youthfulness of her lavender cheeks and infectious smile on full display, not to mention the way her leather-wrapped lekku curled against her back. Her inky black robe was big enough to swallow her three times over, except that it had been hemmed short, allowing the dark indigo of her boots to peek out underneath.

It seemed like a tongue in cheek answer, but Lira followed it with an innocent little shrug. "After that, I imagine it's up to them, isn't it? I mean.. I'd guess someone has already asked them to please stop along the way. Do you think they'll respect the fact that Jedi have stepped in to intervene? Will that... help?"

Galen had tagged along for a chaperone of sorts being there to help ensure that if things go squirrely that the Padawans had some higher level support if they needed it but with Qutha's question he shrugs his shoulders a bit, "I think we're going to do some stuff and things and then do some more stuff..." He grins a bit as he looks over towards the Padawans for a bit as they answer before his gaze moves back out into the tree line some more.

Rera has visited so many planets recently. ... Okay, like three since she left the Enclave. Tempes, Nar Shaddaa and now this one. She likes it a lot more than the Smuggler's Moon, that's for sure. Oh, of course they're here to stop some bandits doing bandit things, but the life here. The -trees-. She likes it, It's pleasant and clean. She'll come back here to visit again.

Now, though. The question of banditry.

"We have to try and talk to them," she says. "We're Jedi. We offer the open hand first, try and figure out -why- they're doing this rather than just asking them to stop, then we ... help them."

Unless, of course, they're just greedy and want to take from others. Then there might be a bit of an impasse. She shrugs in her robe, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean...that's my suggestion."

There's a bit of a pause from Zev at the question. Everybody else chimes in and provides their ideas for what they should do, "I mean that seems the best course of action, but if they are hostile wouldn't it make more sense to scout them out first, before we approach?"

He takes a second to adjust the dark iron saber on his belt before pulling his robes back around over it, "Just so if we're walking into a trap we at least know it."

Galens wisenheimery is notes with a raised brow from the orchardist, head canting and his focus returning to the woodlands with a small nod to himself.

"Reckon... So we's find'em, see's ifn' we'se kin talk too 'em... Or scout 'em first... They's a multitude of ways t'look for sommat... If any y'all wanna giv'er a suggestion, or lead the way... Er'thin' is a test an'a manner'a learning. Follow y'instincts n'all." head lifting and his eyes seeming to unfocus. Frowning faintly, turning one direction and another but making no apparent commitment. "Even 'fore y'er knights... might-could be a situation where it's jus' y'all... Or mayhap even only one'a y'us..." looking back to the padawans.

Qutha's attention moves from one to the next, in turn, quietly assessing them before he steps back as if to hand the reigns to whomever wants them.

Lira's quiet as she listens to the others, Galen's response getting an especially amused twist of one corner of her lips. Though, when she notes Qutha's lack of response (especially positive response) to the other knight, she rolls her lips and keeps whatever she might have said to herself.

Instead, she nods at Zev. "I like the idea of going quietly until we know who we're up against.. and how many." Blue eyes shift back to Rera. "And you know I'll back you up if talking goes... poorly."

After Qutha's words, however, the Twi'lek reaches into her robe and pulls a little earpiece out of her belt pouch, moving it up and tucking it in one earcone.

"Skitter, you there?"

<< "I am." >> The response came only back through the comm itself, its built-in comlink transmitting its response in deep, intimidating basic.

"You can come out for now. See if you can find anything leading off of the main trail."

A moment later, there's a rustle from off of the trail as a four-legged spider droid just over a meter tall sneaks out from the underbrush and moves along the trail, a rather advanced scanning package sweeping along as it skitters down the road. Abruptly, it stops.

<< "I have located a set of tracks that depart from the established trail." >>

"Skitter's got a possible trail," Lira says, gesturing towards the droid for the benefit of anyone that wasn't already mic'd up.

Everybody else seems to look, peering through the trees. Rera tries something a little different. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and listens. Sounds filter in from all around. From the town and the forest. She tunes out the sound of civilization, focusing on the sounds of nature coming from the trees. Hunting for things that shouldn't be in with the birds and animals.

Too bad that's all she gets. The Mirialian shakes her head, opening her eyes. "It sounds very pretty and peaceful in there, but....I don't hear anything weird."

Well, until Skitter comes out. She jumps a little, still not exactly used to the droid. Who decided a droid should look like a giant spider anyway!? Her eyes flicker, looking for the trail the droid found, but she's not that good.

"I guess...we should follow it carefully?"

Galen's peering off into the woods straiiiiiining to see what's going and then he looks back with the others, "There's trees over in them there trees." He's totally not seeing anything else for right now. Making a motion as L'orera suggests we follow a trail, "After you. Just be aware they're bandits so it may be an ambush."

As they walk, Zev's eyes close and his ears twitch, moving around as they search for particular sound, "We're still too close to the city for me to hear anything." He grumbles faintly to himself, eyes opening back up as he tries his best to follow the group, having fallen a bit behind while trying to listen for the camp.

Continuing his slow turns, with a still rising brow for some of the commentary being made, the zelosion motions to the padawans again. "Well, reckon they's a trail." head lifting and his brow knitting when he looks to where has been indicated by the droid - simply making to keep in line with the others.

The droid's path pulling them further and further into the woodlands, along a course that weaves under the fallen bough of 'young' tree, that could easily be used to put a long house within it and still have room in the still solid wood. The natural arch leading to a gully that descends below most sightlines.

Detritus is spotted here and there, empty blast-paks tossed aside, food wrappers, damaged goods left to rot, forgotten.

But what's more is that several can spot movement ahead, figures in the trees who are clearly minding a perimeter - but haven't managed to notice the approaching Jedi, yet.

"There's guards up ahead in the trees," Lira whispers to the rest of the group, raising one hand in her robes to point. "I'm going to take Skitter and see if we can get a better look at what they're protecting. We'll be on comms." She gives a little tap of her ear.

Whether or not she was as skilled as she wanted to be, /this/ was where Lira shined -- decision making. Some might call her brash, or foolish, or brazen, or brave, or any number of other colorful things. Regardless of the outcome, the little purple Twi'lek got an A+ on her ability to pick a course of action and begin executing it, though.

With a swirl of black cloak, Lira gestured towards her four-legged spider droid and the two set off in a path that seemed the best compromise between cover and noise. As she got closer and felt the guards starting to twitch in her direction, she raised a slender lavender hand and stretched out through the Force, reaching for a branch to rustle, to draw their attention back away from her again.

Everything was going according to plan.

Until the branch didn't move.

Everyone else is at least trying to hide. Rera is not. As she tromps through the undergrowth, she considers. What would Juria do? Would she hide and gather information? If the Force guided her to do so. Would she march right up to the guards to talk to them? If the Force guided her to. What is the Force guiding L'orera to do?

Talk. Extend a hand. See if these bandits are unfortunates who need help. Deal with the consequences if they are not. She has these powers, joined the Order to help people. All people. Even those who have done terrible things. All get a chance at redemption.

The Mirialan, for the uninitiated, is only slightly taller than Lira. She is the opposite of intimidating in her brown robes with her satchel, hair tied in a neat bun. She doesn't try to skulk or be quiet, she just moves in the indicated direction, following the trail of detrius, her hands held up before her.

"Please don't shoot. I just wish to speak with you."

Galen watches as the Padawans get into position for whatever it is they're planning to do however he watches as L'orera preps go out and try to talk to the potential bandits and moves into a position where if things go bad as they tend to do that he'll be close enough to engage into the aggressive negotiations. Otherwise he's letting the newer generation of Jedi take the lead on this mission.

The lepi follows along with L'orera. It's not that he doesn't think she could handle herself talking to these guys, he just knows it's always best for them to work in pairs, regardless of anything else.

The blue furred bunny hops up behind her as she gets ready to step out, and holds his hands up as well, walking just behind her, with his right side just obscured by her body.

Figures whom have proven less apt at concealment are definitely more adept in watching than hiding. That much obvious when one begins to rise and point a rifle wrapped with cloth bands for additional structural support at the Twi'lek... Only the call out when the miralian and the lepi make their presence much more openly known.

If they've taken notice of Galen it's unclear. The same to be said of Qutha who keeps towards where the cover of leaves and branches provide some concealment. Until he makes them move too much. And when he steps on a bit of rock that shifts and crackles beneath his heavy work boot.

"Whatcher wan' greeniegirlie?" another calls out, from a stand opposite the first. Soon three more are visible, making it a total of five, all with blasters of various 'quality' drawn and held ready. "Talkins cheapies, you wanna gittout, you drop yer goods and credits then skip out quickidiee like!"

Sour glares and bared teeth added to the mix. A proper welcome wagon, this.

Yeah. Busted.

The moment the branch didn't move, Lira had known her porg was cooked, and that much was made obvious by the fact that the rifle comes up to bear at her. Fudge.

Lira had already snatched the cylinder out of the inside of her robe in response to the rifle, apparently ready to respond if things were going to devolve quickly, but it's Rera's words that seem to bring an abrupt halt to the action -- both of the guards and of hers.

Instead of staying low, the lavender-skinned girl simply stands up and keeps her hands inside her robes, her saber hilt clutched in her hand and hidden inside them. It was an admission -- or at least she had intended it to be -- that she had been spotted and didn't intend to press the issue any further. Not, at least, while greeniegirlie was being given her moment to speak.

Rera, surprising even herself, doesn't flinch as the guns are turned on her. She can feel her heart beat faster and a trickle of sweat start down her neck, but she doesn't flinch. She looks at each of the guards in turn, eyes glittering golden in the dappled forest light. She takes a few slow breaths as they posture and threaten, but she has her people with her. She has the Force.

"We have come to see if anything can be done to stop your raiding," she says, continuing to shift her gaze between the guards, making direct eye contact with each of them as she speaks. "I understand that desperation, trauma and tragedy, hunger and rage are strong motivations to take the things you want from others. I don't know your hurts, but please, let me, let -us- try to make things right. I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are treated fairly and can acquire what you need to survive."

She's so gonna get shot in the face.

Galen's still watching L'orera attempt to talk things out with the bandits who have shown their colors when they raised weapons and demanded goods and credits. However he's not reacting just yet keeping to his hiding spot he had found however he's coiled up and ready to spring into action if the bandits decide that they want the stick rather than the carrot.

The lepi keeps his hands up, holding his position. Weapons already drawn is never a great sign, but there's plenty of others around who can jump in if this goes off, plus Zev has been training hard as well. He still remains quiet, but his right hand is ready to move and grab his saber if these guys aren't up for taking the deal, "You got this." He says to Rera, while also preparing for if she does, in fact, not have this.

"Pfffaaaa... Wesies go to bars. We fights, we take, they can't stopses us. We have to keep the movies, greeniegirlie. Howses youses to gerrus what we needses??"

Another voice from the interior, another trio appearing to raise the count to eight. Near-humans with ruddy skin tones, long limbed and an equine quality to their faces, the whole of them. Relatively clean, moderately kept, but clearly having been living at extremes depending on their raids and the time between them.

"Wesies losteded works, bootsed to the streetses. So now wesies makeses our own rules, out here! So you makeses us a better deal than wesies helpses you!"

They haven't started shooting, at the very least and at the rear of the Jedi approaching, Qutha comes to stand with the hilt of his saber in hand and hand hidden within the sleeves of his robes. Watching patiently as another of the bandits calls out.

"Yeah! Wesies choose to liveses where wesies can make our lives! We goeses back, wesies be jailed. Foods maybes, not streetses, but rathers freeses and streetses than sheltered in jailses!"

Rera is still so incredibly aware of the guns pointed her way. She's quite sure that her fellow Jedi are ready to back her up. To save her if necessary, but she doesn't -want- it to be necessary. She wants to talk these poor souls down. She wants to help them. She shakes her head in sympathy as the tale is told in their odd dialect. Unemployment to homelessness to preying on others to survive. It's a vicious cycle. It's a tragedy on the level of planets dying. Then again, to the Mirialan, the hurting of a single soul is a wound to the universe.

"I understand," she says, looking down at the brush for a moment. "We have some options, my friends," she says, looking up. "If you wish it, we could relocate you to another planet. Teach you how to hunt and grow your own food. Make you self sufficient. We could teach you to forage in these woods, to hunt your food here. To craft and gather things to -trade- with the town. You have options."

Once more, she makes eye contact with every one of the bandits, even the newcomers. It's not stern or judgmental. Her golden eyes are full of compassion and the desire to help. To see these individuals left better than they were found, and in doing so stop them from being bandits. "We--I do not wish to see any of you imprisoned for doing what you must to survive. I only want you to survive, to -thrive-, without having to hurt others to do it. I know you're angry and hurt. I know you feel shame for your lot, but you are alive. You have nothing to feel shame for, save harm done to others. In hurting others, you only hurt yourselves."

She's still ready to be shot in the face.

Galen maintains his hiding spot since L'orera's doing great with her diplomacy he's not about to ruin it. But he's still preparing for the hopefully not so inevitable conflict to kick off. But instead of holding onto his lightsaber his hands are grasping a baton handle for a segmented staff ready to engage the power couplings that engages the staff into the fun mode.

One of the long faced people throws an elbow into one of her fellows, the two on either side of that one looking to the jostler and then to the Jedi. One barks out something in what is clearly a local dialect that sets all but two to nattering between one another. Heatedly at points. One smacking the other about the face and neck with an open hand that gets more of them all riled up and speaking even faster.

Weapons waver, moving from one figure to the next as the voices begin speaking over one another, faster and louder until one stomps their foot and issues a yawping sort of sound that quiets them all.

"Youses promisies youses can takes us offa this planets, bringsies wesies wheres wesies can starts newses... ?" hands on his hips, the heavy jawed figure that had quieted the others steps forward, staring at L'orera, leaving Zev and Lira to be minded by others. Maybe a person who'd worked in manual labor, whose build had been wasting from hardship, but gone harder for what muscle remained. "Wesies not be to bars for livingses... We findses the sneakycross... wesies fightses to the last. Wesies won't accept tricksies."

The others nod and all eyes are on Rera now, waiting.

Lira'una projects peace. That is to say -- she doesn't project not peace. Much as she has been, she stands rooted in place, waiting for the negotiations to succeed (or fail, but she was confident Rera was making good progress).

Of course, she still wanted to see what was over the ridge. Was it banthas? Nerfs? Were there actual nerf-herders? Tents? Buildings? Buildings made out of tents? Tents made out of buildings?!

It was anyone's guess, but it was still on Lira's mind.

L'orera watches the locals interact, not understanding their dialect, but she can feel the emotions. The excitement and suspicion, the low anger, the fear.

The hope.

She takes another step forward, hands still raised in front of her, though her eyes flicker around to her fellow Jedi, making sure they're still with her. Making sure they're on board with her plan.

Of course they are. A peaceful resolution is what they all want, here.

"Of course. I swear on my life and the Force. We can relocate you all to somewhere you may live in peace. Somewhere you can live your own lives. It won't be easy, but you will be -free-."

She'll make multiple trips in the Space Mini Van to relocate these folks by herself if she has to, but it should be fine.

"All we wish is for peace. For you. For the others of this area. If you wish to leave, we will make it happen. It won't be -immediate-, It will take a few cycles to find a planet and get a large enough ship here to carry you, and the supplies you will need, to your new home, but we will do this for you. Until then, you must not raid. You must not steal or harm another sentient. Do you understand?"

Galen's still staying in his little hiding spot although as that light of hope starts to appear with the bandits his weapon is securely returned to it's little holster of sorts as he watches the diplomacy unfold between the Padawan and the bandits.

Zev's attention is on the guy with the gun, and he makes a motion with his right hand, that he's still holding up, "You don't want to fight us." He says, hoping that it'll actually work. Because these guys really don't want to fight them.

"Wesies won'tses steals or raidses. But youses getses wesies to a new worlds..." the large fellow finally says with a nod. "Getses us wheres wesies can live."

The others nod in assent to that, murmurs and grumbles in their own dialect following, "Nots manies of wesies..." blasters are being lowered and sidelong glances are passing between one another before one raises hand to their mouth, giving a multi-octave whistle. Movement in the brush precedes the appearance of more. Several with children whom they'd been clearly the minders for.

All told, maybe forty people, a whole community gone to banditry to live. The one Zev waves at blinking rapidly and turning towards one of his fellows. The pair blink and chatter to one another before staring at the lepi, confused.

"Reckon we's got ourselves a collection'a craft t'git folk moved..."

Qutha piping in at last, moving forward enough for the padawans to see the Zelosian giving a small nod, with one corner of his mouth raised, "I kin hold a whole passel... n'Lira s'well... We kin gettem all moved." and then he's turning to begin wandering back the way they came, "Best gittem all rounded up, y'hear."

Lira's shift is subtle, but she returns the stunsaber to its place on her belt and smiles as she and Skitter make their way back towards the others.

"We should probably avoid town.. for obvious reasons. I can bring my shuttle out here and hold twenty comfortably... more if they don't mind squeezing together a bit."

She pauses, then, looking between Qutha and Rera with a little hint of a smile. "I.. assume you have a place in mind?"

But she reaches up to her ear, tapping it. "Blip? Get the ship prepped.. and see what you can do about straightening the passenger compartment. We're going to have guests."

They agree. No one was hurt. Not even a word said in anger happened. When the children start coming out, the green girl nearly swoons. She didn't expect that. Not a whole community. Tears sting, and she quickly scrubs them away. She can't cry. Not now. The hardest part is done, but there's still work to do.

Without fear, she bustles towards the locals, having them round up in their family groups to go gather their essential possessions. Apparently she has some talent for herding people too. Like a teacher or, well, a medical professional. She's in the mix of the, at this point, refugees, smiling at the children, kind touches on the shoulder for the adults, and soft, peaceful words for all of them.

Her heart wants to burst with joy. This is proof. Solid, absolute proof that she's right. An open hand starts the healing process. Ready to be clasped in peace. Pride is not a Jedi ethos, but she still can't wait to tell Juria about her success.

"I have a pretty good idea where to take them."

Once the blasters lower, Zev lowers his hands, relaxing, "Well done." He says to L'orera, "Very well done." As more of them start to emerge from the bushes, including children, he moves over to start helping them, "Come on, we'll get you out of here, just follow me." He says, offering a smile. He also waves again to the ones that were confused, this time as more of a 'Come on' motion.

"All I got is a Preybird, not going to be much help for transport but I can at least herd them up and get them to the landing zone."