The late afternoon in the commercial street is packed with people. Various pop up stalls create a far more crowded atmosphere and add to the color of the air and environment. The various smells of food vendors and the overall loud trail of conversation is punctuated by haggling and laughter.
Small children are running around a sweet stall where their mother has been afforded a momens' reprieve while she prepares to quiet them for just a little while with the treats she is buying while balancing a baby on her hip.
Among the stall shoppers is Vhe, a small repulsor sleed being pulled as its heaped with various fresh produce. She pauses before some hard shelled fruits that she begins to sort through in the shadow of one of the taller residential buildings.
Some of the stalls are already closing down for the evening, packing up and pundling up their goods as the rumbling scream of something large passes overhead, throwing a long angled shadow. Unbenownst to those outside of traffic control where chaos has errupted, the carrier transport, a suborbital shuttle has experienced a catastrophic failure in its rear engines and is loosing altitude far too fast, far too suddenly.
The smoke flowing out of its stern is thick and black and as it gets lower is shrouding the entire open aired market as people begin to cry out and scream. The engine which was lost is giving off such a sound as to not be missed as the entire transport slams into one of the local apartment structures and shaves off the top before it comes to a stop and starts to teeter on its unexpected pedastal.
People begin to run and scatter, chaos blossoming in the streets from the epicenter of the crash.
Along the street near the vendors Jicelli has set up her little sound system and is set to perform for the passers by. The young Pantorian musisian glances about at the crowd with a slight smile on her face.
Xyomara frowns as she walks around in one of her uniforms, white, with a peaked cap on her head "Ah. A rebrea-" she stops, looking over. A... a crash. She... she can prove she can handle those! REdeem herself! But what does she have... a rebreather, a sword and a pistol, but not much else. She knew she should have been monitoring the coms!
The tall echani, there was no real point in calling her pale, for she followed the colorations of her species to an exacting degree, had been making her way down from the northern industrial area, when the screaming began. Whatever had held the woman's attention flashed immediately wo the screaming crowd first, and the descending transport second. Amal was, thankfully, not close enough to have to worry about the top story of a building crumbling down on her head, but it did shift her path away from the street continuing down towards the starport and towards the epicenter of the chaos.
Digging a credit chit from a small pouch on her belt, Chani is in the middle of exchanging the currency for a warm bun of bread when her whole body is seized by a clench of muscles and a ripple of goosebumps prickling at her pores. The hair on the nape of her neck stands on end, like hackles raised in alert. Her head snaps up and to the side before the boom, but even then she is ill-prepared for the violence unfolding in front of her eyes. Credit chit and food both forgotten at the vendor, Chani's boots slap a rhythmic clap of protective soles against duracrete, and the feyd-cloth robe draped around her figure billows from the momentum she's propelling herself through the street with. Some scatter away from the building that's been hit. Chani runs at it.
Shemar's off duty and out shopping on this pretty day. Wearing regular civie street clothes he walks long checking the various vendors, looking out for a tool kit or something to take back to barracks that could be amusing. While he's at that he stops by a food stall after checking his chrono. Getting on into evening and a lot of the vendors will be closing up so it may be his last chance to grab a quick bite to eat.
"Yeah, give me two kabob skewers please. Thank you." He hands over a few credits and is handed his dinner on a stick.
Shemar moves onto another stall, looking over the goods as he waits for his food to cool enough to start eating it. Whoa! The pilot suddenly looks up at the sound of a ship in trouble! People all around him look up, some start screaming or trying to run but it's much too crowded among the stalls to run anywhere easily. "Oh drek."
It is a very, very sureal moment when the transport suddenly crashes into a near by building, sending debris raining down, and ends up perched on top of it.
Vega's doing the weekly check of merchants for anything that looks shiny, weird and she can possibly take back to the shop and tinker it together. The Jedi is currently standing off to the side and entranced by some sort of bauble about the size of a small ball, "Wonder if the porgs would like you." she ponders quietly. Maybe they could make them toys? Who knows! The crash gets her attention very quickly and her grey eyes go wide, "Oh dear." she frowns as she tosses some credits to the cashier and hurries to see what is going on. Short people can only see so much!
Qutha Buvu Pah Strolling through the market section specific to meat trade at this point, there's a fair amount of floral and produce type goods in a shoulder strapped basket, Qutha's enjoyment of the day is such that the idea of horrific catastrophe in the streets of Chandrila is little more than a small, scribbled out, footnote to his thoughts.
How so? Lapti Nek is in his forethoughts.
"Qui neb be og-ezen'ON! Wok lapti nek seb not'van! Goc jarraz bas deg zorze zot! Laaaaaapti NEK! Rat-a-ran wim joct'co jappi qaff! Laaaapti NE--OHHH!" crashing craft inbound and it's all that Qutha can do to stare wide eyed and not join the panicking masses. Instinctively latching onto the training of months - calm and 'listening' for the guidance of the force.
"Bother and blow." jaw snapping shut.
Khalim had been, in his mind, over-extending the welcome of his stay. Three days now, on Chandrila; a pit-stop had become an unexpected little vacation. At ground level, he's sorting through a street vendor's mobile storefront - a cart, though a nice one - looking for a thank you gift in repayment to a kindness received a day earlier. "You made all of these?" He holds a pan, purportedly hand shaped out of a malleable, Chandrilan-sourced copper-based allow. Before he can ask anything else, however, an emerging shriek from the sky draws his attention and he watches, in horror, as a suborbital shuttle careens into, and then makes a precarious home of, a building-top. As shouts begin to be heard, everyone having seen the same, he returns the pan and steps away, eyes up.
Zelo Parrai had just landed at the starport when he saw the smoke. Bailing out of the Projor Haal, the Mandalorian is off toward the city center. Igniting the controls on his jetpack, the pilot in the gleaming blue Beskar takes the direct approach, flying over buildings and the crowd of panicked people below. His visor scans for details, but his eyes are looking for someone below as he lowers to land. <"Vhe!"> There's relief, but also concern as the Nautolan touches down nearby, though the Vocoder in his helm hides much of the emotion.
On a stroll down one of Hanna City's commercial streets, Adalee holds a funnel containing some sort of deep-fried batter-strings. Like fries, only sweeter, and even worse for you. Munching happily the half-sephi looks for her next objective, and seeing a shoe-store across the street she stops and begins patiently waiting for traffic to allow her to pass. Even as repulsor traffic stops, she doesn't begin moving, as a starship angles overhead, belching smoke, and slams into a nearby building. She simply stares, mouth open, just like everyone else nearby.
The chaos is something to behold. Billowing smoke becomes a thick cloud as it rises from the building and the stalls beneath are smattered with the first remnants of the top of the building as they hurdle ot the ground. More seem to be cracking and slipping away as they look like they may fall at any second. Already there are injured around the base, some dazed, others unmoving as more than a few look up in shock and do not yet start moving.
But there is the steady panic that comes with a ship crashed and the scent of fuel is starting to fill the air but no sight or subsequent explosion from its presence.
The mother with her two children panics for she looks around and can not find her children as more people begin to turn and run instead of stare. Not enough for a stampede but they are shoving and pushing their way out of the immediate area. All the while the sirens of emergency vehicles approaching can be heard distantly as some security personnel are trying to urge people back.
Where Vhe was was somewhat close to the central point of it all and the dusty of debris patters against her sled as she looks to the armored figure who joins her. "We need to get people out of that building and clear those underneath." She looks to him and nods with a motion for him to go forward when she sees faces she recognizes. "Qutha...lets go." She gives a tug on his sleeve as they follow not far behind Chani in an effort to get closer.
The mother of four cries out for help but its swallowed up by the shock and cries going up as some civilians are moving towards the problem rather than away, but they are far fewer in number.
Xyomara frowns as she tries to look, pulling the rebreather up, blinking as the smoke starts stinging. She already reaches for her sword and pistol, as she can't make her way through... if there is a panic, maybe she should steer it? But that would be a last resort.
Amal Jha It was, entirely, a terrible idea to head towards the damaged building, as the flow of civilians attempting to depart the area broke like a wave over Amal, and the echani found herself buffeted on all sides as humanoids and others attempted to go around, over and, in one case, under the echani to escape. had it not been for the groaning of steel and duracrete and the continued sounds of panic, it might have even been a comic scene, as Amal tried to clear herself from the wave of desperation and fear.
With no time to reach for anything, Chani runs into the brief cloud of smoke and through it. She holds her breath to avoid inhaling any of the acrid particulates, and squinting her eyes into narrow bands allows her to avoid most of the stinging burn that comes with passing through. Emerging from the other side, her sweeping gaze alights on a child screeching next to an elderly man trapped beneath a half-destroyed chunk of building. Yanking her comlink from her belt, Chani thumbs in against one of the buttons to broadcast a message over the desired channel. "Aryn! A transport has struck one of the apartment buildings downtown. Prepare to receive wounded at the hospital!" She waits for no reply. Shoving the comlink back into place, Chani advances.
She casts a simple glance over her shoulder towards Vhe and Qutha. "We need to warn them to start evacuating the upper floors of that building!" Debris and glass crunch underneath her boots and pulverized dust from the building shifts in the shape of her footsteps while she approaches the young girl. "Listen to me, you're going to need to take his belt off and fasten it around his leg, okay? I'm going to lift this block off of him and then you're going to wait for emergency services to take you to the hospital." The girl may have been screeching a moment ago out of fear, but someone taking charge rattles her out of her hysteria. Exhaling hard through her mouth as if breath leaving her lungs helps thoughts leave her head, Chani looks to the block and surrenders herself to the current of the Force that surrounds herself and every living thing.
Smaller chunks break off the rock as it begins to lift in the air, with Chani's extended hand and its slow, steady movement seeming to grip it in an invisible fist. The man beneath is freed, though the mention of the belt becomes apparent as warm blood begins to spill through the tears in the cloth of his trousers.
Alas, his food skewers are dropped into a waste receptacle - no way he's got time to eat his dinner right now. People are yelling and moving all around him. Shemar starts moving towards the building and raises his baritone to those closest around him, "Please stay calm. Move back and vacate the area - emergency crews will need landing room!" The Lieutenant JG smells ship fuel and it causes him to hesitate.
Just then Shemar sees an older humanoid woman knocked down, loosing her trip on a vendor's stall. He's not fast enough to prevent it and he gets clipped when he tries to make his way to her, almost knocking him down as well. The press of bodies is getting rough, "I'm coming, ma'am! I see you. Stay close to the stall!" The X-wing pilot does his best to get 'up stream' of her slightly to help deflect people from trampling the woman, getting knocked around himself in his effort to reach her.
Vega's caught in the push of people trying to get away and people trying to get to the crash. And given her height that means some of these taller overdwellers overlook the smaller Echani. It's like school all over again. The white haired woman gives a yelp as she twists and wriggles to get free of the mass of the crowd. She ends up scuttling on her hands and knees and somewhere way off to the side of where she originally was. She lurches up and tries to dust the dirt from her black robes, "Gotta get these people calm or they're going to crush someone." she mutters.
Head lifting and turning towards Vhe when he hears his name, the zelosian follows suit when the tug comes - grocery satchel basket bouncing against his back all the while. Swallowing hard and forgetting the delightfully sweet, yet crisply tart, Socorroan Lidri-Berries so carefully wrapped in cloth and tucked within a hard duraplast container to keep them from being squashed. Delightful. Forgotten for now. For how long?
How long can he keep them chilled in these circumstance? With them pushed to the hindmost portions of memory?
Chani is giving suggestion, sensible for what it is and he does his best not to hesitate; looking to the Mandalorian. "Good call, Chani. Vhe! Send your flying friend up, he can get to the upper levels to start evac sooner - I need to..." no more time to discuss what he's doing before he is off at a rush for a mother with her two children.
"Ma'am, I'll find the others, you take the two with you out of harm's way and await." he's become good at finding lost children in storms as of late. Now the metaphorical as well a the literal. "I promise!" and off the plant man goes, towards stalls the mother points to at a clip.
The berries abide.
After the initial shock, of both event and impact, the chaos begins to set in. At least some debris has fallen, and there are cries, pandemonium as civilians begin reacting as civilians often will. With both panic and acts of bravery and help. Looking back at the stall he'd just visited, the Mirialan does not see the proprietor, who has apparently vanished into thin air. However, a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye has Khalim's attention shifting... to a shocking scene.
A woman, trapped beneath a twisted, scarred durasteel panel. The pilot in him knows it fell from the ship that is now perched atop a commercial building, likely part of an engine cowling. From a failed engine. The kitchen-wares vendor is trying, in futility, to free the trapped woman, but he's too small, that bit of wreckage too heavy. Khalim settles in beside him, gripping the least shorn edge, and /heaaaaaaaves/. And it moves, just a little. Just enough. The woman, seemingly not breathing, is pulled just free enough. Khalim settles to his knees, doing his best to take stock of her condition. He's no medic, he goes by sight. She doesn't seem to be doing too well. Breathing or not.
Zelo nods, needing no further cue than a word to tell him where his priorities are. Behind an H-visor and its constant stream of data and analysis, eyes like black pools look up to the crash, to the damaged apartment building and individual pieces of falling debris are tracked as they descend to the ground below. Downed civilians - some moving, some not - are also noted. There is a pause as the pilot is even pretty sure he spotted an aspiring flautist. But as the scanning continues and tracks upwards, a hint of movement catches the Nautolan's attention: someone near the top floor, waving through a window but occasionally disappearing behind or within billowing clouds of smoke. Zelo checks around him, dodging to the side to be clear of bystanders as he ignites his rocket pack with the click of a switch.
The Mandalorian speeds off and up, visor tracking debris as it falls down, and he weaves around to rise vertical along the building's face, checking in on an emergency bandwidth as he does so. <<"This is Zelo Parrai, I've spotted someone near the top at a window, but they may be getting smoked out. They're signalling for help, and I'm inbound.">>
Adalee's funnel of fried, sugary goodness has been dropped, thanks to her being pinball-bounced within a crowd rushing both to help, and to safety. Her inclination is to help, but she can't see very well. She can hear though, and a distinct cry for help calls from her right. She tries to move within the crowd, bit by bit, in the direction of that sound, a voice in fear. "Make way," she cries, as she tries to fight her way out of the stream of people, making some headway but not enough. "Do you need help? Where are you?" Her ice blue eyes sweep to left and right. Her ears, long-tapered, seem like they may give her some advantage in hearing, but no... she struggles along. "Where are you?"
The man who had moments before been crushed by a part of the building is relieved of its burden as the young girl who looks at Chani hesitates for only a second. But the spectacle of the large piece of building moving at the woman's behest is enough to get her moving. She slides in and tries to do as she is told with shaking hands. There above them the ship and building shudder as the durasteel squeals and people cry out from within.
Order has not yet been established in these early moments and the calls for calm and order are not heard and people work purely on instinct for the most part, creating a difficult situation in and unknown moment. Fear is a heady drug and adrenaline kicks in for more than a few as they are on auto pilot.
Xyomara and Amal are caught in the chaos even though they can here the calls of fear and need for help around them. The groan of the ship shifting atop the building is deafening at one point and drowns out all else just as Qutha manages to calm the young mother. Her two children missing as people grow in number as they turn to leave the area. The ship's sounds are enough to warrant that.
More and more people pour out of the building even as Zelo lifts off and heads for the top floors just as it is suggested he do so. Khalim and Shemar are twisted about in the flow of people some but both with deeds to perform as they find those in desperate need of their help.
Vega and Adalee are lost in the flow of people. Not imposing enough to turn the tide of fear in the general public so that they don't get caught up in their sudden rushing torrent away from the site.
There comes a sickening rumble scraping high pitched screech from the ship as it shifts, starting to slide out of its nesting spot, catching finally with a little shake of its posterior where the smoke is pouring down into the streets from.
Vhe looks to Chani who as enough under control but she watches as a large chunk of the building begins to shift with the ship and her hands are thrown up to try to stop it before it makes its plummet. A simple stop gap but not enough on her own. "Chani...I think I need your help."
A cart. People. Masses. Dead people! IT is time to glare and yell "Attention you nimwits!" she begins, as if adressing an imaginary crew "I want you to stop yesterday, and you better follow orders or you can exepect an entire week in the brig, cadets!" she continues, staring, hands on her weapons "So stop! It is an order by your captain!" This.... might have indeed worked. On Chiss. "Are you guys deaf? Do you intend to incur a demotion? Because it is where you are heading..." she stops... maybe she should indeed just fire in the air.
Amal Jha The wave of sentients has broken over the echani, and Amal, for the moment, was clear of the press of bodies attempting to flee the scene. But, that did little to nothing to stem the chaos that was all around her as screams and cries of pain and panic rose up from the ground, and descended from above. There was a shifting of emotion on the pale woman's face, before she marked the location of the ship, as well as the slowly emptying exits from the building. And then, the decision was made, and Amal took off at speed, dodging bodies and debris, only just managing to evade a block of duracrete that exploded a food cart on her left side as she made to make entry into the building, pulling people out of her way and clear of the building as might be necessary to get her to the stairwell.
Chani is not content to lift the block over the man and away from his legs. A combination of holding it in place and willing it away with her mind sends it pushing a few feet into open, empty space. She releases it, then, and the heavy block smashes into the duracrete beneath it hard enough to crack it. Multiple splits appear in the chunk, detailing the integrity of the piece has lost most of its stability. Sweat is beaded up on Chani's face and pouring down it from the exertion of lifting the block, and now that she's no longer holding it through the Force, she takes deep gulps of breath. She doesn't get a chance to rest, only to see that the young girl is securing the belt around her grandfather's leg just as Chani instructed.
Vhe's voice forces Chani's attention to the other woman, but it is merely a stop. Following Vhe's gaze, Chani's chin lifts and her eyes snap up to where the shifting piece of building, on which the ship partly surfs, is starting to buckle under the immense weight and pressure. The infrastructure around it is crumbling, albeit more slowly than it looks like it should. Chani need not wonder, given Vhe's lifted hands. "I'm with you." Both of her own lift and Chani pushes all else from her mind but the mental picture of the ship and the block of building remaining just where they are. She expresses that mental will through the Force, although doing so is like trying to keep a door shut in the middle of a hurricane.
Arriving emergency personnel are not enough to distract her, but she does know they need at least some minor guidance. Face reddening from the effort of trying to prevent the chunk of building from shifting and skin becoming damp with sweat enough that her hair is clinging to her cheeks, Chani's strained voice calls out to them. "You need to pull everyone away! That man to my right was crushed by a block and needs immediate treatment!"
It turns out that Shemar is a lot closer to the buildig than he'd really /like/ to be but moving through the mass of people isn't easy. He steadies himself and as some of the crowd thins for a moment, he is able to weather the buffeting and gets to the older woman. With the shop vendor's help they together get the poor woman back up on her feet. Shemar grimaces, "No time to see if she's hurt - PLEASE help her get away from here. There will be medics coming!"
The pilot slaps a friendly hand on the vendor's shoulder in thanks just as another thick clot of people nearly run them over in the press of bodies. Thankfully the vendor's stall hasn't been turned over and provides some island of shelter.
The Lieutenant sees others trying to help closer to the building as chunks of debris falls. A man doesn't get elevated to his Squadron if they run away from trouble. Gritting his teeth, Shemar sets back out to try and help where he can.
Vega's off to the side of things after she managed to get out of the crush of the crowd, but one thing is for certain and that is that the little Echani is definitely not going to be climbing up to see if she can fly the ship in the precarious position. She instead joins in with her fellows in trying to hold the toppling building in place until others can take care of maybe getting something to clear the crowd out.
Twisting at the waist while he hurries, nearly overbalancing himself, Qutha's path skids to a near halt on a rise of duracrete imbedded into the ground from the lengthy tumble from the heights. Chani and Vhe struggling with the weight of the building - lost children who may be pinned among the market stalls.
Half-stumbling to a halt, head on a swivel and searching the rubble and surroundings. "Anyone in the market stalls!" it's so loud can anyone hear him? There's some chiss moving like she's barking orders. It's no matter, his eyes are on the stalls again - or would be if there wasn't so much dust in his eyes and in the air. Skin starting to green from the exertion when one hand is turned back towards the building - where he is allowing himself to reach out, seeing a cushioning presence exerted towards the stone and rebar; trying to reinforce it. No hard breath, but some perspiration is running down his nose for all of the effort being expended.
"Anyone in the stalls! You need to run away from me!" because away from him is away from the ship and the building.
The vendor hovers over the woman, and a handful of those nearest move to see what sort of help they can offer. One points to a couple of ambulances and other emergency vehicles that are just now beginning to be both seen and heard on their way to the crash site, and Khalim recognizes the extent of his ability to help her has been more or less depleted. "Hope she can be helped," he says, looking from the downed woman to those now tending to her, and he moves off - but only a handful of meters before movement under a partially crushed food cart draws his eye. A young boy, scared but seemingly healthy, cowers beneath.
Beneath not just the mangled food cart but the building some practitioners of a mystical art are trying to hold steady with their minds. Though Khalim does not know that, he only sees a child in need of aid and he crosses over. "Are you okay?" he calls out, lowering himself to the little one's level, and performing a cursory visual scan for signs of major injury. Broken bones, twisted limbs, blood. None shows, and he holds out his hand. "I know I'm a stranger, but come with me. It's dangerous here. We'll get you somewhere safer."
Zelo narrowly dodges a piece of debris that may have been larger than his torso, rolling to the right and angling towards his back to pull around another oncoming block as he speed ever-upwards toward the figure signalling their need for help. When the Mandalorian arrives to a smashed-out window, letting some of the smoke welling through the building vent, he zips in and cuts his thrusters abruptly, touching down at a run. Inside, a man of perhaps middle years and a teenager. The family resemblance is striking.
"You... You are here to help?" The older man is hesitant, one hand out as he tries to shield his son.
<"Yes. I am Zelo Parrai. I saw your waving. Good thing that you did."> Zelo's visor is feeding him information about the two, and there's a shake of the helmet-covered head. <"My jetpack can only carry one of you at a time."> The Nautolan looks between them, before gesturing to the older man. <"With all due respect sir, you have the years against you. His lungs will recover more quickly."> The younger man is quick to agree despite the fear in his hazel eyes, but the father is already shaking his head.
"No, my son is first. Always the children are first."
"Dad, I will be fine. Like he said, I'll recover better than you will!" An argument ensues, with both taking efforts to push the other towards the Mandalorian, who can only raise a hand to separate them. Finally, the father gives a fierce glare to the son, and then turns it to Zelo.
"My son first. If anything happens to him... I'd rather just stay here." Zelo looks between the two, then nods.
<"Alright. Then I'm coming back for you. If you want to put anyone else ahead of you, I'll have words. Stay low, keep your mouth covered."> Then he turns to the son. <"Hold on. It's rough out there. As soon as we land, I want you get clear, but in an orderly fashion. Understand?"> The son nods, and Zelo puts one arm around the kid, and then leaps out of the window.
Mid-air is not a great time to find out that your rocket pack isn't intent on igniting. Likely overheated from the fancy maneuvers on the way up... <"HANG ON!"> There's nothing to do but fall back on emergencies, and it's up to the young man to hold tight as Zelo's arms extend and wings pop out of his armor, turning the sudden swan dive into a steep but controlled glide. Nearing 50 meters from the ground, the Nautolan pulls up, angling outward to slow their descent for a rough-but-not-violent landing.
Adalee still hears that cry. No, it's -crying- and for a moment there's a part of the flowing crowd that allows the half-sephi to see, wedged beneath a ledge set into the closest building, a young, scared girl. She fights her way across the crowd, which is not an easy task, and slowly closes the distance. When within a couple of meters she smiles, a smile carried by bright ice blue eyes as well. "What a scary day!" she says, and finally reaches the little girl, who appears to be about five or six. "Your mom and dad must be so worried about you. Should we go find them?" The situation is dangerous, and Ada doesn't wait to try and coax her out, she reaches out and gently plucks the child up from beneath the ledge.
The squeal of the ship, the whine and shudder of its still functioning engines can be heard for miles and here in the commercial square where it made its unscheduled landing is deafening. At times they overpower the cries for help and the calls for order. The smoke continues to billow and as Amal runs up the interior of the building as people are running down and out the smoke starts to eek in here and there and the drip drip drip of something that smells pungent is worrying. Amal is the first to see the fuel leaking free and with it the promise of something far worse than a crumbling building.
ON the outside there is a stain that seems to be seeping down the side of the building the force sensitives are attempting to hold together. Not only for those outside but those in.
Medical professionials are finally getting to the scene and are rushing in to pick up those that are injured and get them to safety. Security officers are lending a sense of some order as they manage the flow of people as best they can but fear will be as it is and many are merely trying to make sure they get away even as those near Qutha and Chani hear the warnings as Shemar and Khalim are helping those injured in the crowds to get out of the way and into safety.
Xyomara's attempts to quells fears only leave her frustrated as they seemingly can ignore a very angry Chiss. Zelo's dilemna ends in a stressful flight down that ends in a snap decision to use the glider wings built into his armor - and luckily so as the landing is a little rough but everyone is still breathing. Medical personnel is there quickly and gathering up the rescued individual.
Adalee has her own creature to attend to, finding one of Qutha's charges in the chaos alone and scared. Crying for her mother.
Aliens.... they have no idea what authority is, clearly. Hence Xyo... abandons them and goes towards the freaks yelling. More aliens needing help. So... running and pulling them away, towards a doctor "Come on, you have a doctor! Stop being stupid..." she begins, trying to pull him off...
If the sea of near, demi, and semi humanity had been a wave of panic outside of the building, it was a magnitude greater on the inside, as Amal managed to make her way through the doors, and locating the stairwell, to begin to ford the wave in an attempt to make her way up from the ground floor to the ship that was still teetering on the edge of the proverbial abyss on the remnants of the top of the building. It was likely that by the time the echani made it to the top of the building, she would be a walking bruise, given the strikes she endured to legs, body and, in the case of one screaming child, face, but now was, clearly, not the time to concern herself with that. Nor was the smell of fuel that was billowing into the stairwell a problem. Well, not for the moment. Right now? It was getting to the ship itself that had pride of place in her thoughts and intentions.
After much toil and trouble, Amal finally broke the final landing, such as it remained, the ship teetering precariously ahead of her. Here's to hoping that her slight weight was not the last hair that toppled the ship out into the proverbial ether. A brief moment to collect herself, and Amal was off, skirting the debris as best she could as she made for a tear in the ship wall, squeezing inside and beginning the fight to make it to the cockpit. Bodies, both obviously dead and possibly living were ignore, for the time being. "I am making my way inside," Amal's voice bounced off of the groaning walls, as she continued to climb, heading for the cockpit and the pilot struggling to power down the ship. "Do not close the cockpit doors!" That, would end badly.
Time loses meaning. The physical and mental strain of exercising her will against the chunk of building trying to crumble down leaves her stranded on an island whose foundation is crumbling much like the chunk of the building that she is helping Vhe, Qutha, and Vega stop from tumbling down. Tremors play out through her muscles from her calves to her forearms. She pants heavily. The cream garments of her attire cling to her skin at their base layer, hidden as they are underneath the feyd-cloth robe draped from her shoulders. The heat of it is stifling, but she is too focused to notice that particular physical discomfort. There's a stench on the air and something viscous seeping in great quantity down the side of the building they all face and look at.
"Vhe, the fuel is pouring down the building. If we let the ship tip over, it may ignite it, and I don't think we can stop the ship from falling. It could explode if it hits the ground." Her voice is trembling from the strain, too. There is nothing that anyone looking at her can see that might be causing such strain, but Chani feels like she is up there, in the sky, hands actually pressed to the surface of the building in a desperate attempt to keep it from shifting. "We have to keep it where it is until someone can figure it out." The alternative is too horrible to think of. If the ship were to fall now, on all the emergency services personnel and those that have come running to help, the toll of casualties stands to be a magnitude higher than if the ship had simply exploded on impact.
Shemar Eisley is able to make his way closer to the building and through the choking dust. It makes it difficult to see but there are increasingly fewer people still close to the building. It makes his going easier to move but harder to see with the smoke and dust. He's not kitted out to go into the building like a fire fighter.
The New Republic pilot finds a man down who'd just staggered out of the building before being stuck by a piece of concrete debris on the back, knocked down. Shemar drops down to push the chunk off of the fellow who's species he's not certain of.
He knows enough to check for a pulse and breathing but he doesn't roll him over, "Medic! This fellow's unconscious!" Almost at once someone running by with a kit stops, changes direction and comes to lend medical assistance.
Vega is trying desperately to focus on the task at hand, which is to not let others get crushed. Though as others are tending to things she sees a woman coming out of the building and that makes her attention falter. The wounds were horrible and she lets herself gets distracted there. She snaps back to trying quickly after the initial shock has shaken off.
Sometimes the pull towards the simple life is very strong. Granted the darkness of Zelos II and the beasts that hunt his kind during those hours could be a terror compared to the strain and stress now. Dust whirling and forming shapes around him that the mind wish to make sense of, pattern recognition as it were. Screams, the mix of heat and cold, cracking stone, creaking, keening metal and the rush of blood in his ears as Qutha reaches out and seeking.
The Miralian man, moving into mayhem of the markets draws attention, but recognition of a sort turns his head back to the mother who is lingering, "Go! That way!" his free hand pointing to Khalim, "Ma'am!" bit out with a longing to go do that first good need he'd intended.
Instinct is telling him where he needs to focus. Some things he can't do. Others he can. So now he focuses on what they cant and only a quartet here can. Turning fully to the building and raising both of his hands. "If I can at least make a difference here..." fuel. Chani is saying something about fuel.
"No," comes the high pitched reply to Khalim's coaxing, the little boy refusing to abandon the cart. "This seems like a safe place, I know," the Mirialan replies, "but it's not. This is a dangerous place, and I don't want you to get hurt. You need to come with me, we'll find you a cart across the street to hide under." He points, and sure enough, though a bit distant there are similar carts lining the street further down. Though still wary, the little boy is coaxed out. Khalim's hand is extended and finally taken by its little counterpart.
The Mirialan hefts the little one up into a one-armed hold and begins running away from the building. He looks up and behind as he makes distance, the sound of that stricken ship's engines a menacing undertone to the dramatic, piercing groans of the building itself.
Zelo, having seen the ground rise up and meet boots instead of helm, considers the landing a success. Jarring, but they both can walk away from it. The young man is quickly taken up by medics, but not before turning and calling back to the Mandalorian. "My dad! You're going to get him, right?"
<"Of course. I don't leave people behind,"> Promises the Mandalorian, perhaps unwise as the ship is still settling and whining. <"Stay with the medics, and I will be right back."> As long as the kriffing rocketpack has cooled enough at this point... Turning away, Zelo checks his path of ascent, planning the approach but noting the tension not just in the building but in the air. Almost like a city holding its breath... Zelo holds his own, and clicks the igniter for his rocketpack, black-pool eyes already upwards and locked on the window where no figure is seen waving.
The Mandalorian is off again, the rocket guiding him up and through the continuing rain of debris as he dodges and weaves, trying to take a more direct approach. Not that many seconds later, Zelo touches down through the knocked-out window, but no immediate face is there to greet him. Then the HUD picks up a figure lying on the floor. Zelo turns the man over, already cursing inside his helmet. <"I told you... I told you you should have gone f-"> There is a definite rise and fall of the chest, but it's weak. Zelo is low on time, but lower is the man lying unconscious on the floor. <"Alright... I'll lecture you when you're in a medical tent."> The Nautolan gathers up the man, holding him close as he lines up for the window. The only safe thing to do is ignite in here. If the pack needs to cool still, he doesn't want to find that out when he's mid-air with someone who can't hold on. <"Oya, sir. Stay alive.">
Adalee has hoisted the little girl up, and is rewarded with a tight cling around her neck. The little one is strong! Ada stumbles a handful of times as debris falls around her, chunks of dislodged building impacting duracrete with loud crashes and bits of shrapnel made of building material. In the middle of dodging these falling missiles, she hears a cry and a stricken-looking mother running in her direction. It looks like she is running directly to them, Ada and the child she wears as a necklace.
"Shira!" The mother's cry as they reach one another is plaintive and desperate, and she reaches for the little girl. "Momma!" comes the answer, little hands outstretched as she loosens her grip on Adalee and reaches back. Ada hands the girl over, effusive thanks flowing from a relived mother. "We need to leave," the half-sephi says, urgently. "I'm a pilot and that ship is still powered, and can explode. We need to follow the street and leave. Follow me." She sets out, with a little tug at the mother's arm to follow.
Chani is not wrong, fuel is starting to become more apparent as it pours from the ripped underside of the ship into the building. The burning engines and the wine of the still functional ones is like a ticking time bomb ready to go off. The force sensitives continue to do battle with the key piece of the building that keeps it standing and the ship from falling down into a mess.
Vhe struggles a moment, feeling the sweat begin to bead on her brow. "Understood, we have it then. Can't give up now." Even if the focus it needs is broken by the cries of others and more. She glances to Qutha, and finally to Vega as she recognizes another added to their number.
Amal contends with the broken ship and building to climb up inside, thankfully her perch still held due to the combined work of the Jedi below. The pilot looks to her in shock and then nods. "I have been trying. I think controls have been severed!"
Khalim finds the young boy resistant and scared but somehow manages to calm him despite the chaos. He finally gives in and second later where he had been is gone. Ada with her young charge ordering the mother away is met with resistance. "MY BOY!" She cries out and is frantically looking around. "Shira where is your brother?!" The panic is real just as the young boy sees his mother in the break of a crowd. "MOTHER!" He calls out and points for Khalim to see.
Xyomara and Shemar boldly work with those leaving the building which is in peril as large first response air vehicles begin to circle around the stranded ship. Crews are beginning to lower lines and it looks like they are going to try to lift and relieve the building of the ship in due time - but not right now. FOr the moment a fire suppressing truck is sliding into view and is quickly unloading foam from several hoses down upon the smoking end of the suborbital that crashed.
Zelo's cargo is not responding this time which means he must rely fully on his rockets for he has his arms about his prize as he readies to drop, the son now taken out of the area and waiting.
Hrmphs. The building is slipping... Force, what is it good for? Therefore... Xyo runs. Why does she? Why does she care for those aliens? WHo knows? But run she does, a quick jump to the left putting distance between her and some debris "Are you all allright there?" she asks in her classic monotone, hoping for it to be calming
There was care to be taken, as Amal climbed her way through the ship, even her slight weight seeming to reverberate along the decking, threatening to set the ship off kilter. Or, perhaps it was the building losing stability below, but Amal could do something only about the former and nothing at all about the latter. And so, she climbed, managing to make her way inside the cockpit, a pale ghost of a hand reaching out to pull the body of the dead copilot out of his seat, if only to allow herself to take their place. The report from the pilot was not promising, but Amal had not climbed this far to turn aside from the mission now. "Right, then we need to bypass the control system and get the engine shut down." Ah, for once, the smuggler life was likely to come in handy, as one often had to work with jury-rigged controls on the worst of ships. "Realigning the repulsors of the landing gear might be able to push us back on top of the building." This was hardly the time to consider how much more damage might be done to the floor of the building the ship had crashed on. Better more crumbled architecture than a suicidal descent to the ground and the people below. Amal, having said all that was necessary, began the work in earnest now, adjusting the piloting systems to compensate for what was damaged, using the still functioning engine to reorient the ship. Ignore the screaming of steel on duracrete as the engine fires, grinding the ship forward, further onto the top of the building on which it had landed and away from the edge it so clearly wanted to tip over. But the movement came at a cost, as it meant more fuel pumping through the fuel lines, both the ones directing the fuel into the sill functioning engine and the ones that were, even now, spilling more volatile liquid onto the building on which the ship rested.
Chani feels caught in a never-ending moment. She's stagnating. The ship and chunk of debris neither slips further, but none of her effort to push back on them renders any results. They're caught on the precipice of slipping and Chani feels the same way: like she's clinging to some ledge with her fingers and slowly, but surely, she's heading for the point where she'll simply not be able to hold on any longer. Her knees quake. The desire to let them dip is so strong it might be enough to drive her mad if she had to endure it for much longer. Her cream attire is damp all the way through, and sweat pours freely across her cheeks and her brow. The inability to move is making Chani all the more restless. She wants to move. She wants something to move. She needs it too.
"AH!" Summoning that desire from deep within her, Chani doesn't merely hold forward with her grip in the Force. With the slightest dip in her elbows and the shove back forward, her sleeves quiver and her breath exhales as a shout. Between the ship adjusting on its own and the sheer mental weight behind that shove, Chani sees the decaying piece of building shift. She's not sure if she imagines the horrible keening of durasteel beams bending or not, but one thing is for sure: the ship and the chunk of duracrete adjust off the place they were before, and some weight seems so suddenly alleviated from infront of her that Chani stumbles. It's two steps forward and trying to catch herself before she simply collapses onto her hands and knees.
Her whole body protests, and her lungs scream for oxygen. Each deep gulp of air in is audible. It's like her very body is thrumming, and Chani can barely register the warmth of the duracrete or the sediment that's sticking to her hands where they rest against the ground. "That felt.. impossible.."
When the medic determines that they have got to move the unconscious man, who's spine does not appear to be broken, Shemar nods. "I'll help you carry him. He's probably got smoke inhalation and will need oxygen, I suspect. a glance over his shoulder to see how others are doing very possibly saves his own life.
Shemar sees a piece of the building break fred and falling. He grabs the injured man's legs as the medic grabs the man's armpits, "RUN!" The pair of them beat a retreat before they too become causulties. The pilot assists the medic with his burden to get the injured clear of the area.
Vega's going to be beating herself up later if she doesn't get herself into a state of zen to help save folks. Because burning to death doesn't sound good on anyones list of ways to go! The white haired woman strains, teeth grinding as her hands clench into fists and she has a quick conversation with the Force. It's a very one sided conversation though given it doesn't talk back. "We just...gotta...hold..." she grits out.
Wedge of stone there, twisted braid of rebar against it. Images in his head built around what he has seen Chani, Vhe and Vega doing. Trying to work in concert with the others and keep himself mindful of his surroundings. Tired as if he'd been set to physical task all day - feeling like he'd been working the orchard back home during the harvest season.
When did his knees start to buckle? Qutha wasn't aware that he had been sinking down until things begin to ease against the will he was exerting on the structure. To help keep it from tumbling down and causing more ruin and destruction. One hard breath he was likewise unaware he was holding.
"Dear oh dear..." more a rasp than an exclamation now as he sinks again, of his own volition to settle on his hunkers, hands between his knees. "Sun and Light... what a market day."
That one-armed carry brings Khalim and his chargely partly across the street when he hears a distinct 'MY BOY!' that is immediately followed by squirming and a shouted, "Mom!" The Mirialan slows, dark brown gaze following where those darting points seem to be aiming, and sees a woman looking about in a clear sense of panic. And next to her, injured by a fallen chunk of building facade, one Adalee Kaline. He runs.
Reaching the trio, Adalee, mother, and daughter, Khalim hands the boy over. No attention is paid to the thanks the pour forth, the move at this point having simply been intended to unburden himself. "Adalee, we have to move," he says, concern clearly evident. One arm scoops beneath a shoulder, supporting the clearly dazed woman. "Are you alright?" He turns the half-sephi's face and looks into her eyes. "Are you alright." Pointing, "We have to go. I'll help you walk." Attention shifting to the mother, now reunited with her two children, he points and urges, "That way, we need to /go/. /Now./" The Lidri-Berries still hold.
The moment of truth is soured with the rising smell of fuel, which seems omnipresent, and even combating the Nautolan's stressed lungs for the 'least welcome' prize. It would be really convenient to have the benefit of a sealed suit right now. Unfortunately... Zelo has no such convenience to lean on. The middle-aged man is hugged tight as the Mandalorian makes final adjustments to angle and says whatever prayers or affirmations as may be needed in times of stress. It's all just delaying. Letting the rocketpack cool. But the fuel smell tells him that this is not the time to fall into ritual.
When it doesn't work the first time... Hit it again. The slight stutter in the start is made up for with ignition, and the Nautolan wraps an arm tighter around the unconscious man as the two launch forward. The drag of an unconscious form makes the flight rougher than it could have otherwise been, but despite that, and the debris, and the air traffic as emergency crews are now responding to the ship parked where ships should not be, the two make their descent without the worst possibility happening. Zelo spares a glance for the others, looking to where robed figures are doing all they can, even if it is unseen. The touch-down is a little abrupt, and the pilot's knees are jarred as he doesn't brace properly. Still, he has a hold of the man as he hustles toward the medics. <"His son was brought down just a moment ago. I found him unconscious. Please... Help him."> As if they would do anything else. Still, having removed his burden, the Mandalorian turns back to look to the volunteers, the emergency crews, the beleaguered building. There are always more in need of help...
One moment Adalee is handing Shira over to her mother, and then... she's struck by the impact something large enough to buffet her backwards, stun her, knock the wind completely out of half-sephi lungs. The world spins for a moment, and Ada's senses are short circuited. Digging deep, she manages to push away that encroaching circle of black that heralds loss of consciousness, and that's when she feels an arm slip under hers shoulder. A voice she recognizes asks questions. Reality swims back into clarity. 'Are you alright.' She looks at the man that partially holds her up, and blinks. "Khalim?"
He's pulling her down the road. Shira's mother, bother, and the young girl herself just ahead, in a hurry away from danger. "Something hit me," she finally gets out, as the first signs of pain from the impact begin to be felt. "Thank you," she says, as debris continues to fall behind them. Perhaps where they'd just been standing, moments earlier.
There is a crunching, squealing sound of durasteel and duracrete being fixed back into place by several long painful minutes of more than a few Jedi. The building is secured for the moment and debris stops falling. The ship has been moved but there is still a great danger with the fuel pouring free that things could go wrong. The several hoses spraying foam out over the engine fire begin to win out with one side being stifled so that two can concentrate on the next. The black smoke starts to thin to a degree as the ship's raging fire is squelched slowly, flames still a deadly reminder.
Most of the street is cleared with several stalls broken and in tatters from flying debris. The injured are many but medical professionals and civilians alike are helping their fellows find aid. The immediate danger is over but inside the ship Amal struggles with powering down the deadly combination of wreckage and fuel.
Vhe reaches out her hands again, feeling the sweat trickle down her face and along her neck as she feels much the same as Chani does, blinking as she looks aside at her and then the others. There is merely a nod for their work. SHe's not about to step away now as others from vehicles are repelling down to begin securing cables as another starts to sweep over to let loose an agent to soak up the fuel. Soon the area will be covered in a sawdust like material.
The panic that had swept through the area is still tangible as the peace and quiet of Chandrila has been disrupted. There are still those wandering in a daze that needs help and people are being called to back away from the building from a loudspeaker.
Aliens. Xyo got aliens out. Now, it is time to ru- eek! What is that? Her uniform! She just ironed it! REally, those incompetent firefightetd are at fault there...
With no knowledge of the jedi moving to assist in securing the ship below, though, likely, she would have been thankful for their assistance, Amal's sole focus was on the ship's systems. There was a moment, in truth, when she simply considered the possibility of going back and manually disengaging the systems, likely with a piece of steel and a very sound beating. Thankfully, for her own continued existence, Amal, sliding beneath the console to manhandle the wiring of the ship, just managed to jump the cabling to disengage the circuit relays which were keeping the ship powered up. There was a decidedly unhappy groan from the ship, not unlike some great, lumbering beast which had, in the end, only wished to do what it was built to do, as the system powered down, and she set to work disengaging the fuel lines. "get out of the ship as quickly as you can, if any remain alive, take them with you. I will be right behind you." Hopefully not a lie.
Vega sighs with relief when the ship powers down and that's one less stressor on the situation for the moment. She's just going to help with the clean up and probably get back to checking out the ships in the hangar after she has a small mental breakdown and snuggles a pillow.
The stream of sentience, some injured, most not, continues flowing towards the starport. Mostly, at least. It flows in every direction away from the building and it's newly neutralized starship crown. Within it, Khalim escorts Adalee, supporting her as she continues to recover from the initial shock of her injury. "We'll find you some treatment within the starport," he says. "Do you think you broke anything?" Lost in the crowd ahead, Shira, her brother, and her relieved mother are lost within the crowd. Safe.
Still watching, Zelo sees a mass exodus in action as many move to flee the downward cascade of neutral absorption agent, trying to keep from being coated in the stuff. However, he had already been running... In that direction. Where he had last seen the Jedi, or one of them in particular, in case something happened and an emergency extraction was needed. Hidden from view by the downward torrent of sawdust-like material, Zelo keeps running... Well... Until he is covered in the sawdust himself and his boots slip out from beneath him. If a Mandalorian falls in a pile of sawdust, and nobody sees it... Is it still embarrassing?
Stubbornly, the Mandalorian pushes himself to his feet and continues onward.
Adalee winces every few steps, as something is at least badly bruised enough to mistake for a break. "I'm not sure," she answers Khalim, her free hand holding her side defensively. "It's not a bad idea for me to get scanned, to be sure. But I'm definitely going to need to sleep this off." She's still feeling some grogginess, but it's fading into the background. Eventually they reach the spaceport, where medics wait to triage the walking wounded. The verdict, when it's her turn to be wanded, is hopeful. Pretty heavy bruising, but just bruising, fortunately.