Welcome to Gaia! ::

Arranen followed the fishman's orders, bringing his rifle up and out of its at-rest position and aiming it in his direction. It was probably nothing, could be something harmless herbivore. But they were on the fringes of the galaxy, in regions unknown to both the GA's inhabitants as well as the Chiss. Additionally, this world seemed to be mostly jungle. At least from what Arranen had observed so far. Granted, he wasn't the ones with the scientific sensor equipment. "Es et uhlive?"

" For supposedly non-intelligent life, these guys sure know their stuff. " Danika said, noticing the spear stuck in the tree. " No arguement there. " she said in response to Jarsa, backing up towards where they came from a bit.

His laser pistol set for stun, Qual started knocking out the simians left and right, his fishy face scowling.

"Nothing Technological, hmm? That fails to explain where these spears come from. I do not know what trigger happy, ignorant society you hail from, Captain, but technology is more than just starships an blasters."

A spear struck the ground next to him and the Selkath promptly snatched it up an continued lasering, slowly falling back to the rest of the party.

"Technology is a manner of accomplishing a task using technical processes, methods, or knowledge." He continued to state in his gravely voice. "These spears? Clearly implicit of some sort of technical knowledge, an artifact born out of a need to aid in the hunt or in war. This means they have a society, a culture unlike mere animals who would not craft an item like this because it would be beyond them."

Qual grunted in annoyance as a spear nearly struck him.
"To sum up, Captain, you have blundered severely. Congratulations. Assuming we live through this, you have utterly ruined any chance of peaceful first contact."

"Captain, I hope I'm not interrupting any form of observations that you may be undertaking, but I should warn you and the party that the local fauna seems to be rather... hostile. Beware of stepping on any vines across the undergrowth; they're littered with harpooning needles," W3 calmly reported. "I shall continue myyy-"

The ground gave way to a hidden ravine, the brush too thick to notice as W3's foot slipped down the loose surface. Tumbling down, his comlink went out as he spun around and around, before his combat initiative kicked in, allowing him to slide on what would normally be an organic butt down the hill. A loud set of clinks echoed through the small surface, as stone and gravel hit his metal body, as he straightened himself up and resumed his com duties of informing his employer.

"Also note, there seems to be a strange bit of geography; weather and foliage suggest tropical, but earth seems to be more.... temperate." A silver foot stamped down on the earth, as a low rumble gave way around the riverbed. Turning his com off, he watched as the small dent in the ground suddenly splintered all around him, cracks in the ground splitting up and away.

"Oh bother bother..." he muttered, stepping back and pirouetting, attempting to crawl back up the ravine's rocky slide, before grabbing onto a root system as the ground gave way beneath him. A small series of programmed blessings left his vocabulator, as he hung over the newly formed hole. Turning his comlink back on again, he gave a sigh.

"And how are things on your end going?"

Rek agreed with the fishman, the responsible thing to do would have been to send a probe in first. Another responsible thing to do would be to carry a blaster that had a stun feature. But no one was perfect and a Twi'lek was in no position to judge anyone for how they may or may not have made a simple mistake.
And with that thought, he began mercilessly firing into the crowd of angry monkey-people with no regard for their lives. After dropping 5 or 6 of the natives, he found that the argumentative mood in the air really made escaping a hostile situation alive a lot more difficult.

Just a thought, but hows about we stop bickerin' an' kill more o' the aggressive natives?

With that, a spear zipped right past Rek's head and he flinched out of surprise. In his moment of hesitation, two more spears connected with his chest and broke against his chestplate, but hit him with enough force to knock him off balance. Stumbling backward, Rek tripped over one of the large green vines with the death needles that their robotic friend had kindly warned them about. His fall carried him over the poisonous needle spray and he fell on his a** hard. Not noticing the needles that had punctured his leg, Rek stood up angrily. He put his blaster away, as swung his RT rifle around from its place on his back. Moving backwards with a limp at a pace just fast enough to out-maneuver the natives, he began opening up automatic blaster fire in bursts at groups of the monkey-people.

W3 hung over the precipice, listening to the reply as it echoed through the caverns below.

"Organics. Always failing in reason," he muttered to himself, as he slowly dug his metallic hands into the grit, trying to find a good handhold to climb up. Several attempts granted minor success, as he stared around and began to think for a moment, until a small thud hit his metallic back. Spinning around, a sturdy vine had collided with him.

"Organic luck be praised," he said, gripping it and pulling himself up hand over hand. "Perhaps there may still be a cha-" he started, before being cut off by a spear to the face. The simians started speaking in a series of ooks, ahs, and clicks, some of which sounded like a bad VHS going out. The translation unit in W3's head was having a hell of a time even comprehending it.

"Yub nub, eee chop yub nub?" he stated, adding a hesitant laugh at the end.

Arranen took cover behind a conveniently-placed rock and fired his rifle back at the locals. They blended well with the envorinment, forcing the Chiss to focus on shooting his weapon blindly into the jungle he assumed the attackers to be. He was a pilot, not a trooper. And while Arranen would occasionally brag about how superior Chiss fighter tactics--specifically his-- were compared to the "outsiders", he would never talk about his less-than-stellar proficiency with ground combat. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course.

During this thought process, tied in with him focusing on firing his rifle randomly into the brush, Arranen had a few-second delay in noticing that his companions were retreating. He grunted loudly at the discovery and, as quickly as possible, began to sprint onto their tails, doing his best to avoid the sharp projectiles and potentially hazardous plants that intended to kill him. A spear grazed the Chiss's shoulder, the pain causing him to shout out a series of Cheunh curses, but he managed to keep focus on escaping the skirmish.