Cygnari remains on the run with fugitives from Strel Varnak, warchief of the Rustborn. Brody played the other characters in the scene:
The ship lurches slightly as the Lucky Talon slides out of the realm of OtherSpace and back into normal space. As the ship’s braking thrusters take hold, the ship settles into a gentle orbit around a world that appears rather Earth-like. Hints of water bodies across its surface, a thick humid atmosphere covered by heavy clouds. Cygnari checks his controls as the ship enters orbit. “The drive will need time to recharge, and I shall need to check it before we engage again, that was a rather long journey,” he muses. “Regardless, we have reached our destination.”
The winged one stands and stretches, his wings stretching so far apart they nearly touch the walls of the bridge before settling once again against his back. “This world is mostly jungle… a bit on the hot side, but the fauna will provide hunting and the water is potable with proper treatment,” he notes. He moves over to check the scanner. “The scanners appear clear… so far…” he says. “But I think we should also take this opportunity to check the ship for any tracking devices.” he says, looking to Jasper. “Antira may be carrying one, and may not even know it.”
Jasper takes off the bellhop cap, runs a hand through his graying black hair. He gives a somber nod.
From the hatchway, Antira says: “I think I would know if someone planted a tracker on me.” The baby is in her arms, starting to get restless. “Siki needs her next dose.”
Kye pipes up from the corridor: “We’ve only got enough for a couple of days. She’s improving but…” He offers a tube of medicine to Antira.
Cygnari looks to Antira, and nods respectfully. “Very well,” he says, noting the low supply of medicine. “Our next priority will be securing a more substantial supply of treatment for the young one.” he says. “Alas, we will not find it here. This world is as primitive as it gets, but that for now works to our advantage. Very unlikely any scavvers will be interested in this system.”
Stepping over to the navigational computer, Cygnari begins scrolling through various charts, all of them heavily annotated. “In my travels I have found various sites that may contain what we need to either find, or if necessary, synthesize the medicine the young one requires. Choosing one that will not be as obvious to our pursuers will be key.”
“You know how to synthesize medicine?” Jasper asks, patting the inside of his cap.
Cygnari pulls up the edge of a beak. “Sadly, no… but perhaps we can find someone who can. In either case, raw materials are going to be crucial.”
Siki consumes the dose. Antira returns the empty tube to Kye, then tells Cygnari. “It’s a respiratory illness. Bronchitis, basically, but highly resistant to standard antibiotics. It’s chronic. She inherited it from her father.”
Cygnari raises an eyeridge at that. “So he is not as well as the Rustborn would like us to believe. That is information that may be of use… and no doubt, he too requires a steady supply of medicine such as this.” he says, looking to Jasper. “A potential means of sabotage.”
“Not that it hasn’t been tried before,” Jasper notes. “One of Strel Varnak’s lieutenants tainted his medication with a fatal toxin and nearly killed him.” He looks toward Antira. “You would’ve been a toddler at the time.” He then returns his attention to Cygnari. “He survived, barely, but had the remains of the lieutenant preserved in chunks and distributed around his compound in suspensor displays. He now splits the dose with whoever dispenses it. Obviously, they go first.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of denying him its use.” Cygnari says. “If he cannot get it, then it would not bode well for him. Identifying that supply chain could also provide an opportunity to acquire a supply for the young one as well.”
Kye peeks into the cockpit. “Usually, he just sends pirates to ransack colonies for their meds. Occasionally, they let a pharmaceutical specialist live, turn them into an indentured servant.”
Jasper nods, considering. “In any event, Strel Varnak’s medicine requires ingredients that he cannot find on the Rustborn homeworld. If his pirates can’t get it, the specialists must synthesize it, and those ingredients must come from somewhere. Find out where, and we can perhaps find a way to control distribution.”
Cygnari picks up on the subtle hints that Antira’s companions are more in touch with the Rustborn than they first let on, but such as it is in this day and age. Sliding into the pilot’s chair, he begins the landing procedure for the ship. “First things first, a hunting expedition.”
“Oh, it’ll ne nice to be a hunter for a change,” Kye quips.
“I’ve found that the meat of the plated cave raptor on this planet has a unique flavor, and can be quite filling. Just watch out for the razor-sharp spikes on its vestigal wings, they range to nearly 25 cm long.” Cygnari says as the ship descends, flying towards a clear spot in the jungle into which it slowly settles.
Kye goes pale. Antira puts a hand on his shoulder: “You stay with Siki. It has been too long since I tracked worthy prey.”
The ship settles and the engines power down. Cygnari steps over to a locker mounted to the wall on the rear of the bridge, enters a combination, and opens it. Within are a few weapons of varying condition, but appear serviceable. “These pulse rifles may not be the best in the galaxy, but they perform their function adequately enough.”
Antira takes the pack from over her shoulder and crouches to sort through it while Kye watches, holding Siki. The pack seems to contain wipes, diapers, bottles, and two fearsome hunting blades in bandolier sheaths. She stands, strapping the knives into place.
Cygnari pulls one of the rifles from the cabinet that appears specially modified to strap to his leg in a makeshift holster, cut down much like a sawed-off shotgun. A hunting knife is strapped to the other leg, but on his hands, he slides a pair of leather gloves that leave his talons protruding, which he flexes a bit in front of his eyes. “There are times when all else fails, I prefer the up-close and personal touch.”
The woman raises her eyebrows, nodding in appreciation. Jasper tells Antira: “Don’t take all of his fun.”
Prepared, Cygnari heads to the airlock, and opens it to reveal a very hot and humid jungle. It is midday, the sun burning high in the sky, the sounds of the jungle all around them as well as running water from a river not far away. “Up this river about 300 meters is a series of cliffs… it is there that they usually nest. It is the best place to start, but keep your eyes open. On this world, we are not just hunters, we are being hunted as well.”
Antira follows, drawing a blade and keeping it at the ready. She peers about, listens, and occasionally pauses to sniff the air. “The raptors are not the only predators here, are they?”
“Perhaps the most dominant, but there are others,” Cygnari replies, making his way carefully on the ground for now. “Keep your eyes above. Some of the local snakes prefer to hunt from above.”
The woman studies the trees around her. They are relatively close-clustered, dangling with vines. “Like the Girder Heights,” she mutters. She takes out the second knife, breaks to left from Cygnari, and starts climbing a tree – jabbing into the trunk with her knives to help carry her upward.
Cygnari kneels down, looks for signs of tracks, and then stands, spreading his wings, and takes to the air. “They have been through here recently.” he says down. “If we maintain patience, one may come through again. Being so close to the river, this is a common route to that source of water.”
Antira reaches a limb that is high enough to put her above most of the concerning reptiles, where she can have a better tactical advantage against them. Then she uses a vine to swing to one tree after the next, trying to keep up with Cygnari as he leads the way toward the cliffs.
Flying along the well-trodden game trails, Cygnari approaches the cliffs, and circles around slowly watching for any signs of movement. He doesn’t have to wait long… from a lower cave, a raptor emerges. It stops briefly, sniffing the air, as if sensing something amiss…
The Rustborn woman may know her way through the lofty metal crags of the Girder Heights, but perhaps she has grown too overconfident in the living jungle of this alien world. She continues swinging through the trees, landing with a grunt and a thud, proceeding to the next. Basically Morse code for predators.
Cygnari swoops down, and lightly lands on the ridge overlooking the cave above the raptor, making a ‘shhh’ gesture with his hand as he settles quietly, watching the raptor’s next few moves. It is obviously startled, but not yet in full alarm status.
Antira stops on a branch and hunches low, hugging the trunk of the tree and watching Cygnari.
Cygnari waits quietly, observing the raptor. It takes a fairly long time, but eventually, it seems to determine that it was nothing, almost appearing disappointed, and begins to move on towards the river. Cygnari looks over to Antira, and makes a gesture of dropping down from above, as he swoops in from behind once the raptor is in position.
The woman descends, once again using the knives to assist. Back on the ground, she sheathes one of the knives and proceeds toward the river.
Cygnari is curious now, and takes off, following the raptor as it heads towards the river, wondering what Antira has in mind.
Antira tracks behind the raptor toward the river, hoping to corner it there with Cygnari. She unsheathes the second knife, closing in. Her focus is so intent on the creature they’ve been tracking that she is entirely oblivious to one lurking in the undergrowth to her left. The swish of its plated tail might catch Cygnari’s attention, however.
Cygnari sees movement in the bushes, and realizes what is about to happen. Cursing under his breath, he draws his knife, and goes into a dive, headed right for the bush, knife at the ready. Building up speed, he then applies a braking maneuver of a practiced aerial hunter to then grab the hidden raptor by the throat, jab his knife into the side of its throat, and slice forward…. with luck, the beast not making a sound but that of rustling bushes.
The rustling gets Antira’s attention – and that of the other raptor, which stops near the river and turns to fix its gaze on the woman with the two knives.
Antira snaps her gaze back to the riverside raptor just in time to see its plates fan outward in warning, fangs flashing.
Cygnari quietly lays the bleeding out raptor on the ground, and uses the bushes to his advantage, watching the raptor, his talons and knives at the ready… the raptor’s hunting partner has been replaced, it seems.
The Rustborn woman drops to a crouch, knives prepared, and growls at the raptor: “Come on, then.”
The raptor launches itself in Antira’s direction, claws digging into soft dirt and kicking up clods of river grass.
Cygnari waits for just the right moment, knife in hand, and then with a great flap of his wings, lunges forward, knife held out, aimed right for the raptor’s heart through it’s side…
The Falari strikes first, and Antira follows up with two blades into the beast’s snout. Its blood splashes the hunters and the ground around them as the raptor dies.
Cygnari observes the kill for a moment, his wings spread half way. “A two for one deal. I can not complain.” he says after a moment, the edge of his beak curling up a bit as he looks to Antira.
“People are much easier to hunt,” Antira huffs, wiping off the blades of her knives before returning them to their sheaths.
“Indeed.” Cygnari says. “They can be far more predictable.” he says, as he drags the other from the bushes, and begins to field dress them. “These two should supply food for several weeks, at least. The river water is potable enough to gather, then we should be sufficiently provisioned.”
“Make Kye cook for us,” she suggests. “He isn’t great at much, but he has a gift when it comes to food.”
“Indeed? Then maybe he’ll be useful after all.” Cygnari quips, taking each dressed carcass in hand as he takes to the skies. “I shall meet you back at the ship.”