Blood, smoke, and the sounds of heavy caliber gunfire roared above Schal as he crawl his way in the mud of battlefield. He climbed over a dead corps that was once an Irodien commissar, suddenly a artillery shell impacted the ground in-front of him making everything go black. Schal woke up with a start covered in a cold sweat panting, he looked around at were he was. He found himself sitting on a bed made of straw with a window across from him were the lights of the early morning shone through. Schal looked for were his team was and spotted them on beds near by him. The door to the room was open and a old human male carrying a bowel step inside he notice Schal was awake "Oh your awake," he said placing the bowel on a small table on the left of Schal's bed. "Is my team alright?" "Yes they are, your luckily I found them when I did. I believe the rest of them will wake up soon," the old man said sitting down in one of the chairs. Schal said nothing and waited for the rest of his team to wake up.

Tam woke up to a horrifying lack of sound. Somehow, a lifetime of inborn vigilance broke through unconsciousness and kicked her into fight or flight before she'd even noticed her surroundings. However, in this case, her reflex wasn't fight or flight, it was 'find a pressure kit'. She couldn't hear fans, and that meant life-support was down. She had at best minutes to live without air recycling. For all the suddenness of the impulse, it wasn't panicked. Tamrapani flung herself towards where the air kit would be hung on her bulkhead. Of course, neither the kit nor the bulkhead were present, and she was for some reason sleeping way to close to the ground. She flailed against unexpectedly light gravity, one of her out-flung legs upending and actually cracking the solid oak of the bed-frame. Her face quickly alerted her that this was not metal, there were no engines thrumming in the background, and she appeared to be planet side. The rest of her body got tired of being ignored and decided to let her in on the fact that it seemed to be one big bruise. She curled around a suddenly raging headache and cautiously peeked out one black eye. "Oh god why. I don't remember drinking THAT much last night. Did I get in a fight with a family of gorillas? I don't remember that. Actually, last thing I remember someone threw the bulkhead at me. Which one of you ass-hats threw the engineering bulkhead!? We need that." Somewhere in the middle of that rambling self-assessment, she noticed the bearded man regarding her with an amused expression. "And who's the old fuck?"

The first thing Atara became aware of was that everything was still. Normally something was always going on around her. Movement was common. Stillness was... unexpected. There was also the fact that she was lying flat on her back. She never slept like that. She slept curled up in a ball, in a defensive position with one hand under her pillow grasping the knife that was kept there. This was a habit from back in the day during training when some of the trainers would attack them randomly in the night while they were sleeping in order to prepare them for surprise attacks. On the whole, something was not right. She forced her eyes open. They weren't on the ship. She frowned. Hadn't they just been on the ship? How did they get here? And more importantly? where was 'here'? She was in a room full of beds, with morning light coming in through a window. They must be on a planet. But when did they land and come here? She sat up quickly, and it wasn't until she silently sighed that she realized she'd been holding her breath. She wasn't alone, her team was with her, and Schal would almost certainly have some answers, if not a plan. "Everyone okay? What's going on?" She then spotted the old man. "Who's this guy?"

Fire woke up on a strawbed, a first aid kit in his hand, he gotten up, looking at his Primitive surroundings he noticed a unknown fairly old man and his friends, Putting up his right hand he Announced his presence I am currently alive, 100% vital rate and we appear to be in a house with a old person Fire wondered where he was, logically he was probably moved there over night and forgotten how he gotten there, infact he couldn't remember what happened within the last 48 hours, strange.

Doc lay there, it never matters where he is so long as he is alive. Life is precious, short and really not worth worrying about. There were no engines to be heard, good, that meant they survived the last 48 hours, this was a mixed blessing. That meant that the jar head and the subordinate may have survived, and there is never enough time for them. He reached around for his Webley (im changing the pistole to a Webley (its a ww2 revolver)) but in vain. he looked up from his bed to see a old man "Evening" unfortunately h heard the sounds of Tam to which he sighed heaverly and the green horn. They would both get on his nevernes hugly... well until they prooved themselves.

Schal glance over to Tam "The person who pulled us out of the wreckage of our ship," he said trying to find his pack of cigarettes. Unable to find it he looked over to the old man "I have to thank you for pulling us out what I'm assuming the burning wreckage of our ship. Oh and can we get your name?" he asked trying to stand up. "My name is Dratcen Master wizard. If you want to know were all your strange stuff is it is in my studies." he said the group of mercs. Schal raised his eyebrow at Dratcen introduction. Schal turn to his team "Alright team once we get our stuff back I want to head to the crash sight to try to salvage what we can."

It seems like a wise idea, Please allow me to get my stuff Fire told his boss Schal, Getting up and moving to the room, Ironically he didn't quite remember any ships blowing up 48 hours ago, Fire walked up to a study room opening the door, inside was a Primitive Desk in a primitive area, but to Fire, it was pretty much modern, all of the high tech things on the persons desk he looked through them, wondering what they did he tooken a medkit and a Revolver, they both belonged to him, and they were pretty much the only thing he could understand here,

"Uh, huh. Sarge, can I have a word please?" Tam 'subtly' placed herself between the old man and her sergeant. She started to whisper, "Leaving aside the fact that some assholes just put a lot of effort into making us dead, and the fact that anyone who get's paid enough money to take on a merc company ain't likely the type to leave off on maybe, what the fuck are we gonna do with this guy?" "He just called himself a wizard. I don't fancy whatever the hell the crazy old bastard has been doing to us in our sleep either."

"Uh, huh. Sarge, can I have a word please?" Tam 'subtly' placed herself between the old man and her sergeant. She started to whisper, "Leaving aside the fact that some assholes just put a lot of effort into making us dead, and the fact that anyone who get's paid enough money to take on a merc company ain't likely the type to leave off on maybe, what the fuck are we gonna do with this guy?" "He just called himself a wizard. I don't fancy whatever the hell the crazy old bastard has been doing to us in our sleep either."

Fire walked out of the room, joining the two people in there little conversation, Fire now had a Helmet with a red cross and a Chestpiece of armor, not much but enough to take a Bullet or two Whispering back Fire gives his two cents We appear to already be here, and we lack the evidence to accuse the wizard of anything, I suggest we just take our things and leave

Tam grimaced as Fire added his habitually relevant opinions. Of course it was like the logical pointy-eared nut to take the crazy person at face value. "Fire, he's not really a wizard. He's a crazy person. I don't know what they believe back on your planet, but wizards don't exist."

Atara decided not go get involved in the conversation. It wasn't like her input was really important. Rather, she was in guard mode, eyes ceaselessly scanning the room for threats. She tilted her head slightly as she looked at the window, wondering if it would be an easy route if they had to escape. The weird old man hadn't chained them up or locked them in or told them they couldn't leave, but that didn't mean he was trustworthy or that he would let them leave. Of course, they could overpower him, unless he had some major weapons, but that wasn't the point.

Tam grimaced as Fire added his habitually relevant opinions. Of course it was like the logical pointy-eared nut to take the crazy person at face value. "Fire, he's not really a wizard. He's a crazy person. I don't know what they believe back on your planet, but wizards don't exist."

1, we're crashed on a planet out of nowhere, it is impossible for you to know what this planet is like, as you just got here, Two he calls himself a wizard, therefore he is a wizard, which means "wizards" exist. He might not actually have magic But he is still what he calls a "wizard" Fire Logically told the person, still standing calm, In the little hut they were in. Fire wondered about the nature of humans, this one seemed a bit aggressive, well. all of the humans he met were aggressive, only logical that this one would be too, Pathetic race.

"I- What. Just- Just what. That has to be the most fucked up sentence to ever momentarily flirt with logic on it's merry way down the crazy train. Whatever, he's a wizard. But regardless of what he might have the locals convinced of, it doesn't change the fact that we are in a ridiculously poor tactical situation and whoever shot us down is probably on their way to finish the job." "Fine, it's your prerogative to trust the old coot, it's mine to be paranoid. I'm gonna make sure he hasn't fucked with my gear. I'd recommend you do the same. Primitive planet or not, your face'd be mighty red if you found yourself in a fight with mud in your power cells." Tam stalked out, snorting. Some people just did not have the proper temperament for mercenary work. She found her gear in the next room. Disturbingly, each of her teammates equipment was sorted into it's own separate pile. She tossed a worried glance over her shoulder. How had the old man known whose equipment was whose? For that matter, she definitely hadn't been wearing some of this during the brief fur-ball which preceded the crash. If that wasn't suspicious, then she was an avatar of Kalkin. Following her own advice, she thoroughly looked over her gear, brightening up a bit when she found her trusty fitting wrench strapped on the side of her kit. She smiled involuntarily. As long as she'd owned the damn thing, she'd never run into anything it couldn't handle. It was starting to feel more like a family member than a tool. The rest of the gear was in order. You really couldn't break the shotgun. It was old-tech, and reliable as hell, and the pistol passed a cursory strip-down, enough to tell it hadn't been disassembled at least. Some of her more delicate diagnostic gear was worse for wear, but she'd hardly be stripping down Fire Support Drones in the near future. All in all, it felt good to sling the heavy pack. She bounced on her toes to get the weight situated right, absorbing the ache from her bruises. When this was all over, she owed herself one hell of a spa day, but this was on the clock. It was time to get dirty.

"I- What. Just- Just what. That has to be the most fucked up sentence to ever momentarily flirt with logic on it's merry way down the crazy train. Whatever, he's a wizard. But regardless of what he might have the locals convinced of, it doesn't change the fact that we are in a ridiculously poor tactical situation and whoever shot us down is probably on their way to finish the job." "Fine, it's your prerogative to trust the old coot, it's mine to be paranoid. I'm gonna make sure he hasn't fucked with my gear. I'd recommend you do the same. Primitive planet or not, your face'd be mighty red if you found yourself in a fight with mud in your power cells." Tam stalked out, snorting. Some people just did not have the proper temperament for mercenary work. She found her gear in the next room. Disturbingly, each of her teammates equipment was sorted into it's own separate pile. She tossed a worried glance over her shoulder. How had the old man known whose equipment was whose? For that matter, she definitely hadn't been wearing some of this during the brief fur-ball which preceded the crash. If that wasn't suspicious, then she was an avatar of Kalkin. Following her own advice, she thoroughly looked over her gear, brightening up a bit when she found her trusty fitting wrench strapped on the side of her kit. She smiled involuntarily. As long as she'd owned the damn thing, she'd never run into anything it couldn't handle. It was starting to feel more like a family member than a tool. The rest of the gear was in order. You really couldn't break the shotgun. It was old-tech, and reliable as hell, and the pistol passed a cursory strip-down, enough to tell it hadn't been disassembled at least. Some of her more delicate diagnostic gear was worse for wear, but she'd hardly be stripping down Fire Support Drones in the near future. All in all, it felt good to sling the heavy pack. She bounced on her toes to get the weight situated right, absorbing the ache from her bruises. When this was all over, she owed herself one hell of a spa day, but this was on the clock. It was time to get dirty.

Well, whatever you and you Humans do Fire told him passive aggressively, he hated those humans, He knew he was technically right in a way, but he didn't know how to "check" his futuristic gun thing, he knew that if the human "wizard" whatever that was, was actually after them, they would all be dead, it was just logic. but hey, Humans don't need logic, they just need Money, greedy, pathetic, race

Chris woke up, his helmet missing and all of his guns. He looked around to see the others talking with an old man. He managed to hear that the strange things they had, which Chris thinks was their weapons, were in the old man's study. He quickly scampered up and then looked towards his boss, awaiting orders... if they ever notice him there.

Doc swung out of the hay stack and made his way to the study, "Morning suborbinate" as he walked past Tam, he checked his Webley, they may brab about old guns. But this is differnt, small rounds and an attached 6 shooter to the barrel. The gun was older than the team put together, he picked up his rifel, The gun had a battle camo on it and a very basic optic sight that more or less made a more stylish irons, he droid seemed to survive the crash and it jumped into his body clearly happy to see him "I missed you too" as he attache dit into his arm, throwing on his armour he walked out.

"Morning Doc." Tam murmured noncommittally as much as 'subordinate' might have rankled under the somewhat rough and ready rank structure of a freelance organization, she didn't exactly care enough to make an issue of it. Also, it was never a good idea to antagonize the person in charge of keeping you alive... For that matter, it was probably a bad idea to antagonize the person in charge of fitting your armor, but she wasn't the type to abuse that power... until it was funny anyway. Operating on a hunch, she hazarded a question. "Hey doc," she asked as he headed for the door, "Notice anything odd about your gear? Like, was any of it not actually on you before the crash?"

"Wether or not I was wearing it or not matters not. Be glad it survived the crash" he cracked his neck and looked over her "Im more supprised your not drunk, dead or both"

Tam feigned offense, "Whoah doc, stereotyping much? You know the saints watch out for drunks and criminals, so I'm less likely to die than the rest of you. Probably die a hundred and fifty years old with fourteen husbands and a pool-boy gathered around my bed. Naw, what im getting at, is how the hell did the old man know which gear to grab? It's all sorted out neatly, and I guarantee I didn't have some of these tools on me when during the dogfight. I shucked my gear to crawl up in the grav-rings right before we jumped out. So, I can get this whole good samaritan- pulled us out of the wreckage act. But how did he know whose gear was whose? And how did that old bastard carry an entire squad and our gear? Hell, I'm a load and a half for a man in good shape, he doesn't look like he should be lifting more than a glass of prune-juice!" She looked around to be sure the old man wasn't listening, "Maybe I'm nuts, but this smells like a setup. He knows things about us. Something he shouldn't, if this whole 'primitive world medicine man' act is kosher. Something's going on."

the doc sighed "You are right, he knows too much. but are you alive? can you breath? he saved us and thats all it comes down to."