Delia would have been able to put a count in at just under a dozen of the creatures including the three on sentry duty who started the rallying cry. It's difficult to keep count after, as at least a handful have cloaked themselves to be near invisible before scurrying out of the camp as fast as they can run, scattering a handful of large black birds who have been gorging themselves on whatever they can get their beaks around in the pile of supplies.
Difficult, but not impossible.
There's only the one larger commander running the show even once the alert has been sounded. A few more sentries are crowding in and aiming their weapons from their posts, unwilling to leave the camp unattended even as most have gone rushing out of it. Even in the snow the smallest of them are fairly agile, well used to adapting to all manner of climes. All in all there's got to be around twenty of them give or take a couple.
And oh yes, at the last of her count when Delia thinks she's got as much spotted as she can there is the distinct whine of weapons firing. Plasma or hard light--definitely not the barbaric metal slugs many of the people who call the Nexus home seem so keen on using. A few scattered shots ring out at first, but there will be more very quickly.
A louder shot rings out as the first of the sentries finds a shot to take on the speeder. It must miss for the grumbling hiss that can only be a swear in a native tongue before he raises the rifle to try again. His buddies are joining in too and they all seem to be much better shots than their buddies running around in the snow.
Too good for Joshua's comfort.
He can't see who or what is firing at him with all the snow he's kicking up, the trees he's trying to dodge, the wind he's correcting for. All he knows is that some of those shots are close. Close enough to graze the speeder in at least one case. He's throwing the throttle fully open now, nearly losing control when he whips around another drift before finally getting the machine to cooperate fully as he races away from the camp to lose his attackers before he can start to circle back around the hill.
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Difficult, but not impossible.
There's only the one larger commander running the show even once the alert has been sounded. A few more sentries are crowding in and aiming their weapons from their posts, unwilling to leave the camp unattended even as most have gone rushing out of it. Even in the snow the smallest of them are fairly agile, well used to adapting to all manner of climes. All in all there's got to be around twenty of them give or take a couple.
And oh yes, at the last of her count when Delia thinks she's got as much spotted as she can there is the distinct whine of weapons firing. Plasma or hard light--definitely not the barbaric metal slugs many of the people who call the Nexus home seem so keen on using. A few scattered shots ring out at first, but there will be more very quickly.
A louder shot rings out as the first of the sentries finds a shot to take on the speeder. It must miss for the grumbling hiss that can only be a swear in a native tongue before he raises the rifle to try again. His buddies are joining in too and they all seem to be much better shots than their buddies running around in the snow.
Too good for Joshua's comfort.
He can't see who or what is firing at him with all the snow he's kicking up, the trees he's trying to dodge, the wind he's correcting for. All he knows is that some of those shots are close. Close enough to graze the speeder in at least one case. He's throwing the throttle fully open now, nearly losing control when he whips around another drift before finally getting the machine to cooperate fully as he races away from the camp to lose his attackers before he can start to circle back around the hill.