The Pilot/Your friend picks up the gun. Looks like it ain't booby trapped.
He gives you the gun and ammo, you think about picking up the empty bullet casings. But why? They're empty, unusable bullet casings.
Again, your Frontal and Parietal brain lobes come up with great ideas.
You measure a few of the tentacles, most are a meter and a half long, and a few a yard long.
You cut through them, it felt like cutting through not-so-thick leather, rather than something that would take long to cut through. Although some had bone or to much thick muscle.
When you get back to the Cessna, you gather a few 2 meter long branches, and cut the sleeves off a few shirts and the legs of a pair of pants, and make reasonably adequate rope. You tie about 3 tentacles to three branches, because you couldn't gather enough tentacles.
What do you do?
Inventory:
Khaki Cap (Currently being worn.)
Khaki Shirt (Same as above)
Khaki Shorts (Ditto)
Socks (Ditto)
Black Boots (Same again.)
Machete (Being held)
Mental State:
Eh, somewhat fine.
Wounds:
Less sore.
Time Of Day:
Noon
Pilots Inventory
Boonie Hat (Urban Camo) (Being Worn)
Green and Black Vest (Being Worn)Urban Camo T-Shirt (Being worn under Vest)
Urban Camo Pants (Being Worn)
Black Boots (Being Worn)
Inside Camp.
3 spears.
8 shirts (3 missing sleeves)
8 pairs of pants (One missing legs)
2 Akubras (Australian Fedora-Similar hats)
2 pairs of black boots
3 pairs of cleets
3 pairs of sneakers