Log:Explorer's Guild: DANTOOINE, They're On Dantooine

Explorer's Guild: DANTOOINE, They're On Dantooine

OOC Date: July 11, 2019
Location: Dantooine
Participants: Explorer's Guild: Corr Waldin, Syrus, Netep Muri, and Siha Archer

DANTOOINE

The hills roll away from them as the grasslands transition into rocky but gentle slopes, the explorers lead by Corr Waldin toward whatever fate awaits them in the wilds of this far-off planet in the Outer Rim. "Been years since anyone cared much about Dantooine," Corr explains to the others as he hikes along, his nice suit of protective gear offset by his raggedy backpack and utility belt. "Not since the end of the Empire, anyway. So you can imagine it was odd when a low-flying airspeeder spotted these things the other day out of the blue. Nothin' there before, then bam, some of the most lifelike, realistic statues anywhere, standing out in the field. Mostly big wildlife but there's a coupla sentient figures too."

He pulls his canteen from its pouch on his belt as he walks. "Caught the attention of our patron who asked us to come on out and find the artist, prob'ly some reclusive genius hidin' away from the hustle and bustle of the more uh, cosmopolitan regions of the galaxy."

"I've never understood why most geniuses are reclusive. It gives the Galaxy unfair expectations of we regular old storebrand recluses," Syrus says, coming to a stop near Corr. "Could the appearance of the statues be temporal in nature? Maybe a by-product of someone tampering with something they shouldn't?" he asks, looking over at him. "Force only knows why they'd be experimenting with displacement in an art gallery, but it's a thought. It's a thought."

"Awfully odd place to hold an exhibition. N'less Graul've developed a taste of the fine arts." Muri lazily cruises alongside the hikers aboard the Nightfalcon, leaning one arm over the handlebars to prop chin on fist. One finger wags at Syrus and she swoops the bike in a gentle arc to sidle on up to his flank. "Or /maybe/ it's a hologram, of exceptional resolution. It'd be a great prank, if you knew the occasional passerby might fall victim to the perplexion."

Siha Archer has her helmet off, hooked to her belt, wild curls gently blown back in a gentle breeze that ripples through the area. She also wears a backpack, in a flightsuit this time instead of her usual heavy gear, the Mandalorian woman having offered up a 'it's back in the shop, big chest dent' as explanation after they disembarked and all met up, "Because artists are bloody crazy." Offered up, continuing forwards even as Syrus stops, "I personally don't give a womprats ass, I'm just pleased as shavit we are somewhere nice for once, instead of some shavithole underground. If I wanted to be in a shavit hole underground I'd have just stayed on Nar." Said as she continues along those rocky but gentle slopes, boots crunching into rock and soil, "Also you're a lazy ass, Muri, and your stupid bike is gonna give us away to any number of predators."

One of the planet's two moons is visible despite the daylight, hovering over the yellow and lavender-tinged tall grasses they've passed through already. "Not sure what you mean by temporal," Corr admits as he continues forward, tucking the canteen back into its pouch and swallowing a big gulp of water. "And it is a strange place, that's why we're out here checkin' into it. So keep your eyes and ears open for anything outta the ordinary," he suggests, though the hum of Muri's speederbike makes the latter unlikely. Siha's comment regarding said bike draws a long look from Corr as well. "...she's got a point. And what do you mean, /for once?/ I take you nice places," he objects to Siha, a little hurt.

Up ahead, the slope steepens, becoming more rocky as it angles more sharply upwards, then vanishes away from sight as it levels off past the slope. "Should be right up here."

The crest of the rise is lined with jagged protrusions of rock that jut up from the earth, forming a toothlike rim around the plateau, and beyond these are a scattering of scrubby trees as well as a few stone figures, here and there, scattered with no apparent rhyme or reason. A pair of kath hounds, frozen in mid-trot by the sculptor's hand, a clutch of iriaz, rendered in stunning accuracy. A figure of a Sullustan stands with these, grey stone hand outstretched as if to tweak one of the iriaz horns.

"Could be," Syrus says, looking over to Netep with a nod. "Either way, I'm excited to give it a look. Smirking at Siha, Syrus says, "There are mertis to crawling through rivers of Nar Shaddaan refuse to fetch some ancient mechanics favorite hydrospanner...but I'm sure I don't know what they are." The Kiffar looks to Corr with a grin and turns his eyes toward the path ahead. "This planet switched hands so frequently during the past, it's a wonder it's still here. There's deposits of kyber all around this place, you know? Powerful stuff."

"None of those predators can run 300 kilo per hour." Netep yawns over her shoulder before twisting one arm back in the saddle to fish a little bottle of stimshot from one of the gear bags. Her thumb pops back the cap and she downs it. All 2 ounces. "So when they do sniff us out, one of you lucky souls can hop on, hang on, and we'll get the kriff outta here." She stuffs the empty bottle back into bag. "Rest of you had best still have some tread on your boots after getting through /that/." A nod ahead to the jagged rocks 'smiling' at them ever so invitingly.

Once they mount the crest and creatures of stone appear in the scrub to greet them, Muri kills the Nightfalcon's engine and it putters to a complete stop. She slides off sideways, boot catching just a little when her leg hikes over the rear. There've been worse dismounts. Her head turns in a slow, slack-jawed survey of the nearest statues, lips' corners upturned in appreciation of the /creepy/ but mystical sort of beauty they generate here, frozen in such /lifelike/ poses. Both hands blindly grope around inside her knapsack, fishing out a pair of lenses - a splurge made in the highend markets of Empress Teta.

Corr gets a squinty eyed look from Siha that is paired with a slight wrinkle of her nose and a curl of her lip, "Gross." The only comment she makes to his objection to her claim of this being the only nice place. And like the (small, skinny) ape she is, she continues to stride forwards, breath getting a little heavier as she tromps up that ever steepening incline.

"Credits, Syrus ...credits are the only reason you'd do something so dumb, which is why ...I'm here." She's not near as breathless as she usually is in her Big Girl Armor, and without said armor she's far more lithe and sprite, reaching the crest with a cackling laugh, one hand on her hip as the other draws her sword out, stepping through the rocky protrusions with small hops, in a MOOD, a good one, for some reason, "Muri, you are really unlikeable right now, like ...super unlikeable, more than usual. It's weird. Are you pregnant?"

SMASH. TWAAAAANNNGGG. Her sword was lifted as she spoke to Muri, swinging down hard on one of the Kath hounds, the sound echoing through the air as barely a few flecks are hewn off the statue, "HA. Okay, so they're /mostly/ stone, but hold on, I'mma try again, I wanna see if these are stone all the way through //or//, maybe meatpops in the middle." Sword is raised again as she readies to bring it down, changing her stance and angle for the next round. She is a single minded creature.

"That's all true," Corr agrees with Syrus, though he seems unclear on how to apply it to the situation at hand. "At least, the stuff about trading hands. I'm not sure about the kyber thing." He's not sure what kyber IS. Muri gets another long look now to go with the last one when she shrugs off her noise by stating that only the others will die if it causes problems. "Why do I keep paying you people?"

Before he can follow that thought through to conclusion, he's interrupted by a loud SMASH-TWAAAAANNGGGG that has him half-jumping out of his skin, whirling on Siha with his hand on his gun before realizing it's just his contractor being herself. "You have a one track mind, you know that?" He's frowning, a small, understated expression as he reaches into his pocket and produces a notepad, a primitive paper variety that he starts scribbling away in. "Kath hounds, these uh... small herd critters, with the horns... a Sullustan... What else is out here?"

"Are pregnant people unlikeable?" Syrus asks of Siha, seemingly confused by the notion. AREN'T THEY SUPPOSED TO HE GLOWING? "Oh, hello, little one," Syrus says, dropping down to a knee to pick up the world's smolest sculpture. He turns it over in his hand and decrees, eloquently, "Bug." He holds it out for the others to see.

"It'd be one hell of a mystery, if I was!" Muri announces back to Siha, an amused smile forming on face despite the snippy-snips. "A case for scientific study, for sure." Muri nestles the Tetan research nerd eyewear over the bridge of her nose, then keys in a code to lock the bike. Her backstep away from the falcon jerks into a little flinch when that TWAAAAAANG sends a jolt of FLEE up her spine. Siha's meatpop commentary earns HER a long look now and roll of the eyes before Muri tromps stiffly off toward one of the Iriaz, the one that's surely gonna gore that Sullustan if it manages to tweak the horn, some earthquakes from now. A point and grin jet to what Syrus has found as she goes. "Heh, cute!" "If you desire us all to hoof it rather than procure ground transportation, you need only stipulate such in the memo summoning us all here. Had I known the procurement of artworks of unknown origin from a vast field of relative empty was meant to be a /stealth/ mission, I'd have packed accordingly...Mr. Waldin."

"Mmnh." Netep breaks from her stare at stoney Sullstan face to bend over and massage at her left knee. Then elbow.

DROYK.

Maybe she IS pregnant!?!?! When she straightens out, Netep's eyes are a bit more plate-sized behind those glasses and for a moment she sees nothing but a mental record of recountable activities over the past month.

Siha Archer's shoulders rock back and forth in a series of rolls, "Cripes,just one hit and I'm already sore --" CLANG. A little more of a chip comes off and Siha will crow out a laughter, "The most insufferable of all, Syrus, think they're special and above common bloody sense because they got a parasite in 'em. Woop, dee, bloody-doo." Up her sword raises again, a roguish grin given to Corr, "I know, Corcival. Look, Syrus found a bug!" She braces as she flexes her knees, grimacing a little, "I'd have packed accordingly, Mr. Waldin, if only you told me to pack common sense on an expedition which can involve any manner of monster." Mockingly repeated with a waggle of her head as she begins to bring the sword down, "Wah wah wah --" Ugh she's sore. Even making fun of Muri is making her hurt.

"Look, I'm not sure why everyone's in a bad mood today, but it's not a personal attack to point out that your speeder might get us attacked," yes it was, "and it's not necessary to make wild speculation about each other's reproductive status," though apparently it might not be off-base. Corr scribbles BUG in big letters in his notepad before flipping it closed and stepping closer towards Syrus to peer down at the little stone insect in the palm of his hand. "...are there more of those?" He glances down in the dusty dirt, and lo, there are more of those.

"This is about the weirdest art project I ever heard of," he comments, hands on his hips, not mentioning that the list of art projects he has heard of is very short. "...do you guys hear somethin' hummin'?" A twist of the head confirms Muri's bike is still powered down. "What is that?"

"I'm in a great mood," Syrus assures Corr with a warm smile before handing the bug sculpture over to the man and standing up. He straightens his tabard, he hrmms, trying to reach out in some kind of watch but ultimately failing to sense much of anything.

"Well, it ain't me." This time. Netep squints around, first at Corr, then overhead and in a slow circle while listening intently to....

"Nothing. I mean, I hear ya know...crackling?" The air stirs unhelpfully by her apparently congested ears, whispering no secrets and betraying no hums. Just a little tinnitis, which she attempts to clear with a light waggle of her jaw and tugging on earlobe. Ugh, allergies. So much grass, so much pollen. Her left leg flexes a few times at the knee, then the right. "Give a shout if you find meatcicle, Archer." Because morbid curiosity is not something smartypants Muri is above, by any means. "I'm going over here." And off she wanders toward a tree selected via silent eenie meenie.

CRACK. Finally. With her sword lofted in the air triumphantly she lets out a woop quickly followed by a low groan, "God damn -- I think the air is think up here, or really thin, I am /pooped/ ...it feels like I've been hit by a week of contracts." Groused as she crouches down, reaching out to run her hands along the figure she's cleaved, "This is weird, right? It's weird." Said aloud, maybe as a cue for Muri and her knowitallness to haul her lazy ass over to where the Mandalorian crouches, "It looks like ..organs, but I can't be sure, I mean it could just be the way I hit it .."

"Glad to hear it," Corr mutters to Syrus, distracted by whatever he heard, but not hearing it anymore. "Maybe you're right," he allows to Muri instead, wandering over to where Siha has finally succeeded in her singular goal of cracking one of the sculptures open. He pops a squat over the chunks as well, reaching out to prod them, turn them over. "Definitely stone the whole way through, but... I can see what you mean, this wasn't just 'blank' inside." Curious. His eyes linger on the Mandalorian woman and her persistent complaints of discomfort, but she is always falling off buildings or getting run over by speeders or mauled by wild beasts, so.

"Perhaps that's an indication that you should no longer be doing the thing that you are doing, Siha," Syrus says, imparting that dope-ass sage wisdom that y'all keep him around for. His hands move to his hips for a moment before one of them lifts to rub at his elbow. His lips stiffen and an eye twitches as he looks over to where Netep is wandering. His feet begin to lead him that way, as well. "Something feels...wrong," he advises, hand moving to rest withing his satchel.

"Ew, really?" Netep cranes her neck around while continuing to trek forward, narrowing eyes past Syrus's nearing bulk to where the other two are crouching. "Is it organs!?" 1 part doubts, 1 part fascination at the super illogical but also super gross idea that those statues were once composed of flesh. Or this hypothetical recluse was even better at his/her craft than anyone could've imagined!

She flicks a glance up to the disconcerted Kiffar, then faces forward again just in time. ROOT! Her feet fumble a bit in circumventing the hidden obstacle and it's just as well, because she needs a breather. One arm stretches across her chest, then the other. Couple squats, shaking of leg and limb. "Y'can say that again," she grumbles at Syrus. "I didn't even hike the whole damn way. I mean I know I'm not the epitome of physical fitness but c'mon. This is sad, even for me." So....stiff. A final pop to the spine, then she decides to take one broad step back toward --

"Hey! Heyheyhey..." That's as eloquent as she's going to be for the moment, jerked practically off her feet by a sudden about-face toward something spied from eye's corner. The little explorer's hugging a tree now. Reaching up, trying to knock some tarp-a-ma-gig loose with a stick. And old stick, as it snaps in two after her second attempt. "Somethin under here! Machine sorta...thing." Maybe somebody of taller height or longer windspan can be of greater use in unveiling the entirety.

Siha Archer rises up with sharp cracks and pops rippling through joints and bones as she does so, "And creepy." Said in response to Corr, Siha turning to look towards Muri and Syrus with a judgemental eye, "No one asked you for your opinion, Syrus, also it's a stupid one. You want me in the poor house." Decided with a sharp sniff and a hurk up of a spitball which gets spat into the grass. Sssst. "Somethin' in the air." Decided yet again, Siha keeping her sword at her side to sway it through the grass as she heads towards Muri to see this machine.

"She's doin' what I pay her to do," Corr replies to Syrus with a mixture of defensive tone and resigned acceptance of this fact all in one. "Might not be the standard archeological methodology but we're not exactly scientists neither. Well. Muri is." Speaking of Muri, he looks off towards where the woman is excitedly clinging to a tree and waving a stick up in it. "But I'm not sure that's the standard methodology either."

Unaffected by whatever stiffness is bothering the others, he pushes himself up straight from his squat and walks quickly towards her. "That don't look like part of the exhibit."

"It isn't," a cold voice announces as a Selkath emerges from the trees with a strange, complicated-looking weapon or something similar held in a menacing direction towards the group, all sorts of wires and resistors strapped down to it, not unlike the large device up in the tree's construction. "And all of you are trespassing."

"Were you not already there?" Syrus asks of Siha before turning back to watch Netep. "It takes all sorts, I suppose," Syrus says, hand moving to rub at his shoulder. He rolls it repeatedly before moving to massage his neck. His attention falls on the Selkath and the Kiffar looks surprised. "Your people don't often travel far for your homeworld, Selkath. What's your business here? Your people pride themselves on a peaceful existence. Spitting in the face of convention?" he asks, gritting his teeth as he nods to the alien's weapon and tries to work a kink out of his back.

"Hey, woah...ah.." Netep drops her half stick and limps away from the machine, hands held aloft. One such hand reaches gingerly to place upon Syrus' arm and while she meant to give it a sharp squeeze, her grip gets suddenly a bit lax and turns into more of a lean. A pained grimace distorts her attempted smile at the Selkath whilst her other hand pats, hard, on Syrus's opposite shoulder.

"I'm sorry," the hand leaves his arm, extending upturned palm of peace toward the gun-wielder. "You're right, we...well, there was a hold up at the permit office and I admit we were a little hasty to verify - or dismiss - this report that came through to our desk, so I asked that they just holonet it to my pad and off we went..."

Muri's left leg buckles a bit and she bends a few degrees at the waist, cheeks puffed with a few overly deep breaths. "Killer climb." Heh. Smile? Is she smiling guys? She tries. "We take our business of securing Dantooine's historical relics /very/ seriously, so when a report came through -- that report I just mentioned -- about a couple statues bearing uncanny resemblance to a few that went missing from the little museum archives, we were obligated to check it out. It uh...well, turns out these here were never in the collection, so..." both hands flap helplessly at her sides before an overly stiff shrug and meep says "Nothin to 'bout it but dismiss and leave, yeah? I apologize if we startled you. In fact, if you'd like, I'll send a copy of that permit, just soon as..." she makes a show of checking her datapad on belt. "Damn, they're slow. So. Soon as it comes through, I can have it forwarded. Promise we aren't up to no good on your land here." Wince. Her lips purse, remembering Siha back there with the big ass sword. "She's our defense 'gainst the wildlife, yeah?" A thumb gestures limply when her shoulder fails to cooperate. "I'm just gonna wait here a moment." And Muri's down, sitting on one hip and clawing at an arm through her jacket sleeve.

"Could you imagine if I was?" Siha asks with a smirk to Syrus, "I'd be as unbearable as you and Muri." A pointed look is given, and mere moments later the Selkath emerges, and as he gets closer she can feel the fibers of her muscles beginning to seize, "Nnngh, it's him. It's him, it's him." Repeated softly, her sword kept at her side held tightly in it's grip. Before panic can set in she nods her head, stiffly stepping forwards at a sedate pace towards the tree, "Turn off your machine, or whatever that thing is, and we can chat nicely." She attempts a smile, but the corners of her mouth begin to crack, tiny drizzle of blood whetting the flesh, and it ends up looking like a bitter grimace, tongue soon sweeping in to ease the cracked flesh.

While the others have been laboring with varying aches and pain, Corr has up till now been seemingly unaffected, but while Muri is going off on her spiel about their Totally Legitimate Reasons for being here, which are mostly true, except for who sent them, the man is frowning down at the flexion of his elbow, turning his wrist about with displeasure.

"You are not being honest with me," the Selkath blurbles to Muri, keeping his strange ray-gun type deal angled at the group, wide-set eyes peering at Syrus. "Convention is for simpletons and old maids. I cannot allow you to leave, and in another few minutes you will be unable to do so. Don't you feel that? Don't you feel your very cells being altered?" A wet laugh as he pulls back a handle on the backside of his handheld device, like a giant syringe, and pushes it forward, sending sparks of electricity sintering down its wires and a jolt of invisible energy into the air.

"Almost," Syrus offers back to Siha. He would be grinning if he wasn't speaking through gritted teeth. The Kiffar slumps down to the ground, seemingly incapable of moving any further forward. Then the mean fish guy is pointing his evil villain statue-izer at them and squeezing the trigger. The Kiffar rocks forward a bit and throws a hand out toward the Selkath, producing a wave of kinetic energy that kicks up the dust around them and rockets toward the enemy.

"I do," Netep gasps, cringing at the way her skin stings and itches and weeps when she cringes. It's a self-perpetuating cycle! "I do feel it..." At the rate this is going, Muri won't have to worry about growing old and arthr--oh wait, she's there. "I don't want to be a meatcicle," she confesses via wheeze to Siha, turning her back on the Selkath and stumble-shuffle-gimping her way toward her precious Nightfalcon. A raspy whisper of "I'll mow'im down, jus..." arrrrrgh. "...soon."

WHOOSH.

Muri doesn't witness the source of that mystery miniature dust storm, being as she's focused on playing that last card in her deck. She does, however, rub at a few bits in her eye and looks with mild horror to the many lashes now stuck to her finger after said rubbing. Also, flakes of skin. So brittle! The Nightfalcon is a welcomed support once she's there, arms hugged around but lower half at a loss for what to do. It hurts so very much. A turtle would be more graceful, but up she climbs and wriggles, through tears and grunts and curses.

"You stupid ...." Gritted out, no rejoiner given to Syrus, but instead Muri, "You blathering --" She swings her sword REALLY SLOW. Like, super slow. So slow a one winged moth could evade the swing. Swooo-ooo-oooo-oooo-sh. She tries to swing up and does it slow mo, "You cowardly ..." Swisss-ssss-sss-shhhhh. "Run ...his ...ass ...over ...you ..tiny ..wench." She half-freezes with the sword up in the air now, like she's about to swing it down for a golf stroke.

"This is bad," Corr realizes, now that the effects of the device are finally affecting him. He watches as Siha, the normally-indomitable Mandalorian warrior woman, can barely swing her sword. "This is BAD." He watches as Syrus somehow sends the Selkath flying by waving his hand, or something, and nothing about that makes sense. "This is bad." The giant device up in the tree fitzes and sputs at a lower frequency than the one held by the (probably) evil scientist, and as Corr stares up at it, his brow sets and lips draw into a thin line.

With some difficulty, he hauls himself up into the branches, angling towards the machine. "MURI! What do you know about death rays?!"

While he's climbing up into the tree, the Selkath climbs up to his feet, gasping from the impact and clutching at the chest of the skin-tight suit he wears, tugging at the fabric with something like mild annoyance. "You /fools!/ You can't escape it now. You're going to join my menagerie, one way or another."

Doubling over, Syrus clutches at his gut as his skin starts to just do all sorts of things that it isn't supposed to. Pelted with rays of nefarious design, the Kiffar summons what's left in his tank and throws both hands out toward the fish-man. Pressure builds around him for a moment before it sails out towards the Selkath, leaving Syrus to slump over onto the ground, no doubt crushing multitudes of those cute little bug sculptures.

"I'm not cowardly..." Muri pants, jaws aching and tired. That's definitely never happened before. "I'm a..."

It takes a full body thrust forward for her to kick the bike to life, coupled with a heavy lean forward to try and give her wrists an assist with the grip. "Pacifist." And on that note, the Nightfalcon's low whine amplifies into a a MIGHTY ROAR! Which actually just sounds like a horde of angry bees. The intent, at least, is menacing. "AHHHHHHHH....." Her feet struggle to launch it forward with a burst of speed, left foot managing to press the pedal a bit more than the right. Muri and her trusty steed lurch forward but not in the original trajectory, instead listing to the left.

"WHAT KIND OF DEATH RAY!?" She shouts back at Corr, one eye squinched almost entirely shut and unable to blink open. Cept it sounds like: "UT IND UH ETH EHRAY!?" On account of her locking jaw. "Eh-ee see..." And she'a bout to see it pretty up close, anyway. "YOOK OOUT!" While Syrus is ridding them of the Selkath, Netep might rid them of this pesky noise machine. (herself AND the bike) Her body lurches back, jerking the bike into submission to make a sudden HIKE in altitude. She's not going to clear the tree. She's going through its branches, that much is obvious, so her best attempt's made to clip that machine best she can. And not Corr. "YOOK OOOOOOOOOOOOUT!!!!!EIN SHUUUUUUCK!!!!" final scream of warning for him to hopefully drop as she comes crashing through.

Siha Archer is FROZEN in her golf pose.

Frozen.

Frozen.

Frozen.

And yet, inside somewhere, she's smirking with glee at the Muri scene, at least what she can hear of it.

When the yell comes back to him and Corr hears the roar of the Nightfalcon, it takes a moment to figure out what's going on. "Oh /hell/. This is not what I meant!" The roaring is getting closer. "Dammit!" The leap from the tree is more of a drop, legs all stiff as the man tosses himself clear just as Muri soars past, clipping branches and leaves then the machine, which sputters and sparks as the internal machinery grinds to a halt.

The relief is almost immediate, though the petrification is not immediately reversed; the process is halted, and the affects begin to fade away, slowly but surely. Corr, the least affected, regains his feet with relative ease, annoyingly to the others, no doubt, cracking his back once and looking off towards wherever Muri wound up. "Guess we owe her an apology on the bike." In the background, one of the 'sculptures' softens enough to topple over under its own weight.

Another mystery solved!