Log:Explorer's Guild: Mimban Rocketman
It's a difficult thing, landing on Mimban, and the streaks of lightning that knife the cloudy skies and poke at their ships' hulls are no joke either. Getting back off the planet will be just as exciting, but for now everyone has made it down to the mucky, muddy surface and gathered together with Corr's Explorer expedition.
Out in the jungle where Corr has lead them, the man himself is trekking along at the head of the group, decked out in his usual adventure gear including adventure canteen and a pistol. It's raining. His hair is wet, his boots are muddy, his pants are muddy, parts of his upper body are muddy. There's mud on his face. There's mud on his hands. There's mud everywhere.
"So, Fallarnious Goop, the uh, the "Rocketman" fella, he came out here about nine-ten years ago," he relates as he walks through the thick goop on the ground under the trees, incessant fog curling around his feet. "And eight years ago, transmissions from his expedition stop. Course the last place they sent from is the first place they looked, but all that was left were tracks and some of their equipment, no Goop, none of his assistants. His wife pretty much gave up on findin' ol' Goop, but his little girl's a grown woman now and she asked if we'd come out and give it another go."
The trees thin out, if only slightly, up ahead, and Corr indicates the 'clearing'. "That's the last spot he transmitted from, if this is right."
The proud Kushiban species are known for their moodfur - a coat that goes from snow white to jet black, depending on their mood. While it's been seen, other colors of kushiban are not common... Which is why the crusty, brown one plodding miserably along behind Corr Waldin appears so strange. "I hate this planet." Mujiji has decided, spitting another mouthful of mud back from whence it came. Muddy boots? Trying being eye-level with the muddy calves of everyone in front of you. She is hating this planet almost as much as she hated the flight in, and underneath her new brown countenance, she would be tinged green were it possible. Why is she even here? Oh, right. Money. "Think there's even gonna be anythin' here after 8 years?"
Siha Archer flew here days ahead of the others, having piloted her way down with nary an issue aside from some spilled red sauce from a plate of mynock wings that was balanced on her lap. She had been camping out, perhaps scouting ahead, doing what she does, which is not socialize with much of anyone else. Just before meeting the group at the pre-determined place she had packed up her camp, brought her dogs back to the ship, and moseyed on to meet the others and trek along with them and Corr. In silence.
"If he died he deserved to be given up on ..." Noted by the ever sympathetic Mandalorian woman who's beskar'gam is caked in the same style as Corr, only she looks cooler. And she's comfy cozy dry beneath it all. As they come to the clearing she sniffs in deeply, hands planting to her hips atop her blaster holster and the sword at the other hip, "This place is /amazing/, by the by, like ..everything wants to eat you. I love it." Modulated voice rings out with bright delight, the helmeted woman looking off into the clearing but a moment more before she tromps forwards.
"Just one more bite," Netep promises Domino while crinkling back the wrapper of some once-crusty (now soggy) bun of herbal, savory delight. It was still warm half an hour ago, but before she could sink her teeth in, the sky got weird and she had to actually lay hands on some controls to stick the Hermi in the mud all safe and sound like. It was a bumpy ride. Stomachs might've been flipflopped with hearts...blame the lightning strike that knicked Hermi's portside thruster. But it's fine! It's fine, now. Her scout armor would have left her impervious to the wet, had she not stubbornly resumed her late meal, helmet visor cranked up to permit the munching.
"Aight," she bounces a few crumbs off chin and passes what's left over to Dom for the taking. "Want some?" Her other hand goes up to finally slap cue the visor down and she listens to Waldin's spiel with the occasional nod. "10 years...I was shippin off to a whole different kind o' mud pit, back then. The diversity is pretty exquisite," the last bit being in agreement with Siha, though maybe not quite for the same reasons. "Cept the swamp flies. Could always do without them."
Domino has traded her usual bubble-gum goth look for something more Imperial Explorer Barbie (NOT DESCED!). Olive colored leggings with tan button up long sleeve shirt unbuttoned down the front to allow the white tanktop beneath it to breath with a vest over both and a mottled gray and green scarf tied over her head to keep insects from crawling into her hair and keep droplets of rain off her neck. As always, however, is a haversack, this one watterproofed and a dark army green.
She wrinkles her nose, "Be that as it may there is more than one interested party in finding his status. Besides, if we all got what we deserved I'd be somewhere MUCH worse than this place."
Domino eyes Muri "How is it you always manage to be shoving something into your mouth when I see you? You realize I work in the Hutt district so for me to even notice...well. Muri you might wanna get whatever's going on checked out cause you might have a problem.
Sajin seemed more worried about the bugs he kept swatting away than the flight in or out of here. He might have to clean up some of the things that were left loose around the Drikish Encouragment though. Slapping his neck loudly, he manages to kill one of the blood suckers. His other hand occupied by a weird sort of jelly snack in a package. He seemed to be enjoying it though as he followed along in the rear, mouth smacking as he downed the snack. "I don't think this guys alive. No way." He wipes some of the sweat on his brow away with the sleeve of his flightsuit.
"If he's dead, he's dead. Either way, we're getting paid to look for him, or his remains," Corr shrugs, making his way into the clearing where the Last Transmission was famously made. "Eight years ago, the Rocketman had a reputation in academic circles for being one-a the most daring, adventurous geologists in recent memory. Fella'd go picking rocks off the sides of cliffs and mountains with a jetpack. Once spent two hundred thirty-five hours crash-landed on a plateau after scraping the thruster against a boulder. So who knows."
The clearing itself is nothing all that remarkable (OR IS IT), a thin area in the trees which just means there's more mud and less trees! Yay. It's marked by the presence of a few old containers made of plasteel, durasteel, plastoid, betaplast, and other materials resistant to the decay and rot of the constant moisture, in various stages of sinking into the muck. Corr's boot tromps down and mires briefly in what may have been a tarp or a tent, or even a trash bag. It's hard to say, but he has to stop and extricate himself. "Take a look around, see if you can get some of these things open or find something buried as might give us a hint to why he left."
Getting paid is enough for Mujiji, and the pocket-sized logomorph's shrug mirrors Corr's own. She's getting paid, she's getting paid. This mantra repeats on a loop in her little brain as she grasps the sides of a container and wrenches with all of her might.
"Sunnuva FRAG mine!" Mujiji yelps, clutching at her shoulder. "Nothin' in this one." She decides, moving on from the unopened crate to paw through the mud, instead.
KICK. SMASH. Siha takes the invitation to 'get these things open' as permission to lift her foot out of the muck and grass and aim for some old container, cracking open the top which sends half the lid flying off and jettisoning into the muck nearby. Crouching down with knees and shins easily sweeping into the muck and trash she will reach gloved hands into her own container while the Kushiban yelps out, "Use your hip next time, shoulders are weak." Advised as she pulls out slightly wet and muddied tiny boxes with samples within them, "Site Aurek ...flowstone ..." A grunt as she tosses said sample behind her over a shoulder, plucking out more and reading off more mineral and rock sample names from Site Aurek, each getting tossed with disinterest into the mire around her, "Oooh, you said he was a Geologist ...derrrrrr." Voice rings out from her helmet as her head drops back as she sighs at the sky, "Sorry, I was only half listening." Just like her player only half-reads, "I'mma say ..let's go find this site Aurek." Stated as she rises up, hands on her knees, joints and bones creaking/popping as she does so, "Maybe he went back to it. To die."
"Everyone's got a problem," Netep brushes off the insult with a voice altered slightly by the sealing of visor and folds up the goopy bread into its wrapper, having caught the vibe that Domino is /not/ so hungry. Least there won't be risk of it going dry. Moisture plenty retained.
She pulls her knapsack clumsily around over armored shoulder to stuff the leftovers inside while executing a very poor ducking manuever beneath some scraggly moss. A portion is torn free from its branch and comes along for the ride like a lopsided ponytail, clung to helmet. She and her new friend tromp into the 'clearing' to dutifully help pick over what remains.
"Wonder how much is buried under all this muck. Eight years of storms, flooding, erosio--" *Splut* Muri doesn't see a bit of potential treasure peeping up in her path. Was it a rock? Was it a crate? Was it an old can of rations? Doesn't matter, the end result is the same. Muri's knees are coated with at least three years of those eight years' history, when she manages to stand up, fist clutched around an ARTIFACT. Of fashion. "Don't think he'll be workin the stains out o'this one," she surmises aloud, holding aloft a trouser leg. Empty, thanks be to nature. She'd rifle through the pockets, but there aren't pockets to be found because this sad, tattered thing is...well, it's actually gentleman's underoos.
The resurrected laundry drops limply back to the grime from which it'd been saved. Ugh. "Wager there's more than 'site Aurek' t'be searched, if this rocket-roaring geologist was really worth his weight in Dolovite."
Domino leans forward to inspect the latching mechanism, then examines the door or apparent entry way attentively looking for-something. After a moment she circles and comes back around with an old style chissle and hammer. With a few tink-tink-tink's she drives the pic against the locking mechaism and then secures what looks like an electric toothbrusth, tapes it to the chisel, and waits a few moments before leaning in and listtening...suddenly she steps back and swings the hammer and *POINK-CLANG!* the door opens and she wishes out a penlight which is held up and fanned a bit infront of her before she cautiously steps in.
She looks around and wrinkles her nose, "No one worth checking off a box on an insurance form should be allowed to be THIS boring. Ughn. I should double my fee for boring jobs." she does her due dilligence and takes her time, inspecting the contents and rummaging about.
Sajin manages to pry the cover open on one of the crates after conjuring some moxy into his muscles and ripping off the lock/breaking the seal. Tossing the top aside, he glances in and eumages around before pulling out the same kind of things Siha does. "Site Cresh... So that means there are multiple sites that samples were taken from." Good job Captain Obvious. He puts the samples back and looks toward Corr, "Suppose it doesn't matter which site we start with, right?" He gives a shrug then looks around at the others, hands going to his hips, pretty lips pouting as he waits.
"You all good?" Corr questions the tiny mud-monster that is Mujiji when she makes displeased Kushiban noises. Siha has samples, though, and is even sort of acknowledging that something he said was helpful, and that gets a half-smile out of him. Not a real smile, she can't do that, but half of one. "Yeah, stands to reason a geologist'd have some samples around." Siha's aren't the only ones, though, and now decisions need to be made. "It matters which ones we can actually /find./"
He goes rooting in the mud as well, then, flopping down onto his knees and trying to shove the stuff aside but there's just so much of it. About the time some is cleared away, more is rolling back in. He comes up with a sheaf of muddy papers, though, scrabbling the obscuring film away from the cover with eager anticipation, eyes bright. "Maybe this is Goop's expedition notes or somethin'," he muses, but the abrupt fall of his crest dispels that notion. "...No, it's a nudie mag. Uh. I'm not actually sure what species that is. Good stock they printed this on though." The man lets it slip back into the mire.
"Anyrate, sounds like there's a cave involved. The first search party mentioned a cave to the east, but they weren't able to go far into it on account of a bunch of hostile Greenies holed up in there. Maybe they've moved on since then."
And so, he rises up and heads east, slipping and sliding and sticking in the mud as he goes.
The cave, from the outside, appears empty. "Looks empty," is wryly observed. "But that's always how they look from the outside. Let's check it out." Ducking low, he slips inside, and his voice echoes back out to the others: "So far so good, come on in."
Watching Siha smash her way through crates, Mujiji casually falls into the Mandalorian's wake. "Hips, right." But she makes no further moves to put any grunt work into the boxes, instead pawing half-heartedly through the samples discarded by the other members. "Yeah, just rock samples over here tooooo." She offers, not helpfully at all.
But, of course, then they are going into the cave. "Yup." The kushiban grunts. "Yup, yup." She whistles through those buck teeth as she saunters into the cave in a bipedal position, paws hooked into her belt as she gives a lazy, cursory look over the cave. "Nothin' here!" She supplies, giving a firm nod as she forges on in. "We're good!"
Siha Archer looks down at the Kushiban, emotionless helmet still managing to depict some measure of amusement with a slight lilt to the left, glancing around as she keeps near the fluffy ball of Mujiji as they head on into the cave, "How can one so close to the ground be so blind to these marks?" Asked as she continues forwards into the cave, chin tilted in towards her chest, moving off to one side to crouch down and point out to the wabbit what she's talking about, "Come, here -- you see? Pointy toed demons, or a long lost rock hobo with no sense of hygiene and an uncaring about culling his own toes down. Along with ..." A glance as she eyes the prints, "Others. Or the same one dancing around and off." Planting a palm and splaying her fingers out she'll measure the prints, "Muri, you know feet things -- come look." Elbows come to rest on her knees as she waits for the expertise she assumes Muri has to enlighten them all, "Hold on furry warrior, give us a second before you go barrelling in, Muri knows things of different species so she might have insight to what is going to try and kill us -- or ..if this is our rock head."
- Tromp*Squish*Splat* Muri took a beat to march o'er the muddy camp to poke her head into Domino's more spacious find. "Could always ship ya back to the sha'claws. They weren't so boring, were they? Betcha that lady in blue's still there, too." A wistful and/or tired sigh breathed through her respiration filter. Fortunately, she hadn't got time to reminisce, because it's time to relocate!
Muri's approach to the cave entrance is not without a sincere pause of trepidation. "Y'know flooding's a real risk down there!" she calls ahead, standing half in the maw, half in the mud. The nightvision system flickers indecisively across her visor until she makes the decision to press on ahead and enter Mimban's underworld. One gloved hand leans on the earthen wall for what little support its slick surface can provide. One deliberately placed step after another pokes the woman along while a nervous, untiring scan of their surroundings swivels her head back...forth...up...down...repeat. It isn't long before a disconcerted sound hums in her throat over Siha's crouching form. A couple grunts later and she's squatting alongside to examine the prints. "Well, that's a foot all right," she confirms, followed by a pause long enough to cast doubt on her knowledge of anything feet-related. Until "...but this isn't human. See this?" One finger traces from 'ball' squash to heel smish. "Instep's too long or narrow...or both. I mean, it's a little bit smeary, but. Not human. Ninety-eight percent sure."
Domino pops out of the space she was searching, holding a sample jar of lichen and looking SO VERY CONFUSED! "Why is this evening a Thing?" she tosses the lovingly collected and labled jar over a shoulder carelessly looking a gtouch disgruntled, "Someone please tell me they found something interesting?" she siighs, "This guy's been gone YEARS and we're interested in footprints? Really?" She siiiighs and pops a bit of chewing gum in her mouth, "Fine. Let's go. I'm bored of this place. It's like some sad compulsive biology nerd's toybox." She gestures for Muri to go ahead because even DOMINO knows you let someone else walk infront of you when you're in the jungle.
'THUPT' 'THUPT' 'THUPT' is the sound that Sajin' boots make as thtey trudge through the muddy swampy goo behind Corr on his way to the Cave. "Oh man... it's always a dark scary cave." He looks towards Siha, "Demons do live in caves." He nods in afirmation as he makes his way to the edge of the cave glancing inside slowly, his ears perked up and eyes as alert as possible. "Man... it's dark in there." Darker for him because Hapans don't do well in the dark. "Yeah, Muri... That's 'cuz it's a Kriffin' Demon. Didn't you hear Siha? It's a demon." There is a pause after looking to Domino as if that answered her question. "I don't think I've killed any demons before." He takes a few deep breaths and continues when the others do.
"Demons don't exist," Corr insists, stepping further into the dank dark cave. "That was the whole point of all those cultists we kept runnin' into, it was never anything /real/, it was just... Alright, a time or two I might've thought they had something." The roof gets progressively lower and the light gets progressively less as they go further in. There's many branching passages to choose from, and it's not clear how Corr is choosing their own path, just sort of... soldiering on, following the bulk of the footprints. Demon footprints.
"But nothin' ever came of it, so, they don't exist, thesis proven." The walls are lined with a sort of flowstone that may look familiar to Siha especially, as she's recently held a preserved sample of the same, a reddish rock coated in a thin layer of moist red-brown mud. Delightful. Natural beauty. The footprints lead up to a shelf of the stuff, and then underneath the hanging edge of it into a narrow gap that can only be entered by lying prone.
"He better be in here. Can I get someone small." His eyes flit instinctively to Mujiji. "And uh. /BRAVE/ to go in first and see if it's passable?"
"I was just testing you." Mujiji sniffs, turning her nose up at the 'obvious marks' that Siha points out. She was certainly not testing anyone, but all this talk of demons and flooding and, as dignified as one can look in such an act, casually moves towards Netep. "Ahem." She clears her throat as if asking permission, but by the time this happens, little claws are digging in as she clumsily climbs to ride the woman's shoulders, leaving muddy little prints all the way up. "So!" The kushiban continues as if nothing has happened, clinging to Netep Muri's shoulders as they tromp, tromp, tromp through this demon cave. "The demons ain't real, but whatevers makin' these tracks probably are. An' if they're armed, s'one thing. But... They also might be rich." She clears her throat again
And they trek on, until: "This is racist." Mujiji declares, crawling back down Muri's arm to stare into this crevice. "If I die, don't let Vakorba have my stuff." And she squirms in. "This is really gross. And wet. Why is it so /wet/? I - /urgh/ oh gods, what was that? Kriff on a stick..." Her voice echoes back, growing steadily more distant. She clambors down a solid three foot drop, decides to keep this piece of information to herself, and forges bravely on. "You lot might be able to make it around th'other way!" She calls back once more. "Maybe. You lot, it's really wet. Have fun!
A pause as the Mandalorian considers, head shaking firmly, "No, there are bloody demons, and even Sajin knows that. Rancors? Bloody demons in some circles, First Order? Bloody demons right there. Corrs' silent 'sleep farts' that he thinks we don't know about but we all politely ignore because he pays us? Demonic." All said as she rises up and wanders towards that crevice in the rock, listening as the Kushiban explains things with a patient nod of her head, listening to how that furry bod moves through the area beyond, "Flowstone, or what was labelled as flowstone." Said aloud before she hefts herself into the space, armor grating against the walls, the rock leaving remnants of red-brown where it grazes. She grunts, pulling herself forwards, feet pushing along, and her helmet helpfully lights the way, "So racist." Grunted as she pulls forwards, extending her arms to carefully navigate that three foot drop once she's on the other side, the woman coming out like a doll, rolling forwards and propping up with a hop, "Made it!" She also doesn't call back a warning on the drop, instead raising her hands in the air as she silently cheers herself on.
Sajin gets a long suffering stare from where Muri squats on the cave floor while the Kushiban settles onto her perch. "Waldin's right, s'not a /demon/, Sajin. Just some other possibly sinister looking humanoid who'll no doubt be thrilled to hear offworld company traipsing through." But at least their souls are safe...
Even if their bodies are soon to be damned. Muri eyes the sliver of a low-lying tunnel with poor appreciation of it OR the flowstone. She obligingly leans to one side to make Mujiji's drop a little less so. "It's not racist, it's practical. If Waldin or Sajin wriggled on in there first, it'd be game over, plugged up, none shall pass, go home time." A pause, as Mujiji disappears into the first lengths. "Probably." She's clearly cast her doubt on the route being passable to anyone of humanish stature, but when Siha also slithers on inside and manages to not get stuck - yet - Muri decides maybe there's a chance.
"Okay," she acquiesces, and lowers to knees, hands, belly. "If I scream, kindly yank what's left o'me back out, hey?" requested over shoulder to the companions remaining on this side of cave. Into the demon lair she goes! It's not so bad at first, scrabbling along like a primordial resident of this fine, astral body. In fact, it's almost a little bit fu--
"UNH" Muri found the hole. Her heels drag the roof, legs bent at the knee, posterior stuck for a moment in the air while the rest of her works out the angles of the downshaft's end. Her com gets flipped on in the struggle of it all, giving everyone else a soundtrack of raspy, panicky breathing before suddenly she scoots free and slip-slides out to join the ladies.
Domino lifts an eyebrow and tugs on some gardening gloves, "Of course, Muri, what are friends for?" She offers a sunshine smile and then waves bye bye to Muri. She pauses and listens, "Eghn, it didn't sound like anyone died. UGhn. I *hate* getting dirty. Ew, ew, ew, ew..." She whines girlishly as she caaarely puts one leg then the other down and then half crab-walks half scoots to control her descent. IT's got graceful but it IS effective though there's a kicked pomeranian "EEEP!" at the unevected sudden sharpness at the end.
"Been a while since I've crawled into a small dark, damp, and cold Tunnel. This one time-" Sajin starts but thinks better of it, a wistful little smile on his pretty lips. "Ah, Nevermind. Boring story." Hazel eyes glaze over, only to be brought back to the attention of the tunnel when Mujiji declare Racism. "Who? Where? That's not right, man. Have some manners." He has no idea who said what, distracted by memories of spelunking past, but felt the need to validate the poor Kushibani who was being discriminated against. Seeing it as his turn now, the Hapan does a few stretches before shimmying his way into the small opening. "The mud is kinda acting like a Lubricant... this isn't so ba-" A sudden drop as he falls face first three feet. "Yowwwwch. It's all slimy and pointy..." He finds the courage to continue on. "No one fart in the tunnel! Especially Corr."
"Yeah, well, that's what fiber'll do to ya," Corr breathes under his breath as the others finally make it on through and he squats down to peer into the gap under the flowstone, shining a light in to make sure that Sajin's through before he enters. Then it's down onto his belly and in he goes.
His elbows tug him along in a familiar combat crawling movement, the mud indigenous to this activity in the part of his brain that remembers exactly how to do all of this. There's still a sharp intake of breath when his stomach hits the first puddle, the cold water cutting through the more muted chill of the mud, that echoes down the passage like a giant stone amplifier. The second and third puddles are just more of the same and he's acclimated.
Did anyone actually mention that fall? Corr didn't hear it, if so. He's in his own little world, cut off from the others and enjoying the solitude, remembering other times he crawled in mud in the dark and getting a bit lost in the moment before realizing that one elbow isn't making contact and the other has already pushed him forward again. Almost before it registers in his brain that he's falling, he reaches the bottom of that face-first drop, hands barely cushioning his fall, and 180+lbs of man and gear crash down into the mud and underlying rock.
"...leave me here with the Rocketman," he groans, tugging his bloody muddy face out of the muck and worming forward enough that his legs can drag down to parallel with the floor. "...I'm alright. I'm fine. I'm okay. Keep goin'." Craaawwl. He finally clambers out into the opening with the others, and rolls over onto his back. "I hate this place."
The opening falls away into a massive underground dome. The air around them is lit up by shafts of light that stream down from holes in the cavern's ceiling high above, casting reflections off a placid pool of cool, still water that laps gently against the gravelly 'beach' around it.
As Siha joins her, Mujiji raises a tiny hand for a silent high-five. "Good crawlin', team." She grins as they make their uncermonious way, one by one, to relative tunnel freedom. "Watch out fer th'drop!" She offers, helpfully, long after they've all had to deal with it, but she does scuttle back to make room as their colleagues come a-pourin' out like so many of Corr's farts. "We movin' on?" She asks, returning to her perch atop Muri's shoulders with as much grace as they all posessed falling through thiat slimy tunnel. But she /gets/ it now. She's starting to get this spelunking and searching thing - and she hasn't even shot anybody! "The footprints go that way!" She points from her perch, giving Netep a little 'h'yah!' nudge. ONWARD, STEED!
Siha Archer will laugh, a long throaty sort of thing that half-sounds like she's coughing up a lung, "Ha!" The laugh is both for Corr falling and injuring himself, and for the Kushiban warning people /after/ the drop. And then she moves! To follow!
"Oh, my..." If Muri weren't a) pretty well guarded against all that mucky ucky she just crawled through and b) laden with her own personal giddyup rabbit and c) a terrible swimmer, she'd totally splash to her heart's content in that ethereal little lake they've just emerged to see. "You didn't say you were payin' us to partake in a /spa/ retreat, Corr..." she grins crookedly around a fuzzy knee toward poor Corr and his smashed up face. "Just look at all this..."
She moseys on along after those tracks that Mujiji's urging her toward, but not without pausing here and there to inspect some of the subterranean foliage. "I know someone else who'd fancy a hike through here," she muses softly and plucks a ferny frond free of a rocky outcropping. "Put that in the bag," she instructs Mujiji, handing it blindly over her own head to either put it in the Kushiban's reach or poke her in the eye. "And this." A sample of the same lichen that Domino found in a jar. "And thhhhhhhang on." With arms outheld to balance her altered center of gravity, Netep bows to one knee and gently collects something from one of those footprints. The light reflects sharply off its crackled surface as she turns it over in palm and smudges away some detritus-mud-insectpoo with a finger. Her awestruck smiles fade away, leaving a grim line in their place.
"Hand lens," she raises it up for others to see by the bent and rusted hinge. "Common tool for a geologist."
Domino is mincing after the others and accessing the grime on her person when she kicks something that tumble-skitters across the ground. Her brow furrowing in puzzlement she stoops down to pick it up and examine it. She gives a soft inhale, "EwEw-Ew-Ew-Ew! *MURI*!" scarcely waiting for Muri to turn around and tossing it at the other woman before prancing around in a little circle and shaking her hands out in *mostly* quiet distress. Mostly quiet.
"Corrrr? Corrrr? Are you sure, Corrr?" Croaks Sajin from the other side of the tunnel. He turns around to the others. "He said we should go on and leave him to die. I mean... I feel kinda bad about that but, at least we have a decoy for the demons to munch on right?" He turns his Hazel eyes to the foot prints, following them along. Then, something catches his eye. "Ohhh I know this..." He picks out a page from under a rock. "Ahah! One of my best." He holds up the spread from the nudie mag that Corr had found, showing the others. There had been a page from that sam scelatious booke here inside the tunnel. On the spread is Sajin, a much younger hapan than now, but it's him. "I havn't seen this in YEARS." He folds it up and puts it in his fanny pack. "Ori is going to love this." He zips he fanny pack back up. "He totally went this way. The rocketman or whatever. I didn't know he was a fan." He turns suddenly as Domino cries in distress. "What? Is it a DEMON?" Hand to his plaster pistol, ready to draw, hazel eyes wide.
It isn't a demon; it's a skull that Domino just threw at Muri, and it looks humanoid at least. What species is the Rocketman, anyway? No one ever mentioned that.
Corr is a bit slow on the uptake about now, and when Domino starts prancing around he just sort of stares at her, wiping at the blood on his face as he follows after Mujiji, her steadfast steed, and Siha. "Someone want to calm her down?"
It's mostly quiet, the panicking, mostly, but it's still /much more/ noise than is common in this cavern, and it has a way of bouncing the noise around the walls to every corner. And so it is that from the vegetation that surrounds the water, movement appears. First a little, then a lot, and shortly a small band of green hominids come issuing forth, dressed in loin clothes, fans of colorful hair in a single tall fin on their bony round heads, their narrow clawed feet light on the gravelly shore.
"Greenies," Corr sighs at their appearance, but then, in their midst, riding on a primitive litter carried by two of them, can be seen a small avian only about two feet tall. Tiny wings sprout from the thing's shoulders, much too small for flying. He wears no clothing, which doesn't seem odd in light of his birdlike appearance. "Well slap a nerf's ass if that ain't the Rocketman."
The squadron of greenies shuffle closer with surprising speed, and the Mrissi perched on the pedestal calls out in a twittering voice, "Begone from this place at once before you are torn apart! I have shed my former self and moved on to a higher plane, the mortal you sought is gone! Here I am become GOD!"
"Ouch!" Rubbing at an eye, Mujiji plucks the frond from Muri's fingers and stuffs it into her bag. This is worst than riding around that dug's backpack - she could have stayed on Nar for this treatment! Unfortunately, any thoughts of egress from her perch are shattered by the sudden launch of an actual skull, and she ducks with squirrelish reflexes to avoid it. "Yuck." She decides, scratching at a muddy ear and giving Muri a pat on the cheek. "I don't like this place and I want to go home." She offers conversationally. And that's before they meet the locals. Puffing out her chest, the Kushiban rises to a bipedal position on Muri's shoulder, and holds a paw aloft, wobbling with shaky balance atop those shoulders. "Ya aren't th'only god in these parts, feathers!" She threatens, trying to look impressive. "These... Lovely... Beings will know a false idol when faced with th'reality of me - uh - divinity! Cast aside this pretender, my children! Cast it aside, and bow! Bow to yer true lord!" There's cave slime dripping over her eyelashes, and she is blinking rapidly.
"Aaaaaaaaahahhahahaha, rocket man, you have shed the nerdshavit and become something BETTER." A fist pumps into the air as Siha lets out a woop, "YES. Get YOURS. Shavit, Waldin, this dude is fine. Let's go." She waves at the furry wannabe Lord, already turning to head off, "C'mon furball, you don't try to ruffle the feathers of a man in his own damned cave. You come to my clans home and I'd be droppin' yer ass on the doorstep as well, you know what I mean?" The curveless Mandalorian chick saunters her way off towards that hole in the wall, "I got BOOZE on my ship, AND a refresher for those who wanna perk up before the flights back out of the atmosphere -- I suspect that's gonna be /rougher/ than it was comin' down." Clearly she is fine leaving the Mimbanite's and the Mriss alone to their playtime.
"Pipe down, it's only a.....Huh?" Muri looks up from contemplating the skull Domino's lobbed her way and tenses - just a bit - when their surroundings begin to come alive. In the sentient sense. She sloooooowly slips the handlens into a sidepouch on her pack and mutters "Mujiji, I'm not sure you ah...hm."
The Rocketman isn't /quite/ what - or who - she was imagining in her head, but she feels some degree of relief in having found him alive! "Yeeeeeah, I'll be siding with Siha, this go 'round. We weren't paid to specifically /bring/ Dr Goop home, right? Just find him or an answer to his fate and behold! We've accomplished both. So. Everybody back in the tunnel?" She flashes the Mohawks a smile. Her own colorful, magnificant locks are mostly hidden away under that helmet, but she's going to pay a compliment where it's due, anyway.
"I like this," she motions to 'Orange', one finger zipping to and fro through the airspace o'er her own head. "S'nice look, on you." Then, with that same hand, she reaches fingers under chin and skull and pops free the clasps sealing her helmet thus so that she may peel it off her head and unleash the POWER of her own matted, sweaty, tangly, curly, green mane. "Eh?" The helmet tucks under arm, yellow eyes flitting a couple cautious looks to the brave little birdman before looking more pointedly to another of his green cronies. "Might I offer a little libation? A thumb points at the pack on her shoulder before she eeeases it around to pull a jar of liqour from an exterior pocket. Corr has his canteen. Netep has booze. But not just ANY booze!!! "If I'm not mistaken," she goes on to say while unscrewing the cap and taking a light sip herself to show it's safe, "this here Shesharilian ought be right at home here with you, in Circarpous V. Please. A token from an amiable visitor who'll be crawling just o'er that way out of your hai--feathers....soon enough." She twists the cap back on, then rolls it toward the nearest greenie.
Domino steps behind Muri and hunches her shoulder, she's wearing Camo see! There is no Domino only Z-wait, wrong genre. She watches wide cautious hazel eyes over Muri's shoulder.
Sajin inhales sharply as the Greenies show them selves with their Rocketman Master. "Are these what Demon's look like?" He looks towards them suspiciously. "No, you're not Demons. Demon's are way scarrier." His attention turns to the Rocketman. "God, huh?" A look to Mujiji and now he's really confused. "There are two gods? I don't understand." The Hapan's hands go to his head. "It's all making my head hurt. Everyone stop..." He lets out a small whine before holding up his finger. Taking a deep breath, Sajin speaks to the Rocketman. "Listen man, like. You totally abandoned your daughter. That was super crappy so maybe you should knock this crap off and go spend some time with her, yeah?" He then turns to start to follow Siha out, "Wait shouldn't we get a picture or something to prove he's here so we can get paid?"
Corr's all over that. SNAP, there it is, a little proof in the pudding for the Goop family. "I'm with the rest of you. Let's just... we got what we came for." Lucky, this time!
The Greenies exchange glances among themselves, and for a moment it's quiet while Fallarnious "Rocketman" God waits to see what these strangers will do and how he'll react to it, but then he cries out in same grating, tweeting voice, "BEHOLD, an offering of tribute has been made! A fitting sacrifice. You may go in peace, but if you return we shall exact the proper penance from your /fleeeeessshhhh/," it's like an angry parrot talking. With arms. An angry parrot-man with arms.
The orange-fanned Greenie cautiously approaches, collects the jar of booze, and walks back to the others, and the group begins to recede back towards the vegetation.
"Not quite what I was expecting to find, but uh. I'll take it," the explorers' leader decides, hands on his hips, still bleeding from that headwound. "Let's crawl back outta here and get paid. Gonna be a bumpy flight home."
Another expedition in the books!