Log:Family Matters, Part 2

Infected with a nanovirus, Rip races to follow the swift droid and they are delivered to a castle.

OOC Date: November 15, 2018
Location: Corellia
Participants: GM: Anadesi Driver, Dyannah Nerus

To recap, Rip has purportedly been infected with a nanovirus that is part ultimatum and part key to a potentially greater prize, encouraging him to chase after a swift, and seemingly playful droid along the coast of Corellia's golden beach. The harried pace of the skiff and its passengers has managed to discourage pursuit from the local government, leaving them instead to race against time. Fortunately, the journey is relatively short and the destination obvious: a large, looming castle built in a different time but long since modernized to bring it in line with current technology.

With a burst of screeching audio, the droid the group is following sends winged beasts in to flight from their nests dotted along the cliff face. Whether the display is just for show or has some practical purpose isn't entirely clear, but seeing such large beasts mottle the sky leaves one thinking they're viewing dragons taking flight.

Impatient, the droid continues on leading the boat closer in to shore. Rather than encouraging an accident, it seems to have instead targeted a barely visible cleft in the cliff face where a grotto's maw awaits.

The boat slaps the waves hard, water sprays in scintillating diamonds against the sun. Dyannah holds the sides barely keeping her seat on the board that runs across the bow straining to get a fix on what looks like flying lizards leaping from the cliffs to take flight above them. Once she twists in her seat looking back at Rip for his reaction to what follows them and for what awaits them. Breaking her own rule she reaches out with her empathy only to slide off of his mind like the boat off of a wave.

Rip is oddly calm looking, and despite a rather lively expression being angled back toward her, she can feel nothing from him. Just silence. He angles the skiff expertly to one side, dragging their stern in a way that caused a large wave. This technique served a purpose, which was to control their speed but in a showmanship kind of way. He dialed back the speed then, his hair still wild and clothing specked with glimmering dots of water here and there. "GROTTO UP AHEAD." He called out to her, then gestured with a free hand. "LOOKS LIKE OUR WAY IN. HAVE A BLASTER READY." He keeps his holstered until they've achieved a more cruising speed and angle toward the threshold of the grotto.

With difficulty she lets loose of the side of the boat to give him a thumb's up. Dyannah gets down low in the boat to lower her profile as a target but also to add an element of surprise to anyone considering her as a target. Being chased and finding strange beasts in the water bearing deadly gifts has put her in no mind to be polite. "LET'S DO IT!" she shouts with that difficult twist to look back at him; questions are reserved for if and when they come out of this alive.

The tiny droid's alacrity is not dampened as the boat disgorges its momentum in to the water with the skilled maneuver. Instead, it zips ahead and waits at the opening patiently for a handful of heartbeats before directing its iris towards the waiting darkness. Without warning, a cone of blue-hued light beats back the scrabbling claws of darkness within.

The rocky exterior has remained natural but the revealed interior has clearly been crafted to form a proper quay with little mystery as to where the craft should go. Flanked on both sides, ample space to walk three-abreast has been laser-chiselled in to the rock. Carvings along the wall depict great hunts: beasts avian, furred, and scaled falling to coordinated attacks by hunters making use of comparatively weak blaster-based crossbows and whatever wits they have. Also of note, at least four heavy turrets sway back and forth at a regular cadence. The blue shimmer of their shields is offset only by a green light on the underside of the domed housing that holds the cylindrical muzzle aloft on a universal joint.

Rip reciprocates the thumbs up with one of his own, then smiles before his attention is redirected toward their approach. He's distracted watching the droid above before catching himself last second from colliding with the rock wall. When they pass through the opening, he has killed the speed altogether and glides toward the obvious spot for parking. It takes a good deal of focus to sally up next to the berthing, but the soft cushions whine as the weight of the skiff shifts naturally with the sway of the water, and they're caught between the external hull of the skiff and the landing. Rip takes the key from the craft and pockets it, then draws his blaster and moves toward the edge of the craft to offer his hand to Dy, and help her off first.

There is too much to take in as the waves in the small space make the boat rock wildly. Sound echos strangely in the cavern as Dyannah attempts to follow the moving turrets, glimpse the carvings that wind their way across the rock surface and stay alert to any movement towards them. The wall that surrounds Rip's mind does not allow her to check on him. She stands unsteadily as they come to a rocking halt and takes his hand. Surprise makes her drop it, "Look, look at your wrist Rip! It's glowing!"

The turrets leave the pair alone for the moment, continuing their silent surveying of the grotto opening. Their whirring is lost in the din of lapping waves that crash against the unnatural, right-angled surfaces.

The droid follows in and takes a moment to deliberately illuminate the walls at a languid pace. The blue aura that's cast off of the walls bathes them in a vaguely spectral haze adding further emphasis to the catalog being an aged thing.

After completing its inspection, the tiny flying droid zips off without warning out of the cave and in to the morning sunlight leaving the humanoids to their own auspices.

Rip took his hand back and inspected his wrist a moment, his eyes growing large with surprise. "I'll be damned, it certainly is." He opened and closed his hand, moving the fingers to form a fist then release. Everything seemed to function properly, so he moved his hand away and shared a look with Dyannah, only to shrug subsequently. His eyes shift to the presence of the droid and he steps from the boat onto the landing, offering his other hand this time for Dyannah. "I wonder if what it's scanning is the door that the 'key' opens." When they're safely on solid ground, Rip moves to the wall, observing the spectral looking image before touching it with his glowing hand.

Nothing happens.

Blaster in hand, Dyannah follows head swiveling back and forth, she even turns in place to look behind them before they come to a halt. She peers over his shoulder as he extends his hand, the light changes the color of her skin a dreary brown and darkens her violet eyes to black as she looks on.

"Well, it was worth a shot." He says, laughing at his own blunder. Extending his hand out, he points to where the grotto goes further down and looks to Dy. "I suppose we can head that way. There might be more to see." He keeps his blaster to his side and begins to walk in the direction he just pointed out.

"Go for it." Having nothing to propose that might top that as a choice, Dyannah falls into the role of the silent sidekick. An uneasy one at best, she follows with her blaster unholstered but not without turning to look back at where they came from.

Where there was water now resides duracrete and the pair quickly leave behind the berth that harbors their boat for an upward sloping pathway. The stalagmites have been removed, the form of the cave modified to have a nearly perfectly sculpted ceiling. There is limited lighting now that the droid has zipped off in to the open air, leaving behind nothing but a warm, yellowish glow vaguely reminiscient of flickering candle light.

Columns have been carved in to the walls at regular intervals providing a marker by which distance may be gauged as the tunnel continues on.

Rip continues the walk, occasionally glancing back at Dy as they moved. He was enjoying the subtle transition from natural grotto to man-made designs within the cave. When angled up, he walks briskly, not exactly trusting yet, and skeptical of their surroundings. Here they were, walking toward a massive and old looking castle from the innards of an underground pathway. This was the kind of scenario they might find in the holos! The entire notion made Rip pretty excited, and he was thankful for Dy being there. She was no sidekick though, but more of a badass who was there to save Rip from certain destruction!

Counting columns keeps her steadied as she paces behind Rip through the manicured stone of the grotto. When Rip looks back at her, she nods, mildly torturing herself with her inability to even read the most superficial feeling from him. Suddenly, she stifles a yawn fighting the effects of sudden adrenaline let down as they walk into the bowels of the castle.

The pathway continues its steady climb upwards in a loping, curling gait that heavily favors the left. For those that are particularly keen of directional sense, it becomes relatively obvious that the shape of the walkway mimics that of a corkscreen carrying one up the length of the cliff face. While dusty smelling, there are openings here and there at the base of the tunnel hinting at passageways behind the walls that may contain service causeways for droids or the electrical work that is providing the dim illumination for the walkway proper.

Eventually, the pair reach a door made apparent by the sharp constrast with which stone makes way for metal. This particular portal makes no attempt to blending in with the surrounding stonework and instead leans on the practical side. A biometric scanning pad sits on the right of the passageway.

When they reach the doorway, Rip lifts his hand for an inspection briefly, then sets it on the biometric scanner to see if it will trigger the door to open. He looks skeptical about the situation, but he's content to give it a go considering his life is kind of on the line. His other hand maintains firm control of his blaster, its muzzle angled toward the ground safely, and his finger straight so that it remains off the trigger.

"Well?" The zeltron asks on tiptoes peering over his shoulder.

Quietly, the door swings aside to reveal a vast, and nearly cavernous library. Well lit with modern amenities, nearly two regular floors of height are covered with a facade of leather-spined books. While skillfully done, it's clear that the books aren't real as further evidenced by the secret door the pair emerge from, the warmly construed decoration hiding the pulsing blue of large data storage banks. Terminals are available on the sides for accessing the troves in private coupled with plush chairs and space for making use of a datapad or setting down refreshments.

Large windows litter the room on two out of four walls, one wall being unadorned with any sort of opening and appearing otherwise solid. The final wall is separated from another room by large, oaken doors that are currently swung open. One can see that there is at least one individual in the other room seated at a massive table. He is an ancient husk of a man with whispy grey hair slicked back neatly. With a suit clearly tailored to make him appear less frail than he is, he none the less appears to be keenly fixated on something else.

More importantly, the pair are greeted by a keen eyed and somewhat elderly man. With salt and pepper hair of middling length, bunched in to a pony tail, his finery is more archaic. A three-quarter coat gilded on the edges, and neat slacks hug him closely. With strong posture, he has an air of authority tempered with a deference he shows as he declines his head and crosses one arm across his chest.

"Please forgive the circumstances of your arrival," Anamon muses softly, "this family ever honors the hunt and nothing is to be without its challenges. My name is Anamon and I am the Majordomo of the aptly named Hunt manor." There's a beat as he studies the pair in earnest, taking clear interest in Rip's incandescent limb, before continuing. "I would ask that you refrain from making loud noises and holster your weapons for the moment. Such things may result in-- unintended consequences." He makes a subtle gesture towards two points in the room where visible security measures are visible in the form of watchful drones.

Rip slides his blaster back within its holster slowly, but leaves the back of the weapon unsecured by the strap which is designed to keep the weapon in place. This is done as a precaution, in the event his weapon was required to be drawn quickly. He raises his glowing hand to gesture to Dy that it was okay to put hers away too. "Of course. This entire thing is a bit peculiar, we're just concerned for our safety." Rip steps past Anamon casually and motions about the room. "So what's next, sir?"

The zeltron draws a long slow breath in before nodding to Rip, mirroring his gesture and leaving the gun unsecured in her holster. She makes an open handed gesture of reluctant assent to Rip and then nods more formally to their hosts. "We wait your word, sir."

"If you will please follow me, your timing is impeccable. The Solicitor has just arrived and is addressing the family regarding the execution of my Mistress' Last Will and Testament," Anamon explains gently as he allows his arm to relax its place across his breast to instead be clasped behind his back. Pivoting on the ball of his foot, he wanders towards what is revealed to be a room even larger than the library itself. He pauses a few meters away from the threshold between the two areas, favoring the left side of the doorway's massive frame.

"I do not understand why we have to listen to you prattle on," A moody man sitting at the other end of the table from the ancient man who is presumably the Solicitor by virtue of the myriad datapads strewn about in a half-circle before him. "The Family is all here. There is nothing further to be done." His voice is forceful, his arms crossed across his chest. Chestnut hair frocks a square-shaped skull with strong features. Well-muscled even below fine clothing, it's clear that this man is a hunter and does little to hide it.

"Master Ralek," Anamon explains. "The much younger brother to my Mistress."

"Patience," a syrupy sweet voice answers coming from a lithe, raven-haired woman sitting diagonally astride the predatory man. A creature of overt beauty, the robe she wears hints at ample curvature and the flawless canvas of her skin betrays little in the way of injury or hardship encountered over her entire life. "Are we vultures come to peck at our sister's corpse?"

"Mistress Bridget," Anamon rattles off in turn. "Recently arrived from Coruscant."

The final participants sitting across from the woman merely waves his disappointment with one sun-spotted hand. Closer in age to the individual on the holo, he appears to be keenly disinterested in the show and allows his grey-hued eyes to wander the richly appointed room.

"Master Norman. The abdicated patriarch."

Rip follows along with Anamon, looking over those assembled with equal interest. They are scanned as a human might scan anyone, and Rip labels the threats according to level. He makes no movement to draw or otherwise mark himself more threatening than he already is. "I'm Rip, and my companion is Dyannah." Rip says finally, completing the circle of introductions. He wasn't about to presume they cared more than they acted. It was clear that each was present to see what was left to them. Rip stepped to one side, placing his back against a nearby wall so that he could see them all from his perch and react if needed. A cursory glance was paid to Dy, his expression seemingly unsure of what was to follow.

She deploys her best aristocratic bow, ironic and cold to the participants. Empathy or no empathy, Dyannah has spent enough time with Rip to know how his mind works. She watches him for cues as he assesses the room. For herself: the hunter is marked. She returns Rip's neutral glance with a lifted shoulder and a turn of her head then ranges herself next to him along the wall.

Anamon steps with purpose in to the room proper after nodding his ascent to Rip. Clearing his throat, his footfalls clap loudly as he smartly snaps his immaculate boots together.

"Apologies for the intrusion," Anamon states flatly, his voice betraying little genuine feeling for the automatically delivered statement. "May I present Master Rip and Mistress Dyannah, hunters both."

All heads in the room swivel towards the stately Majordomo as the trio arrives not from the reception area but from the library. Bridget is the only one out of the four that offers the new arrivals a warm smile. The other pair wear flat, unassuming gazes whereas Ralek is flat out incensed with furrowed brow and mouth agape.

"What is the meaning of this, Anamon?" Ralek bellows, straightening in his chair. His muscular arms unfurl but he stops short of rising to his feet. "Who are these interlopers?"

Norman merely huffs but doesn't voice his protest. Instead, he hunches deeper in to his chair.

Dyannah's bow earned a small smirk from Rip, who seemed to appreciate the cultured gesture and interpret it for what it was. He was beginning to enjoy Dyannah's presence, and her quick-to-business style. The brief, unspoken exchange between them maintained its pregnant silence while Anamon broke it with his opening statement. When the question arose about Rip and Dy, Rip spoke eloquently. "Well, I'm the next of kin." A smug grin formed, appearing as if Rip took pleasure in the awkward levity of the situation. His arms remained straight, hands free to move should the need arise.

Chin high, she drawls in her upper class zeltron accent, "I suppose you could call me a 'friend of the family' and second to Mr. Recker. Pleased to meet you," she says with a graceful nod of her head.

To be continued.