Log:Explorer's Guild: Batuu Ballyhoo

Explorer's Guild: Batuu Ballyhoo

OOC Date: May 14, 2020
Location: Batuu
Participants: Explorer's Guild: Netep Muri, Grayson Oakfell, Nerys Arda, Syrus, and Corr Waldin; with Special Guest Stars Iollan Canem and Leith

It's been a while since the Explorer's Guild has been on an expedition purely to explore and see what they might uncover. There's any number of clients interested in hiring the Guild for their unique skillset and liability waivers, so perhaps it serves as a nice change of pace to be out and about for the sake of discovery in and of itself.

"This is a real nice change of pace, bein' out and about for the sake of discovery in and of itself," Corr is saying to the others as he leads the way towards the ruins deep within the Surabat River Valley. The trees around them are tall conifers with crowns several dozen meters off the forest floor, leaving plenty of shady space below for passing through. The terrain is varied, but the looming spires and peaks of rock that accent the valley aren't what they're here to investigate, and they stay well enough out of the way of the Explorers' path.

"I got a line on these ruins from an uh... old acquaintance of mine," he explains, dithering on how best to describe the other party for a moment as he steps over a fallen log. "Said they seen 'em out here but nobody had time or the inclination to poke around when they were around. So I thought we'd come out and see what there is to be seen."

Nerys, who, was generally up for wandering like a raggle taggle space vagabond, had answered the call when it had been sent out. She was kitted out the same as always, in her powered armor, her sword over her shoulder and her backpack of holding, with that longish baton affixed to it. "I don't suppose there are any gift shops down there? I rather enjoyed the discount at the last one." Well, at least the last one she had visited with the guild.

"Any clue as to which civilization left them behind?" Syrus asks, walking along beside Explorr Waldin. Syrus has been a rare sight around the Explorer's Guild as of late, but he still loves you all. So much.

Straightening his jacket a bit and pulling it tighter around him out of discomfort, the man's eyes look out over the wide and wild forest before them.

Grayson Oakfell is along for the ride, purely for the sake of the ride. Wearing her fiber woven suit with it's protective armor plates she has her helmet off for the time being, protective head gear clipped to the back of her belt. Dark brown hair is drawn back into a very ordinary ponytail which is secured at the nape of her neck, tendrils framing her beautifully made up face, said makeup likely to be ruined by the end of this adventure by some mishap. Or just sweat.

On her back she carries a backpack of black and grey, straps slung over both her shoulders, manicured hands gripping the straps as she hikes along, honey-brown eyes lifted up to look at the beautiful scenery. Pausing occasionally she stops, reaching out to touch a tree here and there, or crouch down to run her fingertips over some roots, so happy to be somewhere just so serene.

As Corr steps over his log she's moving to sit down upon it, twisting around and digging into a side pocket on her bag to pull out a camera, lifting it up in front of her to take a selfie, warm and wide smile breaking blood red lips, right shoulder lifting up as she tilts her cheek towards it, striking a pose before 'CLICK'. Awh yiss. Corrs' legs and butt make the shot. She has no comment or questions, instead leans forwards to stand up once more in a fluid motion, camera kept in her left hand as she steps over the log now as well and continues on, taking other photos along the way. Ka-click. A bug! Click. A tiny flower. Click.

The soft buzz of a plasma lighter accompanies the wandering gait of Iollan as the party patrols onward. Shielded by a gloved hand, a thin rollup finds life just before he glances to Corr a few paces ahead, listening to the vague mission brief, expression politely interested. Ruins? Hm. Still, there are clearly no volcanos this time, so whatever reservations the tawny detective might have are tucked deep under the amicable calm of his face. As of now he's simple walking in the woods, and that's lovely enough, right?

Blue smoke curls around him on the exhale as his other hand finds the belt of his grey combat regalia, minimal and functional as his usual attire, supplemented with just a few bits of plating. The helmet hung next to the covered blaster on his hip almost seem like an afterthought now, what with the peaceful scope they're in presently.

"See, I'll come on missions like this," drawls the easy reply to Muri at his side. Eyes stay forward though, scanning unhurried for anything of interest. But there seems to be no urgency in any of them. "Much nicer than that last outing, mhm."

Somehow, someway a new face, Leith had found out about the Guild. The Wroonian was wearing a new suit of trooper armor and a blaster on his hip. Other than that he had his visor pulled up on his helmet and was taking holocaptures of everything like a tourist. "So you guys do this all the time? Like it's a club and a pay check?" He hadn't took pictured of anyone who didn't one taken yet.

"Not sure, really," Corr replies to Syrus, hiking his pack up to ride a little higher on his back as he walks. "They're old, though, I can tell you that. Maybe Muri'll be able to identify who left 'em there," he suggests, shrugging as he turns a corner around an outcropping of rock and comes out into a clearing where the ruins lie beyond.

In classic fashion, the grey stone structures lean helter skelter, cracks in their surfaces filled with roots, grime, and the distinctive golden lichen common on Batuu. Their shapes are fairy sophisticated, the masonry's details worn away here and there, but a pattern of chiselwork still remains even after millennia of weather.

Diverting towards the nearest structure, a squat but broad chamber with a jarringly new, if overgrown, ground defense turret set atop it. "Guessin' this is where they set up camp," he surmises, stepping in through the rock entryway.

Inside, the space is filled with all manner of modern equipment, left behind as if abandoned during an emergency exit. Most of it appears to be military grade. "Not sure as there's anything useful to be learned from this stuff, given that they didn't really do much with the ruins here aside setting up shop along the perimeter," Corr remarks, glancing around at the forgotten gear. "But it might be worth a look."

Nerys was not a woman given to waste, no indeed. And as soon as they were within grabby hands distance of the leftover equipment, nerys was off hunting. She had a surprisingly delicate touch though, careful not to further damage anything that might already be brittle. But if it was useful, she was bound and determined to find it. And any clues it might hold. Nerys Arda says, "So what made them leave in such a hurry?"

"Gorgeous," Syrus says, laying eyes on the intricately crafted stonework that's finally visible. "Remarkable craftsmanship," Syrus says, closing the distance between himself and a /very/ interesting wall, his mechno-hand tracing softly over the detailing with care.

Eyes trail down to the ground and he kneels down to pick up something that's piqued his interest; a datapad. Blowing some of the dirt from the screen, he'll wipe away the rest and activate it, scrolling through the entries. "There's some notes here from a Neeta Starseeker." He stands up and continues his perusing. "Something about a closed door..." he trails off, eyes flitting up and looking for something. His hand lifts and points to one of the other huts. "There."

A man on a mission, now, he moves towards it.

Grayson Oakfell takes time to admire the grey stone structures before she steps into the other structure, camera lifted as she crouches down to take photos of the patterns in the stones and the artful way in which sunkissed lichen and dirt fill in the grooves, "This is --" A glance up, Gray noticing with a few twists of her head that Corr is gone, and the big arsed Kiffar is moving off to another hutt with a sense of purpose that has her half-uncrouching, "Oh -- kay." Completing her rise up she'll tuck her camera away into a pocket on her cool weave armor on the left hip, freeing her up to quickly step over fallen stone and crooked roots to peek in to where Corr disappeared.

"Hey, the large man has found something. Oh." Again, eyes adjusting to the darkness within, "Looks like you found many things as well. Good." Leaning away from the frame leading into that structure she'll turn and abandon Corr to go and see what the big Kiffar has found, picking her way across the ruins, "What did you find." Asked loudly towards Syrus, woman hustling to see. There might be good pics there to be had.

"Iollan prefers the fern-bedded, picnic variety - note made...." Muri restows the canteen with a brow-raising look of skepticism at her smoke-spouting travel companion. "Y'know, Darling, the Aurea affair /would/ have been more pleasent had you not botched the job with your brute...fumble." An impish smile then, curled around a sprig of some leaf she's found to toy with between teeth and tongue. Like a minty toothpick.

"That's the gist of it, yeah," she offers to Wroonian with a thumbs-up.

But hush, Muri. It's 'go' time! She'd anticipated a more dramatic entry into the /ruins/, perhaps, than a simple rounding of rocky face, but the convenient simplicity is /definitely/ appreciated. No collapsing floor, no poisoned darts...er. Pupils fixate pointedly on the old turret slumped overhead.

"DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Yet." A quick shout of caution from Waldin's green-haired nerd-on-retainer, because she REMEMBERS how that went, that one time. "Just...careful." A quiet sigh of resignation, because eager hands and minds are already in the thick of it. Her own gaze has gone to ground, searching for any triggers that lie in wait underfoot.

That's how she edges along, into the shadows, pulling a pair of lenses from her belt to push onto face and tap into archives more far-reaching than her own memories. It may or may not help with her actual farsightedness, though. After a time, Netep stoops to investigate what a little lizard's movement drew to her attention. "A closed door?" she echoes half-vacantly to Syrus, focus drawn in to something overgrown at her feet. Veeeeery gingerly she pokes at it with a stick - the foliage that is - and when the stick is not snatched and devoured, her hands move in to gently pull the stone tablet into cradling arm. Large eyes flit thoughtfully to and fro behind the lenses, enraptured by the obvious age of the find. "I.." She touches the temples of her glasses and begins the database scouring. But she's not seeing much of that, lost in the weight of old tablet held in hand. "It feels so familiar. Like...Olys.." a little headshake dismisses the thought. But maybe?

They're all professionals. Mostly at this, and though Lan holds his own weight in a certain field of being nosey, there's little chatting he can do with the flora. That is, after all, his preferred way of finding out anything. But here and now, looking turns into the precedent for finding and he spreads out with the rest of them to see what it is they /do/ find.

Others begin plucking interesting little bit from the floor, datapads and otherwise, and to his internal disappointment, he comes up rather empty-handed. Nothing really piques his interest, nothing he can ferret out, and so the detective continues the wandering as he is so inclined; the heavy artillery is not missed though. Stopping near the entrance, he eyes it with some muted consideration, hand lifted to pluck the rollup free for another heavy exhale. After a beat, as others chatter around the place, his sea-foam gaze moves out over the camp at large once more. This place really is beautiful in its own right.

"Muri," floats the friendly reply, amused beyond anything else. He' still looking out, even with: "If you hadn't wanted me throwing my weight around, I can't imagine why you brought me--"

Oh? There's shouting, but... well, it seems alright, for the moment. A hand rests on the blaster at his him though, thumb popping the button on the cover, just in case.

There's a couple of quick captures of the equipment by Leith but he lets the holocamera hang on his chest. He comes to stand next to Nerys and produces a ration bar. He unwraps it and starts chewing on it. He frowns, " Not as good as advertised. That's a good question. I mean who leaves gear like this? I mean probably government of some type or never do wells. They're the only one with this type of stuff and would run out. Anyone with a grant or an accounting department would lug this stuff out." He reaches down to pick up a clip board and reads, " Starseeker recommended for reprimand if extraneous activities continue. Time is of the essence and she has been instructed to remain on task or... And the rest is smugged." Then Netep tells him not to touch anything or rather that sinks in. "Kriff, I touched stuff!"

"Don't know why," Corr replies quietly to Nerys, an almost wistful look in his eye as he slowly turns to take in the makeshift military outpost, clearly caught up in some sort of reverie. Stooping down, he lifts a dusty helmet out from under a pile of rocks, his thumb carefully wiping the grime away from the Resistance starbird emblazoned on the temple. "But I got a guess I'd be willing to put more'n a few credits on."

Syrus's declaration snaps him out of the moment, and he looks up sharply, setting the helmet aside and moving to follow, away from the hastily constructed, hastily abandoned encampment and towards this sealed door. Joining Grayson, and looking up and down the smooth stone that bars the entryway, and then the sides of the arch surrounding it, he steps back and puts his hands on his hips. "Gotta be some kinda mechanism to open it, or else... how do you get inside?" Always wise, Corr. He takes the opportunity to loosen his canteen from his belt and take a swig of water, swishing the liquid over his teeth. "See if there's a button hidden somewhere, or... I don't know, somethin' tricky. Old-time folks were tricky."

"If it makes you feel better," she offered to Corr, "I've got a ship I can cal in, haul this stuff out easy and give us a chance to put it to use for the Guild." Nerys had taken a knee to carefully sort and separate out an interesting pile of detritus, because, really, wasn't that what anthropologists really did in the field? Pick through history's trash? She set aside this piece and that fragment, before she uncovered what looked to be a small piece of intricate carving in a geometric design, "That or something forced them out." She offered those words as she was coming back up to her feet, showing off her find to the Wroonian standing and munching beside her. "I'll see what I can find." But then, they all would.

Looking down to Grayson, Syrus will explain, in depth, "Door. Well. Big door." He 'hrmmmm's softly to himself and steps toward the thing, his hand lifting up to rest on it as well. Pat. Pat. Pat. The Kiffar does a pretty terrible job of getting the thing open, it must be said. "I don't see any mechanisms or anything here. Any luck?" he calls back to the rest of the group, hand falling to his side as he gives up the search. It must be said that actual tomb raiding has taken a backseat to his other scholarly pursuits as of late.

Grayson SEES SO MUCH. Oh gosh, "Netep Muri, you need to work on your warnings and give them before we are already doing the things you are telling us not to." Grayson says with a very, very small measure of bemusement for Muri, honey-brown gaze shifting over the door, the walls on either side, the top of it, the whole arch taken in with a few careful steps taken back to give room to the others while also allowing her to take it all in completely. A slow nod to Syrus, completely in agreement with him on the assessment, "A very big door." She'll watch him pat, her own gaze seeing nothing but big Kiffar and other folks,

"We have blown such things up before." Reasoned in her heavily accented voice, Grayson setting both hands on her hips as she side steps to the left a few steps, getting a new angle on it all, head shaking, "I really don't want this old junk just languishing around .." Said in response to Nerys, though it's not up to Grayson! A look off to Corr, pained, horrifically pained, at the thought of more garbage in the Guild HQ, "Please no more garbage." Watching him swish that water in them teefs. He's so pretty, but dang. No more junk.

"Can't you?" Muri's reply to Canem, though she sounds parsecs away. The gal's only got eyes for this tablet right now, even as her feet are leading her in a lazy shuffle toward where folks are congregating around that uncooperative door. If there was a pitfall trap in between she might step RIGHT into it, so lost is her stare, no camo required. Her lips are moving without sound, working over possible syllables she isn't even sure are /right/. But there's a hunch. A strong hunch.

Uh oh.

"Nerys, what did you say?" Finally, those nerdy, green vortexes uplift from faded etchings in stone to the fleshy faces of her comrades. "Forced them out?" She hefts the tablet into an about-face, so others might see the symbols carved therein. "It's..." somehow, she's managing a straight face. A mature expression. A professional level of concern. "There's a similarity here, in this text to modern day Jawa..." Deep breath. "I have come up with two possible translations here, on the spot..." not a perfect science!!! "It either says: Hidden secret open with great work from sky to ground OR Hidden secret open /suffering/ from sky to ground." A pregnant pause follows her words while she permits a moment of eye contact with everyone there.

"So how badly to we want to open this door?"

Well, that's enough bird-spotting. They team is finding... something, and up to earning his paycheck, Lan takes a couple more moments by the entryway. The dogend of his smoke suffers one more heavy pull, so as not to waste anything, before he flicks it back onto the path they're trodden. (It's all organic fibre, kids, it'll decompose.)

A hand cards through the slick blonde head of hair, pinning out out of the way as he affixes his helmet now, properly. A little huff trails as he, too, ducks into the tomb to assess what exactly they're going to do about moving forward.

He has no shining advice. So, he stays quiet. The hand is back on that blaster though, just as some absent habit of precaution, and listens to Muri going on doing what Muri does. Mostly, speak in slightly-helpful fragments as of now. Behind the display of his visor, a little squint bears down.

"Pretty badly." Firm, the detective upnods the way they came, over his shoulder. "It was a nice walk, but not nice enough to stop here."

The clipboard dropped, Leith holds his hands up well that's till Neyrs shows him what she found, "You weren't a grad student at the same place I was a grad student. They would have sacrficed a few of us for equipment. What's that?" He as he picks up his holocamera to grab a picture of Nerys find. Then somebody asks if he found somehting. Nah he's too busy talking to Neyrs and looking at the geometric design. "Nope, unless you know somebody named Star Chaser that has a habit of getting into trouble. I might want to meet her."

"We could always use more stuff..." Corr muses to himself at Nerys's offer, not noticing Grayson's pained expression, but then he shakes his head. "No, leave it here. I wouldn't feel right about takin' it for our tomfoolery. Maybe if this was a different sorta group, but... no. It should stay here." Around then is when he finally catches Gray's look and nudges the pretty lady with his elbow. "We can find more stuff local. Jibbins' New to You Emporium." Wink. She loves that place.

Back to the matter at hand, he crosses his arms over his chest when Syrus, who he believed to be a stone expert, is unable to identify a way past the stone. "Aren't you a stone expert?" he questions, frowning at the big kiffar and perhaps wondering how he can get a refund.

Muri's translation gets a long look, but then he shrugs and waves vaguely at the door. "There's a door right here, hidden secret is behind it, it'll open with uh, great work from the sky to the ground. That's the right translation, we just gotta figure out how to do this great work." He nods at Iollan's recommendation. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I was saying that given the sheer amount of equipment here and the cost it would have been to get it here, they didn't abandon it lightly. So either, yes, possibly they found something more interesting and left in a hurry, or, perhaps, they were forced to leave in a hurry. Or...I suppose," she continued, staying still long enough for Leith to take his pictures, before she made her way along the rockface, not touching, but tilting her head this way and that, "Or they never left." She glanced towards Corr, "Just how did your 'friend' find out about this?" She paused, as she find a indent in the wall, light, careful fingers plucking out the lichen that had near obscured it, "I think I might have found the lock." She held up the object she had found, "And the key. So, since there's no way but forward, I suggest you all step back before I try this. Unless one of you has a droid that we can use to insert this remotely."

"I'm an archaeologist, not a geologist," Syrus offers back with an air of half-exasperation. How is the inside joke of him liking rocks ending up everywhere!? Knocking his knuckles against the door a couple of times, he'll step away from it and look to the rest of the explorers, hands resting on his hips. Looking to Nerys, "Or...maybe they got past this stone door and got trapped inside." He offers that particular hypothetical with a shrug.

"Oh my sweet lordess, could you not just open it already instead of being full of the drama." Grayson says expectantly towards Nerys as she holds up the key to the lock they've all been looking for, without putting the damned key in, "Put the key in, so we can see if we must do something else, like crawl up on top and drop down into it. If this --" And she'll wave a delicate hand around in front of her to indicate the arch and the 'door' they're looking at, "Does not open when you do, then we may have to go up on top, and maybe the door is there. So. Please." Impatiently gesturing, not about to comment on her 'love' for Jibbins and his place. Bimms leave a sour taste in her mouth, and it's not due to their foul flesh, "Actually ..." Grayson will move then to the left to go and look for a way up while they all stand and stare at the door, "I will look for something, just in case. So more time is not wasted. Muri, very good job on reading." Said like she's surprised Muri can read. But she's not. But she sounds it.

Corr's ending query earns a long, dumb look from Netep.

You KNOW what, it says.

But this doesn't override her own desire to know the life-altering wisdoms that Door A is barring from view. She just wanted others to voice their onboardness so nobody can blame her when it all goes tits up! But what did that one Fizzpop Fortune say? Don't trust your friends? Oh but the one after said 'You're not in danger, just paranoid.' So. It's fine. We're all fine, here.

A last, long look is given toward that old turret they left in their wake. Sky...to ground. Suffering. Somehow, she's inched between bodies much larger than herself just now, putting the tabac-littering set of armor BEHIND her very vulnerable frame. "My droids are all aboard the ship and that's a long way off. Anybody got some dice? I'll roll you for the honors." A gesture to Nery's key, like the gambling woman she is. Meanwhile, that stone tablet has found a semi-protected resting place inside her knapsack. Nestled lovingly between stashes of emergency hooch. Grayson gets a smile aimed her way that's a little too smiley to really be one. "Thanks, Love."

Where there is a lock, there must also be a key, and where there is a door, there's most usually a trap. Or, an explosion. Remains to be seen, and as of now Iollan is in position to see any of those happenings very clearly from the back of the queue. He's hard to read, helmeted and all, but some slight warp of tension pulls broad shoulders to a flat line, just for a beat. Eh - druk it.

A half-step backwards gives everyone a bit more room, and him an eyeline to most of the present lines of interest, as the blaster does finally get pulled from of the low-slung holster. Held in his left, the Sentinel clicks to life as the safety comes off, while he simply watches. Fingers crossed, folks.

Leith blinks at Netep, "ivu tearh etaetutov tupaetave analasek,... farhiva kosa ivu eazoghoohep adefaetu haamoz?" Then Nerys is finding the key and all this is going according to plan. Leith seems to slip back into basic, 'Fine fine... Just let me get my holocamera.' Leith says as he pick sup the device. ' Good catch there, Red. You got some sharp eyes.' Then he quickly moves to the side so he's not in a direct path of what ever comes through the door. He holds up his camera and is ready to take pictures. 'I hope this is good.'

Corr glances at Nerys when she suddenly appears with both the supposed key in hand and the alleged keyhole in sight, eyebrows raising with a "Well at least /some/body here knows their rocks," gesturing at the door expectantly. "Put the key in, then, and let's see what we're dealing with here." Grayson gets a consoling/ameliorating pat on the bum. "She's getting there, babe. Not all our newer members have developed the same blase approach to possible death and dismemberment. Hell, I still don't think Muri has, and she was one of the first to sign on." A look over his shoulder confirms that the short lady is indeed giving him a long, dumb stare of disbelief.

"It'll be fine. Nobody's ever /died/ on one of these outings." It's becoming increasingly unclear if this is a badge of honor or some sort of challenge to their leader. "Put the key in."

"And that, Doctor Oakfell, is how you end up skewered by sharpened sticks, or plummeting to your death when you take a wrong step and the floor caves in, or being crushed under the slab of unsettled ceiling that you knocked out of place without realizing it. So, you'll excuse me if I try to save you a bit of work and give people a choice of whether or not they want all of their limbs when we get to the end of this." Nerys tone was actually rather jovial, for all of that, but they did not stop her from inserting the object she had found into the slot that seemed to have been made for it. "But that's what we're all in this for, right? The promise of adventure and the possibility of certain death."

When the key-stone is inserted into the key-stone-hole, there's a low *shunk* as the rock seems to draw the keystone in, locking it into place. For a moment, nothing happens, and then with a grinding of rock grating over... other rock, the door recedes into the ground, leaving the entrance clear. Beyond lies another chamber, similar to the first, but bereft of any of the modern equipment. Instead, the darkness holds the trappings of a bygone era only, shrouded in darkness and the dust of centuries.

Honestly, the internal struggles happening right now within the Explorer's Guild make Sy long for the congenial surroundings of his main hustle. Raising his eyebrows at the catty banter, the Kiffar is glad to finally see the door sliding open, and wandering through it at the first available opportunity, producing a long, durasteel cylinder from his jacket and activating it. His flashlight now engaged, he'll sweep it back and forth, seeing what there is to see.

Light pointed up at the ceiling of the next chamber, Syrus will spend a not insignificant amount of time studying the deeply-hewn carvings up there. "There's something suspicious about these. Hidden secret open with great work from sky to ground, wasn't it?" he'll ask of Netep.

"I would prefer not to become part of the scenery because we are forced to wait an eon for someone to do a simple task." Grayson says under her breath to Corr after wandering back just in time for her bum to get patted, woman not mollified at all by it, "Oh good." Said as that door slides open once the key is in, listening to the grating of the stone with a slight wince painted on her features, head turning slightly to try and shy away from the very abrasive sound. Nudging Corr with her hip to grant her a bit of room she'll twist at the hips and snag her helmet off her belt, pressing her hair back with a wiggle of her head as said helmet is lifted up and over her head, thing secured on with a soft 'click', internal lighting popping into life as Syrus' flashlight provides the helmet with just enough light to give her some perspective. Stepping in past the threshold behind the giant Kiffar she'll crane her head back to look around, first focusing on what the Kiffar is looking at, or what she estimates him to be looking at before she carefully picks her way across the room, bits of rubble and other trash crunching beneath her booted feet, "Netep ...come here." Their love-hate relationship doesn't mean Grayson is above acknowledging her expertise in some respects, "These tiny little creepy men .."

Closer, closer, Gray tapping the side of her helmet to turn on a small flashlight above her eyeline, thing turning on as she leans in, "They are throwing something ...do you think this is for us to do? A great working from sky to ground. They are tossing this thing like it is a hutt ball or something." Referring to a fresco that is in front of her she'll gesture with her right hand, "See, they are doing ..normal things, then this little man is tossing this ..maybe a cat? They are tossing it." A glance over her shoulder, light swinging to where the Kiffar is, "Seer-us, do you think we must toss something up there? Netep, you are very short, maybe he can toss you up." There is no malice! It's an honest to goodness thought. Back to the fresco she'll look, medical brain trying to think like an archeologist. They like rocks, right?

Iollan's activated Sentinel gets a glance over shoulder from Netep, followed by a barely discernable headshake. 'Easy,' she mouths, hand patting gently toward the ground. In case, y'know, there's ancient throwbacks to Jawas living in there. *Snort*

Leith gets a different sort of glance - surprised, maybe - and a chuckle puts a little life back into the tensed, paled expression she wasn't aware she'd adopted. "Maybe." Is all she answers back, in Basic. Admittedly, her and Nyk's conversations in his native tongue hadn't been the most productively educational, buuuuuuut after several years of picking up bits you sort of learn. Ugh, Nyk.

Poor life choice number 8-15. And 26. 32. 34-37....FOCUS, MURI.

A wordless gesture motions dramatically to Nery's 'joking' remarks as if to say THANK YOU, but the key's going in anyway. Okay. A heartbeat later, in response to the *SHUNK* Netep's crouched into a very small ball. Shamelessly. This ain't her first EG rodeo, y'all, like Waldin says. No arrows of doom or darts of death or psychotic arachnids or shanking spikes have errupted from the blackness beyond though, so veeeeeery cautiously, the petite explorer stands. And tugs her taclight free from its holster. Along with the DL-18 attached to this most essential piece of gear. Its beam is almost swallowed by the darkness but managed to sweep a pale arc around from her current vantage point. The mirror image of what Syrus has spotted overhead is found on the stone floor.

"Yeah," Muri says a bit hollowly, staring at the pattern, deep in thought. Or worry. "Or suffering. So. Something connects these two." Her taclight swishes from floor to ceiling. "Maybe a hologram or...or a puzzle we've to sort out. Or a very painful laser." Her mouth slants into a grim line and she shuffles her boots cautiously /around/ the carvings, choosing to follow the wall. Just not /touching/ the wall. An equally cautious backstep eases her nearer to Iollan....and then counter-intuitively toward Grayson's summons.

"What...?" Tiny little creepy men. Muri would like to refute she is NOT an expert in those, but, well. At least these are just pictographs. She squints. "I...I am not sure it's neccessary to toss /me/." Hopefully. Stranger things have happened, though. "But I'm not sure what it is they're throwing." Honest uncertainty. "I dunno how wide that is, even, up there. Can...can I get a boost?" She's willing to go that far.

Oh. Nothing blew up.

Well, not yet. The grating goes on and only at the end does Iollan swing attention from the path they'd came from to the path they were going to go further on. In hand, the blaster flips around in one of those useless gunslinger idle motions, though stays ready enough as the detective pivots on a heel, catching Muri's little caution. He's a professional, right? It's pointed mostly downwards, though the threat of violent action doesn't subside yet. Though he turns on no external light of his own, the dim bloom of electronics behind the visor of his helm betray the presence of some low-light filtering, which helps the slow, meticulous sweep of his gaze as he moves farther into the sapce. Oh that's... quite a platform. Alright.

With a good couple inches on even the tallest other member of the party -- sorry, Sy -- the course of action isn't so far fetched. A sigh bleeds out of him as Lan carefully steps in, actually holstering the blaster now, as he sizes up the platform. He has to crane back a bit, tall as it is, but what's a small mountain in the face of intrepid adventurers. With the grinding of dirt under a heel, he turns to set a shoulder to the stonework at his back now, hands already coming to cup in front of him. You know the drill. Dipping down a little, the detective nods over to Muri, feet planted, ready as ever.

"Up you go, darling." There's probably a grin, colouring his words lightly, as a look skews over to Corr. "Unless the boss wants to try, mhm?"

Muri gets a grin from Leith and a shrug. "I'm working on Bocce and Zeltron right now." Leith says as he follows the other sinto the dark chamber. He's too busy pulling his blaster to pay attention to the walls or notice anything. That's his story and he's sticking too it. "YOu guys get shoot at alot?"

"Look, we'll just... now Muri, you /are/ the shortest one here," Corr says to the little Omwati woman, whether it's true or not. He's used to it being true, therefore it's true. "And shortest means probably the lightest, unless you got a bunch of handles of liquor in your pockets again, which I'm not- you know what, take 'em out if there are any." Moving over to the platform, he squares up, feet set at shoulder-width, hands together, and nods Iollan over. "Gimme a hand here, we'll play it safe. Don't want to drop her on accident. Only on purpose." Good one, dad.

Nerys, for her part, was already moving into the room, exploring what she could see in the light offered by the torches bobbing about, and the increased vision she was allowed by her helmet. The musings about the need for a boost brought an amused sound to her voice, "See? This is what happens when I leave the bounty hunter at home. Rocket boots really //are// the only way to travel." Ah well. She'd work with what she had. She continued exploring the walls, leaving her fellow explorer to join the circus, well, such as it was, while she tried to work out either the next step or the right step. "Leith, can you come here and take some pictures of these carving here?" And then, to the room at large, "Anyone find anything that looks as though it might be a pedestal of some kind? These pictographs here, seem to depict a representation of the afterlife. A being being elevated to the stars." She tipped her head, trying to get a gander at Netep, "See any stars up there? Or an afterlife? Or, best case scenery a god descending from on high?" She looked back at the room, "Anyone?"

"It's possible," Syrus says, looking to Grayson with a nod of his head. A plan concocted, Syrus will pull a big-brain play and step over to the side of the room, just in case the roof comes collapsing on top of them. Unlatching the thermos from his belt, he'll take a quick sip of it, that sweet, sweet yarba tea the cure for all that ails him. Wiping his mouth, he'll clip the container back in place and watch the slapstick.

Grayson Oakfell has found her niche within this group other than as a medical professional: Manager of Projects. Yesssss. Nodding her head with satisfaction she'll plant hands on her hips, moving to go and stand next to the tea drinking Kiffar as she too watches, quite pleased they're following her idea. nice. Look at them dance.

YES! Iollan's got the idea. Netep nods, having finally adjusted her shitty vision to the fact that there's a PLATFORM up there! Derp. She keeps on nodding away her doubts regarding personal safety, confident in his ability to sling her small ass up that'a'way and confident in her own abilities to decrypt whatever weird drek is up there. Match made in heaven.

But Waldin's got a good point. That cumbersome knapsack she's been toting around gets gently sloughed off shoulders to the floor. Gotta be at least 15 lbs right there. Probably 20, factoring in the new addition. Also, there's the armed taclight to consider - probably shouldn't be sligning this in faces. She courteously stuffs it back into holster.

"All right." The nomadic navigator is ready to fly, once a little more consideration is given to the height she need soar and...just a few steps back, maybe...right. Before her inner adult can object, Netep runs at the pair and hops! Boot plants into the awaiting palms, hands find shoulders for stability. And CLING. Knife-like fingers at first, while she finds balance, which of course totally negates the momentum gained by the little run, but athlete she is not. "Don't drop me on purpose," she breathlessly requests then squats down and LEAPS up with the force of their tandem toss.

Up, up, up Muri goes! Her arms outstretch, fingers splayed to seize hold of ANYTHING they touch first. Which happens to be cobwebs and those aren't super helpful.

The commitment is made, however, so it's with a deathgrip on those flimsy floofs of nothing that Muri crests the lip of the platform and smack into a console of some sort. Or wall. Or ceiling! All that's known is the impact is audible, as is her complaintive moan to follow and some scrabbling around in darkness till that telltale light of life clicks back on from holster.

Netep lays on the cool stone just a moment more, cheek pressed into the musty dankness of it all while she maybe blinds those down below. "Nnngh." Her limbs gather underneath her and pushes herself to knees. The taclight swivels, revealing the secrets to her eyes one ambiguous etching at a time. Until something useful catches her eye. "I've got clouds!" She calls. "GOLD clouds. With a button. An actual button."

THe unspoken question lingers, as does her finger in the empty void between certainty of present life and the UNKNOWN.

He had been stabbed in the shoulder not two days ago. Somehow, by some terrible flicker of fate, that fact had escaped Iollan's mind for the time being.

It escapes him all the way through these motions, in fact. Muri begins with a running start and somewhere behind the smokey glass visor he balks silently at that, because what he /meant/ was to simply hoist her upwards and what he had hoped for was to not get slammed in the head in some way by the upwards force of her wane athleticism. But luckily the running start doesn't do much, and luckier still is Corr next to him, a far more solid partner in this endeavour. Boots in hands, some semblance of teamwork parading between all three, they heave and--

Yeah, that hurts.

Whatever manly attempt he was making is cut short as Lan lurches slightly in his half of the lift, sudden white-hot pain clipping into his right shoulder as it moves above his head. There's a muted 'kirring uh-' that probably only the man beside him can hear, as he badly attempts to correct things, one foot slipping a little. What a mess.

"Druking-- Muri--" But she's gone and he's muttering to the air, sliding sideways and away from the wall to see where the hell she went. Gloved hands smack together to remove some dust as the PI assembles his (barely) lost composure again. Fine. It worked.

Leith sighs as well he gets called back over to take pictures and puts his blaster away. Maybe he wanted to get shot at. "Is that safe and proper archeoloing?" He asks as he sees Netep go flying. Then he goes to start taking pictures as instructed by Nerys. Though what ever the outcoming of Netep's leap of faith, he's going to be taking pictures and missing it.

When Muri leaps at him and Iollan, Corr braces himself, and he too bears the weight of the explorer woman as they boost her up in a cloud of incomprehensible muttered curses from the man next to him. A hand presses on his face, possibly a boot as well, but she gets up there, and a moment later there's an unasked question about a button.

He spends a moment considering Canem's discomfort, but then he shrugs and wipes as his face. "A button? Push it and let's see what happens, I mean, it's gold clouds, gold is good and there's the paintings."

Are gold clouds good? Hard to say, but there are the paintings.

"No, safe would have been using the climbing gear in my backpack to get up to the ledge." She flashed Leith a grin, "But if it were //safe//, I'm not sure it would be as much fun." She reached out pat the Wroonian on the arm closest to her. "It doesn't sound as though she plummeted back down to her death, and no one's screaming, so nothing collapsed, we should be fine. But watch out for possible sharpened stakes from the ground. There's more than one way to touch the afterlife."

"Yeah, you could've just pressed the button, Muri," Syrus calls up to the woman, echoing Grayson's earlier sentiment to Nerys. Are these people even /adventurers/!? You see a button? You push it and get a redshirt killed. Like Iollan or Corr. Syrus waggles his eyebrows at Grayson for a second and stands up straight, wandering over to get a better look at what Netep's doing.

"PUSH THE DAMNED BUTTON YOU NIMBLE PROJECTED EEL." Grayson called out, hands lifting up to cup around where her mouth would be beneath her helmet, voice loudly carrying just in case Muri has been made deaf by her experience of leaping onto that shelf above them. Also, see how she threw in a compliment there? Hands swing back down as she bounces up on her toes, grinning beneath the helm as she swings her arms a few more times forwards and back, just so bloody stoked right now that her idea has resulted in A BUTTON, "I know you are very good at pushing of buttons!!" See, she knows Muri's strengths.

Looking to Syrus and his eyebrow waggle she'll grin, only a few inches shorter than he, then says to herself, very softly as he moves away to go see up close and personal what the button will do, "If bones or blood do not spill from the ceiling I am going to question this cult." Back to her hips her hands go, planting down firmly as she waits expectantly for cultish things to occur. Maybe even chanting silently for it. Tiny bones, rain down upon them!

"OKAY!!!!" A bit agitated of a snap, that. "But it's my official recommendation that everyone stay CLEAR of the space between ceiling and floor carvings." If that's even possible. "Also, be mindful of the walls." Muri hesitates, peering once last look over the edge to those down below, BIG eyes wielding concern. Also, there's a busted upper lip. Does that count as blood spilling from the ceiling? "Maybe it's safest to just wait outside a beat then come in and see what---y'know, bork it, why not, here we go." Suddenly she's mustered the courage of the gods. Or technician lackey on the platform. Or liquid variety that's appeared in hand not holding DL-18.

Netep holds her breath and pushes the button with the butt of the flask. Fates sealed. She's probably fine up here, though, right? No way they aim to kill the technician.

Stepping away from the platform, Iollan does the ever difficult twist and hold of one hand on his own buff shoulder, gingerly pressing fingers to the sealed wound as if he might have busted it open again. It feels like he did. Or maybe Muri just is that heavy -- as of now there's little time to assess beyond a sightless press of fingers, all while his right hand goes around to pull that blaster free again. Just in case.

"That's the whole room, darling," calls up to the not-so-graceful monkey up top. Creator help them all, at least this still wasn't a volcano. Suffering a long, thin exhale through his nose, Lan does step even farther away though, back towards were Syrus and Grayson are standing, sort of. Here goes nothing.

"You people are crazy." Leith says to Nerys, "I like you'll. I figured this would be all boring and stuff." He says as he continues to snap pictures. He looks down to realize he's kind close to these drawings and near the wall, "Wait what? I didn't buy the armor with the filteration system." He looks a bit panicked.

The button is PRESSED.

And nothing happens.

Until it does.

The cracks in the floor and the ceiling begin to widen, slowly opening up into fissures, more quickly at the top than at the bottom so that they form acute angles delving down into the stone, but the wider they grow, the more space there appears at the bottom, and the more quickly the division occurs. Light begins to split through the rock above, while a void can be glimpsed between the cracks in the floor. The tiles divided by the intricate carvings appear to be turning themselves slowly on edge so that the actual solid floor surface will be replaced by fins held aloft by thin metal rods that must have been supporting the tiles from below this entire time.

"Oh, /that/ could go wrong," Corr remarks as he feels the floor beginning to invert under his feet. "Muri! Get down, we gotta go!" Evidently this particular ascension chamber had a very particular and efficient method of sending people to the afterlife.

This theory is supported by the gilt-painted rocks that begin to fall down out of the splitting ceiling. At first they're only the size of pebbles, but as the cracks grow wider, so do the rocks falling between them.

"History is not all crusty dusty tomes, contrary to popular belief. Sometimes it's crusty dusty old ruins doing everything they can to kill you if you don't kill yourself first." But that spirit of derry-do and devil-may-care didn't make her any less cautious. Rather, she turned to press her back against the wall, hands flat palmed so that she could use the armor to push off if she needed to get clear at speed. Which, as the room began to turn in on itself and the floor began to disappear was to her benefit, "Clearing the room!" And she did. Nerys was no slouch in the ducking weaving evading certain death department, quick and nimble enough to run from barely stable step to barely stable step as she tried to clear the room and make it to solid ground. Thankfully, her armor took the brunt of any rocks she did not evade and she dove clear of the exit to make room for the others.

"Bad," is all Syrus has time to say, his mind focused elsewhere, distracting him from the tell-tale tickle at the back of his neck that no doubt occured when Netep pressed the button. With floors shifting and rocks falling, Syrus would love to be a selfless, helful person, but he's caught too unawares, so he throws his hands up in the air, reaching out through the Force to grab a chunk of stone that was destined to crush him and throwing it off to the side to no doubt land on someone else.

Stepping out of the way of another, Syrus begins his sprint back to the exit, but as luck would have it, he gets tripped up and hits the ground hard, another chunk of rock slamming into the man's leg with an audible *CRACK*. The Kiffar keeps his concentration, though and kicks it off of himself, somehow managing to close the rest of the distance to the door with only a slight limp.

Grayson Oakfell is not particularly athletically inclined. She is soft curves and nimble fingers, used to a life of leisure and excess. When things begin to shift beneath her feet there is a thought of 'yes, I knew it' which is very quickly replaced by a starfield in her vision, colors erupting in a brilliant manner because she just got brained. Hard.

Mother effin' Iro'syrus Ini-Heret Volo brains her good, the woman beside him. SHE'S OFF TO THE SIDE OF HIM. The big chunk of rock SMACKS into her left shoulder then rides the line of her neck right into her head, the woman collapsing into a heap immediately upon those shifting tiles beneath her feet, no doubt to meet her glorious end because a space wizard couldn't control himself. Her body rolls with the shifting tiles, slowly moving towards the door. Yay floor, trying to save her while simultaneously easing her to her doom. They have a complicated relationship.

GET DOWN!?!?!

"I KNEW IT!!!" Muri's voice trumpets from on high, barely audible above the terrible sound of grating stone and falling sky. "SUFFERING FROM SKY TO GROUND!"

She balks at the edge, not liking her odds but liking what's raining down around her mighty platform of GOD even less. Except Oooh! Pretty? A couple smaller rock pieces are scooped up and crammed into pockets. Pocket rocks!

And then she's taking a second leap of faith, this time able to see where it is she's meant to land, even if that landing place is getting smaller by the second. Pebbles bounce harmlessly off her back as she lands, arms pinwheeling for balance at the edge of a widening hole. Close call. Hop, skip, and she's snatched up her bag by the wall to sling it over shoulder because PRIORITIES. There's a priceless artifact and booze in there. Frink. The gap is getting awfully wide...

"Iollan!" Another hop, trying to get back to his bulk (for stability, surely!) with just a /hint/ of fear pitching her voice up an octave. One arm keeps sheltered over her own skull while the other reaches for him. Feet keep stumbling onward, managing to get as far as Grayson's inert lump without more'n a few minor scrapes and bruises. "Help me!" She's got Grayson by the underarms for a HEFT....oh nonononono that's sucky. Something spasms in her unappreciative back and she bites her lip HARD. The woman's dragged maybe an inch.

There it is. Finally, disaster!

Sadly, not the kind mitigated by his firepower in literally any way. Too bad. But, the rat sense kicks in and as things begin to rumble and groan in the yawning earth, Iollan freezes for only 2.5 seconds. 'You're going to die' chimes some unmentionable voice in his head, and just like that he's off; heavy boots scatter as, wayward of caring about anyone else on the team, he starts off toward the doors at a headlong break; rocks scatter about them, some of the small ones catching off his broadly-line frame as he skids towards the exit. There's a few glances over his shoulder, making sure in some regards that others are keeping out, including the frantic (nearly) call from Muri. Not too far ahead, he performs his chivalrous duty by reaching out so grab a handful of her jacket and yank. It's just about forward momentum now.

And lo and behold, they do make it to the end, whereupon he bursts from the dark hole like a paleolithic starman, shedding dust and debris in a puff of sudden deceleration, blaster still drawn. "Everyone alive?" Probably not. He's asking anyway, whole-chest, as bodies fly out into the open nearby.

Leith was going to respond to what Nerys was saying but she was gone. That and he was stumbling for the dor as rocks begin to falling and tinking off the side of his helmet. He turns and runs, "That is not gold." His foot catching on one of the growing cracks and he hits the floor pushing up just in time to get his bell wrung as a bigger rock stricks him in the head. he pushes up to go scrambling out of the door. In the next room he collapses on the floor. " Really hate Jawas. I really hate ancient Jawas."

Corr is not spared from the wrath of the ascension ritual engineered by a race of highly sophisticated stoneworkers whose language shares some commonalities with proto-Jawa. He manages through luck alone to avoid the worst of the big-bruiser rocks falling from on high, but the shifting floor catches at his boots and trips him up more than once, and a couple of the gilt-painted emissaries of the big primitive being in the sky smack into his noggin. Ahead of him, Grayson stumbles, and like anyone would expect, he grabs at her in spite of the rockfall.

"Get up, come on! You gotta take PICTURES," he extols her, dragging the woman upright and pulling her along with him as they come falling out of the ruin at high speed, like flotsam tossed up on the shore. Wiping a bit of blood from his forehead, he gathers himself up, offers a hand to his woman, looks around for the others and sees everyone has made it. "See? Nobody dead, not yet anyway. That's a- a good day." Was that some hesitation? "I think I've had enough for one day, though. I'm heading back to Black Spire. Recommend you come with me, some of you took it pretty bad in there." He's still bleeding, but once Grayson's up he'll take a few steps towards the door, a few gold-tinted rocks rolling out toward his feet. "Babe, get some pictures of that, just poke your head in a little, it's fine. Then we'll go."

ANOTHER JOB

Grayson Oakfell deliriously takes real grainy photos, lots of orbs in the shots. Later on, they'll figure they're ghosts of those who passed before. Spooky.

Nerys, who had managed to escape the literal murder-death room, had almost immediately rolled to her feet, slipping her backpack to the front, pulling out her bundle of climbing lines. Well, descent lines in this case, ready to head back in to get anyone who hadn't managed to get out. Only it was impossible to actually get closer as the team either ram, fell or was tugged out. And once they were all settled, well, not whole, but alive, "I'll stay a while, see if I can retrieve anything useful. We didn't almost die for nothing."

SO much forward momentum! Muri's spine is jerked in a different direction now, but no complaints! She's alive. There has been no ascension to a higher plane of existence and she's okay with that. This body suits her just fine. The primitive fear-induced grace and agility all goes to shit once they emerge into the light. LIGHT, for Muri, because she doesn't actually stop runstumbling until she's clear of the ruins, too, and hits dirt. Pebbly, mossy dirt. Smells nice, this faceful of forest floor.

THe bottles and tablet CLANK together over one shoulder, but it's probably okay.

Whatever she says gets half muffled into sleeve. So she rolls over and declares with a broad lungful of air. "You still favor this to volcano?"

"Yes." Oh, how quickly he sounds level, lilting, like he's always used to breathlessly tumbling out of a dropping tomb in an unknown forest. A heavy breath cycles in and our as Iollan ducks slightly to pull the helmet free, showering dust around -- well, everywhere. Shaking like a dog, the tall detective finds Muri after a moment, a few feet away as she is.

"We did all make it out, yes?" Turning, there's a quick head-count. He doesn't know anyone names, let's be honest. Or he pretends not to. Either way, the same number as they came in with tallies up now, so he nods to himself. One hand continues to clap bits of debris from his jacket as he says: "Better, but not great. Let's get the kriff out of here."