Log:Explorer's Guild: Fountain of Yelsain

Explorer's Guild: Fountain of Yelsain

OOC Date: February 26, 2020
Location: Yelsain
Participants: Explorer's Guild: Corr Waldin, Grayson Oakfell, Aryn Cole, Sajin, Maireni Lash, and Netep Muri, with special guest star Ban Iskender

YELSAIN

The trees tower above them as the band of explorers marches through the forest, on a long walk from the village they've left behind some hours before. Speeders were ridden for some of the journey, but eventually the coverage of undergrowth and risk of death was just not worth it any longer and they were abandoned to continue on foot.

Corr is explaining for the tenth time what exactly they're looking for. "So, what exactly we're looking for," he says, adjusting the straps of the pack he wears on his back, "is a fountain with some kinda mystical properties. Now, this could be a spring, or a font, or a geyser, even, I guess," he continues as he ducks under a low branch and keeps on walking. "As far as what kinda mystical properties we're talking about, the legend says the water makes you feel young and healthy again, even if you're old. Takes the years off, or seems to, leastways."

Ahead, one of the massive trees has fallen and blocks the way forward, the log fully as tall as a small building and effectively barring any passage. "Guess we'll have to go around," Corr deduces, squinting at what appears to be a map and then the log, turning the map 90 degrees and squinting at it again.

"Try to keep an eye on each other. Oxygen's richer than normal here, you're liable to get a tad loopy at some point." He turns the map back to its original orientation. "I'm fine, though."

At some point? Loopy is Gray already, the woman with a very low constitution all smiles despite the long walk, the speeder journey, and more walking. One foot in front of the other, that's her goal, everything feeling floaty and fine, not unlike weekends with wine had before she joined the Explorers. Newly minted, as it were, formerly of the FO, the once CMO is now ..Dr. Oakfell, medicine woman. Explorer extraordinaire. "I am feeling /very/ youthful, and very healthy, the air is doing a wonder for my skin."

Said as she drops down to tuck under a branch, staying there a long, long, long moment, knees to her chest, arms soon hugging her legs as she settles into the pose, getting lost. In thought. In this oxygen rich air. Her accent is heavy, thick and foreign, not from one of the core planets.

Something moves her, perhaps the earth, a breeze, but she's unfurling arms and reaching up to take ahold of that branch, forcing herself forwards, only to meet that barrier.

"Around it, this very large tree, around, around, around." Singsongy voice breaks into some other language as she softly sings to herself, forging a path to the /left/ in her bid to get around the tree.

She is dressed in very light armor, helmet hooked to her belt, hair braided back, face fresh and winsome, pack on her back, blaster at her left hip, and brain addled by the very air around them. It's a /good/ day.

"I read somewhere..." Aryn says in her matter of fact tone while climbing over a fallen tree trunk and standing there for a moment. "..that such a fountain existed on another world; one similar to this, actually, and it was no fountain at all, but a spring of murky water. They found it without.." She makes a small drop down, grunting. "..looking for it, and hid beneath its surface as a tribe of primitive warriors stalked by. The side effects of consuming this, likely because they ran out of breath, caused a feeling .. or..experience of being youthful again."

Aryn clears her throat and ducks under a low branch, pausing when they arrive at the blocked passage way. Her hands go to her hips, propping her cape back. A lightsaber is clipped to her belt, in slight view. "I'd suspect the water had other compounds in it.. something that created the experience without actually.. making them younger. Ironically enough, the author.. the adventurer.. died of old age." Aryn tucks her hair back and steps forward, kicking the massive downed tree with the tip of her boot. Could she move this thing? Aryn appears to be in idle thought for now.

Ban Iskender treads along with a wary green eye turned toward Corr at the explorers' perfectly 'fine' oration and orienteering. Aryn's academic reminiscing draws a dry sniff. "I've also heard of such fonts of invincibility, although I do hope the present excursion finds something of greater note than common alcohol," the young nobleman states with wry humor coloring his otherwise even speech.

Sajin was a frequent visitor to Yelsain, owning the hunting supply shop back in Town. He had just finished up some buisness when he spotted the Exploreres gathering, faces there familiar to him, and had decided to hazard the jaunt into the dangerous forest filled with preditors. <<"Wore my sealed armor so... doing just fine in that department, Cooorrrr.">> He always elongated the guild master's name. Always. <<"Invincibility? Man, I could go for some of that.">> The king of Drik trudges on with the others.

Maireni Lash is here. Who knows why. Both because she's youthful and not exactly in need of these magical waters, and also because for the most part she's incapable of being helpful. She looks like the type of person who won't be very helpful, with her obnoxiously bright outfit, the entire collection of jewelry she wears in the form of numerous rings, bracelets, and earrings. Her long tail even sports several bracelets that rattle each time said tail thrashes. She wafts about in a cloud of perfume, and she has a hat that somehow has clung to her head this whole time without falling off. "Ay," she protests as they come upon the large fallen tree, one heavily booted foot swinging to kick it, like that'll somehow help. "Stupid tree, gettin' in our way." The others turn to go around and she trots along after Corr. It's probably going to be hard to tell if she's getting oxygen drunk.

"It's not just alcohol or old fables," Corr replies with a frown, furrowing his brow at Aryn and Ban. "It's a real magic pool, or it ain't what we're looking for." He watches Grayson devolve into singing some sort of foreign ditty before she starts drifting out along the fallen log towards the far end, but with as tall as these trees are, that's about half a mile away.

"Do you think," he says to no one in particular, "that you'd grow as tall as these trees are if you lived here?" Tapping his chin for a moment, he shakes his head with a chuckle. "Nah, that ain't real. Just immortality."

Stepping back from the log for a moment, he calls after his companion, "Grayson! We're gonna go over it." Then the rest of the group. "If you got a cleverer way over this thing, be my guest, but I don't." Taking a few quick steps forward, he throws himself bodily at the side of the log, its great ridged bark making fine handholds, and with a fair amount of natural agility, the explorer begins to scale up the side towards the top.

Grayson Oakfell doesn't have the upper arm, or lower arm, strength ..let's be real, any strength at all, to climb that log. When she's called back, after having walked five minutes, she'll come back with nary a complaint, taking an extra minute atop the five to stop and crouch to tie her boots, singing some song in her native language about looping hoops and gilding the needle, some sort of sexual innuendo song taught to children learning their lacing. Finally, with a satisfied smile and a deep drawn in breath of air that has her shoulders lifting up towards her ears as she admires her handiwork.

Corr having called her is briefly remembered, and with great dignity and carefulness she rises up, floating her way over to the group, steps picked in her path back along the HUGE log, missing Corrs' musings, instead coming upon the man already making his way up.

"Oh, that is looking much in the way of ..diff..cult. Diffie." What's the WORD.

"Not right." But, proving she's game for everything she wipes her palms on her hips, then her stomach, perhaps enjoying the feel of her own body beneath the light armor a moment too long. Okay, she's got this, "I have this." She can do this, "I am possessing of such ..ability." Manicured, and very soft hands, like, butter soft, so very soft, reach up and she begins to climb. She even makes it quite the distance, but the smell of the log is distracting, it smells so /fresh/. Alive. The moss and every other form of life clutching to those bark hand-holds is just too intoxicating. Leaning in to sniff mid-reach means she grabs an obviously rotten bit of bark, and finds herself immediately falling.

Or, well, she doesn't realize she's falling because the air feels like luxurious silk embracing her body, so she doesn't even fight it, just plummets back towards the earth, maybe a story up, through the air quite happily, content in knowing mother earth will catch her form and encase her in it's loving embrace.

"Up and over, it is," Ban voices to the notion of climbing the fallen tree. "And of course one never goes *seeking* a fraud, or some.. common solution," he notes to Corr. "Yet they do seem to crop up, time and again. Rest assured I share your hope that this legend is legitimate-" his idle conversation is bit off as Grayson begins her jolly plummeting off the Titanic trunk. "No, Madam- caution!" Words fumble, as Ban makes an effort to catch the tipsy Oakfell, mid-fall-off-oak. He looks just a step too slow, though, unable to plant his feet properly, it looks like breaking her fall will be his best effort...

Aryn is the tail end of this group, and witness to both the return of Grayson, and her subsequent fall. Ban reacted quickly enough but his effort failed yet Aryn pre-emptively reached out and extended her hand. Energy from the living Force, from which this planet held a /strong/ connection, embraced the soft-handed Dr. Oakfell and halted her in the air like she was caught by some invisible hand.

Aryn opened her eyes, rotating her own gloved hand to orient the woman slowly until the soles of her boots found firm earth once again. "Careful, madam." Is all Aryn offers, her hand lowering back to her belt to pluck up her Naboo-Arms blaster pistol.

This is not done threateningly, and Aryn even takes a moment to adjust the setting on the custom wooden receiver before aiming upward and firing the harpoon. The spool whistled before a clamping noise was heard, then it grew tight. In tandem with the pistol, Aryn began to climb upward slowly, scaling up pretty fast while holding the blaster with both hands while walking up, like a rappel, only vice-versa.

While Grayson is making sure her boot straps are, strapped, the Drikish King is doing a few pre-climbing-stretches. <<"Get the toes...">> He's bent over, arms reaching the tips of his booted feet. The wigggle and inch down past towards the forest floor. <<"Get the ground... c'mon...">> He reches it and stays there for a moment. A a loud POP, then a sigh of relief. <<"Ahhh, that's the spot.">> A few more stretches; to the left and then to the right, before he's bounding for the trunk. Studying it a moment behind his hlemet, he nods, <<"Shouldn't be too bad.">> Speak for yourself muscles. Sajin bounds along the massive tree, fining each hand and foot hold easily enough. He turns his head as he hears the breaking of bark, then sees Grayson fall. Ban reaches for her and fails... which springs him into action. He stops thouh as he watches Aryn handle the situation. <<"That was close...">> HE continues along following the others up.

Maireni stops when Corr says they're going to go over, turning to eye the oversized tree that he throws himself at. "Ain't gonna complain if it's a fountain of alcohol though, ya feel? Then we could have a paaartyyyyy, and I could brag to Yoyo that he missed ooout." She does a little dance, not at the party part, but at the bit about her brother missing out. Then she turns to throw herself at the tree as well, proving remarkably capable of scaling the thing. Anyone beneath her may get showered in glitter. "Once we find this thing, if it makes all ya olds look real young," like there are any really old people here, "Then what are we doin? Packin' it up and sellin' it so we all get real rich?"

"Y'mean it got'em higher'n a hawkbat," Muri asides to the fancy-caped Aryn in a not-whisper whisper. Oxygen rich, Oxygen deprived...her rascally grin only has two settings - on/off. And right now it's ON. Surely wouldn't happen to have anything to do with what's in her smaller of the two canteen. Because that's for emergencies only! "Any properties capable of reversing the aging process ought to take a decent bit of time to test, I'd think. How long's it take for skin cells to regenerate? I dunno this is a piece o'lore we'll be verifying or debunking on the spot, but s'worth samplin."

And then Waldin makes his executive decision. Petite Muri stops short of the BIG log and looks up. Way up. All that super-saturated air deflates from her giddy lungs with a heavy sigh. Seems like a lot of work, but at least her blood's plenty pumped to deliver. So up she goes like a sneaky ascent to some lover's window, wishing maybe she hadn't chewed her nails so much. The potential payout for this climb feels like maybe less rewarding than if it were the window. Because risk - thought building around the sudden slip of Grayson's prettily-manicured grip from the log.

Maybe it's because her reaction time's suffering the effects of O2 toxicity, maybe it's because she's a /terrible/ person, but Muri catches Grayson's body as it drops past only with her eyes. Processing. Her own footing falters a moment when the left boot toes a shelf of fungi instead of less-squishy bark rot. That squeak wasn't her, swear...s'just the slippery fungi. Muri recovers and resumes a slow but adept-enough ascent under her own volition.

Corr is blithely finishing his ascent when Grayson plummets to earth, and the doctor doesn't even make a sound as she falls, so while she sails downward, he's brushing his hands happily on his pants and looking around at what's next. Their fearless leader is blissfully unaware of one of the party member's near-miss at an untimely demise, instead scoping out the ramp made out of a rotting stump jammed against their log, covered over with nice soft moss.

"If it is real, and just cause we don't find it doesn't mean it ain't real," he announces with an upheld finger, "then we'll alert the scientific community so as they can perform an exhaustive analysis of its mystical properties and bring a new panacea to the galaxy, on the scale of the discovery of bacta, and we'll all have a part in one of the most important medical advances in history." Thrilling!

Only then does he look around to see who's all made it to the top. "...Grayson?" His head pops over the edge, peering down at the forest floor, totally missing the drama. "What're you doing down there?" A line is dropped over, anchored in the thick bark, for anyone who's not yet reached the top to easily ascend.

Not really, it's still hard to climb a rope, but it's easier than it was and within the capacity of everyone present.

Corr is already pressing forward, though, onto the moss covering that stump, and stirring up a suspicious amount of spores in the process that immediately pollute the air with a sort of pollenesque yellow dust. "...that's probably fine," he remarks, before immediately letting loose a sneeze.

Grayson Oakfell stops mid-fall, caught by the unwinged angel Aryn, though Ban's effort is heroic in itself because Muri is indeed a terrible. Terrible. Person. Who did exactly what Grayson would have done for her were their positions reversed.

But caught Grayson is! Hovering briefly in the air, the touch of Aryn just right, oh so gentle, and as she turns in the air so that she can touch fancy (overpriced) hiking boots to the ground, Grayson is feeling #blessed. Brain first darts to Ban for being her savior, but the second layering 'Careful, madam' to Bans, 'No, Madam - caution', directs her brain accordingly and she manages a, "Oh-kay." To Aryn as she spider-climbs the log like the ultimate boss. Grayson has never been /saved/ by magic, only assaulted, so her feelings on such are mixed, though her appreciation is evident as she says, quietly, to Ban, as everyone else climbs ahead of them, "You, too, are very heroic, but I have found, that the magic in the space ..magi-magical beings, is not often surpassed." She'll reach out, very gently touching his forearm as the rope from Corr is dropped down, "You are very handsome." Reassuring him even as her neck cranes and head falls back to call out, "Being friendly with your people!" Patpatpat. Up she goes, the rope providing the stability her weak but beautiful body needs in order to ascend with the others. This time she's successful, managing to reach the top with only the slightest sweat beading her flesh to give her a beauteous glow, Aryn given a smile, "Thank you."

She's polite if nothing else.

The doctor then strays forwards to follow Corr, the pollen covering her like a fine mist, her head drawing back and long dark braided hair shaking through the air dramatically as she's crowned with the yellow stuff, looking like a dew-laden maiden from stories of old. Gorgeous, "Oh, the air smells /wonderful/." Like Sajin, the beautiful bastard he is, she too is blessed. Corr sneezes, she glows, "Here."

A tissue is drawn out from her armor, from a satchel hooked to her belt, held out to Corr as she strides forwards over that moss merrily, hips swaying to and fro without a care, the spores populating the air more heavily with every swing.

Aryn makes it to the top, unhooking the harpoon and recalling the line. The spool whines until the hook is firmly held in place. Aryn switches the pistol to safe and gently feeds it back into its holster along her lower back. This trip alone made that item worth the purchase!

"Selling it?" Aryn asks. "If we find something that is-- ACHOOOOO!..." Aryn sneezes into the crook of her elbow. "..that is.. ACHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!-- mystical.. then it probably.. ACHOOOOOO!" Wipe along her sleeve while her other hand waves. "..belongs in a musuem. ACHHOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Mother have mercy, that last sneeze nearly made Aryn fall off the side! She remains in place, ensuring the others have reached the top, her eyes watering from sneezing. When Grayson thanks her, Aryn dips her head bashfully. "Of course..." She chances a look back up to Grayson, watching her timidly. ACHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!

"Mother.. have /mercy/." She casts her cape back, no longer concealing her arms beneath it.

Ban Iskender blinks and tries to avert his face when Corr sneezes yellow spores into the... everything. Ban was inhaling, at the time, too! The gentleman attempts to keep his composure without a catastrophic sneeze, but that only.. drags it all out in a series of smaller, semi-contained sneezes. His answer to Grayson is.. fractured as a result. "Ahem! You're quite- *sneef!* Quite welcome, madam. Think no- *snee-sneeze* Nothing of it." He manages a short bow of the head and shoulders to the compliment, only squeaking one with a forcibly restrained sneeze. Eyes watering with the thick pollen, he offers on the heels of Aryn's anti-capitalism, "As the lady- the ahem! As the lady says."

Sajin looks around at some of the others as they start sneezing, <<"See you guys... this is why I wore my void armor... it's so much be-ACHOOOOOOOOO!">> See, what Sajin, Strong beautiful Hapan King of Drik, didn't do know was that those spores were getting though. It could filter out smoke and a snumber of the spors from the natural environment but some sipped through the filter which he hadn't replaced in a while. <<"WHYYYYHYYYHYYY!">> He cries, continuing to sneeze, likely filling his helmet with snot and boogers. You wouldn't want to find out. More cleaning to be done later.

Because this isn't Maireni's first trip out with Corr, she does have some water with her, and as Corr explains his plan that talks a lot about science and progress, one hand pats the canteen idly. "Yah, science," she agrees, while quietly scheming ways to steal canteens from others in the group so she can collect more of this magic water that she by now has convinced herself definitely exists. Then everyone else starts sneezing. Almost everyone else. "Ay," she shoots a look over to Grayson, then points around at all the sneezing people. "Bet this is a curse," she informs the doctor seriously.

"Wait, remember the Bim--oh wait, that was pink." Yeah, it's totally fine. Netep's eyes relax from their briefly panicked bulge and bends over to pick at some of the moss. Gal's got a fistful halfway to a little pouch on her backpack when the horror begins. Innocuously at first - an innocent sniffle and snotless sneeze born of a tickle. She sniff-snorts against the sensation and finishes stowing her specimen in a jar. And then almost drops the jar when the second sneeze strikes. Hard. A productive sneeze, as forceful as it is LOUD. Undainty. Good thing she's already on her knees.

"This kinda bur-kCHAAHHH!" Hearing the cadence of sneezes around her from others puts a suspicion into her head that "THIS IS NOT FINE, CO--CHAUGH!!!" "STOP MOV-HEE!" GACK-WHEEZE. A disgusting torrent of sneezing follows, wracking her little body with every blast and stirring up more spores in the process. It's a lethal circle, surely.

This is how it ends, isn't it, o fizzpop machine of wisdom? Drowning in her own post-nasal drip while sinuses slowly swell. Definitely a curse.

All Muri can do to save her face is wipe the globs on her sleeve, then her shirt hem, but that somehow seems to make it worse. WHYYYYYYYY???? The backpack slumps off shoulder onto arm/into lap, probably because it was bounced there by a sneeze moreso than intent. But the thought occurs. EMERGENCY!! Muri scrabbles with the contents, trying to pull out her water canteen.

It's not the water canteen. Sight blurred by tears, Netep arches her back, face to the sky, and upends the canteen to pour its cleansing contents with hopes of flushing the offensive spores away.

"AHHHHHH-choo-GYAAAAAH-KRIFFINSONFAWHORESBRATTYFINKFRACKLE-CHAAAAHHHCHOOO" sputter, spit, swear. It ain't water. It burns. Mother of god. Godless mother. THe canteen and her precious Tipples gets chucked violently (a bit blindly) over the edge of that STUPID STUMP.

Between the high oxygen and the spores, it's a whole lot of sneezing going on. Corr lets three in a row rip before he manages to snag that kerchief from Grayson, pressing it to his rapidly reddening nose with a muttered "Thanks babe," followed by a long honk as he blows most of the spores out into it.

And then breathes in some more.

"ah-KERF," Corr sneezes in the classic mega-loud dad sneeze manner. "Get down off the -KEFF- ...moss!" he calls, rushing forward with a clatter of gear that clank-clank-clanks inside his pack, hurrying down off of the stump to the semi-level ground.

Ahead, the terrain seems slightly altered from what they've been journeying through the last several hours, giving way from the irregular but consistent treetrunks and transitioning into a sort of clearing in the forest, though the canopy far overhead continues to blot out the harsh light of the sun, sending down only dappled rays that dance across the leafy ground with the distant stirring of branches in the wind. Fallen trees like the one they've scaled hedge this area in from the outside world, a natural fence guarding it from intruders.

In the midst of the clearing, a shallow pool sparkles dimly in the diffused light, and the tinkle of falling water reaches out softly to the adventurers' ears. However, before they are able to investigate, the tranquility of the scene is split by a guttural roar and then an eerie howl as first one massive beast and then a second come flying down out of the treetops, landing with a staccato thump and screaming at each other, beating the earth with their fists and paws, respectively, some sort of confrontation unfolding in the space between the party and that quiet spring beyond.

"Prob'ly not a problem," Corr remarks, rubbing his nose on Grayson's hanky.

Grayson Oakfell looks at Maireni, the woman with a tail, and nods her head sagely, "Corr is the leader of a cult, and with cults, come the curses, so yes." She agrees, very much so, with the woman with a tail, "Very much a curse." Turning and furrowing up more spores on the heels of her boots, "You are -all- cursed, I am sorry, but there are bones somewhere that will cure you all." Because she and Maireni are keeping the waters for themselves. And Grayson will later be robbed by Maireni for her share of the water, and that's okay. The air smells /great/, her lashes are laden with pollen which just gives her makeup that extra *oomph*, she's surrounded by somewhat attractive people which makes her oxygen-enriched brain /happy/, and this place is magical! How magical you ask?

Netep Muri's insane display has Grayson stopped in her tracks, Corrs' call to them to get off the moss not immediately heeded. No, instead a mercurial smile traipses it's way on to her lips, eyes misting over as the heavens come together to bless her with the true gift of being able to witness the horror visited upon Netep, including upending alcohol into her own face. And Maireni, not being cursed, gets to be the bastion of Grayson's next words as she begins to move along, kicking up a little more of those spores, perhaps to spite Muri, or maybe because the air is just so rich, "I hate her so much, that this is a /blessing/ I have never thought to see with my own eyes." Said to the rat-woman, Grayson delivering it in an emotional choking whisper, smile barely contained from turning into a grin as luminous gaze drifts back over her shoulder to the fit-ridden Muri.

The others are also given that smile should they look her way as they continue on out through much more desirable landscape, Gray still floating on a cloud, until they come to the clearing and the beasts make themselves known, "Oh." A step back, behind Corr, her voice speaking up behind him as hands find his waist as he makes his declaration. It would stand to reason that the blessing of seeing Muri would be that which preceded Graysons untimely death, "Those are bigger than the boar." Noted from behind him, this group truly cursed.

Aryn lands on the ground, free from the stump and from the sneezing. For now. But the scenery takes her by surprise. It is so beautiful, and it halts her advance as she stares for a moment. Aryn isn't aware that the oxygen has begun to alter her senses. Her head feels lighter, and her eyes are more sensitive to light. So the view of the godrays peeking through the canopy is truly, truly mesmerizing.

This peaceful feeling is interrupted when her senses detect an inherent danger. The sudden arrival of two beasts, clearly at odds, draws her attention, and her first reaction is to touch the hilt clipped to her belt. Engaging these things would be an awful idea. She unclips the lightsaber regardless, holding the weapon to her side for now, but easing back. "What manner of beasts are these?" Aryn asks softly, bumping into both Sajin and Ban as she backtracked timidly.

"That is most certainly a- *sniff-sneeze* a problem, sir," Ban notes to Corr at the descent of the giant angry creatures. "*Two* problems, unless I'm seeing double. Which *kaff*.. I admit is possible." Toward Aryn, he murmurs, "Think you that we could *sneef* evade them?" The green of his eyes only looks more vivid when the rest are watering and red. The unfortunate Muri is offered a canteen of common water. "Madam, here: rinse with this.. as quietly as you can." He doesn't look long at Muri, as his eyes are held by the beasts, and Maireni might successfully steal it if she's fast. Ban sets a steadying hand on Aryn's shoulder and notes dryly, "I cannot say, beyond 'large'." Belatedly, he draws a sword.

<"Hey, stop kicking more down here!">> Sajin exlaims in between violent sneezes, some of the kicked up spores heading his way from the former FO doctor. His armor is covered in pollen and likely other forest 'thins'. <<"The moss is mating all over my armor... this is not desirable...">> He eventually makes his way off the moss and into the more stable terrain on the way towards the pool of waer that they seek. The apparent confrontation happening between them and that mystical pool causes him to pause a moment, seeing if he can get an eye on what ever it is making the ruckus. <<"Even if it isn't a problem...">> He says to Corr, <<"Immortality is worth a rumble, am I right?">> He unclasps the metal knuckles from his utiliy belt... <<"Just incase...">> he whispers. <<"Local fauna I think...">> The King of Drik answers the Aldaranian Princess, watching the exchange vigilantly.

Obviously it's true that some point later, when they definitely get these magic healing waters, Maireni is going to rob Grayson for it. One can't really say that the Ryn woman does a lot of planning ahead, but this is an exception to that usually firm rule, because it might make her riiiich. "Ay you hate her?" she asks while pointing right at Muri. "Why you hate doctor girlfriend? She was datin' my brother." Which one? She doesn't say. Neither one is a very enticing prospect. She doesn't seem all that upset at Grayson's glee at others suffering though, Mai isn't suffering so it's all just fine.

"Real glad you understand about curses," she confides in the lovely human she's now strolling beside, tail thrashing a little with thought causing the bracelets to rattle. "Ain't common, most folks think it's fake, then they meet real bad fates and don't know what went wrong. If only they'd listen." The temptation of the canteen is present, but there are more pressing concerns here, like making sure her beautiful face remains beautiful. "Ay, uh, what are those things?" Just to prove that the situation can in fact get worse, she pulls a blaster out of her bag and looks like she's ready to shoot something with it. It's hard to say whether or not said shooting will be her intended target or not.

Netep more or less tumbles down the soft slope of moss, turning her entire person into a walking (sneezing) biocontaminate. But HARK! Could it be? It's the pool of youthful remedy and Muri intends to use it like her personal bath. "I'm gonna slime up your pool of vanity!" She threatens Oakfell's passing sashay between breaks in her sneezefit. Nose-first, gonna dive RIGHT IN THERE!!!! Which speaks volumes of her desperation (and spitefulness) considering the woman's a shite swimmer.

If two enormous monsters hadn't suddenly created a frightening blockade, you can bet the scientists would later be sifting Muri mucosal cells from the liquid life. Nature is SO inconsiderate. The beautiful pool is safe. For now. As evident from Muri's defeated slump on the ground. *Wheezeleshnort*

One hand goes up to accept Ban's proffered canteen because whatever the contents, it surely can't be worse than what she just did. *DUMP*FLUSH* The rivulets of water are turned to mucously dribbles by the time they dangle/slough off her chin, but it feels 200 percent better. *SNIFF* "Troglith an....er...big borkin carnivores, hey? GARATH!" Either that last one was a sneeze or an animal identifcation or both. "Mebbe they'll just do their thing and move on, Imma go over here," Muri mutters and starts to creep her way back toward the nearest piece of brushhhhhhavit, it's more moss. Nope. She just lays down. Becomes one with the richly fertile floor of this clearing. Maybe.....maybe not.

"It's not a problem," Corr maintains stubbornly to Ban, tucking the hankie away and using the back of his hand to wipe his nose instead. It doesn't work better than the hanky. "We'll just let 'em do their thing, and we'll do ours, quiet-like," he asserts, holding up both hands and smoooothly spreading them apart in the air in a demonstration of just how stealthy and quiet they will be.

His very next step is onto a sort of pinecone, a delicate seed-bearing pod that just so happens to crackle and pop loudly enough to be mistaken for a cap-gun. The camera zooms rapidly in between the two mighty beasts of prey to focus on the explorer's face. "-That's fine."

A howl and a shriek shake the treetops as the pair turn on the party, each creature's sheer bulk confirming the earlier hypothesizing about the size of things other than plants.

"Spread out!" Corr yells, grabbing Grayson's hand from his waist and dragging her along towards the bush Muri wisely identified as moss and kicking up yet more spores in the process. "KERF, KACHOO- spread- CHOO- SAVE YOURSELVES!"

A large rock hurtles through the air and smashes into the fallen log they climbed over, sending long splinters of rotten wood flying.

Grayson Oakfell would tell Maireni the sordid details of exactly why she despises Muri, but she's currently in the fight for her life as she's dragged along suddenly by Corr, is saved by the man from a certain death. She let's out a shriek, immediately stumbling over her own feet which means Corr is dragging her bodily across the moss which kicks up even MORE spores.

Through the spores merrily, on her back, then her tummy, scrambling with her other hand to grab at Corrs' pants and waistline to try and right herself, "SHOOT THEM!" Because even oxygen drowned Gray knows what you gotta do with the beasties when they come to play. Then you EAT them to display your dominance whilst dancing around in their skins.

"Hmmm, thisACHOOOOOOOOOO!...way!" She urges the men with her, pointing toward another of the moss hedges. Hiding in those would be enough to offset the predatory sensory of the beasts, .. maybe? It seemed like a good idea. Aryn commits, running back and ducking when a showering haze of wooden splinters explodes from the impact of the rock. She slides into a mossy hedge, whipping her cape over her nose and mouth. A sharp thorn cuts her cheek and she hisses quietly from the stinging pain.

Ban Iskender nods to Aryn's direction, delayed from following closely by another fit of spore-induced coughing. Steps aren't particularly swift or nimble when deep breaths only draw in more of the wretched particles. "As you- *SNEEZ* As you- *hack*" He just gives up words and tries to hurry along.

<<"AH hell.">> Says he pretty Hapan with some sort of deadpan acceptance to the fact that now they had two angry beasts to deal with. Someone, Aryn, mentions bushes. <<"BUSHES!">> He runs as fast as he can and then careens into them, rolling, and landing on his back in a heep. leaves and branches stucking out of the joints in his armor. <<"Did I loose 'em?">> He asks.

Since Maireni and Grayson are now best friends -- whether Grayson knows this or not -- when the woman shrieks to shoot at the creatures, Mai hasn't the good sense to understand that it's probably a bad idea and instead goes into a panic. Others run, and while she low key scrambles off to the side, she's also aiming her blaster at the Garath to fire. Which she does, but the shot misses badly because she's a terrible shot and probably hasn't intentionally fired a weapon since the last time she went on an adventure with Corr. We don't need to talk about the unintentional incidents.

A miserable moan of self pity complains about this next turn of events as Netep lifts her head to acknowledge the redirected howl and shriek. She is so not going to outrun that. But maybe, just maybe, she can squeak between those monsta legs and still contami-sample the pool while plunging in to hide. Her gut tells her that up a tree is NOT the way to go, afterall. Claws = climb.

Muri's UP and on the move, charging a beeline for the angry fauna. It's a manuever that displays more courage than she's typically keen to show (maybe Exegol put things into perspective) but also it's a decision ripe with misplaced optimism. Fueled by precious O2. "I'M GONNA DO IT!!!" she announces with a bellowing roar as she runs, cackling what very well might be her last words, since when she tries to swerve right and take a dive past thundering limbs, the underground spring reveals itself in the form of mud. Slippery, slippery mud, veiled beneath that feathery soft flora.

Muri lands on her shoulder with a splat. Everything hurts. Least of all, her pride.

Everything goes sideways in the worst way.

The whole party scatters as directed, most of them running for cover, Muri running right at the ferocious beasts in a display of absolute and utter bravery/stupidity, the age-old combo, and flings herself down in grabbing range of the Garath, which she had previously so proudly identified. The enormous beast snatches her up by the foot and flings the little woman bodily through the air, where she goes flying through the oxygen-rich atmosphere to land in another pile of that spore-laden moss.

In the meantime, the Troglith, scales rattling like shields as it rushes forward on all four legs, bats at Ban like a feline toying with its meal. A shriek of fury rips from its fanged mouth as a blaster bolt smacks heavily into one of the scales on its shoulder, cracking the plate.

Corr's pistol smokes vaguely as he lets out another flurry of sneezes, the barrel flailing in a concerning variety of directions. "Do something!" he yells between 'choos'. It's not clear if he means further violence, or concocting some sort of harebrained scheme.

Grayson Oakfell knows it. And Maireni may not know it yet, but Grayson will enter willingly into this best friend arrangement. In fact, she already HAS. And with Marieni in there, shooting ish without thought (love it), and Corr takes his own shot without an argument, it can be said that Grayson, in this moment. Finds her place in the universe. Because at this very moment, in addition to her two loves (Maireni and Corr, in that order), Muri is doing the unthinkable, and getting her arse flung clear across into some moss.

Saved, yes, bruised ego? Very. And it's BEAUTIFUL.

So there she stands, like a beautiful idiot (Saj and her can bond later), watching the body as it soars through the air, soft honey brown eyes taking it all in. Mouth slightly agape, a horrible delight infusing into her features as eyebrows go up and air is sucked into her lungs when WOMP.

Then Corr yells at her (she has to assume so), mid-sneeze, and she whips out her pistol that she just bought earlier that day from a sports shop that caters to the rich and senseless. Look, the handle is gilded in gold, "Right, right, I am sorry Corr, I just .." She can't share with him the thing that makes her happy, because unfortunately, despite anything Gray thinks, Muri does have her uses and she is considered useful by Corr. Fine. FINE. She'll shoot.

Chaos. That's what this devolved to, and now it required action. Brought to this point, Aryn emerges from the hedge, casting her cape back, again, and pressing the stud to activate the Jedi weapon.

SNAP--HIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The blue blade's humming is only overshadowed by the loud ACHOOOOOOO! From Aryn, who uses the Troglith's momentary distraction from being shot to remove its weight bearing leg and drop it with a single swing of her weapon. The small blonde spins, swinging. The result has the beast falling over in thunderous defeat. As it kipped and whimpered, the Alderaanian hunter drove her weapon through its heart to ease its suffering in a second, concise blow. It grows still and quiet and the Jedi withdraws her weapon, lashing out now at the other threat and missing when it lunged to one side. Aryn moves after it, her lightsaber held at the defense! "Be quick about it!" She yells before sneezing again!

Ban Iskender sneezes once too often, hesitates a moment too long upon seeing Muri run.. straight at the beasts, for some reason? "Madam, no- that is a terrible- *ACHEW*" And that's when a Troglith hits him across the ribs sending him tumbling. Ban beings his feet back under him and didn't lose the sword, so that's something. "A bloody pox on this- *choo* damnable planet," he mumbled between teeth gritted in pain. The Troglith starts forward, before being swiftly dispatched by the glowing blue saber of Aryn, to whose side the soldier steps as she moves on to threaten the Garath, "Well struck, my Lady," he commends, the more common sword in his own hand striking the Garath, but to no effect.

Sajin sits up as he hears the snap hiss of Aryn's lightsaber. Some leaves from he Bushes (of love) fall off of his still spore ridden helmet. <<"ACCCCHOOO-we're fighting now?">> With what could only be describes as a cheer of glee that could only be rivled by prepubesent Anikan Skywalker's 'yippie' moment, the King of Drik rises from his sanctuary and charges forth. This just as the Troglodite? Trogdor! Troglith is felled by Princess Aryn. With minimal gear as is the fashion with his every day wear abord his YZ-775 and Royal Journies, his knuckles are bore with the finests duro-steel that can be molded. As the Garah is distracted by evading Lord Ban's sword strikes, he manages to take the beast by surprse, inflicting a hard and well placed uppercut to it's maw. Just as quickly, he strikes a right hook. A hay maker across the muzzle. <<"Be gone fowl beast! Ahah!">>

Do something. DO SOMETHING. Maireni definitely takes the order to do something as a command to shoot at the creatures more, because she's still operating on the order issued by her bestie. She's still doing that sideways scramble that doesn't exactly assist her in aiming all that well, but somehow the first shot fired at the Garath lands, further injuring the already injured creature. The second shot? It goes incredibly awry, because in her ill-advised scrambling her foot catches on some underbrush and she goes topping sideways with a dramatic 'AAAAAAAAAAH!' and a puff of perfume and glitter as she hits the ground, staying there as though she's injured more than her pride. Which really isn't all that injured either, because you need to feel embarrassment in order to injure your pride like this.

It was gonna be so great, guys. That cool, rejuvenating plunge into the pool of life...

Instead, Muri's layin like a lump in the mud of misery for the whole 1.6 seconds she's got to contemplate her thirty years of existance before the consequential fruit of her badly hashed plan is born. Kicking and screaming.

It's hard to hear what she's cried out from those instantly hoarse lungs when she goes sailing through the air, following a rough jerk up from her beloved ground into accursed moss, so much farther from the pool than she was before. It's insult to injury. SO much injury, by the way. Grayson's cloud nine experience has just been made /that/ much better by the muffled sounds of splintering bone and meaty thud that heralds Netep's return to Yelsain's bosom. She lays there in a stunned, possibly unconscious heap.

"Nnnngh." Not entirely unconscious, so the next round of sneezes hurt like nothing Muri's experienced before. Cept maybe when the dead guy punctured her spleen. Her backpack, meanwhile, enjoys a little more airtime before it lands nearish by. Miscellaneous contents litter the ground, including more booze, a pack of veggie crisps, handrolled smokesticks of unknown potency, and an adhesive grenade. Mm. That might've come in handy.

It's tough to focus on the nearby cig with twitchy nystagmus eyes, but they roll in that direction anyway. Wistful. One hand starts a painful journey in that direction, couple finger creeps at a time.

The odds of this ending peacefully were shattered with that pinecone, apparently, and once Aryn chops down the Troglith, it leaves the remaining predator with some serious reservations about the threat posed by these little folks. Sure, that one had been tossed with the greatest of ease, but Trogliths are tough opponents and there it lies dead.

Then Sajin's fists, wrapped in the finest durasteel money can buy, which is actually not that much finer than middling durasteel, crash into its face. That's what staring will get you. 'Begone' the Hapan demands, but the Garath refuses to be-get, and instead swings back, going mano a garatho with the scrappy fighter.

Corr emerges from the moss, trying deperately to stem the flood of sneezes that still comes chooing forth, and with an unsteady hand, squeezes off a shot at the thing, just barely managing to hit it before devolving into another fit, out of snot and now puffing dry air. It's not a nice sensation.

Grayson Oakfell tries not to shoot at Sajin, forced from looking at Muri to instead ensure she doesn't touch the pretty Hapan. Staying in the moss, crouched down and holding up her pistol she'll hold her breath. Squint her eyes. Pucker her lips. And shoot.

The shot pierces through the air, managing to hit the roaring Garath on his wee ear, severing it completely and no doubt adding to his rage. But look, Gray did! "Oh Goddess, Corr--" Sneezed on as Corr moves to leave her behind she's grimacing and glancing down at her suits left forearm, spittle and who knows what else, eyeing given to the muck, "Not an infection!" Huzzah! "Just an allergy reaction, that is what my guess is." Reassuringly called out after Corr as she holds her weapon up, waving it in the air to help counter balance her attempt to rise from the moss. PEW. Another shot, accidentally (so she'll say), which goes wide as she struggles to lean out of her kneeling position, the shot going wide, wide - completely and utterly missing Netep and any other on the team.

How fortuitous.

WHOOOOMPH!

Another miss!

Blaster fire flashes as the remaining creature is struck from each side. Its final moment concludes when Aryn drives her lightsaber through its mid-section. When it slumps over, dead, she draws the lightsaber free and deactivates it. The electric squeal is indicative of the blade retreating. It's clipped back to her belt and Aryn calls her knife to her hand in a practiced motion, kneeling down beside each creature to claim a pair of claws from both. They're stored in her satchel after a lot of sawing motions.. and sneezing.

Sajin moves like a Dactillion and stings like a Can-cell, better watch out for the King of Drik. (None of which really rhymes.) The Hapan jukes and juives out of the way of the Garath, almost tauntingly avoiding the beast. The primal rage it must feel as it continues to be assaulted from everywhere at once while missing the intended target of it's ire! The beast is slain though before the Martial ARtist can make any more advances on the Garath. <<"Now that wasn't so bad... ACHOOOOOO!">> He says with a fit of sneezin, hooking his metal knucked back onto the rig they hang from on the right side of his utility belt.

Everyone else is doing the fighting now, but Mai is done even before the last creature is dead. She hit it once, she's done her part, now it's time for a little rest before they go collect what is definitely magic-- OH YEAH. While there's some magic hoodoo and butchery happening, the Ryn is scrambling to her feet suddenly sans any injury that kept her on the ground, and trotting toward the water. "Hey, how do we know if it's got any of that magic in it?" she asks, pointing at the water while looking back at the group. She doesn't wait for an answer, and instead heads for the shallow pool to try and scoop up some of the water in a questionably clean hand and sip it to see if she can taste any hint of magic.

Almost...there....

It feels like forever, but while the rest of the explorer folk are fighting a real fight, Netep's taking comfort in this one, small victory. Or trying to, at least. The spicy stick gets drug through the moss and clumsily poked between lips. The immense wash of PAIN radiating from everywhichway - spine included - leaves her disinclined to move otherwise. Specially the head. This difficult task is done though, delivering the sweet taste of salvation to her tongue. It dissolves into the blood and slooooowly absorbs into membrane. S'not the way Netep would prefer to self-medicate, but it's going to have to do because her lighter is trapped in pants pocket, somewhere between dislocated hip and this lovely bed of moss.

Colorful lashes flutter closed and the little green disaster sinks evermore deeply into the black abyss. Till another series of helpless sneezes A) further splits her cracked rib cartiledge and B) ejects the cig from her mouth. Woe is Muri.

With both of the carnivorous beasts dead and reduced to meat, the explorers are left to lick their wounds and approach the pool at the center of the clearing. Though beautiful as before and lit by that soft glow of sunlight, it's hard to look at it in quite the same way. Still, Corr leads the others up to the placid water, where a spring bubbles up from the earth, over a few rocks, and chuckles down into the small natural well, like a puddle, really, but slightly deeper.

"This /has/ to be it," he murmurs, dropping to his knees next to the oasis in the forest and slips his hands into the water, cupping some to his face and drawing a deep draught from the cool clear source.

A long moment passes, and the light of epiphany dawns on his spore-speckled face.

"I don't feel no different."

The water is returned to the pool with a splash, and then his canteen is roughly shoved beneath the surface to collect some. "We'll take it back for further testing, anyrate, and uh, you're all welcome to have your fill. Bathe in it, maybe. I don't know how it works." Straightening up, he caps the canteen. "Far as I'm concerned, this is it until somebody proves it isn't."

Muri is over there threatening to die, or whatever, and that can't be allowed, no one has died on one of these yet! "Grayson, I'm gonna need you to make sure she doesn't die before we get out of here." With the charge given, the Explorers are free to sample as they will, pack up, and head home!

Another successful mission! Sort of.