Log:Explorer's Guild: Kafrene Cultists

Explorer's Guild: Kafrene Cultists

OOC Date: September 27, 2018
Location: Kafrene
Participants: Explorer's Guild: Corr Waldin, Netep Muri, Sajin, Yoska Lash, and Siha Archer with Special First Time Guest Star Idan Jensa

KAFRENE

The Ring of Kafrene is a dark and shadowy place, and really no one should be surprised to learn that an occult group meets here. One look out the viewport on the approach to this mining colony and den of iniquity should make that much crystal clear. The other half of the city juts down from the sky above as the explorers are led along by their guide, a thin, wiry old bothan named Hodic Trey'ya.

"Now, everything will be fine as long as you do exactly as you're told," the elder bothan is saying as they walk along through the dirty streets. He's got a tote bag with him full of velveteen hooded robes in a deep shade of purple. Angling down a crampt, particularly filthy alley, he stops at the door of an abandoned warehouse, because where else was this going to end up? Reaching into his bag, he divvies out a robe to each of the explorers. "Put these on. One size fits all. Don't ask me how that works, because it doesn't work, it's marketing for one size that fits none."

Obediently, Corr dons the robe, pulling the hood up over his head and looking around at the others seriously from under its outsized canopy. "Now we don't know how much of this we're gonna be able to observe," he stipulates to the others, while Hodic is busy tapping a secret knock combination on the door. Tap tap. Tappa tap tap tap. Tap. "Just put on your robes and go along with whatever goes down in here. Hodic's got a line on a galactic conspiracy and we're just tryin' t'learn more about it tonight, we're not here to kill these guys or, uh, you know... kill 'em. Try not to kill 'em. We're not here to fight." The look of resignation on Corr's face right now communicates that he knows that at least one person here is not going to get that message, no matter how many times it's repeated.

Oof. Pass out in one place, wake up in another. Not typically as real a problem as it's laughed to be, unless you're on the Ring. For one so intellectual, Muri oft overlooks this fact of Outpost life until...Until she's standing in a doorway staring across the street at a row of shanties that weren't there when she popped in for 'just a smoke'. Shavit.

Fortunately, Netep Muri has zero qualms about striking up conversation with /anyone/ so it's not too long before she'd navigated the mess back to where she'd meant to be waiting in the first place. Right? Right. The procession led by Waldin and his elderly Bothan is spotted emerging from the aft docking bay and Muri shimmy shuffles her way through a throng of people to catch up to them and trail along like she'd been there the whoooooole time.

"Affirmative," Muri says from under a confusing heap of EIGHT SIZES TOO BIG. When her face does reappear, it's sweating.

Sajin is looking fat... really fat in that robe that he wears because of the armor he is wearing. The hood darkens his face just enough that he is having trouble seeing. Eapecially with how dark Kafrene already is. "You guys are still here right?" He asks.

Yoska Lash is decked out, as per expedition usual, in light armor, a ridiculous amount of jewelry, and now, a purple robe. "Doooope," he praises the purple velveteen, and pulls it on, immediately disappearing into its depths. The hem is too long. The sleeves are too long. It is not configured for a tail. "I am gonna do EVERYTHING somebody tells me to do, ya feel me? You ain't never even SEEN how obedient I can be. I am gonna be the cultiest cult member that ever culted. Dr Girlfriend!" Netep Muri. "Tell me to do something I'm gonna demonstrate, yah! Except don't tell me to shut up, I'm not doing that."

Siha Archer is in full mando gear. And no one told her to come dressed 'casual', and even if they did, this is her casual. She had been enjoying time in the Eight leggedy Lady and at the pre-agreed time made her appearance where she was told. "So this is going to be a complete waste of my skills tonight." Siha grouses as she takes said robe, eyeballing it through her t-visor a moment before it's tossed up over her head and outfitted atop her armor, t-visor looking out from beneath the deep cowl. Hands will daintily smooth it over her thighs and hips, a sound smack given to her arse in as she smirks unseen beneath her helmet, "Fine, no killing, Waldin. Unless I'm provoked." A glance to Sajin, right hand lifting to pull back her hood to eyeball him a long moment, vox'd voice ringing out, "Yeah, I think."

Idan Jensa, a skinny little Neimoidian, removes his large, squarish hat in order to draw the purple robe on over his smaller, nicer clothing. "I.. understand," he answers Corr evenly. Promptly drawing a hood over his head to avoid leaving it bare for long, he slips hands into the opposite sleeve. "As disguises go, it could be much worse," he murmurs. Sizing up the Humongous Hapan, and excitable Yoshka, Idan gives a flat, resigned sigh. "We're doomed," he opines.

Corr spends a minute looking around at his band of adventurers in their very effective disguises. So effective. "...you all look great," he decides reluctantly, apparently not willing to die on the hill of 'you can't wear armor and expect them not to see through these disguises'. "Real mystical. 'specially you, Yoska, you're- you're a little too good at this, I'm startin' to wonder if it was a mistake to bring you out here."

Before he can expound on that thought, Hodic is hurrying back over, having donned his own robe. His fits perfectly, the old goat, and he too doesn't seem to mind that the explorers look semi-ridiculous. "Excellent, we've been allowed entrance. Prepare yourselves: a meeting of the Piitu Daanu is no place for the feint of heart," he warns in his thin, reedy voice, turning back to lead the way into the warehouse.

The area inside is dark, lit only dimly by shafts of light that proceed from on high, cracks in the walls, knocked-out ceiling panels, and so on. In the pool of each source of light, an icon has been set, whether a carving of a beast, a shrunken head, a cryptic sigil, a pile of bones, what have you, there's a number of them scattered about. In the distance, the sound of chanting can be heard faintly in the close, musty air, while a vague scent of incense begins to creep out towards them.

"B--" Cultist Muri narrows her eyes at Yoska and wags a finger with a hooded nod. "I'll think of something else," she mutters and looks between poor, poor Sajin and the dour Neimoidian. "I know it seems that way, but we've come through more delicate situations with our heads." She beams a totally trustworthy smile. A smile that promptly fades when they do have to actually go inside and witness Piitu Daanu doing presumably dark and manipulative things. Muri keeps her head bowed and lips sealed, face doing its best to relax into a completely impassive stare like she's about to join the Brotherhood of Beatific Countenance and not... whatever this is.

Sajin reaches out and finds Sihas face and starts to moosh her cheeks together. "Oh there you are... lemme follow you."

"Hahaha, RIGHT?" Yoska preens at Corr's praise, praise that is definitely sincere. "I like the Ring of Kafrene though, yah, I stowed away here once! I mean... I was going somewhere else, I dunno, I forget, but they found us and threw us on out when refueling on the Ring of Kafrene SOOO it was basically the same as going here on purpose, yah. I had some good times here. I went to jail like twice in three months and this guy taught me how to do prison tattoos, so like, if you want a tattoo, I am SUPER down, I just need--" The Ryn kid shuts up half a moment to listen to Netep try to reassure the Neimoidian, and then lifts his hood a little bit to look at Idan. "No but we're actually doomed," he promises, then up-down-up checks out the blob of robes that is this unknown companion. "...in case we don't die though, what're you doin later?" He proceeds to walk along Netep in the darkness. He steps on the hem of her robes periodically, and pauses to make some kind of hand gesture at the pile of bones. A sign against EVIL, maybe.

Siha Archer's armored cheeks do not squish, but she appreciates the thought, "Of course, Beanie Weanie Sajin-eenie." Said quietly through the t-visored helmet, those amazingly rich smells not reaching past the filter on her helmet. She will, helpfully, take Sajin by the robed forearm of whichever arm he prefers, to lead him forwards as Yoska yammers on. As she leads she takes the atmosphere in, and the tiny heads, "Oh my goddesses how cute are those tiny heads." Whispered to Sajin, Siha stepping along in time to the beat of the chanting, hips even swaying a bit. Catchy.

Idan Jensa tilts his hooded head to a skeptical angle as Corr tries to claim they look good. Slight shoulders rise and fall with another sigh. "Too late for second thoughts, at any rate," he decides quietly, in response to Muri's assurances. A short, dry, "Pah," answers Yoshka. "Cancelling my order of a coffin," he answers, deadpan. He walks smoothly in the long robes, at least. Well used to such garments he does that 'sliding step' thing where he just glides forward, each individual step invisible. Hooded head high, crossed hands concealed in sleeves in front of his abdomen, he tries to look the part.

After making their way through the 'foyer' of sorts, the explorers, led by Hodic, their bothan guide to the occult, enter through a narrow doorway that opens up the inside of the warehouse to reveal the proper place of ritual. The ceiling soars to its full height, candles lining the walls that gutter and dart as drafts continually move through the rickety old building. Assembled are a host of robe-clad figures, the same purple velveteen that Hodic passed out in the alley, and the chants of the throng fill the room with some unknown language (maybe; if you're a linguist, there's a chance it's recognizable).

Smoke billows up from a number of diffusers on the central stage that stands at the head of the crowd, maybe forty strong, and a robed figure, this one ornamented with a mantle of filigreed gold, faces the entrance from their elevated position. Around the neck hangs a medallion bearing the sign of a blue eye.

"Brothers and sisters!" it booms in an abrupt, loud voice. "Ohhhh brothers, ye who bear strong the seed of our calling; oh sisters, ye whose issuance brings life and beauty into this world; OH NEUTER, ye who neither claim nor accept these frail forms but stand apart to lead us forth with neither bias nor prejudice; we have gathered TODAY so that we may act out our ancient rites, and thus secure the powers we wield for another cycle. BEHOL-" it starts to cry, throwing its hands up, but something stops them halfway as the adventurers start trying to sneak in the back. "These secrets are not for the uninitiated," the figure fusses, mussing at the hems of his sleeves. "Come forward."

The crowd begins to mull suspiciously, a few murmurs going up from around the room. Hodic has faded away somehow, nowhere to be seen for direction, so Corr just goes along with it, heading up towards the stage.

Of course the Bothan is gone. Of course he is. Muri scowls darkly under the shadow of her cowl whilst maintaining /very/ close proximity now to curse-battling Yoska during their obligatory shufflemarch forward like the new kids in class. Strong seed? Life and beauty? Ancient Rites? Mmmmmmm...Netep's head tips a few degrees to one side, then the other, daring to take a closer look at the mumblers as they draw nearer. Is this a sex cult? Is it okay if she was 'initiated' in the wee hours of the morning? Those horrible thoughts and some actually useful ones float around in her brain while following the leader. The chant sounds disturbingly familiar and she CANNOT place any particular sect or people to its language. Like maybe that was one memory drowned by the slurry of her afterhour hobbies. It'll come to her, surely. Hopefully before they're all splayed on some altar.

Someone left? Sajin didn't even know. His helmet wasn't engaged because he was doing his best not to look like a creepy red eyed robot while in this robe. Good thing the formfitter was formfitting though. Has Siha leads him along, he shuffles and scuffles his feet along, looking around like he can't quite make out what's going on. "Heads, tiny heads?" He wispers back to Siha, "I don't see them, where?" And that's when he bumps into an alter or table, steadying himself. "Ah... sorry." He appologises before turning to pay attention, rather listen to the ceremony.

Yoska Lash is entranced. His many-ringed hands lift to peek up out of the hood for a moment and he stares at the gilded leader with clear and obvious Filagreed Gold Mantle Lust. Swept away in the cadence of the words, brothers, sisters, neuter, he briefly glances towards his belt as though suddenly wondering to which glorious category he belongs. Yoyo then gasps as the leader speaks to them, and even more, beckons them closer. "Siha. Siha. SIHA," the Ryn kid whispers importantly at their Team Mando as they walk, and then smooths his velveteen. "I dunno what is it they got in mind but my body is ready, yah." When is it not. Speaking of, Idan is cancelling coffin orders as an answer to what he's doing later, and Yoska finger-guns at him. "That's weird, but I'm into it."

Siha Archer tries to mull suspiciously, too. While trying to answer Sajin, "One of those." Said as she reaches out a robed hand to reach out and flick a head of hair on one of the shrunken heads, but not before she's called out. Both by Yoska and then the man at the front. She'll tilt her helmeted head towards the Ryn, nodding softly, "Oh yeah, totally, so is mine. They wanna try to plant some seeds? Goooooood luck, suckers, this uterus has been stabbed so many times it's basically just a wrinkled up storage pouch." WHISPERED. TO YOSKA. Even as she begins to shuffle forwards. Bringing Sajin with her.

Idan Jensa returns to the Ryn, flat, "Yes, optimism could rightly be called 'weird' at present." Then they're in. The Neimoidian doesn't startle when the big talker in the fancier robe calls for the 'uninitiated' to come forward. Instead, he tries to do what their guide did: get some distance, and blend in with the forty-odd other robed figures present. Idan's only comment is kept low, under his breath: "Gold filigree is wasted on cheap cloth. Clearly these 'secrets' are not sartorial."

When the explorers line up along the front of the stage, the figure with its mantle and medallion steps forward, descending a set of rickety steps to the floor, gloved fingers wrapping around the medallion with its blue eye and lifting it high. Standing in front of first Corr and then working his way down the row, the figure drops its head forward so that only the eye of the medallion can see. "No!" Then Muri. "No!" Then Sajin. "Yes!" Then Yoska. "No! You nor any of the tiny ones you bear with you!" Then Siha. "No!" And finally, Idan. "Yes!" The medallion is returned reverently to chest level. "Too many. Too many of you are unclean. You must be purified."

"purified, purified, Purified. Purified. PURIFIED. PURIFIED." The chant starts as a whisper and rises to a crescendo as from the shadows, robed figures roll out six drums onto the stage, drumsticks that are literally the fleshy drumsticks of some large bird deposited on the drumskins. "Now! Purify yourselves with the beat of Badi'kaj'ma'na!" A sweeping hand indicates the drums.

Corr stands there staring at the stage for a few seconds before it sinks in that they're meant to get up there and play on them, or... something, and he takes the first step, heading up onto the platform and filing down to the last drum on the stage where he drops onto his arse, one hand holding his hood in place, and takes up the drumsticks. They're cold, and a little wet. "Here goes nothin'," he mutters, and begins to timidly tap away.

"Badi'kaj'ma'na!" Netep echoes exhuberantly, eyes wide with a little more panic than genuine enthusiasm as she shoots a glance back to her other unclean friends. She creeps over to inspect one of the drums and sucks in a thin breath between teeth to bolster her courage, then wilts gracefully to her knees, robes puddling about, and gingerly takes up the yucky meat sticks in hand. Right. Badikajmana. She frowns aside at Corr's piddly little tiptaps then takes her chances with performing at a MUCH greater volume. BA-DA-Splat-DA-dun-THUN - and suddenly she's short a drumstick. It's slipped while on the rebound from the drum and shot straight out her hand to roll a short, sticky ways across the stage. Whoopsie.

"Ah.." she clears her throat and scoots around to crawl over and retrieve it. "'scuse."

Sajin stumbles his blind ass over towards a Drum as he can sort of see a little bit of what's going on. He lets Siha go first though, still being guided by her. He feels around for the drum and finds the stick. He lifts the back end so the head is still resting on the drum head. The end of the drum stick is right at his crotch. With the other hand he lifts up the head side and then lets it drop. BOOOM. He repeats this completely out of sink with anyone or anythings beat. BOOOM... BOOOM... He lifts it really high up this time, the striking head almost to his chest, then lets it fall. With a crippling crack, the drum head breaks and the stick falls all the way through. "Ah... oh... uhm..." Sajin starts to reach inside the drum, his upper body going inside. "Where did my stick go?" One can imagine he's feeling around. Sadly, that stick punctured through the bottom and rolled away so the blind bastards will never find it. He attemps to remove himself from the broken drum but is stuck. He pushes and pushes, but won't get out. With one final grunt and push he rises to an upright position... with the entire drum still atop of him. He turns right, then left. "Ah... drek..." His voice echo's muffled a bit inside the drum. He starts walking in a direction, hitting a wall with sounds the drumb and shakes him to his core. "Oooowww."

Yoska is not a shy performer. Ryn are renowned the galaxy over as buskers of one sort or another, usually in an effort to scam people out of money somehow, but nonetheless, he seems intimidated by the sudden spotlight not at all. He's not batting an eye at the drumsticks either, and boppity bop bop bops them against the drum. He was doing okay (not great) but soon loses his grip on the slippery things, and they squirt out of his ringed hands, much as Netep's betrayed her. He immediately changes tactics, throwing back his velveteen hood.

"Unclean, unclean! That's kind of mean Unkind of you to say! But you ain't incorrect, I seen this wreck And we don't know the way But I'll bend the knee to your gold filagree Cause you're lookin HELL OF dope Get me pure I want your cure I'm a brother here to hope I don't understand but I'm your man From head to lucky coin I've been around, I'm super down Soooo tell me how to join."

Yoska beams, ignoring the plight of his comrades. "Yah?" He's so into this cult. "Where do I sign?"

Hurr hurr hurr. As they're forced to perform Siha will stand there in front of her drum, with her meaty bird leg. A glance to either side as she watches her compatriots do their thing, horribly, and all the while she'll stand and watch. As Sajin gets stuck INSIDE the drum, she plucks up those delicious sticks of meat, moving to follow Sajin as she ratta-tat-tats on his drum as he walks, Siha playing the little drummer girl. Completely ..without rhythm, but she puts her all into it, smacking his drum on the sides, jumping up to hit the top of the drum, or the bottom given how he came to wear it, hips shimmying from side to side, the girl of color possessing not an iota of rhythm. And she doesn't care. RAPPA TAP TAP, she'll even get some smacks in to Sajins' backside with a lean back away from him mid-step, riffing out a fun little ditty on those muscled booty loafs. She's not helping. But, their cover is blown, right? So why not enjoy it.

Idan Jensa was not able to slip away. "Of course," he grumbles when drums are rolled out, with the... upper leg of some dead animal placed atop it. Clinging to the feeble scraps of his dignity as the others begin beating on the drums, flinging sticks, smashing and then WEARING drums, and... being Yoshka, Idan picks up a drumstick. He looks at it, sighs again, shakes his hooded head sadly and tries to hit the drum a few times, adding a curious vocal punctuation to give a rythmic beat alongside the Ryn's exuberance: "...doomed. ...Doomed. ...Doomed."

While the rest of the gang is engaged in their various levels of terrible playing, Corr is just sitting there innocently in front of his drum, tip-tapping it gently, like he's just getting the drumskin and the drumsticks nicely acquainted. Hello there Mister Drumskin. Meet the Brothers Drumamozov.

The crowd is less than pleased with the antics of these unclean initiates, however, and the chant begins anew, however this time the word has altered. "sacri-fice. sacri-fice. Sacri-fice. SACRI FICE. SACRI FICE. SACRIFICE! SACRIFICE!"

With a shout, the manteled figure throws his hands aloft, sleeves falling back to the elbow. "Oh, Children of the Undying Carapace! Behold our ritual power and bring down WRATH on these defilers!"

On the far wall, something happens. A panel shoots back, a cloth is pulled away, or maybe the window is generated spontaneously by the mystic abilities of the Manteled One and his Blue Eye- it's hard to say. Whatever the mechanism, a massive window is revealed, and light from without pours into the chamber, flooding the stage, blinding in its sudden appearance. Simultaneously, the stage hinges down, collapsing beneath the explorers and dropping them into darkness, only to lock back up atop them.

The plunge is a good ten feet onto an unpadded surface. Everything is dark.

"Badi'kaj'ma'na...Badi'kaj'ma'na..." Like it's going to jog a memory that honestly might not even exist. With so many dialects in many more languages, some originating from cultures long extinct, they sometimes just run together in one's head. Certain accents associated with this or that region of the rim can lead a linguist to guess in a pinch but this is a pretty tight pinch and they're on center stage and the crowd is angry and - and - and...

A sharp gasp brightens Netep's face with the dawning light of epiphany just fractions of a second before the stage is gone and so are they. "Esh-khaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...." into the darkness she cries her victorious lock on the anthropological nugget until the sudden WHUMP of floor silences her with a painful clacking of jaw.

Sajin is so dizzy and discombobulated from Siha knocking on his broken rum that he's stuck inside that he just keeps circling around and stumbling. "Halp... halp..." He says loudly, muffled inside the confined space, the bulk of his armor not allowing him any freeding. Then suddenly, he's dropping. "AHHHHHHHHH!" He screams until he hits the gound. There's a large cracking sound as he's consumed by complete darkness. Broken bones? Well his wrist light comes on and the sound of the tiney gears assembling his helmet can be heard echoing in the chamber. The night vision and thermal scanning on his tracking system come to life. Then his helmet beam light comes on to illuminat things for others along with the wrist light. It would seem that cracking noise was in fact the drum shattering, breaking his fall. Lucky dumb fool. "What the hell is going on?"

The narrow light of Sajin's helmet beam is only enough to really illuminate one thing at a time, although the residual does spread just slightly around the chamber they've fallen into. As his head moves around, different sights are revealed; skeletons, mostly, of various species, many of them garbed in tattered robes, and- oh, one of them is not dead. "Seekers?" a voice hisses, hand lifting to shield sensitive eyes from the harsh glow, the horned head of a Zabrak peeking out from behind it. "You are found unworthy as well?"

"Defilers!" Yoska gasps, raising one hand with 5 fingers and no fewer than 8 rings to clutch his pearls (fake gold chains). "Rude?!" he replies, aghast, but doesn't have time to say more. Cause then they're falling from such great heights. He falls, falls, falls, and almost lands with a nice little roll, other than that he rolls into a wall with an "OW," flailing around in the robes to right himself. Yoyo proceeds to sit there glaring upwards, radiating insulted dignity, tail puffed out like a frightened woolamander. "I wrote a SONG for you, devil people!" He pulls out a pistol, checking its ammo as he gets to his feet. He is not shedding his robe, but he is belting it up so that it stays put better and looks like a sassy maxi dress.

The Zabrak appears and Yoska startles, but then shrugs extravagantly, one hand still waving the pistol around. "WHATEVER, hater, sorry you're garbage but they threw me down here cause I was TOO worthy, ya feel me? They were like o daaannng what's this, and I was like, LASH FAM, WUT, and they were like o daannnngggg pull the trapdoor or else the party's gonna get UN. REAL. up in this Ring." That is not how it happened. "Neimoidian, where you at, get the doom chant going again, that was great backup."

"Shavit ..help." Siha whispers in a pained strangled voice from within her helmet, the sudden fall causing a sickening crack as she lands on her left hip, shattering or cracking a vertebrae or two in her lower back, her pelvic bone having been cracked. The fall had been sudden and she hadn't the time to anticipate how to fall. A strangled cry will erupt from her as she tries to move her torso to sit up, sprawled on her side with one leg popped out of it's hip join thus angled awkwardly, hand slapping up to silence the vox box on her helmet to allow her to scream, silently, in pain, holding her body as still as possible as filaments of pain wrack her broken body. A slight shake to her shoulders and a drop of her head against this pits flooring is indication that she might still be making noise within the helmet.

Idan Jensa lands awkwardly, crumbling onto the floor with a groan. "Do you.. often perform this sort of 'exploration'?" he complains in the general direction he expects Corr to have fallen in. Finding some solace in their downfall he mutters, "No more need to hide," and brings out his hat from inside the robes, finding it sadly crumpled by the fall. With another signature sigh, he perches the battered article back on his head. Climbing back to his feet with an audible wince, he notes drolly to the Zabrak, "So it seems. Though any who waste gold filigree on velveteen are clearly of suspect judgement. I would sniff in disdain, had I a nose." Then Ryn gotta Ryn, and the Neimoidian answers, "*sigh* ...Doomed. ...Doomed. ...Doomed-" Siha's clear agony interrupts the beat. "The Mandalorian clearly needs a medic.." He looks around for the guy in charge.

"The way you say that, I kinda feel like I should say no," Corr admits to Idan as he pulls himself upright off the floor, carefully orienting his joints in their proper directions, neck giving a little crackle as he rolls it around experimentally, opting too to remain in the robes. Maybe it doubles as a holocaust cloak. "But I'm gonna be honest with you, it goes like this a lot of the time." A moment of silence there. "Like, more'n I'm proud to say to you. But it's all good," the leader assures him glancing over at the Zabrak. "What're you in for?"

"I was found unworthy, like yourselves," the Zabrak replies, black and yellow face staring at them, still blinking in the light of Sajin's headlamp. "But... I have had a revelation. A sacrifice to purify my soul, and render me clean enough to join those above..." A wicked smile starts to form, pointed teeth looking practically demonic as he pulls a weapon, leveling it at Sajin, "Illumined One! Prepare to bathe my spirit in everlasting light!"

"Yeah, this is par for the course," Corr murmurs, staring, fumbling at his robe, trying to get to his own gun somewhere beneath.

"Awfer..." Netep grunts and peels herself off this nasty floor. "Nothing pure about those righteous bastards...sides, how much cleansing can you do using a coward's way out, eh? Got no muscle of your own, hidin behind some stupid gun?" She is drawn to the beam of Sajin's soothing light but also doesn't really want to see what, or who, she is crawling over down her. Her nose tells her enough. "Siha?". Muri no medic, but she cares. There's a chance they're all gonna die in this hole anyway, so may as well boost her karma for the end. Netep crawls out of her robes as she fumbles over to the broken Mando and asks "Where should I NOT touch you?"

"Oh no, Sihanana!" Sajin exclaims as he watches and hears his dear friend writh in pain. He's at her side almost instantly. "Behbay... are you okay?" Of course she's not okay you big dumb pretty loser. Though his attention is taken from Siha as the Zabrak starts talking dirty to him. He stands slowly from his kneeling, "Wait... what?" As soon as that gun comes out, Sajin is grabbing his and he dosn't ask questions. Like before Han Solo got pussified by re-edits in the special edition, this sexy Hapan fires first. Two shots right in a row. PAPOW PAPOW. Nothing like the sound of a heavy blaster pistol in the small confines of a room filled with dead people. Yeah...

"Can you not?" Yoska whines at the Zabrak talking about illuminated everlasting light, but then it seems to hit him that Siha is hurt, really hurt, and he stops, uncertain, like a little kid who just lost his mom in the mall. "Siha?" Yoyo asks uncertainly, followed by, "...Siha? You gotta be okay, cause -- cause, I mean, I don't know how to fly yet? You still have to teach me to fly," he rambles uncertainly, and then turns on the deranged seeker, whirling around to point the gun at the Zabrak that Sajin has helpfully illuminated. "Shut I'm talkin' at Siha!" Yoska yells over Sajin's fire, and then adds his own.

Yoska Lash is yelling at the dude, not Sajin. Sajin is life.

Sajin <3

Siha Archer wants to be shooting things, but even twitching her toes has her reeling in pain. So she just lays there, listening to the sweet, sweet sound of Yoska and Sajin shooting at the Deranged Seeker. Muri's words have Siha ever so slowly, and gingerly, reaching up to tap back on the sound on her helmet. Boop. "Just ..shoot me. Like in my brain hole." Whispered out through gritted teeth, a spasm rocking through her, Siha tapping again so she can gruntingly cry. The barely mammal is ..slightly more mammal in this moment. It's weird how pain receptors work. She responds to Yoska, after a long moment, going on and waxing poetic about him, saying so many nice things about him and his future, but they all go unheard. Even the small toot she passes causes her to writhe in pain which just makes things worse, helmet capturing those cries. But ..But.. Sajin and Yoska have made her SO PROUD. And Idan, werll. He said she needs a medic, so no doubt she sprung some choice, but kind words towards him. Likely ending in KILL ME.

Idan Jensa pauses a moment as Corr answers him frankly. "...Fair enough." When the Zabrak gets stupid, flurries of motion erupt, and the blasters start roaring, the Neimoidian stands very still. With a sardonic edge he notes, "Well. Blaster bolts are hardly everlasting, but that is one way to bathe a spirit in light. Fine shooting, gentlemen. Now.." A glance back at Corr, "Ah- we don't have a medic, do we?" he asks in a flat tone that sounds like he knows the answer.

"Great," Corr announces, in an ambigious tone that isn't really clear whether he's being sarcastic or not. Maybe both. "That's that taken care of. I guess tonight we learned this particular cult's got a trap door and calls it magical power," he reasons, rubbing his hands on the velveteen robe. It's seriously so soft, guys. Idan's question draws his attention again, and he starts to feel sheepish, again. "Well, we /did/ have a medic, but we took 'im down in a lava tube and after the magma worms attacked he never came around no more. Plus I lost my canteen on that job," the man adds, voice twinging more on the bit about the canteen. "Anyone see a way out of here? They got medics out there." It would make sense for Corr to have a flashlight and yet he doesn't pull one out.

"If nothing else, we've learned that there is some small truth to Horic's theory," Netep says like this is going to bring everyone comfort. Because why else did they come?? "Shame he didn't stick with us to learn it," she huffs softly and leans in, hands-off, to whisper "I'm not going to shoot you" to Siha, then fidgets around on her belt till out pops the tiniest little baby light that's really better suited to find one's boots in the dark under the bed than a way out of a dungeon of indeterminate size.

"Esh-kha - that's the language I /think/ they were speakin when we first came in. So either they're related to those legendarily hideous people of body and soul or they worship their ideology of galactic domination and extermination of everything that isn't them." A pause as Muri comes across a directional, wide smudge of rust-colored grime. She follows the trail. "Really didn't go well for them, as stories tell it. Don't ask for the details though, cause I don't much remember all the bits I hear." A pause. "Of some things." Maybe rambling makes her feel better, because the initial tremor in her voice is starting to even out in a low "Mmm...." of thoughtful promise. What she's following is a pretty regular trail, it seems. Evenly stained, nearly straight... "Is that a door down there?"

"Yeah I think there's a door." Sajin says as Netep points it out, though he's a little busy trying to pick up Siha, disocated hip and all. He seems to be struggling, "Yeesh, Siha, did you gain a couple pounds. I mean. I thought your butt looked a bit more donk than it usually does..."

"It's a door down there," Yoska agrees with Sajin and Netep, in a tone like he's pretty sure everyone can see the door, why wouldn't they see the door? He was down to let Sajin carry Siha, but then that doesn't work out, so he helps out by squirming around to support her under the arm, trying to lift her out, and whining the whole time. "Siiihaaaaaaa oh my goooooddddssss your armor weighs a thousand pouunndddsss your helmet alone weighs more than Fennix, whyyyyyyy, okay, up, slowly, AH, GODS, YOU ARE GONNA SQUISH ME, you know what guys, we need a new medic and Corr needs a canteen. Not in that order. Though, it's not as good as the old canteen. Uaahhh, so heavy, this is like that swamp all over again, innit Siha, except you're dead and Hopp's not here making us harvest drugs. Speaking of. You wanna buy some Marcan herb later? I have some daaaaaaaank."

Siha Archer's helmet remains off, likely a good thing, because as Sajin tries to pick her up she screams bloody murder, but ..man. A spot in her heart just grows wild for Yoska right now. She is being saved by him. Like actually saved. And it might be only because she is teaching him to fly, but she'll take it. Shock. Shock is a beautiful thing and she slips into it easily, her body electrified. Finally a flick of her hand and a breath, low throaty noise, maybe a laugh, "Heh ..you ..you ..you my friend ..." Like she's teasing him or making fun of him for the fact. HAHA. YOU HER FRAND. "Butt donk .." Snnkt. Flop. Pure dead weight. Other than her arm around the Ryns' shoulder holding tight. That she can control. Sorta. Maybe. Or it's just nerve reflex from the pain.

Idan Jensa lets out another sigh- seriously, maybe Neimoidians just breathe like that? Because damn, Idan sighs a lot. "I see. Mister Waldin, if I may hazard a wild guess, do you happen to be without an.. administrative assistant?" When talk turns to shooting Siha, he suggests to Yoska, "Perhaps you should shoot the Mandalorian, before moving her. For the pain. Stun! Stun, I meant shoot her with a stun!" he amends quickly.

You can't sense Siha's disappointment at the suggestion of only being stunned. BUT IT'S THERE. Frrrt.

"I happen to be without a lot of things, Idan," Corr replies sagely, with a short nod. "A good canteen bein' chief among 'em, but we all got our struggles. And uh. If she hears you talkin' like that, you'll be without a few things too." He glances down in the direction of the door as the others collect Siha to move her out towards a medic. "That'll be our path to freedom then. I'm gonna see if I can track down our buddy Hodic, see if I can get an explanation on why he left us high and dry to fail the initiation 'n whatnot. You fellas get her to a doctor." It's a straightforward plan, and luckily the exit door is unguarded, likely because it exits out into a dumpster, for convenience when disposing of bodies, and the gang has to climb out of that, but from there, it's home free.

Another job... complete.