Log:Explorer's Guild: Rooting Around Raxus

Rooting Around Raxus

OOC Date: August 31, 2021
Location: Raxus Prime
Participants: Netep Muri(GM), Corr Waldin, Nerys Greystorm, Aryn Cortess, Ysabel Rist, Xavier Harcourt, Khalim, Mandl, Chani Tahn, Explorer's Guild

Once upon a time, Raxus Prime was know as the Circlet of Tion, a luscious world of warm lagoons, beautiful architecture, wealth and pleasure. Over a span of many millenia, its infrastructure and role in the Outer Rim and beyond would undergo a drastic makeover that did not lessen its infamy, so much as give it a new face.

Oh, how beauty is fleeting. Oxidation, like time, comes for one and all, and now Raxus Prime is known as the Garbage Pit of the galaxy.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) there are still those in tune with history and see the ruined planet not for what it is now, but what it used to be. A bonafide gem, rich in forgotten culture. Somewhere under these mountains of droids (whole and scrap), vehicles (mostly scrap), ship scrap, fuel injectors, ion chargers, power converters, miscellaneous cables, couplings, coils, bolts and bits, forgotten lunch (ew), projector pieces, conduit, long lost boots, outdated navcomps, junky buckets, depleted powercells, and crusty rags lies real treasure and THAT is why the Explorers Guild has been called upon.

According to Netep Muri's smiling face, anyway, in the message she'd broadcast far and wide to all known associates. Presently, that tiny piece of intellectual, human-ish trash appears at-home in her surroundings, tromping through a gently sloping field of garbage with as ungraceful a gait as a woman could muster. An amalgam of small, metallic debris trails along after her, clumped around the heels of her boots in a telltale show of magnetism. She's passively collecting a treasure trove of forgotten articles with her every step, pacing idle tracks between her powered down V-35 Courier and a rickety junk hauler hovering nearby. Muri should probably deactivate her maglocks.

"This is our spot!" she calls out, hand raised to wave at those assembling. HOW did they get here? A few landspeeders of questionable quality were left outside the Hermi, watched over by a Muri droid, marked for ExG use and equipped with trackers. The GPS beacon affixed to Muri's V-35 Courier continues to blip a merry shade of green from its hood. "Just park, uh, y'know. Anywhere what looks semi stable. Like maybe on the barge?" It's an option, left for their own deciding. "But don't step or drive over this here...area!" Muri looks to the direction of her vague gesturing, face screwed into a squint. Or grimace. "It's a long way down." Over that heat-scored rim of fused garbage is an apparent entryway to hell or some massive burrow.

Nerys, who had been more than happy to make use of one of the semi-rental speeders, pulled to a halt along one of the few flat areas on the once barge, stepping down from her seat, and moving to immediately check about her person. Best to ensure one had everything one needed before departed relative safety. A hand patted the ID 10 droid secured to her backpack before she began the trek over towards where Muri appeared to be waiting for them. "Are we abseiling down into the bowels of the planet?" These were the sorts of things one needed to know.

Shifting in the heavier armour, Xavier looks over to Mandl; a tilt of regard with his helmeted head. "Well met, my new friend. Fortuitous that you had one that would fit me. I'm not quite sure what I expected when Netep invited me along on one of her group's 'expeditions'--" The helmet looks around at the acid environment around him. "But it certainly was not this."

She had said something about a factory. Research. University? Perhaps he had thought they were going to some kind of deteriorating library? Pulling the glove tighter onto his left hand, Xavier hums briefly in contemplation. "It is possible I misunderstood, I suppose."

He's watching Netep with the most attention: considering she's about the only one on this missions he's met. Even the pear-hued pilot that gave him a lift is a stranger, though a quick hyperjump is enough to make the most polite if not vague of acquaintances. To the others present, he keeps his ears open. Never hurts to meet a new face... even if he can't see most of any of them. And he definitely doesn't want to have any long falls.

Mandl would've hitched a ride, mind, with anyone rocking a spare seat. At the edge of the crater they pause, considering what lies below. "Maybe the Smasher suit would've been a more fitting loan. But then again, I've been caught without mag-locks and a sealed atmosphere when they'd be handy? Can't have everything, I suppose."

The galaxy, in its many presentations, never ceases to amaze Chani Tahn with its ability to show her the new meaning of disgusting. She's been to a handful of bogs by now, but nothing like an entire planet turned scrap heap. The air itself seems greasy with too much old oil, or maybe whatever chemicals coalesce in the atmosphere just lend an unnatural humidity to the place. An idle glance passes to her right thumb and index finger, which brush sides together as if to test the friction between them. She can't decide if she's imagining the viscous clamminess of one against the other or if it's a real thing. Leaving behind the barge and the vehicle which brought her here, Chani hesitates to step into the literal trash pit surrounding it.

"This is where Doctor Tiq marked for excavation? It looks like it's already been excavated." Chani resists the urge to lift her hand and check to ensure that her slicked back, dark hair remains unbothered. The last thing she wants at the moment is to touch anything if she's honest with herself. Adjusting the set of her shoulders and the feyd-cloth robe fit loosely over and mostly covering cream garments beneath it, Chani's weight shifts from one brown leather boot to the other, and her gaze casts itself wider in some ignorant and unfocused attempt to survey what she's looking at. Too many things draw the eye. It's impossible to fixate on one thing among the mass. Her nose wrinkles. It stinks, too. She's a long way from Naboo and although not noble, maybe just a bit of that clean living privilege is shining through. She has much to learn.

Khalim's steps are more hesitant, less careful than perhaps... concerned. Though there's no tell-tale magnetic drag of tiny bits of a trash-world detritus, not like Muri's wade, there are crunches as each footfall serves to further disintegrate, well, whatever it is that 'underfoot' used to be. Leaving a rickety Muri-sourced landspeeder behind, the Mirialan slowly makes his way towards his green-hued compatriot. Green of hair, if not exactly skin.

When within Lorrdian earshot, he calls out, "This is going to be a memorable picnic." Those nearby receive extra bits of attention, Nerys in the form of a raised hand. Xavier and Mandl, nearer, receiving a brief sidelong glance as a suit of heavy armor is tested and found suitable - was that a pun? Khalim really doesn't know. Probably not. "Do we have the proper permits for planet bowel abseiling? Abseilment?"

Ysabel hitched a ride from the starport on one of the rented speeder's. She didn't wear the sealed armor many of the others wore, but she was completely covered, with sturdy gloves, hearty boots, and a masked re-breather. She hopped out of the speeder and smiled readily to those present. She glanced towards Netep. "My but she brings us to the loveliest places." What a first impression!

Aryn steps free of the ride and adjusts her cape, then pulls her hood up over the protective breathing apparatus she's brought along to save her senses. She has been to Raxus before, and according to her, it nearly killed her! Returning went against the advice of her counsel, but she came anyway; Aryn was not one to be swayed from attending an Explorer's Guild outing! Aryn stays off to the side until they have some guidance on where to go, exactly. She's seasoned enough to know that someone has to go first, and it ain't her. "Do be mindful of the chemical puddles. It has a rather nasty side effect. Thankfully, I brought some neutralizer with me /this time./"

Careening in at an unsafe speed on one of the rentals, Corr lashes out with a boot at the brake but misses it twice before finally catching the lever, stopping just short of Muri's magic 'area'. "Whew," he murmurs, taking a look over the handlebars at the view and supressing a shudder. "Wouldn'ta been good." A leg swings over the side, and he gathers himself, thumbs running under the straps of his backpack, hand patting at his canteen on his belt and then the blaster pistol happily strapped to his thigh.

"Lemme guess: that's where we're headed," he guesses, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the 'area' as he turns to face the rest of the assembled crew, hiking up his belt in the process. These things ride down where they should stay up and up where they should stay down on a speeder drive. "Some new faces here, and as leader of this outfit, I feel obliged to say we're not liable. Not for you being here, not for whatever happens in there, not for any effects on your offspring. Not liable." He glances at Muri, fingertips dragging across his chin with a bristly scratch. "They signed the waivers, yeah?"

He shrugs. "Course they did. Welcome aboard! Muri's got some fun in store for us, and uh, nobody's ever died yet, least not that could be directly tied to our expeditions." Reassuring, just like the smile-lines crinkling the corners of his eyes. His mouth is smiling too, but he has a scarf pulled up over it.

"Right, so in a minute...ehm.." Muri staggers a half step aside, reaching for her right foot to pull - nope, not comin loose - "in a minute, LEE ought'a have our way down secured." A slow motion lurch backwards puts her on her ass and gives her the stability she needs to deactivate boots and lose the clingers. One hand directs Nerys' query to the junk hauler she'd just disembarked from - a dilapidated barge that looks like it's a few loose bolts away from retiring to the scrap heap. Atop it are a few cranks and pulleys of varying size rigged up to a crane on the front and and tow cables on the back. It's the back half that 'Lee' - a LE repair droid - is servicing amid a shower of welding sparks. "It's on loan, but uh...figure a few modifications won't be too terrible a breach of contract. If anything, we've added value."

A snort over shoulder aims her scoff Khalim-ward. Ish. She's clumsily climbing to her feet now, doing a thorough job of priming her void suit with grease and whatever else she's sat in. Best not to dwell. "S'look like the sort of place where y'need a permit? If'n Adu could poke about, we've as much right. Least half a right."

Corr's near-death cruise earns a casual upnod and uptick of green brow from his pint-sized 'captain' of this expedition. "Y'know it." About the area, that is. The waivers? Well. A subtle headshake and dismissive hand wave gets flashed to those looking, behind his back. "Anyhow, yes. New faces. Fer those of you not yet acquainted, I'd like to introduce Xavier, Ysabel," pointed at with a gloved finger respectively. "New-to-us talent, but they'll get their cut o'the earnings, same as all. Now. 'Bout that hole...yeah." A fingergun to Chani. "It's been bored. Not sure how far it goes, though. Doc Tiq didn't get the chance to probe its depths or contents, due to some technical...y'know it?s old history really, point is we're goin in to finish the job, report back. We've got the cable, enough to fish a deep sea, and if anyone's forgotten their supplemental O2, flashlight, emergency hooch, holler now and I'll toss you a spare set." And with that said, she clambers on over to the butt end of that barge to where a metal yoke now hangs from one of the pulleys. Behind it is a contender for planet's biggest reel of braided cable.

As each of the members of the expedition arrived, Nerys looked to each face, noting those she knew, sometimes with a lift of the hand in greeting if they were too far off, and making note of those that she didn't. Thankfully, she was not so close to Netep that she risked being run down by a poorly drive speeder bike. or perhaps it was alas. She might have gotten the injuries out of the way ahead of schedule.

Once the sitrep was given, it was time to do what every explorer likes to do, and Nerys got into line to be lowered down into the bore. She activated the lanp on her armor as she went, getting a good look at the walls and the way ahead as she went.

"Can't say I've done many spacewalks anytime recently," Xavier replies to the bith in an amalgamation of dialects that can only be called an 'accent' if one doesn't mind torturing the term into submission. "But it does quite well to keep the smell out and for that I am most grateful." Who would have thought that a trip off Nar Shaddaa would be worse than staying on it? "I will endeavour it is returned to you in almost the same condition it has been lended. A fee can likely be discussed later."

A hand raises to Khalim in greeting. Afterall, one stays friendly to the guy that flew you here in the off-chance one wants a ride back. A voice nearby makes his ears twitch a little and he turns to see Ysabel. Ah! Another familiar face. Xavier is preparing to approach during Netep's explanation and gets nearly there when he and she are called out as the new blood. "Always nice to feel welcome, mmm?" He certainly never saw a waiver.

Mandl nods to Xavier, more accustomed to rappelling than one might assume a rather mild-mannered Bith was. But they do mention time spent in mineshafts, so perhaps that's it. "Is no worry," the reply to Xavier. "I've not been a Wayward for many, many years-- I'm glad to see the suit still works." They crane their neck looking for the others, either a habit of miners or free-climbers-- or maybe it's 'check who you're chucking into the blender first. If it comes to that.'

Those introduced by Netep are given cursory glances. Chani's appraisal of the individuals is brief, as they neither need her approval nor anything else from her. It's an act of familiarization. "Nice to meet you." As nice as it can be given their current circumstances. Departing the barge and stepping into the muck, Chani follows Netep to the massive braided cable and its many yokes. With nothing more for it, the young Naboo native allows those ahead of her to join the queue into the dark depths. She goes when its her turn, and descends to where the light doesn't touch any longer. Chani studies the warped and fused wall passing near her. The remnants of whatever was used to bore this hole is nothing but melted materials bonded together through heat.

That barge steals Khalim's attention, and doesn't let go. There's a look something like 'incredulity' before a dark brown gaze is dispatched to Nerys. "I'm trying to remember anything we've done that involved the field repair of an actual trash mound." A hint of a smile? Could be, and it's swiveled to the rest of those present. Some known. Others newly met. Corr in particular receives an appraising glance and an upnod. "No liability. Fair. But... parking validation? The droid fleets here seem awfully picky about who lands where."

As the party moves to join Muri, the Mirialan's stare shifts from that hanging yoke up to the massive spool of braided cable. Was it too an amalgamation of Rexus treasure, melted and patched and coiled? Having reached more solid ground, in the form of the barge's durasteel plating - still strong despite the years and countless trips around the system's yellow, possibly dwarf, star - Khalim takes the moments necessary to check the integrity of his armor, the fit of his small, tightly strapped assault pack (erm, explorer's pack), and finally, a hand palms the grip of the Mandaltech blaster slung at an armored waist.

He looks down, over the side, then to the yoke. "This thing still goes in reverse as well. You've tried. Right?" He looks to Muri. "Right?"

Awaiting no answer, he steps out, and follows Chani down into the depths.

Ysabel turns as Aryn warns about the puddle "Hello, High-" She starts warmly, but then Netep is calling them out. The young woman turns, smiling behind her masked breather. At least it shows in her eyes. She pageant waves with her gloved hand to those gathered. She offers a saucy wink to Chani before the other woman starts down the cable. She then looks at Xavier with a laugh. "Garbage dump. Great way to make a first impression."

Quips doled out, Ysabel heads for the pulley system and gives the man before her a bit before following the Mirialan down. "Just, don't kick, or stop suddenly." She calls ahead of her to Khalim.

"Fair met," Offers the posh doctor standing to one side, her comments intended for the new faces. Aryn dips her head slightly to Ysabel, then straightens again; a response to Ysabel's greeting. Her attention is claimed by the LE droid named 'Lee', and Aryn begins to quietly wonder just how they were going to be lowered into the crust of this dangerous world. When Netep prompts them to check their gear, Aryn switches on her wrist light, then turns it off when she's seen it works. Her breathing device is working, so she feels good about that! "Was there any mention of what may be exhumed?"

Tromping along with the rest, Corr steps up onto the loader and hooks onto the winch the same as everyone else does, without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Of course she checked it," he assures Khalim, looking over to Muri with a raised eyebrow that quietly says 'you checked it, right?' Then he positions himself on the edge, backside facing the void, and takes an easy step over the side.

"Guess they must've used some kinda energy beam to carve this out, either that or it just got really hot in here from the friction of it," he surmises based on very little expertise and a modicum of common sense. "The good stuff would be at the bottom, then, I reckon, unless we're going to try to crack through this here and pull things out of the wall." The man blinks a few times as he lowers further, frowning slightly. "Which, you know, I guess could work. Doesn't seem practical though."

"Ancient infrastructure from this rock's glory days," Muri answers Aryn while snugging the straps of her backpack. "It ready?" She asks of the laboring droid, head tipped back what little bit it can before the collar of her suit's seal gets in the way. Presently, she's got her helmet OFF, still, clipped to the gravity belt buckled snugly around waist. Just above utility belt. So many belts. Compared to Nar Shaddaa, the air quality is a bit harsh. But compared to Balosar? It's lovely.

And when the two-thumbs-up is given? In they go, Khalim's question about the equipment's ability to go in reverse goes pointedly unanswered. Each explorer is given a loop through which to secure their own, smaller ascension line, three persons per yoke, which puts three explorers not quite shoulder to shoulder, spaced about 5 meters ahead of the next three behind. It's a somewhat awkward arrangement, sure, one that can literally go sideways, coordination fails pending, but the mechanism doesn't descend any faster than a gimp's walking pace, so there's that. As for Muri? She's linked into that first one. Helmet gets fitted into place, life support systems awake and on standby, with a light supply of O2 filtering in with the fan-drawn, ambient air. Her suit's lamp likewise shines to life and she gives each boot a solid stomp to activate those maglocks before tipping over the edge into their 80-ish degree descent. The yoke is nothing but a safety precaution...for now.

"All right, easy does it..." Muri mumbles, keeping pace with those sharing her bar. Her left hand - her strong hand - maintains a loose grip on her personal line while her right draws the pistol from belt to flit across the chasm now and again, illuminating more than just her dead-ahead. Layers upon layers of millenia of molten scrap. That's what stands between them and unimaginable crushing power of collapsing trash. "So uh...according to what few notes Tiq did send me of this site, s'gonna be awhile 'fore we near anything close to a 'bottom', I think. If uh...if nature calls, I've got some bags I can pass up so as t'be kind to those ahead of you, but here's hopin y'all went before you left the ships!" Muri clears her throat softly, is quiet for about fifteen seconds, then queries over comm "Any song requests? Jokes?"

Cuz it's gonna be a long trek. About four hours of this, to be precise. If you'd like to shoot her, now's your chance, but just be prepared to carry the dead weight awhile.

Nerys settled herself into her hitch, securing her line as she adjusted her weight. Once the reel began to play out, she kept one hand on the line and the other reaching out to touch this or that on the wall. her helmeted head turned left and right, splashing its light against the bore walls, not quite on a swivel, but it was clear she was keeping track of the two others on her level of the line, just in case there was any struggling to help with. As for Bitty, she turned her head to look down, using what sensors she had that did not require light to function. If there was anything to report back, it was not obvious. For the explorer, it was a long, and mostly silent travail down into the darkness.

Xavier walks over to the edge of the pit with a particular lack of concern. It's possible he doesn't know enough about this place to be wary of crumbling edges and whatnot. In fact, that is quite likely. As the others start to make their way down, the man sighs heavily through his rebreather. "Can't smoke in these damn things."

And down he goes with the others: hand over hand and down down down. "I know quite a few songs," he offers in between a grunt or two of effort. Upper body strength is a bit rusty but holding, at least. "Granted, they're all stage musicals and the like. Plus my voice has given out over the years. Doesn't sell tickets anymore, let me tell you." But some day. Some day.

Mandl has practice, but is in a new-to-them suit of armor, and adjustments are natural. They fumble a few times, although a thorough regimen of diet and exercise lets them catch their mistakes before making anyone else pay. "Never have I descended a cliff of-- ehm-- scorched plastic before. Each day a new adventure. Each smell a pungent memory."

"This is a test of patience." Chani's murmur is spoken at such a low volume that it's probably meant for herself, but she says it aloud regardless. With nothing to do but descend, she attempts to divorce her mind from the uncomfortable position and the squeeze of the ascension line. It's a balancing act of keeping her mind both clear and not wandering, because while she does need to suppress any sense of unease about how long this is supposed to take, she also needs to stay alert enough to pay attention and not drift so far into the realm of daydreaming that it becomes dangerous. So it continues, foot after foot in their journey towards.. something. Hopefully something worth it. Hopefully something at all.

Despite the thrust nozzles of the jetpack integrated into the plasteel back of Khalim's armor, he rides down this deathtrap contraption like a boy at the fair. Behind a plasteel visor, the Mirialan can't help the grin that escapes as the party descends. Down, and down, and yet further, until light ceases to fall, and he's left with little more than that sensation of movement, as he simply exists between the clustered forms of those to his left and right. Presumably, Ysabel and Chani.

"Why does this feel as if we're being offered in sacrifice." Khalim's voice comes digitally enhanced by his helmet's integrated vocoder.

Despite the absence of natural light down here, there's just enough ambient illumination from a swaying pocket torch, aimed below, for Khalim's helmet to give him a green-tinged view of onrushing depths. Corr's presumption, that this delve was probably made possible by a beam-cutter of some sorts, high powered and massive, seems more plausible by the hundred-meter.

Muri's question draws a muffled chuckle. "There once was a dancer from Taris..." The rest is muffled, perhaps thankfully. There was something about a coin bounced off a, actually, yeah pretty muffled.

Ysabel settles in with the other two explorers that share her yoke. Her booted feet slip and slide a bit as she starts her descent, but she manages to hold on so far. Hopefully, she doesn't dislodge anything to crumble and fall from the bored through the junk. "Watch out below," She calls to those to the trio that's gone before them.

She then looks to Chani and Khalim, laughing at the Mirialn's quip. "Well, I'm not ready to be anyone's lunch. " She then added, about the dancer from Taris... "Who's hips could.. really jar us?" She said uncertainly. She had no helm, speaking around her masked breather. She did have comms though, to keep her connected to the others.

Placed into the yoke and harness, Aryn allows herself a moment to breathe. Her nerves were always tested when she was younger and practicing rope climbs and descent with her family. Trusting the equipment was the biggest challenge, but trusting Muri who arranged for the equipment made it just a little more difficult.

In they go, and Aryn is not much worse for wear. She focuses on the task at hand and idly waves her high-beam wrist light around to take a look at all this...garbage. "There is technology available to recycle at the molecular level. One might think to engage in such operations here if one day they hope to make something more of this world."

"Any of you ever been fishing?" Corr wonders aloud as they slowly descend, dangling on the end of a line hooked to a reel. "You know, with a pole and a hook. And bait, on the end of a string. And you dangle it out in the water until somethin' takes a bite?"

He glances at Aryn next to him as she says something very smart, brow crinkling. "How is that even possible?" The man shakes his head, wobbling the line they're on. Science is magic. "Anyway, back to the fishing thing. I am feeling /real/ baitlike right now, and I'm pretty sure singing is the trash-cave equivalent of a spinner lure."

Xavier's admission to having some musical talent earns a low but drawn out gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasp from Muri and you can /hear/ the gears turning in brain. Khalim and Ysabel's liberties about a certain /dancer/ from /Taris/ elicit a mild snort from her before she can start up with one of her own though, and she admits "Those hips were very lovely.." le sigh. "Sure, plenty of stuff gets recycled here. What the plants don't process, the garbage worms do. Reduce starships down to pellets, they can! S'pretty amazing, really." As for the prospect of being flashy bait on a lure in a giant hole that's larger than any recorded diameter of said garbage worm, Muri's tone doesn't convey concern. "Sides....only ears what'll hear sounds t'come from this gob are yours. Helmet's sealed!"

At some point over the next few hours, there's a lil diddy that Muri sings about mynocks that lilts with some lulls between verses like she's making it up as she goes.

"Oh, I want to blast me some mynock My power has dropped half its worth Blast me some slag-kriffin mynock They'll ruin my ship 'time I berth

They've chewed holes through half of my wires They've leached power from my rear shield If I'm to escape from this asteroid It's war that I'll bring till they yield.

I'll cook them in stew until tender I'll cook them till black on the fire For the ones who are small Make a bill awful tall If I let them slip from my sight...

Oh I'm gonna blast me some mynocks 'Fore they get my reactor coooore For if that should blow It would be such a show That'd echo on ever mooooore..."

Much like the sound of their bootfalls as they become swallowed up by the dark and time and distance cease to have meaning. At some point, though...

"Woah!" Muri shouts, in part because her step landed on a less metallic surface - heap of poylmer - and she had to rely on the line moreso than her footing, but ALSO because their radiant beams of 'wtf are we' aimed ahead indicate that there is a slight shift in steepness and possible material change as this gargantuan tunnel spills into something greater and the 80 degree slope becomes a 90 degree drop into nothing. <<"Lee, halt the crank.">> And to the rest "We uh...." she peers over the edge, shining a light. "Skrag, I think we're here. Wherever 'here' is. Okay. Okay everyone should have a good fifty meters of personal line, yeah? Let's see how far that gets us to bottom. I'd rather not risk these rokes getting hung up on this edge on return trip, y'copy?"

Nerys Jerks slightly, as the reel which had been playing out the line they were all attached to cranked to a halt. Hrm. A glance down, as if to gauge her proximity to her own particular patch of ground, and Nerys nodded to herself. It did not take very long to uncouple herself from the yoke she had been supported in, Bitty turning her head back around to look up towards the top of the shaft that not even the keenest of eyes could see. "Let's see how far this gets me." And then she began to play out her personal line, climbing down hand under hand, keeping the length of the line wrapped around one of her legs. Down, down, down she goes, until...Nerys released the line, clearing her leg and landing with an almost flip that got her free of the ones still to come. "One down," the crunching underfoot gave it away. "Moving clear."

It started out as a joke. A jape. A jest. This was not the time or the place to sing. But as time ticked by and Muri's own diddy sparked the flame, Xavier starts humming to himself. A tune: one of many that swim around his mind that his voice used to carry. The hum tunes into a few muttered lines. "Yet I can't bear to sleep..."

The further down they go, the more the song continues. Jagged in its pace as if the lyrics were coming to him slowly from a fog. "Weeks pass... months pass..." It's not a terrible voice, either. Unrefined from years of neglect but the vocal chords seem to react from muscle memory. A vibrato tries to come to life. "And in a haze... I count the silent days... Till I hear--!"

It's difficult to tell what just happened, but it involves a lot of slipping. A lot of nearly falling too fast. And some very dignified -- no, really -- flailing. What's important to note is that Xavier does not fall to his timely death and drag two others with him. And that climbing and singing don't mix.

Just in time for them to reach wherever 'here' is and Xavier looks around to see various spots of light from everyone's light sources and the rest is....? "Copy?"

Mandl handles their line smoothly, coming with a gentle *clip-clop* to rest on solid ground. Solid-ish. "Clear, over. On-belay, Chani, copy. Over."

Reaching the bottom in the second trio of explorers-turned-archaeologists, Chani misplaces her booted foot against the makeshift platform and almost goes spilling right off into the incline when she tries to settle her weight down off the line and dislodges a loose piece of ragged-infused debris. Sucking in a loud, sharp breath, Chani's situation is dangerous for the second it takes to regain her footing and utilize both hands on the rope to keep her from tipping over and either winding up stabbed by some jagged edge or tumbling right off the ledge that Muri has discovered as their resting spot between one descent and the next. Chani lets out a long, slow exhale after catching herself and isn't too proud to keep one hand hovering near the line.

As the reel jerks to a stop, Khalim sways into his companions, plasteel against plasteel in light raps of met plate. Fifty meters of personal line. Khalim hears that and looks down, handheld light giving what he sees that distinct green hue. <"I can't see the bottom, but... there's a lot of space here, and we didn't exactly bring a floodlight.>

Boots meet with the slight slope of that makeshift platform, and Khalim shifts his weight more fully into that step. Just as he begins to move clear he catches sight of Chani nearly loosing her footing, that bit of detritus falling into nothing. Before he can dart a hand out she's recovered, and he offers a low, vocoder-colored, "You got it? Ground's not exactly stable here, is it."

The Mirialan steps back and away, clearing space for those that follow. He kneels and seems to cock his head as if listening.

As they get to the last little bit of their descent, something goes terribly wrong. Ysabel starts feeding out her personal line, and making the rest of the climb. She's still a good bit above their target, as the others clear the floor below the. Her hands get twisted up in her line. She scrambles against the wall, attempting to catch herself. "Krifff," She begins, as she starts slipping far more quickly than she can control.

"Through science, Mr. Waldin," Aryn remarks, her tone hinting at a satisfied grin. When things become precarious for Lady Ysabel, Aryn shines her light in the direction which she heard the not-so-elegant expletive. "Oh no!" That's all Aryn could manage to say as she tried to anchor herself in place, anticipating a sudden shift in the yoke and harness that might send them way off course. Aryn isn't of the frame of mind to draw on the Force and save Ysabel. Something else will have to mitigate this hazard.

Corr has rappelled like this many times, and it shows. "Science is magic," he announces, descending with all the grace of one of those spinner lures he talked about, effortlessly twisting about on the end of the line without a care in the world, other than those lingering feelings of 'baititude', and when they reach the change in angle after far too many showtunes, he adjusts easily. The harness sits comfortably around his waist, feet settling on the wall and ready to maneuver the rest of the way in.

The toppling woman behind him goes completely unnoticed until Aryn's outcry, and he merely reaches back with an almost casual hand and grabs her by the collar. "Watch your hands," he advises, roughly tugs her by that collar back to a spot in line with him and Aryn. "That's what the buddy system is for. I mean, there's three of us. But the buddy system's more of an ideal than a hard limit."

"Oh-frink-ffft" The middleman between Nerys and Muri goes slip-slipping a bit too fast and Netep swings herself over to pluck at his line with a sturdily gloved palm just once to interrupt the freefall as he goes. It's just a hiccup, really, trying to break up momentum so they didn't have to scrape him off the floor later. Her own descent is soon to follow, barely ahead of the feet behind her, and she zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz at a pace which toes the line of TOO FAST. As emphasized by her grunt on the finishing end.

Disgruntled knees and hips are soon forgotten though, when Muri turns about to sweep her light over the wonderous expanse they've landed in. Cavern of wonders or pit of despair? The determination's yet to be made. A much more reverent sounding Muri can be heard over comms now as she breathes "well, strike me dumb..." from within the confines of her helmet. The suit's pushing much more O2 now to make up for the stale air and currently reads <<52 percent>> which means her spare cannister will certainly come into play, later. It's a long way up, afterall. "This is...hey! Hey there's--this is iT! This has got to be IT!!!" a bit pitchy, this suddenly giddy Muri and she hops a few feet free from the LZ after fumbling herself free of clip. Around then, signs of civilization are more than evident. They're all-encompassing. From patterned tiles under layers of dust and debris to the statues reaching for the half-crumbled dome overhead. "HOT DAMN, we MADE IT! HAH! He's gonna...hahaaaa....he's gonna be servin ME caf." What?

"Everybody in one piece?" she and her suitlamp turn about, taking stock. "If you can walk, fan out, let's do a little snooping before we head up. Make as detailed a list as we can, yeah?" And as for Muri, she pulls out a little recording device and begins to tinker with it. "Waldin - hey Waldin!" As Muri already starts to wander off like a kid in a toy store. "We should've brought the Audiotizer 3--" which version was it? "3400!" Or something. The vid recorder is aimed back toward those descending the last bits into this archeological dreamland.

"I'm fine. We're both fine." Just in case anyone was asking. But as for Nerys herself, she was soon off and away from the group, moving to do what they had just waited over four hours to do, and she got to rooting around. Bitty helped too, little droid fingers pulling up this odd thing and that, as they moved. And then, a pause, "Looks like some old clothes here. Silk, but crumbling away to--" And then Nerys paused again, "Looks like we're not the only ones down here. I've got some scat here. Garbage worm, if I had to hazard a guess."

Searching around in the darkness, a beam of light to guide him, Xavier is strangely at home here. A peace. It might even stink a little less here, as well. He almost forgets he is here looking for.. what is it he's even looking for? Valuable things? To whom?

Something does catch his eye. Kneeling down, he brushes the dirt and such away and brings up a hard, hexagonal item. Turning it this way and that, he rotates the glass-like thing no bigger than a large serving plate with a curious tilt of his head. "Mmmm... pretty sure this is organic. Some kind shell of an animal?" He knocks on it with his gloved knuckles.

Mandl reveals an actual gemstone amid the detritus, nodding as they identify it to themselves with a mutter. It is stowed in a pocket for later inspection, perhaps beneath a properly-powered microscope. "... hnh, save you for later." They upchin, finally? "Everyone survive? Shall we plot our way back up?"

"I'm good." Chani is mid-affirmation when the commotion of another of their party suffering misfortune catches her attention and provokes her head upwards to where they're coming from. Watching Ysabel slip from the rope and begin descending far faster than she should is enough to make her muscles clench up. Her mind races to calculate some sort of solution in the small window of time she has to react, but before she can even put thought to action, Corr reaches out to catch her. Another audible sigh escapes Chani's parted lips, and the tension in her shoulders bleeds away in some subtle symbol of relaxing. Not much, though. "All I see are statues and.. I don't know what those are." She could illuminate the area if she wanted, but she instead focuses on not becoming a liability to the group by slipping up a second time.

Khalim moves away from the group, taking up his own vector of search, torch held to fore and swept about. As he walks, boots stirring dust and bits of strewn detritus accumulated over millenia, something catches his eye. Half buried, propped at an angle, a small object reflects the Mirialan's handheld light. Curiosity draws the man, and he takes a knee before it. Gently withdrawn, Khalim holds up and inspects a platter-sized object, hexagonal in structure and seemingly glass-like. "I have no idea what this is, but it's kind of pretty." He shines his light at angles, creating a little light display as rays are diffused and reflected.

Ysabel squawks in an undignified manner as her collar is suddenly pulled up short, halting her far too rapid descent. She looks aside to Aryn and Corr as she once more comes into line with them. "Ah, thank you," She says to Corr, in a rather grave tone, given the situation.

Once they make the bottom she unhooks herself from her line, still a bit shaken. AS the others wander off to find treasure, she stays near the lines, scuffing a boot in the dust. Seeing something etched in the design of the hidden tiles, she kneels. She then calls out to the others, via comms, not certain how far afield everyone has gone. <"Anyone knows what 'xer' means?">

"My commendations for superb reflexes, Mr. Waldin." By this point, Aryn's boot soles set down firmly upon the ground and she stretches. Disconnecting from the descending line, Aryn will follow the prompt to fan out. When Nerys says they're not alone, Aryn's first reaction is to pull back her cape and reveal the curved silver hilt on her hip. It is not drawn up, yet, but now she has it at the ready should something require she draw it.

Her attention pans out over the ruins, and whilst walking, Aryn trips over something and falls down. Shining her light to figure out the culprit, she reveals a half-buried Droid Stun Rifle. Though, to Aryn, it just looks like any old blaster. "There is a discard weapon here!" She leaves it in the ground for now, not wanting to disturb it any further than it's already been. She had no use for a rifle, and she doubted anyone else did either.

"Just doin' what anyone else would've done," Corr replies with a shrug, offering Ysabel a smile that is almost totally masked by the scarf and the darkness. It's the thought that counts, right?

With the way ahead clear, he moves down to the flat zone with the others, grateful to find something more substantial under his feet than empty air. "This is more like it," the explorer remarks, giving the ground a good stomp. A love stomp. "Audiotizer... 3100, wasn't it, Muri?" he questions absently in return as he meanders in, turning things over with the toe of his boot here and there as he goes before finding a pile of junk that really speaks to him. Knees creeping gradually towards middle-age creak with some protest as he kneels down to root around, unearthing something.... "Shiny."

"Well, what you got here is, uh, well, you know. It's a thing, is what it is. A gear thing, big gear thing. I know what gears are, and this is a good example of a big one," Corr continues helpfully, dragging one out with a metallic crash as something on top falls loose. "Metal ones. At least, I think it's metal," he adds suspiciously, tapping the side of the gear. "They got some real tricky plastoid these days though. Looks almost like it. This feels like metal though. I think. I mean, it's cold, the plastoid wouldn't be... I guess it could be cold. But this is the kind of cold that metal is." SCIENCE IS MAGIC

"Garbage worms. Yeah...I figured." Muri's assessment comes over comm after she drops her beam of light from what Xavier has got in his hands, lending credit to Nerys's findings of poo. "Probably spilled over from topside. Place this size" she turns in a slow circle, shuffling feet as she goes. "could house one, if one happened to fall in, I guess. But my guess is it'd have bored its way out. Eventually. Which would...well. Very much destabilize this entire structure, so. Odds are in our favor of not encountering one. Least. Not a LARGE one." There's a note of doubt there in her ending of sentence, but as more findings - SHINY findings - are turned up, she quickly forgets about the worms.

"Xer?" Muri drifts curiously toward Ysabel but trips over a little thing on the way. She goes down without protest, so accustomed to clumsy oopses that it's taken in stride. Broken stride. "Oh, hey...BX series!" She holds a rusted remnant of a droid's vocabulator up before tossing it over her shoulder. "Yeah, I think a bunch of junk just fell in here as things shifted around out there, y'know? I mean, it IS a bit like a garbage chute. Literal---" and she's hushed by a gleam of something UNDER that vocabulator, where the dust had been smudged by her trip-up. "Mmm...something other than tile under foot over here, it's big?" And begins hastily sweeping it clear, trying to unearth whatever's there. A massive, flat, dust-covered shard of greenish metal is what it's appearing to be...

"There's letters engraved here. Waldin. Did you say you found gears?"

Mandl says, "Your gears are aurodium and vanadium, Waldin-- too big to go into anything our size."

Nerys, who looked up from where Bitty was still sifting around the area they were working in. "The only Xer I can think of in relation to this planet..." Nerys frowned, mentally rifling through her stack of useless facts, "Warlord Xer VIII, of the Kingdom of Cron. Raxus was a part of that kingdom," she continued, as she headed over towards where Netep said she'd uncovered something big, hunkering down to help her get a better look at it. "But that was some 25,000 years ago." She swept with her hands, using them to clear as well as to get a sense of what was beneath. It was a flat shard of metal, gently curved, into which hand-sized letters has been etched, "More lettering...k-a-t-o"

Xavier looks over toward Jolly Green Khalim as the man finds an object similar to his. No, not similar. "Identical." Then there Nerys and the excrement. Dropping the hexagonal 'shell', Xavier removes his helmet with both hands and moves slowly, cautiously away from the group. Not far but enough to strain his ears.

It's tickling the back of his neck: that uneasy feeling. Just out of his reach to grasp but real enough to draw him. Brown eyes close. Brows knit. Something.... His head turns slightly and the corner of his mouth pulls upwards. Slowly... slowly...

"Silence." The word is hissed out in a command though if heard is one thing. If obeyed is another. "I hear something." The wrinkles of his face creasing, he reaches for the handle of the slugthrower at his waist and starts to look overhead. "A scraping. Do you hear?"

Mandl, too, is somewhat wrapped in the mystery of Corr's gears. *Scientists,* never paying attention except to the hypotheses running constantly through their multiple brains, amirite? "Could a species of mechanical life have evolved independently here?" Mandl peers at the floor for further evidence!

That glass-like hexagonal artifact is lowered back down to the ground, and Khalim shifts his explorations towards places he sees others investigating their own findings. Ysabel's finding of an engraved floor tile has him joining and lowering to smooth away dirt and debris, but he shakes his head. "I'm not even sure what language that is. Could be aurabesh? But..."

Xavier's exhortation to silence draws the Mirialan's attention. Something about the man's posture, and a suddenly too-serious aspect to the man's visage has Khalim's danger sense tingling as well, if only by extension. A gloved hand rests upon a hip-holstered blaster as his attention shifts to track wherever it is Xavier might be looking.

That blaster is sloooooowly withdrawn, a secondary motion to Khalim's own attempts to listen for... scraping, or anything else out of the ordinary.

Ysabel leaves her little region, though she riffles through her backpack and marks the tiles with.. a shoe. Well, it works in a pinch. She makes mental note to retrieve the shoe before they leave. That's one of her expensive running shoes, after all. Crossing over to where Nerys and Netep work, Ysabel kneels to dust off some more tiles. "Oh, here.. 'm-a-c-h-i'." She leans back, to see if the lettering is lined in any significant manner. She hears nothing, focused on dusting.

"Well, that's the thing, Mandl, I don't know that they couldn't," Corr replies, looking down at the gear which has been confirmed as... "Those are metals, right?" There's some huffle about scuffles, and jabber about letters, but what's really important is that Corr was right. "I thought it was metal. It feels like it. You just get that cold metal sense off 'em." Satisfied, he pulls his canteen from his belt, uncorking the top and tugging down the mask on his face, choking back a gag, and then takes a swig, hurriedly replacing the scarf. "A race of giant geared people just sounds like droids, though."

Quiet? Never. Muri's too engrossed in the frenzy of unearthing whatever this is that she, Ysabel, and Nerys are busy pondering. Of course, engrossed Muri IS a quiet Muri, but she's still ensconced in her helmet and thusly ambient sounds are muffled, at best. "I...er..Xer. Xer..." Muri's fingers taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap while her eyes come up and stare into absolutely nowhere.

Is she having a stroke? Is she thinking? Is she even lucid?

"Machi....kato. This. This this this...Waldin! Those gears! THat's...Machinists of Nikato! KRIFFIN HELL!" she is the opposite of quiet on comms right now, sorry Xavier, but at least her voice isn't carrying into the actual air. "That'd that'd that'd be..uh...I dunno, 10 thousand years post Warlord whatshisface - DAMN, Dr Tiq is gonna..."

She doesn't finish that sentence.

"Okay. Okay I gotta record ALl of this then we should go, yeah?" <<"Hey Lee, you copy?">> as she begins to scurry around with the vidcorder, totally ignorant of what others are begining to tune into above.

Silence.

<<"Lee?">>

Nerys, still in the midst of clearing scrap, paused in mid-scrape, at the call from Xavier, and she canted her head to the side, falling silent so as to give herself a better chance to hear something, whatever it was Xavier was hearing. "I hear the scraping. Two of them." She looked up, pointing at the ceiling, "There, that spot, can you see it? The debris is receding back into the level behind it." It was like a dimple, if such places had faces. And those faces had dimples. Netep's revelation almost caught her attetion. And then, Nerys looked away, ears directing her eyes to the hole they just came down through, "Muri, what the **** is your droid doing? The lines are going up." Nerys jumped to her feet, heading towards one of the lines before it could get away from her. "We need to get out, right now! Everyone back to the lines!" Bitty flew back to her mistress, reaching into the backpack to draw her pistol. For now, she'd leave the climbing to her steed. Opening fire on anything that looked at her funny was her job.

Xavier rushes up to Netep as she starts to shout and tries to clasp a hand over her mouth; eyes still above where he could hear the noise but not quite see. Whether he succeeds or not, it is pointless now. Not only does Nerys find what they are looking for, but the next discovery illicits a growl from the dark-haired man and he makes eye contact with Netep glaring. "What /exactly/ happened to the last group that came down here?"

No time for an answer! "Come!" Another growl, a bit more feral, and he starts running for the lines, dragging Netep with him. Ah, but grace in garbage he is not and the heavy armour makes it all the more difficult. He trips over one of the CONFIRMED METAL gears and falls foward, landing on his side and biting out a curse in an unknown language.

Khalim's not entirely certain what he's looking at, though it's apparent that -something- up there is /abnormal/. That spell is broken as Nerys alerts the party as to a different problem, one more urgent and lending infinitely more danger; the lines are receding, drawing up and away.

<"You heard her,"> Khalim says, slightly vocoded voice carrying, and then he's running in the direction of those lines - still trailing, still accessible, but for who knows how long. The Mirialan's run isn't without its own moment of crisis, foot caught by a half-hidden and very buckled tile. He goes down, the impact of which briefly activates the rocket strapped to his back. Khalim sails across the ground, like a sled, rocket deactivated in a fumbling working of its controls in just enough time to slow him into a tumble before he's carried over that little cliff-side, down into oblivion.

That tumble takes him over broken ground, in a roll that - miraculously - terminates a couple of meters away from that moving line. Khalim rises, a bit shaken but still coherent.

Ysabel is so caught up in this discovery, the sudden run for the ropes takes her by surprise. She chases after Khalim She skids as he tumbles, hastening to grab her running shoe. "Are you alright?" She asks the Mirialan, starting to harness herself back up with the others, to grab one of the lines. Dramatic exits are dramatic.

Corr glances up from his cogs, the first time in weeks he's felt like a real explorer finding something new, only to realize everyone else is running away. The snippet about the line being pulled back up registers in the back of his mind as Very Bad, and the front of his mind clicks him into action. "Let's MOVE, everyone back to the lines! No one is getting stuck down here!" With the same ease he's shown at most other things tonight other than identifying heavy metals, he springs into action, shoving anyone who he deems a straggler along in front of him. "Come on! Get going! Pick your feet up!"

"OW WHA--" Like the sudden hand over her faceshield might actually hurt. Muri's bug-eyed, soulful glare right back at the Morellian would suggest it did, on some level of consciousness. "Wh--" Muri's suddenly skidding across the gritty tiles, not under her own volition. Much to the opposite, she's trying to retrieve some dropped pieces of tile and struggling against the abduction, futile though her effort is. A lament that's more noise than words escapes her lips as the busted tile bits do her fingers, save for ONE, held tightly against the vid recorder. Safe!

• Crunch*

"AUGH!" a cry of anguish for what is no more, the spill that her and Vaxier's tangled limbs have wrought.

When she is eventually herded to her feet by Corr the sweeper, she numbly stumbles on to the line and fumbles with clipping in, having to do a little hop-two pullup by the time she's reached it. <<"LEE! LEE WHAT THE HELL!?">> Again, no response from the droid, for a beat or three. Then some garbled binary blats over comm instead.

"Uh.." Dangling from her line like a limp spider, Muri swivels her head around to peer at everyone else. "That ain't my droid." Which spells for a very eventful exit probably, some four hours from now.