Log:Family Matters, Part 1
Investigating sea-borne wreckage, Rip finds himself on the receiving end of a double-edged opportunity.
OOC Date: November 8, 2018
Location: Corellia
Participants: GM: Anadesi Driver, Dyannah Nerus, Merek
Fire limned the sky in arcing streaks like crimson lightning the previous night. For a brief span of minutes, the light show dampened the intensity of the storm behind it, replacing nature's showmanship with that of turbolaser fire. Then, without warning, it stopped. Come morning, a faint signal offers the curious a siren's song of metronomic pinging. The electronically generated pulse offers the location of a ship pointing off of the coast of Corellia's sandy beaches. The Rangers would've been made aware of its existence by at least one of the slicers in the group, encouraging an exploration at dawn when the violent storm had finally passed overhead to give way to sunlight and a nearly spotless canvas of blue.
Merek has come to assist with investigation of the boat, while he has made sure to rent a boat for the others. It's a skiff that is simple enough to carry them all so that they can travel. He is waiting at it on the beach as he prepares the engines as well as the sail while he looks to the horizon as well. He is wearing his usual attire, as well as a poncho cloak that is adjusted about him with the hood up.
Rip was upon the peer by the time of early dawn, and had spent that time scanning the horizon and the lower beaches for anything that coincided with the information their slicers had uncovered. Normally, storms had a penchant for washing their victims and debris ashore, IF it was something that concluded in the ocean. With the dawn like, it made it easy to spot things thanks to glinting. After while, it's Merek who arrives to prep a boat to go out. Rip makes his way down from the pier to join him on the beach. When he arrives, he stays quiet and lets the other man work.
There is metallic debris in the distance although it's not particularly clear what exactly it's comprised of. The current seems to have collected most of the refuse in a relatively central spot. A form of gull circles overhead.
The wash of the waves as the tide rises and engulfs the beach makes hearing difficult. The skiff rides high in the water with only one person in it making it difficult to get in. The zeltron wades out to it. First, her weapons are dropped over the side, wrapped against becoming wet. Water up to her thighs, the zeltron woman clambers over the side of the boat tipping it until she is up and over. Dripping in the bottom she collects her gear and calls to Rip. "Come on out, the water is fine."
Merek nods as the other two are there, then he takes a moment to shift the turn of the skiff, "Right," he then makes some room for Dy and the man while he takes a cigar to place in his mouth which he lights up. He then walks to the front and takes the wheel into his hands.
Rip steps out into the water and uses the stern ladder to climb onto the skiff/boat. Once inside, he slaps the side. "Let's go, Raincoat. Take us toward them circling birds overhead. I think I saw some debris out there." He gives Dy a thumbs up and smile, then settles on the back of the boat to just relax as they ride out. He's armed with his DL-44. He keeps it seated in a holster he wears over his shoulders.
Merek switches on a few things, then he begins to take the skiff onwards as Rip pats the side. He seems to know his way with the boats, as that cloak is shifting about with the winds. He takes them to the place that the sonar seems to point towards. He does a few moves with the boat wheel to make sure that the water doesn't get on anyone more than it already is.
While the wind is creating some chop to the waves, it's nothing that a reasonable water craft can't handle. A gust picks up here and there, a remnant of the pressure change from inclement storms to clear skies, but rather than be refreshing it carries with it a strangely warm, tinny whiff of something rotting under the glare of solar radiation.
As the craft gets closer, the scene gets more clear to those with discerning eyes. An enormous beast lies slain. Its lifeblood staining the ocean nearly black with how thick the fluid is that leeches from its wounds. It appears that the slayer of the beast has not gotten away with it.
The remnants of the craft seem to be the remnants of a small freighter although it's not entirely clear how it crashed at first glance. A large laser battery and its mount remain barely discernible after its crash with the water. There's little other luggage floating around or anything else that's particularly valuable in its current state - most of it has probably sunk to the bottom and the group is woefully ill-prepared for anything deep sea. The crew lay strewn about in various pieces, floating due to the bloat of the corpses to provide an ample feast for the squawking birds and scavenging fish. As with most animals, they seem to favor the squishy bits more than the leathery hide of the slain beast leaving the humanoid's eyes void and the softer bits gaping with tiny chew marks.
Strangely, the source of the electronic blips appears to be coming from the slain animal rather than the remnants of the ship.
Merek seems thoughtful as he rubs his scruffy soft beard a bit. He then looks to the others, "I will stay with the boat, that said... I do think they did not wish to be found, with the fact of them not having a transponder. Not even creating a new one as well, simply... Not trying to register."
"It's common among groups who excel at piracy, smuggling, or poaching." Rip says aloud, coming to stand easy with peculiar balance. He moves along the edges of the boat attempting to spot anything of immediate interest. He sees many bodies, and uses a hooked pike to reach out and gently pull them closer for inspection. When contrasted with their location though, it appeared the electronic blips were coming from the big carcass. "Take us closer to the big guy, and let's drag it to shore. Ain't no need in trying to mess with him out in the deep."
The wind lifts a carrion smell that rides high on the iodine of the waves. Despite Merek's piloting skills, the boat slaps the water athwart spraying mist over them. Eyes narrowed against the glare, the woman stands, feet spread to balance herself as she tries to make out the pieces of flotsam that float on the water. "Rip, did the boat run into it or was it chasing it." She looks over her shoulder at Merek, "They were running under the radar. Take the big guy in and what? Dissect him? Whew." She wipes the blue hair sticking to her forehead back impatiently. "We going to gaff it with something?"
"I'm not quite sure. It could've come up after the fact and maybe swallowed something it ought not have." Rip takes over the driving task for Merek. Trolling the skiff closer, they lightly bump up to the edge of the creature. "Whatever signal that it's giving off, that electronic signature, it's inside this thing." Rip leaves the driving station to return to Dy. "If we can hook some grapples to its mouth, taking it ashore will be simple so long as we don't go fast." Rip looks around for some of those hooks!
A wave lifts them above the body but before the boat slides down the side of the next trough Dyannah catches sight of something that has her grasping the side of the boat in hopes of seeing it again. They ride to the crest of the next and below her a curious sight hoves into view: stitching along the ventral side of the beast, great long runs of plastic puckering the flesh. "Rip? What has happened to the thing? Fish? It is going to smell bad whatever we decide to do."
"Looks like we're not alone here! We won't be able to drag this thing back, but I can blow it open." Rip pointed toward the horizon at the closing authorities that were coming to gather up what had happened. Their being here could incriminate them, but knowing CSec, they'd want to confiscate everything anyway! Rip opened his coat and pulled out a pair of low yield shaped charges that were no larger than his hands. Getting them to stay in place was the real trick. He moved to the edge of the boat to survey the big fish and saw the stitching down below! That's what Dy was asking about. "Huh.. it seems this was a staging animal. Made to look like poaching, but they needed something that'd float." Rip bends over the edge of the boat and cuts the stitching with a small knife! Then he tried to open it!
The smell is like a blow, the red woman's skin visibly pales as Rip works on opening the stitching. Gamely, she stays next to him as they bob hard in the water, the beast knocking hard against the side of the boat. Once, she looks up at the horizon to gauge the distance between them and the CSec boat. "Alright. Now, what? Plastique? Arms? Drugs?"
The stitching gives way remarkably easily to a blade, its coils made to flex and bend to conform to the beast's flesh rather than resist something as unnaturally precise as a knife's edge. Once the wound fillets open to reveal cauterized, blackened flesh within, the humming of repulsorlifts can be heard. With surprising alacrity, a small, shiny, disc-shaped droid zips out and with needle-like precision, spears Rip's closest hand. Fishy and unsanity. Rather than zip off in to the distance, it hovers just out of reach and turns. With a whirring of machinery, an iris opens up from an otherwise indistinct side and a holoprojector turns on.
"Congratulations," the matronly voice exclaims with much effort. The face projected matches the vaguely rasping tone, hinting at the advanced age of the speaker that is further echo'd by the lines and sags that are apparent in the woman's recorded visage. "It is no mean feat to slay such a beast and while you are no doubt an unsavoury sort, there is honor in your actions despite likely being motivated by greed." She coughs and turns to the side briefly. The gesture reveals that she is clad in some kind of finery with jewel laden earrings dangling from underneath her coiled, braided hair. "I would've played witness to the act if I could but I regret that I have likely since passed."
"The unceremonious prick you have received will spell your doom in approximately twenty-four hours if you do not do as you're instructed. However, it is also a key by which you may receive a great deal of my fortune."
"You see," the nameless woman continues after her cough calms itself. "My family has since become a decrepit shell of what it once was. While it is not a right exercised lightly, as Baroness Laura Hunt I may bequeath my title, along with all of its rights and privileges, upon whomever I wish. My immediate family members are unworthy to carry my name and I would much rather cast the die in the hands of fate than allow such poison to continue to fester. The injection you received carries a key and a package of nanites that will deactivate once you have reached the interior of the Hunt compound and spoken with my Majordomo. The droid will lead you where you need to go should you choose to follow it."
"Good luck and know that I trust no one save my servant Anamon." The droid's projection shuts down. If pursued, it zips out of reach but favors a specific direction towards a visibly rockier portion of the coastline.
"Ow!" Rip pulls his hand back but doesn't fall back. He just cradles his hand, massaging the small wound while listening to this older Baroness speak. The wound burns at first, but then it spreads through out his body and tapers off. When the droid zips away, Rip looks to Dy, his expression completely given to confusion. "Well, it wasn't what I expected, but we can't stick around here. Hang on to something.. maybe we should follow it!" Rip moves up to the front again and takes control of the ship. He pays one more look back to Dy to ensure she's going to be okay, before bringing them about and shoving the accelerator forward! He angles them toward the direction of the droid!
Without asking Dyannah grabs Rip's hand to peer at the wound. Sinking to her knees she holds on to the side of the boat as the droid projection continues its recital. "Goddess of creation! What are you going to do, Rip?" In disbelief at his sangfroid she stares at him shaking her head. "Twenty four hours only! Aren't you worried?" Without waiting for his answer, she unsteadily goes to the stern and sits, hands locked around the cleats as they turn sideways into the waves to follow the droid.
The droid is remarkably fast; its propulsion system high-end and likely as expensive as the woman's recording suggests it could be based on her claims of title and wealth. The fact that tranquilizing such a beast and releasing it with its payload has been undertaken purely to act as a test also lends further credence to her claims. This being said, the droid almost seems pleased that Rip is not testing the veracity of the digital venom potentially wandering his veins as it makes nearly playful arcs back and forth in the air further punctuated by a shrill beep as it reaches the apex of each turn.
The government craft don't pursue the smaller vessel and instead focus on the collected wreckage. Rip's driving, fast as it is, has given them enough of a headstart for now that they're sticking to the larger and more apparent prize.
Getting farther away from the wreckage means that the smell of rotting flesh has made way for the more alkaline sea air. Save for the motivation the man has received, it would be an otherwise pleasant day for cruising along one of the sector's most famous coastlines.
"NAH.." He says over the motors and the relentless pounding of the boat as it took to the wake. "THIS AIN'T MY FIRST TIME BEING CLOSE TO DYING, PROBABLY WON'T BE MY LAST!" Rip seems concerned, but he keeps his gaze locked ahead of them. The wind was whipping and whistling as the motors seemed to waver in and out constantly. His hair was going wild. "YOU THINK IT'S A TRAP? I'VE BEEN TRAPPED BEFORE! IT KINDA SEEMS LIKE ONE!" Water mists over them as he hits a particularly stout wave but manages to keep control.
Head foreward as the boat slams between the waves, she lets the wind carry her words to him. "DO I THINK IT'S A TRAP? DO I HAVE BLUE HAIR? ABSOLUTELY." She rides gripping the side of the boat, knuckles white from the force of her hold. "SO IF IT'S A TRAP HOW ARE WE GOING TO TRAP THE TRAPPERS?"
"WE AREN'T! WE'LL JUST KILL EM!" He yells back, and for a long moment he didn't look back. When he did, he had a teasing grin to indicate he was joking.
As beach gives way to rocky expanses, the cliff face becomes much more daunting and sheer reaching several stories up. The droid seems intent on leading the pair along the natural wall's length at what appears to be a reasonable enough distance from the rocky face to not run in to the crags of stone jutting up from underneath the water. There's little out in this end of the world and their destination becomes readily apparent.
Some distance away yet, the quad parapets of a castle poised on the rim of the cliff peek out from over the lip of the cliff. The sheer slopes of the cliff wall would make for a difficult time approaching by land and it seems that the location was chosen for exactly that purpose. The gleaming metal of the roofing contrasts sharply with mottled stone that looks as if it was hewed from the surrounding rocks rather than imported or manufactured. The castle is ancient but there are modern enhancements dotting the grounds that anyone could pick out - sensor detection systems, power, air defense batteries, a large communications array, and the vague haze of a powered shield.
The droid whirls with increased energy, as if proximity to its intended destination sent its programming alight, before rising in altitude a few meters. It turns and directs the iris towards the cliff phase before a shrill, piercing screech pulses outward from the open orifice. The sonic bombardment aggravates nesting birds with wing-breadths the span of a small vehicle, sending them in to the sky like a flock of dragons against the unmarred blue sky.
To be continued.
