Log:Legend of Grizzt: Part 1

Legend of Grizzt: Part 1

OOC Date: September 16, 2024
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Bar'duur, Lira'una, Bryett Cordair, Ezlo Rafe

The deepest parts of Nar Shaddaa are a visual of what Nar Shaddaa truly is. Sure, the outer parts are sparkly, bright, and shiny. However, much like it's society, the deeper you go, the more decrepit and rotten it becomes. This particular area holds a truly malodorous stench that induces a nausea response in most. To make the odor worse, the air holds no flow. It is stagnant, damp, and for most species, entirely unpleasant.

The sludge beneath one's feet is composed of.. you don't want to know. Really. With each step, one's footwear feels as if it is being suctioned away. It takes a bit of effort to trudge through the muck. There is definitely no running through it.

You are surrounded by crumbling structures that stretch so high above you that they simply vanish into darkness. The information gathered from the adventurers have led them here to this spot. However, it is unclear as to which dark, ominous, putrid structure one should go into.

.

Bar'duur was investigating this alley down here, in truth he gets bored some times and goes looking for something interesting to do, and here we find the horned man, appropriately dressed in his armor, after hearing of rumors and the like, he'd easily meet up with those familiar to him, like Lira'una, offering a smile and a wave while holding his helmet at his side.

.

Yuck. Just... yuck.

Why was this a good idea? Some kind of... old Trandoshan treasure hunt? Leave it to the archaeologist to want to go poking around in the bowels of a world that was already what some worlds would consider their 'slums'... and that's on a lot of the surface. Down here?

...yuck.

At least Bryett's got a whole Void suit-thing going on for him. Lira? The little, lavender twi'lek beside him has no such protection from the elements. All she has are her boots and a black cloak that swishes just below her knees (which is thankfully enough to keep the hem of it out of the sludge... for now).

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp. Every time she takes a step, there's a sucking and belching sound that might have made her laugh in another other context. Here, surrounded by the putrid smell of.. well.. she didn't really want to think of what.. all she could manage as far as an expression was a wrinkled nose.

"You know how I said you'd never owe me?"

Lira's voice is young, like her features. Her hood has been pushed back, and her lavender lekku have been curled up around her shoulders. Those blue eyes look up at him, though, and even if her normal grin doesn't tug at those purple lips, there's still a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"...we might need to renegotiate that."

.

Not every treasure hunt takes place in idyllic surroundings. Or in ancient jungles in overgrown ruins. Or buried in caves behind old landslides. Sometimes there is no sun at all, only muck and the rank, almost rancid scent of centuries upon centuries of urban decay and rot.

Most people probably wouldn't give a lot of thought to the archaeological value of looking at anything on Nar Shaddaa. For one, it isn't a place that inspires very many academci thoughts at all. And really, why would it? But Bryett Cordair knows better. He understands that frequently, the best way to find anything of significance, to find anything of value, is to go where the people are. Where they have been.

The smuggler's moon has been built up over the centuries, layer atop previous layer and while those previous layers are eventually avoided and then forgotten entirely, they don't just disappear. And sometimes, worthwhile things get left behind in the process. So while he might have a reasonable amount on his plate, that doesn't mean he is going to turn down an opportunity when it presents itself.

Not that he would generally recommend trudging about in the muck for an enjoyable way of spending a little downtime. But the fact of the matter is that this little hunt has the potential to pay dividends. Not just in treasure found -- though he is hardly going to say no to that -- but in information. And information is the most valuable currency of all, at least in his eyes. One never knows when it is going to come in handy.

Glancing at the others gathered, he holds up the datapad in his hand for a moment, tapping at it, face lit up by the greenish glow for a moment, adding a strange, unearthly contenance to his otherwise tanned features. "I'm sending you an image now. From my research, we should find this symbol etched on the doorframe of the building we're looking for. This is how we're going to narrow down the search and make sure that we're not wandering down here in the dark for the rest of our lives," he offers up drily.

"So keep your eyes peeled."

He might be a little more take charge then he would normally be in the company of -- mostly -- strangers. But this really is his bailiwick.

He does shoot a brief smile towards Lira, seeming much more at home in the muck and slime and shadows. Almost comfortable really. "I'm willing to discuss it."

.

"So anyway, that's how I eat zoochberries."

When one is attempting to descend into the deepest parts of the Smuggler's Moon, a certain tolerance for foul odors is vital. But there are those who have learned the secret to finding bliss even in the dankest of environments. Yes, there are some practitioners of an ancient art that allows one to not only tolerate dankness, but to crave it. The short, multi-armed alien with the beer belly is one such practitioner.

In one of his many blue hands, the nearly-famous bounty hunter known as Ezlo Rafe holds a stick of the dankest Ardennian Shroob available anywhere within Hutt Space. In between bouts of disconnected babbling, he frequently takes puffs from this stick, exhaling its thick, pungent, purple smoke in quantities so vast the it almost seems as if he has produced a forcefield to repel all other scents.

Sure, he didn't bring a flashlight. And that was possibly a mistake. Sure, he didn't bring a copy of the map, and that was definitely a mistake. But he did bring enough shroob to get himself through the mission, and possibly even to share with the non-squares.

"You uh... you guys want to hit this?"

It's clear from context what he means.

Perhaps strangely, Ezlo isn't wearing any sort of boots on his weird prehensile feet. Trudging through filth is not a terrible experience when one is breathing the dankest of shroob.

Looking at his datapad, Ezlo observes the strange symbol through bloodshot, half-lidded eyes.

"It'd make a real sweet tattoo. Oh man.... you know what guys? After we get this treasure we should all get matching tattoos!"

....................................................................................................................

Round 2

As the group progresses, the darkness seems to press in. The muck opens up into a bog of muck. BLOOP! A bubble rises up nearby, sloooowly stretching the goo and making an audible sound once it pops. A bit of green haze spews forth, lifting into the air and contributing to the pungent aroma around them. Another bubble pops in the distance, followed by a soft hiss as it's own gas is released.

.

It takes about a step or two before Bar'duur decides he's not going to walk through this muck if he can help it. "I knew I fueled this thing for a reason." He mutters to himself, stuffing his head into his helmet, before he activates his rocket boots and begins coasting over the mucky, swampy nastyness. "Obviously a good place for certain aliens.."

.

You uh... you guys want to hit this?

"No, thank you," Lira declines politely but firmly, spontaneously revealing her true identity as a quadrilateral with four right angles. Although she's very lavender, she's somehow looking very... 'green around the gills.'

When Bryett pulls up the image, Lira's already at his side, stretching up onto her toes to look over at the picture. "Show me... I'm not... pulling out my datapad in this," she sighs, raising one sleeve to cover her nose. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to find her center well enough at this point to push out the stench.

...After we get this treasure we should all get matching tattoos!

"No... thank you."

This time, the words are more distant. Distracted. Her eyes cast up, outwards, scanning around them. And though she doesn't see anything, her hand reaches up to touch Bryett's arm.

"We're being watched," she says softly, loud enough to carry to the group, her young voice suddenly ominous. "More than one. I... have a bad feeling abou -- "

That bubble bursts, releasing that noxious green cloud, and Lira'una, in all of her five-foot-tall glory, is suddenly hanging on to Bryett's arm as she leans just behind him and dry-heaves, gagging.

When she straightens again, she closes her eyes.. just for a moment.. and takes a breath, trying to steady herself. Just as Bar goes jet-booting past.

.

Okay, this is not exactly the scenic hotspot of the galaxy. Heck, it's not even particularly scenic for Nar Shaddaa which is really saying something.

But as bad as the place looms -- at least when one's eyes can penetrate the haze of shadow that hangs so thickly over everything or when one's glowrod sweeps across something that isn't disturbing or disgusting -- it smells even worse.

This is a fairly exciting moment for Bryett. An actually, real life treasure hunt. It might not be glamorous, but it actually qualifies as archaeology -- of a sort at least. And after years of mostly making his way by conning various and increasingly worse pieces of galactic scum out of their credits with the *promise* of historic treasure, being seemingly on the verge of finding some for real? That's pretty special.

Whatever they find down here isn't going to be anywhere near as important as that other little task he's working on. But it still feels *good* to be getting his hand back in this sort of thing.

It would feel better if he wasn't also getting his feet into this sort of thing though, the boots of his Void armor squelching loudly, wetly, sinking a few inches into the ground if he stands still for more then a few moments, almost as if the earth itself is trying to catch him and when a gaseous bubble explodes nearby letting out a truly rank odor, that tanned visage of Bryett's might turn a little green as he fumbles for his helmet.

Maybe he doesn't need to experience *every* last detail of the moment.

Fumbling for that helmet however proves to be something of a blessing in disguise though because as he slides it into place, as his gaze sweeps over the nearby ruins with the enhanced view offered by that helmet he suddenly points at a building a short distance across that field of muck. "There," he says with growing excitement in his voice. "I can see the sigil on the doorway just over there," he adds.

The offer from Ezlo gets missed in that burst of excitement, though as Lira murmurs her warning, he squints a little before nodding his agreemnt. " isee a couple of shapes moving over there. They darted back into the shadows. Hopefully just some animals..." he says uncertainly.

But they've come this far. They're so damn close...

His forward progress pauses for a moment as Lira starts to gag and he turns towards her with some concern. "You going to be okay?" he asks lowly, starting to unfasten his helment once more. Without the vacuum seal it won't do nearly so much for her. But maybe it will help.

"You think you don't want to get tattoos now, but just wait until later after we've all been bonding and shiz... it's gonna be like... you know... moments like this... gotta... uh... gotta have mementos in life, man."

.

Ezlo seems to be content hanging back a bit behind the rest of the group. In fairness to him, he has shorter legs than anyone else, so that might have something to do with it. He's also a habitual smoker who is currently in the process of smoking, which could be a contributing factor. But then, he's also just kind of a weird dude, so who knows what he might be doing back there, in the low-light conditions, creeping around barefoot in sewage.

True, nobody has taken a soil sample yet, but odds are the results would be 'sewage.' Hutt sewage, most likely.

Of course, one of the cons of habitually bringing up the rear, is that you occasionally get to see things the rest of the party would rather you not. Like when the group's token Twi'lek turns around and blows chunks mere meters in front of the unsuspecting Ardennian!

He doesn't turn green, at least anywhere that anybody here would be able to see. But he does turn away himself, and dry heave as quietly as he can for a few seconds, before something a bit less dry comes up. But by the time he's rejoined the rest of the group, the strange little space monkey has already swished his mouth out with a fruit-flavored fluid pack. The sound of air bubbles going through the straw signifies that it's time for this fluid pack to be discarded, along with all the other refuse down here.

"Aww man... I bet it was an akk dog. Maybe a kath hound, or a... shiz... it was probably a Begamor!"

It looks as if Ezlo is ready to skip the rest of the mission, and simply pet that dog. Or whatever it is, how bad could it be?

...........................................................................................................

Round 3

SCREEEEEEE!! No need to /think/ a person heard something. Everyone hears something! It is loud. It is piercing!! Bar'duur's boots light up, lifting the Zabrak upwards into the air. The man is smart. He avoids the muck and it's noxiousnous. In fact, those boots illuminate shadowy places!

However, to people's dismay, it does not light up treasure. Illumination flashes across a wretched monster with a gaping maw and jagged teeth! It crawls on four outstretched limbs that grip the walls of the nearby building. The horrible mass of flesh and pointy bits belts out the terrible sound as it darts away from the bright light of the flared boots. The large dog-sized creature darts into a shadowy window and out of sight.

Now the chittering begins. The alien sounds echo in the area, bouncing back and forth as the creatures coordinate their hunt. There are more and they sound.. hungry.

.

"I'll consider a tattoo if everyone gets one." Says Bar'duur through the vocalizer in his helmet, or over comms, if they had bothered to link up. Either way he's scanning as he hovers along, high enough not to hit the swampy surface with his rockets at least. He goes right past the door that was market, at first, but he seems to be trying to get a good idea of potential dangers. "Want me to go fi-?" His words falter when he spots a large beast, jumping into a window, followed by more sounds. "We should find cover!"

.

"Aww man... that don't sound like no Kath Hound. I haven't petted one of those in probably... five rotations. Shiz... maybe ten..."

The habitual shroob user isn't operating completely within the same level of reality as everyone else. So at first, the horrifying screech just seems to signify that there isn't going to be a dog to pet. But as the wretched monster is illuminated, he has pretty much the same reaction as everyone else, as the appearance of horrifying creatures tends to have a sobering affect on even the most befuddled of individuals.

"Oh frugg!"

Looking frantically for cover, Ezlo has a bit of an advantage as a natural climber, which helps him scurry over an old abandoned, rusted out speeder that's up to its door handles in muck... front end first.

Scrabbling out of immediate reach, he reaches behind his back with one of his hands, and unslings the rifle he'd been humping 'just for emergencies.'

There's an audible 'Ka-CHAK' as the multi-talented and multi-armed alien snaps the barrel into place, and another 'CLI-chik!' as the sight is set into place. With his shroob stick dangling from his lower lip, Ezlo takes advantage of this opportunity to begin frantically scanning the surroundings, like someone who has never really been to sniper school, or has any idea what he's doing.

.

...token twi'lek?! Serves you right! :)

As soon as Bryett's hand rises and starts unfastening his helmet, Lira's own shoots up, fingers settling on his armored forearm to still him with a little shake of her head. It's after that, that she opens her eyes, looking up into his helmet with a little purple smile. She looks no more 'calm' than before, but at least she'd gotten through whatever noxious fumes had been released from that bubble.

"Who ever said chivalry is dead?" Her voice a little more hoarse than before, though she clears her throat to clear it. "Keep it. I'll be fine." That smile, however faint, creeps just onto the corners of her lips. "It's just mind over matter, and I could obviously use the practice."

Then there's that screech. That ominous, ear piercing sound.

Lira's gaze shifts up towards it, eyes catching perhaps a glimpse of movement in the light, the creature darting into that window before disappearing. Then the skittering, the movement of the creatures coordinating... closing.

"Go."

A hand dips into the twi'lek's robes as she closes her eyes, and when her slender fingers emerge, it's little more than a simple wooden stick with a few metal couplings on it that emerges. About half of a meter long. Nothing happens, though. Not, at least, with the stick.

Instead of moving, her eyes close, and she reaches out towards the sound of skittering.. searching for one... one mind to connect to, to turn the tide, to communicate the need to turn away from their prey...

"Ngh.." she grunts, her jaw tensing, her expression falling. Her eyes are still closed. "I'm so..."

Her breath is coming faster. One hand finds her tummy, doubling slightly at the waist.

"AGH!.. I'm so... so... hungry..."

And when she lifts her head again, there's an almost feral look in those blue eyes.

.

Well, the skittering shadows blocking their way to the building that is the source of these treasure-filled rumors might indeed be animals. But that doesn't seem like it is going to do any of them the least bit of good.

Any hopes that this might prove to be a nice, simple archaeolgical find are quickly dashed as that absolutely haunting screech fills the air, echoing loudly amongs the deserted ground floors of all these structures, no doubt unheard by the actually populated levels up above.

Bryett wasn't really bargaining on that.

It is one of the drawbacks at trying this sort of thing without the proper sort of advanced research, or having the benefit of multiple scouting trips to explore the site in question. The tanned archaeologist just doesn't know enough about the local ecology, doesn't know enough about the sorts of threats might linger in these sorts of conditions. Venturing this far down from the more 'civilized' levels above is not a popular pastime for many, and the amount of documentation that exists in regards to this sort of thing is scant indeed.

This is why Bryett likes to do his homework ahead of time. For moments like this. Ideally to avoid moments like this entirely because he already knows what to expect. But since that wasn't possible here, he tried a different means of dealing with the unexpected.

He asked Lira to come along instead.

He's gotten a pretty good chance to see what she's capable of. Afterall, within moments of meeting her for the first time she probably had saved his life. That sort of thing tends to leave an impression on a guy.

Still, whatever it is that made that particular sound is not what he was counting on. It sounds big. And angry. And when the lights from his helmet sweep over it Bryett almost wishes that they hadn't, because it might just look even worse then it sounds.

So his incredibly brave response? Yup, he takes cover too, slipping his vibroknife from it's holster at his side. And hoping really hard that this doesn't come down to him having to actually use it because that won't end well for anyone.

Peeking out from his hiding spot, that helmeted gaze focuses on Lira, on that shout and the words she stumbles over. And he does his very best to try and ignore that look in her eye. "I knew I should have brougth Zee," he mutters.

Of course the security droid might have very well ended up sinking into all this muck and never freeing himself.

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Round 4

It is not long before there are a few SPLOOPS just out of their bubble of light. The chittering grows to a horrible level as they close in, then.. silence. It seems ominously worse that there is sudden silence! Then the first creature bursts into their bubble of light. It's forward apendeges are outstretched and that maw gapes with glistening slobber dripping from the jagged teeth. There are more splooshes as long limbs begin to lurch forward!

.

"Oh frugg! Oh frugg! Oh frugg!"

Like the scared little guy that he is, Ezlo does not stand his ground, despite having selected some relatively decent high ground. Instead, he turns and runs toward the illusory safety of the building with the sigil on it. Not so much because it's their ultimate objective anyway, or from any sort of tactical consideration. Rather, he'd just prefer to hide at this particular moment in his life story. If he ever becomes famous enough to get a holodoc made of himself, he'll see to it that they edit this part out.

He manages to avoid the attacks from various critters, reacting on pure adrenaline and wishing that he had given up smoking. Only once he gets some distance between himself and the monsters does he realizes that he dropped his shroob stick. There's no way to find it now, but it's probably sinking slowly into the filth as they speak.

Still they keep coming... and in a panicked state he reaches into his satchel and grabs the first grenade he feels. The ones with the handles make things freeze. Seems like a good option.

Flicking off the safety, he cocks back, and hurls the grenade toward the monsters!

Or at least that was the plan...

Instead, he futzes up the release, and the grenade instead lands a mere three meters away from himself.

It's enough to leave his feet flash frozen in shit... both uncomfortable and potentially lethal.

.

Since the first moments when the creatures revealed themselves, whatever started happened to Lira'una is... still happening. She seems like she's _aching_, her face twisted in pain as one hand still presses in on her stomach as if she hadn't eaten in weeks or months. The sheer pressure of it is _staggering_, and it isn't long until her head lifts and those feral eyes show something much more primitive...

They're the eyes of an animal -- a scavenger. And though her DNA may be coded to the deserts of Ryloth, she is no less a predator here than she would be on her homeworld.

As soon as that creature lunges forward with those limbs lurching forward -- in fact, the Twi'lek seems to be in forward motion even before the creature emerges -- Lira'una is rushing forward to meet it. Hunger to hunger, she's feeding on an echo of primal instinct she didn't even seem to realize she was suffering from. Worse, Bryett's the only one here who would recognize it for what it is -- a loss of control that's so unlike her, a frenzy that's vicious in absolute equal measure to their attacker, like a mirror reflection.

Blow after blow, Lira'una moves like the dancer she is, that wooden staff hitting once, twice, three times in a brutal assault... and every time one of those appendages lashes out towards her in retaliation, she's already cleared the space, twisting gracefully away as if she knew the attack was coming before it was ever launched.

It's beautiful in its own way. But it's also terrifying.

.

To put it mildly, things are not looking their absolute best. One of their number has disappeared, hopefully soaring off to somewhere a little safer even if it does mean that he has abandonned them to their fate. It is hard to blame him too much.

Certainly Bryett has a urge to turn around and run the other way, to make his way back up to a more inhabited level. Maybe fetch that security droid that has been assigned to watch over him, to keep him safe. And it isn't all that long ago that it is exactly what he would have done. It is afterall the smart play.

But it wasn't all that long ago that he didn't have a reason to stick around either. And now he most certainly does.

Still, it isn't terribly reassuring to watch Ezlo make a break for it, to try to get to the questionable safety of the building that should -- if they are fortunate -- prove to be the ultimate destination for all those rumors that drew them down here to this literal shithole. But as he draws that grenade, as he tries to toss it, the dusty-haired archaeologist watches as the field of sewage around him suddenly flash freezes.

That's not good.

Lira is having a little more luck, though the look in her eye is a little... not worrisome. This is beyond worrisome. That feral sheen, the savageness of her attacks, lashing out with that ancient, little seen weapon and bringing it down with crushing precision on each of the predators as she skips between them, untouchable but brutal in her grace.

He doesn't question her safety anymore -- at least not her physical safety. But he does worry about what this could do to her psychologically. So unprepared as he might feel, he rises from behind cover, vibroknife still gripped in his hand. But instead of charging forward blindly, borderline uselessly, he instead turns to his most valuable tool.

His brain.

The high intensity light inset in his helmet suddenly flares to life and five thousand lumens of light suddenly flood the lower levels of the Smuggler's moon, the field of sludge -- frozen and otherwise -- visible in all it's glory beneath that blazing light as the shadowy predators are forced to deal with surface levels of light for the first time in who knows how long.

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Round 5

Body after body thuds into the sludge around them. It makes a macabre bridge through the muck little by little as limbs and heads and bodies fill the space. Still, the creatures come, drawn to the near feral Twi'lek. However, that light turns on, flashing away the shadows, revealing the multitude of beasts around them!

Being creatures bred and raised in the dark, the light flashes into oversized eyes and creates a shrill pain within the creatures returned by shrill shrieks of animalistic, alien agony! In near unison, they flee the scene, climbing the buildings, dipping into buildings, and generally fleeing away from the pain of light!

There are no more foes to fight. This leaves Lira'una with no foes and echoes in her mind.

.

Having grown used to the dark himself, and having also been born with very large, light sensitive eyes, and having also mysteriously had his starglasses stolen at a less than reputable strip club... Ezlo has a similar though less extreme reaction to the sudden intense light. Covering his eyes with one of his hands, he squints more than usual at the harsh glare while the needle pricking sensation of intense cold assaults his feet.

Really stuck between a rock and some hard shit.

As the creatures begin to run away, Ezlo has the unique vantage point required to notice that there's something odd. For they're running in many directions. Many directions, but not one in particular.

"Hey guys! Hey GUYS! Uh... this way, good buddies!"

He waves at them, signaling clearly that they should come toward him. More specifically though, he seems to be gesturing over himself, and behind toward the weird old building.

"We gotta get inside the shelter!"

.

Blood -- or whatever passes for blood in these creatures -- drips from the end of Lira's wooden stick. At only eighteen inches long, she was using it as more of a baton than anything else.

At least she hadn't unleashed the full potential of the San-Ni staff. Had she not been in a right enough mind to twist the staff, to unleash the power-couplings so that its true power could be brought to bear? Or had she scrabbled and clung onto enough of her sanity not to risk the power-couplings themselves doing even even more damage in the methane-rich environment?

The attack had been brutal, but when that blinding light hit her back, throwing a Lira-shaped swath of shadow directly in front of her, she screamed in agony and almost turned to run with the rest of the scavengers.

The light hadn't even hit her eyes.

Her hands came up, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes, and she wheeled on Bryett. For a moment, it seemed like she might almost lunge at the lights -- the ones attached to his _head_ -- but just as she started to, just as that baton started to rise, it was like she... forgot what she was doing.

Or maybe remembered where she was.

"Bryett?"

Her voice is small. Apologetic? Scared?

She can't see him clearly -- not through the beam of light -- but as the agony she could feel through those creatures leaves little but an echo of pain and starvation in her mind, she raises her arm to shield her eyes with her cloak.

She seems... confused. Disoriented. She'd rushed forward into the fight, lost sight of where Ezlo had gone, and now she was partially blinded by the headlamp.

Hey guys! Hey GUYS! Uh... this way, good buddies!

Lira's head turns vaguely towards the sound, but she doesn't move. Should she move? What if she hurt them? What if she... lost control, again?

"I... I'll catch up..."

Maybe. Once she can get the remnants of those primal instincts out of her brain. It was like a bad aftertaste... they lingered, even if they weren't overwhelming. Those poor creatures are starving down here, but this is their home. They just happened to be the most recent, unwitting prey to stumble into their nest...

.

Every once in awhile it pays to be better with his head, better at reading and researching then he is with a good old fashioned blaster.

As the light from that helmet lights up the little open expanse around them as if it were somewhere approaching daylight, Bryett briefly catches his breath as all the additional creatures that had not yet leaped from the shadows are exposed, all around them.

Suddenly he is incredibly grateful that he did not, in fact, make a break for the the upper levels. He's not longer so sure that he would have made it. Not to mention what would have happened to Lira while he went to try and collect help.

But that brief instant of pulse-pounding terror at seeing all those menacing shapes surrounding them seemingly on all sides is driven back as they -- like those creatures close to him -- flee back into the darkness and away from that almost painfully bright light, though the sheer size of the area being lit up means that -- at least for most of them -- it will become much more manageable if a little on the bright side in only mere moments.

While he might have bought them some time, Ezlo's suggestion is not exactly dismissed. The sooner they get this taken care of, the sooner they are out of here and back on the surface the better as far as he is concerned so he quickly starts forward once more, abandonning that last hint of cover as he trots through the sucking field of muck that tries to cling to his boots, only pausing his progress long enough to check in on Lira as he manages to catch up to her, steps slowing for a moment, the helmet helping to mask the obvious look of concern on his face as he watches her struggle, at the sound of... something in that suddenly small voice.

He considers turning off that lamp for a moment, though the memory of all those shadoy forms out there convinces him otherwise. Keeping them at bay might be the best thing he can do for her, that he can do for all of them right now. But he slowly reaches out, laying a gloved hand on her shoulder. "We should get out of the street," he says quietly, "I promise that next time, you can definitely pick the outting."

This one... hasn't quite gone as planned.

Then he lets his hand drop and he starts towards that waiting archway with the sigil. "Don't... stay out here on your own for too long," he urges.

He's reluctant to leave her, but giving her a moment to compose herself might also be the least he can do and that sheer, almost painful light dims to something more managable as he moves on past, instead trotting over to Ezlo to do what he can to help free him from the frozen sludge and continue that exploration of the building waiting for them.