Log:New Republic: Tyrena - Floating the Auric

Tyrena: Floating the Auric

OOC Date: July 23, 2021
Location: Corellia
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm(GM), Nova Korell, Zul Gradnk, Wrrlryyhn, Nerys Greystorm, New Republic

The majestic Auric River snakes its way as the dominant force through the riverlands - the juncture between continents. Its humble origins trickle through the mountainous north, gaining in strength and depth as spring-fed tributaries combine. By the time it spills into the sea near the gold beaches, it is a broad and mighty force to reckon with. The city of Tyrena lies just northeast of its mouth, divided by a fork of the Auric in the rich, bountiful delta.

It's rich in commerce, too. Unlike Coronet, the aesthetics of natural beauty and historical culture here have been finely balanced with the need for growth, development, and economic prosperity. Scenic and steeped in history, Tyrena is a popular tourist destination. Or was, until the war heated up.

<<Flaming Dew Drop checking in, approaching marker 3801. Five klicks to dock, heralding dockmater in two.>> At the helm of a rusty but trusty cargo barge, the Corellian-born Captain Vaor passes a squint between the dusk-hued bend of river ahead and the roving dot that is their reliable water steed, 'Flaming Dew Drop', on screen.

The sun is dropping lower on the horizon, casting longer shadows to blur the lines between one obstacle and the next. Objects are less in-focus, in the distance, but it's that dulling visibility that they are counting on to mask their true intention. Soon.

<<Read ya clear, Dew Drop.>> Greystorm's voice answers back with mild distortion. <<Proceed to docks.>>

<<Proceeding to docks...>> Vaor takes his thumb off the link and throws a look over shoulder to the busted out window behind him and the tarp that flaps around in its place. "Have I mentioned how much I hate this rust bucket's tag!?" He shouts to whoever's topside and within earshot. Another grumble, then he switches frequencies to hail those below. <<Attention, all you paddy frogs, finish your chow and assemble your gear. We're nearing your mark. Crew....stand by.>>

Nerys who was, today, one of those paddy frogs, patted herself down, ensuring that she had secured and doubly secured everything she might need for her foray into war. Or just the water. It would remain to be seen which one proved the more dangerous. She had even made sure to waterproof her backpack. The droid maglocked there was on her own. But surely she was fine, right? She kept herself low, keeping to below the level of the railings of the ship, as she moved to a place where she could slip from the vessel and into the water. <<Jetpack, ready to deploy.>>

The looming form of the female Wookiee sat in wait for the shouted command. She rose with her gear, both martial and medical, and proceeded as directed. Though she gave no sign of it, the medic was beginning to doubt her part in this mission. Wrr was a terrible liar. And there was no chance in any of the burning stars that she could disguise herself. She also, never learned to swim. Her people were arboreal! Did she jump into the water, and depend, like she did so often on her strength? Or, did she depend on the fact that most folk couldn't tell one Wookiee from another. Nor understood a lick of Shyriiwook anyway?

With a bap to the top of Wasaka's head, the Wookiee disabled her translator. She then climbed to her feet, and joined the other 'deck hands.' She didn't bother with a disguise. Hopefully, they'd be grateful for the legendary strong back of a Wookiee and not question their food fortune.

Quietly wondering what in the galaxy a paddy frog is, Nova Korell is nonetheless making her preparations to disembark as well. With a camouflage poncho over her antique Katarn commando armor, she arrives on deck with her body kept low and and slides easily behind one of the cargo crates on deck, heading aft. She's there in moments, pausing to quick-peek over the rail. The coming sunset is going to be magnificent; pity she can't just sit and watch it. Tightening the sling on her rifle, she creeps over to the end of the railing, just over the fantail. <<Six, Moonbeam. In position. Awaiting green light.>>

And so the barge trundles along its present course, stirring the water with low-powered thrusters in its wake.

The river begins to yawn as they laboriously cruise around the next bend. Hidden currents stir the surface with a bit more force as the depth steadily decreases. Tiny eddies create deceptive pockets of calm refuge amid submerged obstacles to the flow. Waterlogged trees, occasional bits of vehicle, rocky outcroppings...the sensors display grainy images of what lies beneath as they pass over.

<<Half klick to drop,>> Capt Vaor forewarns before switching frequencies to an unencrypted channel - Tyrena's east dock. <<East Docks, East Docks, this is hover barge Flaming Dew Drop. On approach, marker 3803. Requesting stop to replentish consumables. Please advise.>>

Vaor snorfs into his sleeve and idly looks to the hidden pocket on his own jumpsuit. Just under a flap of utility belt was the familiar grip of sidearm.

<<Flaming Dew Drop Flaming Dew Drop>>

Capt Vaor winces.

<<This is East Docks. Report to dock four and power down, repeat, report to dock four and power down.>>

<<Copy, East Docks, Flaming Dew Drop reporting to Dock Four to power down in....1 klick.>> A hasty bap of his comm heralds the crew again. <<Paddy frogs, hop in four....three....two...May buoyancy be with you. Crew, prepare to disembark. Ready the cargo for inspection.>> And by 'ready the cargo for inspection', he means rig the one to go BOOM on the aft deck. Y'know. Just in case. In his OTHER pocket sits the detonator.

Nerys, who said no more, once she had made the captain aware that she was ready to deploy, kept to the low edge of the ship, waiting by the area where they would have brought up cargo and nets, which lacked a railing which needed jumping over. As soon as they were judged close enough, she slipped down into the water. She took a moment to get her equilibrium, and then she was off, moving slowly but surely, keeping her strokes economical in order not to create too much noise or too much of a wake, which might draw attention. With luck, she would arrive at the shore at precisely the right time and the right place to make her escape from the water undetected.

Zul Gradnk frowns as she gets to the explosives, looking at the wires "Come on Zul, you sell those things." she mutters "You likely even sold those." she sighs "Right. Com Number.... I need to call Al..." she mutters, biting her lip. Oh well. Now, this wire sure looks familiar! Yes. Now she makes headway!

The Wookiee fell into step beside her fellow deck hand. Together with Zul, they checked the 'cargo.' Wait, was it the yellow wire or the blue that was supposed to attach to the... She shrugged shaggy wide shoulders expansively. Looked okay to her! With the 'cargo' as ready for inspection as it was going to get, she waited further instructions and warbled encouragingly at Zul.

<<Copy, Dew Drop... see you on shore>> Nova coms, and slides easily off the fantail into the water, making hardly a splash. The armor is heavy, but she's strong, and she's had a lot of practice at this. She's moving, her head low in the murky water, within seconds.

It's a long swim to shore, but it's a lot less likely anyone's watching for swimmers this far out. Should make for an easy trip ashore. But she's watching all the same. These are paranoid times.

The skyline is adopting a richly sienna hue as the sun continues to dip. By contrast, the zenith gets darker, and along the water's edge, a chorus of insects kicks off. It is the crepuscular hour. Too bright for nightvision, too dim for unassisted diurnal sights. This is the hour of the predator.

Creatures be wary.

A grunty warble and snort greets the covert swimmers from the shoreline as a bageraset lifts its face from the water. A toss of head sloughs that clump of water weeds from its snout, landing them back into the muck with a wet plop. Leery eyes watch the foreign bodies approach with more curiosity than fear. Four other such beasts are doing much of the same, pitching their ears forward with keen interest.

The Flaming Dew Drop lays on its horn as it comes within sight of the dock, announcing its intent to approach and sloooooowly inches along toward Dock 4, as instructed. Capt Vaor pilots the craft in on baited breath, working up a SMALL sweat as he tries not to take out the dock during his maneuvers. It was best not to make a scene. Yet.

<<How we lookin, crew? Got what you need for a pit stop?>>

On that dock, a uniformed dockmaster is waiting, as are a handful of dock workers, standing by with droid and fuel cannisters. The dockmaster waves a hand, clearly trying to get Vaor's attention. Vaor reluctantly powers down, effectively mooring them there as maglocks engage. He tucks credentials into breast pocket and takes his sweet, sweet time in exiting the wheelhouse.

Nerys did indeed make it to shore, though she knew well enough to keep low, and to seek for the first bit of cover she could find. The shuffling of the pack animals drew her attention, and she frowned, though the expression was lost within the helmet. She would have to move slowly, so as not to cause one of them to grow too wary and draw the attention of its master. Hiding, that she could do. The masters of the galaxy knew she had had to do more than enough of that in her day. With luck, she could find a way past the pack animals and onto the route which had been set for them to approach the communications arrays.

Zul Gradnk finally finds the right cable, fixing the explosives DOn't need to!" she yells full of confidence, getting to work herself.

Wrr worked with Zul, trying to make sure their little 'present' would be delivered as intended. Or, on the flip side of that, preemptively go off and result in a loss of a finger, or three. Or perhaps a lek, in Zul's case. However, between the two of them, Wrr was positive that that yellow cable definitely connected to that gizmo there, and that balance of chemicals was the correct balance. She warbled her assent, that they were good to go.

"Port of origin and destination." It's not so much a question as it is a command, albeit one that's issued with a seemingly bored countenance. The dockmaster holds out her hand at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for the Flaming Dew Drop's captain to turn them over.

"Evenin'," Capt Vaor swaggers down the final lengths of ramp after making a deliberate pass by his crew for a little wink and side nod that they ought follow along. "Miss.../Officer/ Logos, is it?" He squints, honestly just eyeing her badge. One meaty hand with grungy fingernails hands the creds over for her review. "Comin' out of Ba'rir," a vague thumbing toward the north, aka upstream. "Y'know. Ways north of Vaggar. Historically that's been my port of favor, but seein' as how it's been overrun by trouble of late..."

The Republic.

"Figured I oughta drift a little further. Your station's got better blackfish buns, anyhow. Got a belly full of trinkets an'..." he pauses, tugging a datapad off his belt to glance over the manifest. "Lessee, uh...heh. Damn. If only I'd read /that/ more closely, might've had myself a more enjoyable float. 'Fine spirits'. Betcha there's a half ton of those fancy toothpicks aboard, too. Resort town an' all." He winks, moving to turn the pad over for her inspection next while his other hand tucks into pocket. Unfortunately for Capt Vaor and his charms, the dislodging of datapad had displaced a utility pocket flap, too, which exposes a suspicious bulge on his outer thigh. And possibly a peep of duraplast grip.

Officer Logos clicks her teeth, rolls eyes, and sighs her way through skimming his credentials. "Yeah, well take your time. Been a slow day, but if it's the blackfish you're wan..."

Vaor quirks a brow, turning his head back around (from checking on Wrrl and Zul's progress) and down to fixate on the passably pretty face furrowing a look of intense scrutiny at his....

Pocket.

Whoops.

"OH! I almost forgot..." he reaches IN to that pocket and tugs out something completely innocuous - a tiny headlamp - and proceeds to thrust it at her. "Ga'hr--y'know I can never pronounce his - her? - his name, anyway, watchman from up up north said he borrowed this, last he was on shift here, what some four months ago, and forgot 'bout it till we got to talkin and I mentioned whereabouts I was heading. Says thanks."

Will she buy it? Maybe. But even if she does, it cannot conceal the bulge that remains, for his hasty attempt to throw her off scent of his pistol accidentally UNconcealed it all the more. Does she notice??? More importantly, WHERE IS THE CREW.

Vaor smiles so hard he sweats.

Meanwhile, three of the four bageraset could'n't give two flicks of a fly about the amphibious intruders upon their shoreline. One of them, though, just has to be /that/ guy. The striped animal bucks his long neck and stompity stomps in place as if to incredulously announce his displeasure that the other three haven't noticed the ---- wait. Where did they go?????? Nerys' sneak tactics have worked and the animal eventually forgets about the scare.

Over the marshy ground, striking out from the dock and over terrain beyond the city, bouncing beams of light indicate a new patrol unit making its rounds.

If Nerys was aware of what was going on at the docks, there was nothing she could do at this moment to assist them. All that she could do, was to complete the mission. It was not a mercenary thought, but it was an honest one. The mission was paramount. Unable to link up with Nova, Nerys continued on, keeping low, using the shadows and the capability of her armor to her advantage. She just ducked down behind a large storage crate, as she saw the lights of a patrol approaching. Best to wait until they were past her to continue on.

Zul Gradnk arrives "Shipment full of the finest wine!" she offers, pushing the crate out "Just as ordered! Now, our client is getting real impatient, if you wouldn't mind." she sighs "The boss is keeping us on shift so long..."

As Zul pushes the crate it bumps into the Wookiee. It provides her with a gleaming opportunity. Wrr can't lie to save her life. Honest face, or something. What she can do though, is wave her arms around in the air at Zul, for 'bumping' into her, and warble her head off. Which is exactly what she does, giving her best 'I'm about to rip your arms off' roars. Hopefully, it will inspire the dockmaster to speed them along on their way, and ignore the captain's 'bulge'.

"I thought you s--" whatever the dockmaster was about to refute in regards to Zul's comment gets silenced by the Wookiee's outburst. Did she flinch? She might've flinched, but only just a little. Still holding fast to the captain's credentials (it's possible she doesn't realize they are still in her hand in this moment) and now also the headlamp, Officer Logos puts a half step more distance between self and raging Wrrlryyhn.

"I--" Capt Vaor whips his head around to witness the improvisation. At least, he HOPES it's an improvisation. "--see this is the problem. Fuel, we might've made it through to Vreni, but /these/ two...they do NOT get along. I can barely afford the insurance as it is, last thing I need is the Twi's leks tied in knots by the damn medic who'd be the one in charge of patchin 'er up, yeah? Listen, any confusion I am HAPPY to clear to up, believe you me, but can we get off this dock 'fore one of us ends up in the drink?" His gray-blue eyes turn pleadingly down upon the dockmaster. One hand goes to another pocket - swiftly tracked by her eyes (when not firing off wary glances at Wrrl) - and he pulls out a pack of tabac sticks, shakes one out, lights it....stows pack and lighter away. And makes some necessary readjustments to shake that problematic heat he's packin back into its proper place when she's glancing to the Wookiee. Motioning with the cig for her to lead the way, he reaches back into pocket and fingers that detonator.

"Right," Officer Logos reiterates, "but I'm going to need to----"

• PFFFTPOP*

The telltale sound of an electrical fire in the making is a quiet but nefarious noise. Seconds later, there is smoke coming from the aft deck and shortly thereafter..."FIRE!" one of the dock workers yells and those holding onto fuel cannister quickly hoof it back to the station. Away from the barge.

"OH-W-WHAT!?" Vaor cries icredulously (partially because it wasn't the big boom he'd been expecting) and drops to his knees like he's just had it with the day. Chaos has been ignited.

Emergency crews are called to help snuff the problem before it can do damage to the dock, and possibly save the cargo! Captain Vaor lingers in the midst of it all, giving Wrrl and Zul the chance they need to disappear into the crowd and pass through dock station into city. A little ways down river, two more bodies have swum ashore and are sloughing off their wet outer gear while whispering into comms.

<<Paddy frogs, rendezvous at checkpoint, Dosh-niner-six-one.>> Aka, Dugari's cantina, the employee entrance. <<Contact awaiting confirmation.>> They've got a friendly there. For Nerys, this means navigating the perimeter of the city's 'upriver' quadrant. Essentially, it's not a far trek from her current location. For those who hadn't made it off the barge until further downriver, they've got a much longer haul ahead. At least they've come prepared to blend in. The two have finished kicking off the last of their gear, tuck it into bags in the reeds, and fire off an impatient look at the bank across the way. Down river. A third party has finally hauled out onto the rocks there, looking and feeling a bit worse for wear. Seems like somebody got caught in the currents!

Nerys, still quiet on comms, instead tapped the mic, a signal that she was still online and still receiving. She was too close to that patrol to risk anything. The helmet was supposed to be sound proof, but only a fool would take that risk. Another set of taps on the mic as she received the rendezvous location, and she continued her little sneaky crab-crawling from hide to hide, moving as close to a straight line to target as she could. Even Bitty was silent, her single eye dark. Only thr teeny droid hand that lay on the barrel of her D-49 gave any indication that the droid was under power at all. The water had been kind. Perhaps the land would be kinder still.

Zul Gradnk just pushes the cratte, before disappearing nto the crowd "I hate the captain." she just mutters

The Wookiee was not much of a liar. But that didn't mean she couldn't put on a show. And despite their bomb being a little less than impressive, they still managed to get the job done. Somehow. So, on silent, hairy feet, the Wookiee faded off into the crowd. Somehow.

What with patrols around and plenty of ground to cover, Nova relies on her poncho and a good knowledge of fieldcraft to get her to the rendezvous point. There are a lot of eyes in that patrol, but they really don't know what to look for, and she's prepared to take advantage of that.

Staying low, she moves only when the patrol does, letting them mask her footsteps for her. She also keeps behind them, where they're less likely to seriously look, and stays some distance back. It'll take a while, but she'll shake them and get there.

At least, she'd better. She figures General Greystorm will stake her hide to the wall if she doesn't, or at least tan it.

That's incentive, folks.