Log:The Shadowport: The Hapan-ing: We Shouldn't Be Here

Team Skunkworks graces the glorious planet of Hapes with their presence

OOC Date: November 29, 2020
Location: Hapes
Participants: The Shadowport, Sapphira, Rale, Khalim, Liz'diot, Karr'roga, Kaavenn, with special guest Ryo Odessa, and featuring Zhu Yan as GM

The short story: Anyone ever watch that movie High Anxiety? You remember the airport security gag with the old couple?

The long story:

[20:08:22|Zhu Yan]
Not everyone can ride in on the Royal Yacht or Special Service Vessel or whatever the heck EJ and posse are taking to arrive on Hapes. Hell, Yan himself has made a point of /not/ knowing how the other half is arriving. Better to keep separation, there. So the rest of the Shadowport, the scum, the ruffians, the roughnecks, the Barabel, they have to arrive like the peasantry they are.

Via public transport.

These words have been the bane to many an individual of all shapes and sizes, and it's no different today. The charter shuttle fell through the atmosphere like an aerodynamic brick, bumping around in the re-entry turbulence. Crammed in and surrounded by humans, humanoids, not-quite-humanoids, and enough airline body odour to seriously incapacitate a small feline, the Shadowportians were hopefully appropriately disguised for their super sneaky super amazing infiltration of a planet that, if you weren't a very good looking humanoid, hated you.

So, good luck, I suppose.

"All your IDs are pretty much on-point," Yan was explaining in the cramped set of seats that were holding he and his crew. Yan did not resemble himself at all. His beard was completely absent, his long-ish hair was tied back in a loose knot, and he had cheek pads in that adjusted his facial lines. His face was somewhere between bland and babyfaced. "Not many changes so if you're called out on things you can improvise. Remember, you're tourists, so give some tourist-y reasons for being here," he elaborated, the cheek pads adding a faint airyness to his affected slightly-upper class accent. He plucked at the shoulder of the annoyingly garish red-orange-pink-flowery shirt he was wearing, the collar high enough to cover up the join between his synthflesh and real skin. It wasn't comfortable. "Your luggage is getting shipped out to the resort. Don't worry, blockers are in place and the right bribes have been made. You'll have all your gear once we're through."

There was the whirr of repulsorlifts and the hiss of engines disengaging as the shuttle made its approach to the landing pads. Out the viewports was HAPES, in all its beautiful elitist glory. It was definitely a gaia planet, something about natural beauty and matriarchial society and to be perfectly honest Yan wasn't listening when EJ gave the brief. "Last checks, guys," Yan said, and stood to grab a hold of the ceiling rail. "Then it's showtime."


[20:11:54|Sapphira]
Who is this Sapphira character? For most around here she was an unknown. Yet, today, for poor Khalim, she was his DEAR DARLING DOTING MOTHER. Painted up as a Mirialan with only one or two geometric symbols to her face beneath some wrinkled crow's feet, the woman is adorned in a long loose caftan that would be quite comfortable on the desert heat of her homeworld. She's covered that with two or three brand new coats and a hat pulled down low over her ears. "Oh, I'm so excited! It's been too long since we had any //quality// time together," she gushes to Khalim, whose arm she is forcibly hanging off of. "Here, come here. Get in close with me." She lifts a big, old model datapad up to use it as a camera to snap a picture of herself and Khalim. "There. I can't wait to show all the girls back home how //handsome// you've become."


[20:15:09|Rale] Rale adjusts his jacket, appearing dubious as he gives one last inspection of his papers. "Happy to be traveling to Hapes and see if there is new opportunities, even if my company mixed up the paperwork and I'm traveling in public transit." He has dyed his brown fur black throughout, and his teeth are far more pearly white than usual. He looks to Khalim and Sapphira and effects a bit of a snort of disdain at the displays of affection. Murmuring to himself, repeating that he is Muro, from Coruscant, here for business inquiries and to see the sights.


[20:17:01|Khalim]
Khalim's no longer a pilot. He's never been in a cockpit. His entire life has been spent in need of a different kind of speed, the kind only a semi-pro locally famous swoop racer enjoys. Pegging the speedometer of a modified swoop, and hopefully not crashing into a suddenly there tree, or pedestrian. His facial tats might be new to his mother, but the boyish grin he gives her is certainly not. He's always been, and will always be, a momma's boy. "Just keep these off the holo, mom. Alright? /OFF THE HOLO/." His words are said with the assurance of someone who knows they're ALL going to end up on the holo.


[20:17:26|Liz'diot]
"Tourists... you FETID imbicils, Hapes is an Isolationist Community they don-" That's about when the universe had enough of a loud mouthed Bith as the shuttle juked and russtles, knocking the pustule of his synthetic feet and onto the deck plating, "Owww PHEWIE!"

He spent the time just before getting off the ship making sure his droids where in proper working order and rady to come save them in the knick of time if needed. He wore his usual get up, and put on that usual disguise. Today, Hapes recieved the dreaded Count Drolex THE WISE. Murder of peasents, slayer of children, and wanted criminal on over a thousand systems. "YASSSSSSS!" He exlaimed as his nostrils hit the air of the planet. "INDEED."


[20:22:01|Karr'roga]
Quiet. Quiet despite being the largest body of the group. Even that mighty tail - is quiet. Silent. Still. While Zhu Yan is giving his speech, the mind of Karr'roga dies. It wilts and dies.

In its place is the immense Papa Dragon. A terrible demeanor coming over the Barabel even for the one they used to know, and this one? This one barely moves with the jostle of the public transport. Papa Dragon. He's dressed in a massive coat made from (please, Dear Gods, Dear Sith, whatever - just don't let it be humanoid) leather. A large skull sigil of a fire-breathing Krayt Dragon on the back. Large claws painted glittering gold save the pinky-claws, these are brilliantly bedazzled.

A large hat on his head hides some of the face. But the heavy coat, the hat, this gangster turns his eyes down at Rale and there's a crocodillian rumbling that comes from the guts. "Murrrrrro." The nostrils flare, "Who are we meeting for the buy?"

That's right. Papa Dragon lives, Karr'roga does not exist.


[20:22:26|Kaavenn]
It's not easy being a Shistavanen, trying to disguise himself as something else is a challenge most days for Kaavenn, fortunately he's picked up a few tricks over the years. Tricks Yan had to help him with this time around that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Nothing can be done for the eyes. The first step was Kaavenn dyed his hair from grey to black, it's the easiest color shift and will wash out in time for extraction. He's not sure why Yan insisted on helping with the dye job and wardrobe, but it's best not to think about it. Kaavenn is wearing bright multicolored short sleeves for the trip. Definitely a touristy type shirt that just screams too much time spent at beaches with drinks in hand.

At least his forgery game was on point. His cover was just that of tourist. He was clearly less than thrilled about the equipment arrangements, but this was out of his hands. He did his best to not be apprehensive and trust that Yan would not muck up the gear. Mostly he did it because EJ said so, and he likes breathing. That didn't stop Kaav from making some... separate arrangements.

During the trip, he's certainly keeping his distance easily from everyone else. After all, it's a mix of unique enough species that could raise some flags, especially later after Shadowport Luck shows up.


[20:27:21|Ryo Odessa]
Somehow managing to look even more like Ryo Odessa than he ever has in his whole life, Ryo Odessa adjusts one of his scarves and looks his ID over in his hands. It's a good bit of work. 'Horst Mbasi' it reads. Profession? 'Artiste'.

The shuttle's landed, and the Festian man moves to stand, swiping loose space peanut crumbs from his vest and running a hand back through his hair, getting ready to lie his butt off to spaceport officials.


[20:35:20|Zhu Yan]
There were a few bumps, a groan, and a thud as the bricklike transit shuttle touched down upon a landing pad that was far more beautiful than a big hunk o' tarmac had any right to be. They must really be putting the menfolk to work here because this thing looked less like a concrete block and more like a carved ornate sculpture some matriarch keeps in her drawing room. Because they clearly must have drawing rooms.

The hatch hissed open as hatches tend to do and in came the glorious, beautiful Hapan evening not eugenically engineered in any way. There was a whiff of humidity, and in the distance were some irritated-looking clouds. Rainclouds on Hapes were far too prim to be angry. Passengers started filtering out to go through customs, many lines set up in the wonderful sunny day for rapid processing and turnaround. "Okay. Separate lines where you can, together if you have to," Yan instructed, and threw a dirty glance at Ryo Odessa. "I swear if you were my size it'd have worked. I swear."

As the assorted crew of the Shadowport, mixed and mingling with the legitimate passengers came to the gates, one throng split into many brief queues. Each one had a bored-looking customs agent, the working class male, checking identities, carry-ons, and asking the obligatory questions. There were enough for everyone to have their own agent. And so, upon arrival, each of them got a once-over (some got a thrice-over, like the BARABEL), and asked, "Identification papers, and purpose of visit, please."


[20:41:07|Sapphira]
"Alright alright, off the holo. You don't have to kvetch at me like that. It's like you don't trust me!" It's absolutely going on the holo, if any of this were real. "I'll just show it to the girls, that's all. Can't a mother be proud of her son?" Sapphira-Mother-of-Khalim shuffles among her many coats to put her oversized datapad away and zip it safely into a pocket. "I've heard all sorts of stories about off-world pickpockets," she informs her son, nodding as if she were somehow in the know on such things.

That's the conversation that greets the customs agent as Khalim and Sapphira walk up to the kiosk. It's only after Mama Sapphira has finished talking with her BELOVED SON that she deigns to look at the customs worker, and she practically beams. "Oh hello there! My SON here is taking me on a vacation! Isn't that wonderful? I mean, it's a little overdue, but I know he's just so //busy//." Was there a quick glance of reproach Khalim's way? "Oh, I think he has everything for us. Sweetheart, I think the nice man here needs all our information." She hasn't let go of his arm since they queued.


[20:45:28|Rale]
"I don't need to tell you, Mister Dragon, how hard it is to get business contracts in Hapes. Our contact is with Sandwell Biotech, a Miss Sarafine. Now, stick close, I feel so much better with you nearby." Clearly putting on a front of being comforted and expecting Ryo or Kaavenn to suddenly attack without reason. As they approach the Customs agent, he murmurs aside to the enormous Barabel "Personally, I expect this to be a perfectly good opportunity for us to see the sights and...Sunbathe, or whatever you do." He approaches the Customs agent and hands his paperwork over to 'Papa Dragon' to pass over to the bored agent. "Greetings! I'm Muro, with the Industrial Foodstuffs and Medications Incorporated. This is my assigned man, Papa Dragon, here for business and pleasure, hopefully at the same time."


[20:51:18|Khalim]
Khalim-Son-of-Sapphira does catch that momentary look of reproach, and shifts his dark brown gaze to the customs agent. "A little fame, some winnings, and you'd think it had been there the whole time." A warm smile is sent to momma though, as he adds, "But here we are, and it'll be all the holopics you can take. And /SOME/ of them... alright... you can post."

Back to the increasingly bored customs agent, Khalim fishes two sets of identification papers out of an interior jacket pocket, and slides them in front of the man. "I'm Baz Fezone, swoop champion of MIrial. Ok, district six, Mirial. But not for long." He offers a cheeky grin, "Nowhere to go but up. And this is my lovely mother, Janru. Here for vacation, and hopefully leave with less credits than we arrived." An impressed glance is sent about the customs reception area as he adds, "Already looking pretty fab."


[20:51:54|Liz'diot]
Upon Liz's turn in line with the customs Agent, he puts makes an attempt at flattery, "Hello there Studmuffin'. It is quite simple really. You see, I COUNT DROLEX THE WISE am here to see some rather special HAPAN scientists. YASSSS. INDEED, It is I who bring the secrets of the trans dimensional Omniverse. It is I who knows the RAW power of the bean, and it is I and ONLY I who can share it with you precious Naval forces so they may stand a chance against the blasted New Republic or the Dreaded First Order... YASSS." Lanky long fingers come together, teepeeing and tapping against one another.


[20:52:32|Karr'roga]
The behemoth of teeth, bedazzled claws, and Krayt Dragon symbolism listens to Muro intently. Nostrils flaring once or twice, and those yellow eyes are barely open; instead, the Barabel guides his motions with those open thermal pits: The world is a multicolored dimension of heat-signatures, and that Agent is passed the papers - though there's a moment where the claws glint in the sunshine. Papa Dragon speaking to his comrade, "That is why...I-" The singular word and syllable roll out of the Barabel's throat like a belch, a growl. "- came with you, thissss time." Hisses rise and fall. The large Barabel's eyes finally shutting entirely, like armored shutters over sensitive lenses. Thermal pits open, and close, with each breath. "Thissss Sarafine. She would like a prrrresent." Stated, not asked. "When will customssss be done with ourrr luggage?"

Karr'roga is dead. Does not exist. Papa Dragon's personality continues to sink into his skin, and the Barabel's large tail sways under that heavy Krayt Dragon coat. The large hat touched in such a way to...salute the agent, once papers are given back. Like King. Then comes a roiling growl not from the Barabel's throatsac, or voicebox - but one of three stomachs.


[20:54:44|Kaavenn]
Being a professional has it's moments. Like these. The others blend in enough, except for Liz, Rale and Karr'roga. Bithly metal legs and droids are not exactly easy to miss. Karr'roga as a Barabel is noticeable in general... Papa Dragon on the other hand. Even Kaavenn can't stop looking over with shaded glowing red eyes now and again. It's either the gold glittered claws... or the bedazzled pinky claws. Rale has ears for kilometers, and still looks like he'd make good soup. So Kaavenn just has a general expression of confusion and dubious distrust towards them at most times in particular... as a good TOURIST should

Customs check, this is where it's time to just be normal and pretend he has never been to Hapes before. Definitely never killed anyone on Hapes before. Nope. So when he hands over his paperwork in his loud multi-colored shirt. "Oh just a good old time, I hear the planet has the most beautiful beings in the galaxy... where the women have a particularly strong will if you know what I mean." Kaavenn's eyebrows bounce a little and he gives his fangiest smile. "Always like meeting new people, women, men, I'm not that picky! That and well, honestly my travel agent gave me this really reduced travel package to come here, I practically didn't pay for the trip at all." He didn't in fact, as far as he is concerned this is Shadowport billable time.


[20:57:24|Ryo Odessa]
"Nobody in the history of the Galaxy has ever been less my size, you oaf," Ryo answers back to Zhu Yan, his face already twisted into the sickly sweet smile that he's prepared for the officials.

Swishing his way towards one of the customs lines, Ryo manages to vogue and look fierce, even while waiting in a queue. Eventually, though, he makes his way to the front of it and slaps his ID papers down, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead and leaning back, his other hand tucked in tight against his hip. "The Resplendent Horst Mbasi. I'm here on a cultural mission from my dreadful home of Taris. Their art scene is a pittance. It is /nothing/. I will paint you all. I will drape myself in your culture and drink deep from the fountains of /HAPES/." His back arches even more and he bites down on his fist, breathing in a sharp, quick breath. Then that hand is freed from his mouth, swishing up into the air and snapping quickly. "And /then/ I will return to my people, a brilliant beacon of culture and light for them to aspire to," he explains.

The customs agent stares at the man, slackjawed and no doubt amazed by his many scarves before he points to the paper and pencil sat on the desk in front of him.

"Oh...pleasure, then," Ryo says, checking the box.


[21:04:00|Zhu Yan]
SAPPHIRA & KHALIM:
"Oh how lovely! Madam, you will fit right in on this planet." The matriarchal instinct of obedience towards authoritarian female figures had been bred into every single Hapan male (eugenics!) and that nerve being tripped caused the /very/ handsome customs agent to default to 'Respect Every Word This Woman Says' mode. It was perhaps, for this reason, that the very well behaved and mostly-deferential figure of Baz Fezone was pretty much completely ignored. "Might I ask the duration of your stay? If it's not for long, there a few things to do in Ta'a Chume'Dan but if longer, there are some /lovely/ tours amongst the alps, if you enjoy the outdoors!"

RALE & KARR'ROGA:
"Uh huuuuuuh," said Agent #2, who was too busy looking at the gigantic hulking dinosaur man in a weird mix of fear, awe, and oh-god-my-pants. There were a few blinks before he almost literally tore his eyes away from his walking fight-or-flight instinct and reviewed the paperwork. It took a minute, and there were a few swipe-lefts and swipe-rights as he cross-checked the info with what he had been told. There were more than a couple of checks? "Mister... Muro, was it? Your papers say you're with Industrial Foodstuffs and Materials Incorporated."

Uh oh, Yan.

The agent looked back up, alert, his arlmond-shaped eyes slightly narrowed and his husky features now remarkably and disarmingly pleasant. "Surely this is correct, yes?"

LIZ'DIOT:
You ever just have one of those days where you cannot make heads or tails of what's going on in front of you? The youthful man with nary a pimple (the gene having been eradicated eons ago) and the boyish good looks was just not comprehending the concept of this... thing. "I- wh- okay, uh," he started, stopping and trying to think over what had just been explained to him. "I caught 'Drolex' and 'scientists' and... is it business?" Befuddlement! "Look if I think you're wanting to talk about weapons and navy you're gonna have to give me a better explanation."

KAAVENN:
"You're not wrong," said the older man, who was greying gracefully, and the canyons forming on his face only accentuated how sharp his features and his gaze were. "Mind you, need to be careful who you say that around. Couple of the ladies might take offense, especially from a Shistavanen, y'know what I mean." He'd been doing this job for twenty years now. He was three weeks from retirement. There was a glance over the identification and transit paperwork, a quick look that told him everything he needed to know. "I'm marking down 'tourism'." His sharp blue eyes flicked up to give Kaavenn a steely glare. "Duration of visit?"

RYO ODESSA:
Slackjawed was right, but definitely in the sense of 'who is this clown'. There was a long moment of silence during which the good-looking gentleman gave Ryo a gaze that rapidly played itself and became uncomfortable. The silence was deafening.

Then, he followed up with, "Good." That was nice and brief. There was a look at the identification and then a few taps on his datapad. "Duration." Pause. "Please."


[21:10:20|Sapphira]
It seems Mama-Sapphira has made a friend. What good MOTHER doesn't love the deference of the young? "Oh, only as long as my sweet boy here can spare. Like he said, he's on his way up! That takes dedication, time, hard work, talent..." she could go on. In fact, she does. At least for a little while. "It actually works out well. I //enjoy// the outdoors ... through a thick window in a climate-controlled lounge with a glass of Port in a Storm!" She laughs. You can all hear that laugh.

"Here, let me get out my datapad...." It takes forever because once again it's zipped. Shuffle shuffle. Shuffle shuffle. "Here it is. Now let me just see. I have this running document where I keep all my reminders and notes. No. No, that's not it. Sweetheart can you see this?" She holds the datapad up for Khalim to look at it before pulling it away again. "Oh, there it is! Yes, alright. I'd love to hear what a //real local// recommends!" She stands, poised and ready with the index finger on each hand, to type out whatever the customs agent recommends. "What a sweet boy you are," she adds priase to the helpful Hapan.


[21:12:09|Rale]
Rale, standing quite literally in the shadow of his enormous companion, can barely be seen with his new, jet-black fur. "Ah yes, Mister Papa, a glorious suggestion! Tell me, good Hapan, where i-hmmm?" He looks at his papers, and sighs, as if annoyed and disappointed by them in their entirety. Which he probably is. "I am afraid that they must have misfiled my division of the corp when handling the paperwork, I transferred from the Materials division three months ago. You know how it is, long shifts and endless papers to file! A simple error, of course, hardly worth noting." He is grinning broadly, and a glint of a cred chip might be seen poking from his pocket, trusting in flash, credits, or Karrs enormous presence to assuage this man.


[21:14:51|Ryo Odessa]
"How long will it take a traveler of the Void Blaque to soak in the ancient arts and histories to be found here?" Ryo begins, a pleading look welling up in the 'Tarisian's eyes. "Millenia of war, love, and /lust/. All here for the taking. But...where's an artiste to start? Alas, my brush must be /dipped/ in your oils and waters, before it can be thrust upon a canvas," Ryo explains, a finger toying idly with a patch of his chest hair. "How long do you think it will take me...to dip my brush?" he asks, doe-eyes in full affect.


[21:17:19|Khalim]
Khalim-Baz remembers Eriu's briefing. This was the /best/ possible outcome for he and Sapphira's interaction with the customs agent. The Mirialan remains mostly quiet as his mother sweetly badgers the Hapan into submission, those dark brown eyes fixed on the man, measuring his response. He does speak up, though, to helpfully add, "See, mother? The perfect vacation spot, and everyone's already so helpful." He offers the Hapan his winningest smile, knowing he's being more or less ignored at this point, but doing his best to grease the conversation towards its... hopefully... logical conclusion. Their acceptance and ushering beyond the booth's little gate.

Khalim does realize a question's been asked, though, and replies, "Two weeks, it's a lot of time to be spent away but what mother isn't worth it." That smile. Huge. Winning. Winningest.


[21:20:27|Liz'diot]
THERE WAS A BREIFING?!

Liz wasn't there. He was probably drunk, which is what he wish he was right in this moment. If if large bulbous head didn't already look like it was about to explode, it did now that several veins were ticking with frustration and rage. Rage at the stupidity of the customs agent. "You FOOL. Of course it's buisness... how could you /NOT/ deduce that from my explination. Are you Vapid, foul creature... how you could be considered sentiant is BEYOND my Seventh Dimensional comprehension."

He reaches into the part in the blazer of his leisure suit and pulls out a flask. Long fingers work to open the top before he pours the liquid down his mouth hole. "I'm here for buisness. I have meetings with the Defense Department. INDEED."


[21:21:46|Karr'roga]
It's that stink of fear that touches his nostrils...

...Karr'roga is NOT dead. NOT gone. There's a brief moment where there comes a rigidity to Papa Dragon as that Hapan makes words with his disgusting mouth-hole, but it's not the words Papa Dragon hears: It's the sound of his breathing. The beat of his mild, panicked heart. Four chambers? HA. Loser. The Barabel's stomachs rumble again, and there comes a loosening to Papa Dragon, just enough for that fanged maw to turn towards the Agent at the questioning and when Muro gives his answer?

The thermal slits open wide. The fanged maw opens just enough for each long fang to be seen, independent of the others, and a rumble that backs up Muro's words. Because Muro isn't the one the Agent should be paying attention to.

It's the Barabel and his three stomachs, as decorated claws tap-tap-tap on each other. Word rise and fall, a cacophony of hisses behind the syllables. "Ssstop being corrrrdial, Murrrro. I am hungrrrry, and the shuttle ride was long."


[21:23:39|Kaavenn]
"Oh I don't know. Sometimes offense can turn into fun... but yes. I know exactly what you mean." Kaavenn does not look too offended, clearly just used to it. "Either they're interested, or repulsed. Still, always a good chance for curiosity. Any good beaches, by the way?" There had been a nod acknowledging tourism. "Two weeks is what it's blocked out for, might extend if it goes well. I got the time off banked, may as well burn it, right?" Another smile. "Oh, so. Beaches?" He tries to not make the subtitle read 'Where all the half-naked people at?' too loudly.


[21:35:49|Zhu Yan]
SAPPHIRA & KHALIM:
"To each their own, we have /puhlenty/ of things for you to do, even indoors!" This man was fawning. Absolutely subservient. Boy, if young Baz could learn a lesson or two from this whippersnapper! "Two weeks! Excellent. Excellent. Here. Let me give you a couple of forms on our tourist attractions. Might I recommend the Djo Theatre? There is usually a glorious show every evening." Boom! Pamphlets and brochures were being gracefully shoved into the young actual-Mirialan's hands. "You're a good young man, you know that? So many young men are rebellious here," said the handsome young man, before tapping his datapad with a loud DING. Green reflected off the screen on to his face. "Please, please, go through. Welcome to Hapes!"

RALE & KARR'ROGA:
"Sir, on Hapes we take matters of paperwork most seriously here. If your company is incapable of filling out its documentation, then the great Consortium of Hapes is in no way obligated to let you step fo-"

It was at that point that the guard metaphorically lost his lunch. The ungodly noise that enimated from the Barabel completely threw him off, his fight-or-flight instinct kicking in full bore as that primal terror of I'm-about-to-get-eaten took over. Was he always sweating? "oooooouuuuhhhhhh... but, y'know, corporations screw up all the time, so I think this will be okay." He did NOT want to get eaten by a Barabel. "So, uh, how long you staying?"

LIZ'DIOT:
"Ah, I get it." The zero-pimpled youth didn't get it, but had clearly come to some sort of assumption. "Look, if you don't wanna say you're here for the fairer," did he mean the women? "then I understand. But, I gotta put something on this form that doesn't involve putting you on a watch-list." Pause. "Unless you wanna be on a watchlist. So, pleasure, and... how long are you here?" The young man looked at Count Drolex with the eyes of someone who Understands, because of a shared connection of going down to the beach at Late and ogling the superior females as they indulged in their recreation. Secrecy was of course demanded. How the mechano-legged Bith was gonna pull that off was his own problem.

KAAVENN:
"Head east out of Ta'a Chume'Dan and look for Serene Road. Follow that about a click and you'll hit the coast," explained the older agent, perfectly happy to shoot the sithspit with the wolfman. He'd seen enough to not really care. "Late-times are the time to go, that's when the moons hit the ocean just right, and most people love making a Late of it." Late? Oh. Hapes didn't have nights, per se. Just day, and slightly less day. The agent tapped on his datapad and there was a DING, the green glow of the screen reflecting off his face. "You're all set. Welcome to Hapes, enjoy your stay."

RYO ODESSA:
The Customs Agent, a good-looking fellow who would be even more handsome if his face wasn't completely and utterly lacking any sort of good cheer whatsoever, fixed some of that lack towards the uproarious antics of Horst Mbasi. "Sir," he said firmly. "We have fops of all natures coming through these gates, multiple times a day. You story is not only common, it is boring. Everybody comes to Hapes to," and he raised both his hands, exposing the datapad to make some fingerquotes, "'enrich' its culture, but you cannot enrich Hapes. You only come away enriched." Returning to the datapad, he held it ready to type, and asked again. "Duration of visit?"


[21:39:46|Sapphira]
"A SHOW?!" Mama Sapphira practically shrieks at the custom man's recommendation. "Oh, I //love// the theater! So elegant! I'll have to find something fashionable to wear! You've been //so// helpful," the matriarch gushes back to the custom's man. She makes a few taps on her datapad and stands a half-step back as if she's about to make room for the next person. But no, not yet. First she has to fuss that too-big datapad back into her zippered pockets. Pickpockets, remember guys?

Once she's done, Mama Sapphira waits until she can link arms with her SONNY BOY once again. "He's right you know. You are //such// a good boy. Oh, I had my doubts but you were right about this place. Really, it was your //father// who had his doubts, I was just passing along his concerns you know. I told him to just trust you, that you'd take good care of me! But you know how your father is..."


[21:40:32|Rale]
Always one to take advantage of a situation when it falls his way somehow, Rale beams at the terrified Customs meat-I mean man. "I agree entirely! We will be staying two weeks, and not a day more. As you say, must keep to scheduling, hmm?" He checks all the appropriate boxes, glancing to Papa with a bit of a raised eyebrow. Dramatically leans in to the Customs bloke. "And can you point me in the direction of the best shopping...And meat market? Or perhaps just nearest available meat?" Really driving home that delaying this pair might result in death and ingestion. All the while beaming like he hasn't a care in this world.


[21:45:39|Khalim]
Khalim-Baz is stuffing his pockets with brochures. So. Many. Brochures. This customs agent really wants Mama Sapphira to see all the sights. The real Mirialan simply beams a smile at the Hapan, "Thank you, Sir. I'm sure this is the start of an amazing two weeks to come." To Sapphira-Mother-of-Khalim he shows patient deference as a purse is fiddled with, until the 'pad is again safely stowed under layers and zippers and perhaps another layer. Arms linked, they walk through the newly opened kiosk-gate, out into the crowd of "acceptables" that all seem to be headed in one direction. "Going to be a fun stay, don't you think?" Khalim sends Sapphira a quirky side-long smile as they walk, free as birds. Really, really not the birds the Hapan would have wanted to let in.


[21:49:31|Liz'diot]
"FINE I'M HERE FOR THE HOT STUFF, ALRIGHT!" Liz shouted through out the entire Customs dock. Everyone could hear and it's quite likely the whole crowd went silent. IT was a shrill scream, his head vein pounding as his heart raced. His clamy skin beaded with water. He looks around at those staring at him, "Don't you judge me! It is real work!" Looking back towards the custom agent... "Just... come on." He waves his hand in an expidited manner, almost dropping that supreme being act and reaching the real him under the surface. There he was... there. The Real tired and defused Bith. What lurked there?


[21:53:50|Karr'roga]
The rumbling never stops. The hissing moves up and down in volume, and the nostrils falre. Every bestial tick of the Barabel People comes to bare, because apparently the Agent momentarily forgot that under the coat and big-brim hat so fine even King would wear it -- there is a bidepal dinosaur.

The claws might be painted and bedazzled, but they click, and that thick tail hisses as the keratin is dragged across the surface of the ground. "/Murrro./" It's stated again with a hiss of impatience. Papa Dragon having already turned his side to the Hapan, eyes still closed, but those pits 'wink'.

The Barabel begins to move forward, the large hooked foot-talon tap-tap-tapping on the ground. There's a scream from the gates, and finally those yellow, slitted eyes open to peer the way of the screaming, greasy Bith and the nostrils flare for half a second. Then, the slitted pupils turn back to the Agent, looking the Hapan over - before they shut again and Papa Dragon moves on.


[22:08:36|Kaavenn]
"Well all right, all right all right..." He fingerguns the customs agent who clearly has seen too much and has gone ROAD. May as well complete his day with another travellers cliche`. "Ta'a Chume'Dan and Serene Road it is." He adds a tongue click. "Night time, sounds life great advice, thanks for the assist there, Superchief." Kaavenn turns to go adding. "Have a great rest of your shift." Kaavenn makes for the luggage claim area, as that is what a good tourist does. He's unfortunately sipping some water when Liz yells for the whole area to here and splutters for a while, making his way wheezing with tearing eyes.


[22:09:36|Ryo Odessa]
"Three weeks," Ryo says, rolling his eyes and resting his hands on his hips, breathing out a huff. "You'll know enrichment when you gaze upon my pieces lining your royal halls," Ryo adds, clearly losing track and just getting offended in Horst Mbasi's place. He manages to reign it back in, though and compose himself. "If you play your cards right, you and I might be able to enrich a few of those lovely hotels you...if I can find the time, of course. I might just be too busy..."


[22:13:18|Zhu Yan]
RALE & KARR'ROGA:
"Two weeks. Very well." There was more tapping on the datapad. "I'm making a note here that your paperwork was correct at time of issue. Keep that in mind if people-"

And then the Bith hit the fan. The customs agent winced in pain. "Ow, my ears." THEN, and only then, did he process what the screaming alien actually said. "Okay. Well. Look. I'm clearing you, just make sure you say your documents were in order at time of issue. Just..." DING! The way forth into the planet opened to the two aliens that were literally going to eat it.

LIZ'DIOT:
Oh god.

Oh GOD.

The poor boy at the customs booth just had his innocence and deference to the matriarchy punched in the balls. His hands clamped over his ears and he stared in slack-jawed horror at what had just taken place. It wasn't just him. Heads were turning to behold Count Drolex in his... rather pent up glory. "Not so loud!" he hisswhispered, then he straightened up, his voice dropped an octave, and he spoke again.

"PLEASE RETURN TO YOUR BUSINESS. RESUME YOUR PROCESS THROUGH CUSTOMS. THAT IS ALL."

Now, the boyish young man with the remarkable voice returned to Liz and said, "Look, I'm gonna put a note on your entry that you had a stress-related outburst and have calmed down, and are willing to adhere to the laws and guidelines of the Consortium. That includes /not/ shouting out that you're here for..." there was a twisted-face pause, and then he said, "that." There were some more taps on the datapad, and a DING, and the resultant green light of approval. "Welcome to Hapes, and please take care."

RYO ODESSA:
Deeeeeeeep inhale.

Deeeeeeeep exhale.

"Y'know what, fine. The courtiers love having fops about to validate them." There was some tapping on the datapad, annoyed scribbling with an actual writing implement, and Horst Mbasi's paperwork was returned to him with a huff. "Welcome to Hapes." The next line was so forced. "We hope you have a pleasant stay."

Inside the identification is a note. 'Isolder Hotel. 10PM. Room 217.'