Log:The Shadowport: The Hapan-ing: You Talk Too Much
An invite to the Terell Estate turns a little sideways.
OOC Date: December 6, 2020
Location: Terell Estate - Hapes
Participants: The Shadowport, Eriu Jynx as GM, Sajin, King, Khalim, B'haav Adasta, Netep Muri
Eriu had secured the group an invitation to visit House Terell on the grounds that the Duchess very much wished to show the extensive collections off to her companions. What house could resist flaunting their apparent wealth and good taste? Certainly not Terell. By now the rest of the group would have come to understand House Terell must have some dealings with the attempts to undermind House Jynell and thus the group is not only arriving to get a feel for how 'welcome' they are but also to see what they can turn up for evidence.
If Jynell is refined beauty, Terell is dripping in ostentatious signs of their wealth. Down to their clothing. Rich ombre silks of blue hues and more. Gold is everywhere and they certainly did not skimp on the uniforms for the guards. Filigreed armor and more as they hold pike like weapons. Jynell is a martial house grounded in duty to the Queen Mother but one can see the armor is not all together overly functional, rather an art display all its own. The guards are themselves just displays for their grandiose view of themselves.
They are greeted by the Marchioness of Terell, welcomed into the front foyer so they can see the expansive and amazing architecture that houses all their information and collections. "I am just seeing to the preparations of our meal. You are welcome to brows and please if you choose to touch the books put on the gloves provided." She glances around at them. "We have only gloves styled for Hapans, I am sorry if they do not 'fit' some of you." Smiling pleasantly she motions them to take their time.
Eriu turns to the others. "It would seem we are given a moments reprieve. Split up into groups and see if we can't find some evidence.
Sajin was in uniform... but a different kind. Since the shooting he wasn't taking chances and the fact the Terell had something to do with it and that Ilaina was betrothed to one of them rubed the Hapan the wrong way. So here he was in his full battle armor, his servos wining as he looked more like a Mandalorian Alor than the pretty boy King he'd been up to now.
It was a show of force, completly. It wasn't enough for him to parad a severed head around in front of gusts, he had to drive home the point. He'd check weapons at the door if needed but he wasn't parting with his uniform. The gunmetal camo armor, the long flowing cape in the same color inlayed with yellow.... Then the sash of house Kah across his chest, the high house which has for centuries commanded her Majesties Select Commando's.
Standing around with the rest of the group is the man they call King; the old Morellian seemingly not doing much of anything as the Marchioness makes her exit. The gunslinger, standing with his arms crossed over his chest is just staring down the guards. What's he thinking about? Knowing him, probably a whole lot, but he does make it look easy with the way he lazily postures.
Khalim wears the same stylish space tuxedo he wore the evening of the ill-fated ball, ostentatious in its own way -- for a Mirialan at least. He, too, was a bit on edge -- though his choice of attire matched a different intent, a desire to blend in and appear non-threatening. The yin to Sajin's show of force yang. Sajin, showing everyone his yang, that was the plan.
The Mirialan takes a long moment to assess the front foyer, taking in doors, hallways, stairs, any in particular any posting of guards that appears nonsensical or otherwise noteworthy. Khalim had been told that Ilaina had shunned closer support by the other two houses, in favor of Terell, and had shared this with the others. He too was suspicious.
As he turns in place he feels one of his shoes loosen, and lowers to retie a lace. Something catches his eye, and when he rises he offers a discrete little nod to his compatriots and begins walking towards a nearby side-hall.
Emerging from his recovery room only a half hour before this excursion, B'haav is wearing his blue-with-gold-trim Hapan outfit, complemented by the blue bowler hat - a recent trade-in from his bandages. Though that was where the outfit had stopped previously, B'haav Adasta has a brand new accessory firmly held in his left hand: a glossy, black cane with a simple glass bulb at the top for his grip. He sweeps grey eyes around the entry, looking to all the glitz, glamour and - honestly - enough books on display to make him not really want to leave. But as he pulls on the gloves to begin examining the nearest libram, a faint droning sound catches his attention and he turns to see Khalim nodding in the same direction. Leaving the gloves on, he moves to follow with an arhythmic click-tap of his steps and the cane.
This is...this is going to be difficult. Focusing, that is. So. Many. Books. So many LIBRARIES full of books! Netep can respect the glove policy, being an owner of some very old, very unique items herself. Like a moth to the flame, she flutters dangerouly near to being lost in the literature maze. If left to her own devises, she might never come out.
Muri takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, breaking the spell. Terell. Terell were behind the deadly fiasco the other night, probably, and they've been running sketch shipments and payments to offworlders, as per that thefted data pad. Which brings to mind the talk of 'shipments' and the obvious offworlder she and Rale ran into in the club (before she had to puke on shoes to make their escape) and exotic shipping and trade is a lucrative business. Money brings power, ALL of Hapes wants power...
She opens her eyes and slips a slim pair of glasses from her handbag to balance delicately on the bridge of her nose. The gloves are going to be a trap. Once she begins thumbing her way through there'll be no stopping, so she keeps wandering until some lovely little objects behind glass catch her eye for study.
Import. Import. Imp--CHEAP import. Import. Immmmmmmmmpoooooort?
Muri's halted in front of a case, staring through her own dumbed reflection at the thing staring back at her. To some passerby it might just be a lame lump of rock that vaguely resembles a humanoid form. But that...that is the Healer. Muri's reflection frowns.
Eriu watches as the others study or head off in different directions as she makes an idle pass around the main room first. Her eyes dart to each so she can keep track and if someone finds something can immediately head their way without harm flailing and quesitonable calls to 'come here'. She mmmms as she looks at a set of books and steps back, hands folding behind her as she still favors her leg. She's been hit a few times there in various places so its a bit tight and tender despite being tended to.
Her attention shifts to Sajin and King a moment as they eye the guards and their current presence. Like statues or armor stands. She presses her lips together and frowns but is making her full turn when she sees Khalim and B'haav head in the direction of a small side hallway. She smiles at the others and tilts her head as if to indicate they may want to go inspect with the others.
Just as she crosses the distance to join Khalim and B'haav she hears Netep. She touches the comm piece in her ear and glances around slowly to try to find the colorful creature. There. She mmmmmphs and motions Sajin to help her for the moment."Sajin, I think Netep would like some company?" Maybe she found something.
The hallways the other two find is pretty bare save that it ends after about thirtfy feet. There is only one door, a golden grate that allows you to look in. Opposite from it is a wall but beyond it one can hear beeps and boops of what sounds like a comm relay.
King is eyed back by the guard who flinches after an attempt at staring before he finally looks down and away. She blinks rapidly now that he has lost and seems to shift uncomfortably.
Sajin gives a glance towards EJ from behind his helmet, before looking at the guards and their pikes. There is a disapproving tsk from him which sounds a little odd over the radio as if he wasn't at all impressed with the way they were holding the weapons.
When asked to go keep Muri company, one might detect the eyeroll the Hapan gives. <<"Could have fooled me...">> He quips before turning and making his way in the direction of the multi colored dress stretching and stealing woman who may or may not smell like space weed.
Exhaling a quick jet of air through his nose, King smirks at the defeated guard and takes a few steps closer to the man, looking him over more actively now. "House must be hurting for money, huh?" he begins, sniffing sharply. "Sending you out there in those death traps. Plate like that couldn't stop a wayward stone," he notes.
While initially nearing the side hallway Khalim had become aware of B'haav's clip-tap cane assisted trek in the same direction, and he slows to allow the Balosar to catch up. The pair explore the hallway, and upon reaching its mid-point, with that golden gate, the Mirialan says, "I don't suppose you're an expert locksmith." Peering beyond the grate, Khalim frowns, "Can't really see anything." A faint beeping causes him to quiet and listen. "Do you hear that?" A second pause hangs in the air and he turns to examine the wall opposite the grate. "Some kind of comms it sounds like," he says, voice lowered.
The Mirialan kneels and examines the floor. "Foot traffic ends..." A pear-hued hand touches the wall, "Right here." He looks up to B'haav and smiles, "Magic wall? Think we could just walk through?" He begins pressing along the wall, as if testing for any hidden buttons, catches, or other means of... he doesn't really know, exactly. Magic door.
B'haav's rhythm hasn't improved - he's never walked with a cane before, but he refused a chair and a crutch would have rumpled his suit unacceptably. Every now and then he winces, his body not carrying extra holes on the outside, but still far from whole on the inside; with only one lung at full capacity, he finds himself leaning on the walls from time to time. Sure is a good thing he's wearing those gloves, so as not to damage anything valuable... He looks up at Khalim's question and shakes his head emphatically. "No, physical entry has never been something I've excelled at. I'm more the 'tell me what you're planning accidentally because I'm unassuming and seem safe' type of... spy-type person."
He looks to the grate, seemingly opposite the blank wall behind which the sound seems to originate. He leans closer to take a better look, but he bends a little too much to the side and hisses loudly as something pops, doubling him over. While he hunches over, one gloved hand and his deathgrip on the cane preventing him from completing his fall to the floor, he spots... Dust? Really. Dust. But then, in a place kept more fastidiously than most museums, why is this... He swipes a gloved finger through the dust and holds it up and out as he claws his way against gravity to a standing position - hopefully getting the attention of someone who actually knows what they are looking for. "Um... Dust, anyone?" Maybe it helps show the magic door's handle. He blows across his finger, sending dust in the direction of the wall Khalim seems to be aggressively groping.
"Bloody got to be..." Muri continues to stare and fume at the little figurine for awhile longer - in addition to the seams of the glass case caging it. She can /feel/ the stares coming from those guards and she knows she's already made a mistake - paying way too much attention to this one thing. Too much interest in insignificant baubles is suspicious, right?
Except this isn't insignificant. To HER.
"Can you believe these collections?" she tries to sound impressed and happy about it when Sajin joins her there, gesturing vaguely along the wall of displays. "Must have some exceptional connections." And then her voice drops a touch as she turns her back to the thing like she's moving on.
"That case looks easy to pop and the icon inside needs to come home with me and not stay here like some piece of forgotten knicknack on a shelf of mostly lame, inexpensive conversation pieces. I'm willing to give it a go but I need you to get the golden boys over there something else to watch for a minute. You game?"
Aggresive groping indeed. Khalim take that wall to dinner first! He finds the decorative molding and filigrees that cover the wall as art itself. But it takes a moment. There is definitely something there and B'haav's attempt will cause sneezing to occur. Especially from the Duchess who ACHOOS and ACHOOS in a prim high toned rush of air that escapes her timne and again. But the dust in the air will show something to B'haav alone while Khalim's hand finds a piece of a carved flower can be pushed. Its smooth and easy and starts to give the moment is hand goes over a gilded petal.
Light is caught in a very tiny moment as the dust flies through the air. Filtered through a miniscule hole that allows it to reflect off the debris in the air.
King's attention to the 'guard' leaves the man suddenly shifting on his feet. Motionless for hours and now he's facing someone who obviously knows a bit more about armor - let alone realizing for certain that the man is not wrong. The gilded armor is flimsy at best. There is a clearing of his throat and then remarks. "Its for show." Like that was not obvious. "It is a show of Terell's wealth and importance. A rising star amonst old fading glories." The line sounds rehearsed.
Netep is forgotten for the moment by the guards as the others are now watching King interact with one of their own and the scripted reply is very obviously something they recognize. All the while the figure in the case is staring up at Netep accusingly.
Sajin will feel a few glances but again, distractions are being made but perhaps not a big enough one for the guard closest to Netep and the case with direct line of sight of her.
Sajin glances to Netep, back to the guards, then back to Netep. He sighs exasperatedly before walking over towards the guards. <<"You!">> He commands, towering and imposing in his imperial looking and kingly armor. <<"What is taking so long. We demand audiance with the Terell... we have terms on marriage to discuss along with some other... things.">>
Any other day he could have used his Hapan wiles, but these people were also pretty too... and likely male. Who knew if they were into that kinda thing!
"You read that on the back of a cereal box, boy?" King asks, his gaze steely as he meets the guard's eyes. "Is it gonna be for show when that foil gets you killed and leaves behind a pretty, filigreed corpse?" he asks, brows lofting. "Is it gonna be for show when that pack you up in a nice little wroshyr wood box, because they chose form over function for their spies?" he asks, hands reaching for his hips as they naturally slide his coat back, revealing the shoulder holster he's wearing.
Khalim had been just about to give up the wall groping, the wall itself had been playing dead fish, until that carved flower is felt. Its little bit of give at even the slightest physical pressure is the ah-ha! The Mirialan had been looking for. He presses the flower as far as it will go, observant for any reaction within the wall. It's clearly a mechanism of some kind, but what? "Bee," Khalim says, "You see anything? This is a lever." He indicates the flower that's currently being pressed.
B'haav nods. "Oh, clearly. Of course. I think, perhaps, just a little more force... I can oblige." B'haav Adasta takes another step forward, offering the Duchess an apologetic look - he hadn't realized how close she was when he had blown the dust, nor had he realized how extraordinarily sensitive she was to dust. That must be difficult to deal with. He presses a little more force on the wall while Khalim impresses himself upon the flower, and a pressurized hiss of positive air pressure kicks up a cloud of dust, sending B'haav into his own sneezing fit. The last thing he sees before the strained a-CHIU chorus begins is a very bright light, scintillating off of the million motes of dust and rendering his vision completely blinded - blinded by the light. The next sneeze - a-CHIUU - throws him off balance and he thumps awkwardly against the wall on his right side, drawing a wince and a third a-CHIIU.
Sajin uses his big kingly voice and puts his rank to WORK! Netep siezes the opportunity while it's fresh to finger the seemingly rudimentary latch on that display case, careful not to touch the glass itself, and sure enough...
- Tink*
It's almost an inaudible sound but it does make Muri hold her breath while her eyes flit about to discern whether or not anyone else heard it. No? No. No? No.
Moments later, the Healer - lost and lonely without her three sisters to more effectively judge the whole of humanity - is disappeared from the case like the otherwordly entity she is. Instead of spending eternity watching the parade of endless snobbery and deceit go by day after day, she can now spend the next few hours judging the contents of this Jeboe'i's purse. "Khasaan'I, healer," she murmurs and gently closes the case as deftly as she'd popped it.
What?! The guard blinks and stares at Sajin as if he had suddenly grown another head. First the filigreed male looks around this way and that and realizes he is the target of the onslaught of demands. His mouth drops and he is very obvioulys NOT trained for this. Clearing his throat. "Uhhh you..ahh sir..lord.." what is Sajin anyways?! He had not been debreifed. He starts to fluster to some degree. "I am sure you will be seen soon." All the while Netep is allowed a moment to convene with the important object before her. She pops open that case and with ease takes it out. Her's now right? Finders keepers.
Just at that very moment inside the room that hisses open and spews more dust about as the door slides aside - no longer just a wall thanks to Khalim a red light starts beeping. Its very obvious this is a security terminal for most of the house and the figure at the desk turns to stare at the strange figures. Eriu gasps and whispers in a hushed order. "Get him before he alerts them!" She is desperately trying to position herself to get inside but they are both in the way. She draws a throwing star ready to ping a security guard.
King just gets a pressed lipped stare. There is a glance down at the gilded armor before back up at the cowboy. "I...this is an art piece." He is not meant to fight! He isn't but the guard inside the room is. From the hall Eriu calls. "King come look at this." Trying to be non chalant. They have moments, no seconds to make a decision as the bewildered guard is coming to his senses.
Sajin stares at the guard who's adressing him as if he's about to take him apart piece by piece... yet he raises his head as he notices something move ahead down the hallways towards deeper chambers. It looke like Ilaina. What was she doing here?
<<"Excuse me...">> THe big Hapan practically shoves and manhandles the guard out of the way to go chasing after Ilaina... but he's slightly sleathly about it, moving on the balls of his feet and enganging the shadow suit his armor provides if he could find any shadows.
"I prefer paintings of guarlaras. Now /that's/ art," King says, lifting a hang to offer the guard a soft wrap of his knuckles against the chestplate before he turns and begins walking off to EJ's beckoning. He's got no idea what's happening anywhere else, as he's been too busy talking smack to the 'guards', but as he gets down the hall, the sight of EJ with a throwing star does give him pause. A necessary relocation is made to another area of 'impressive' collections. But she's focused less on the items themselves at the moment and more on the surrounding conversations.
As the inner room is revealed, and the Terell house security terminal's attendant shifts, Khalim hears Eriu's hushed order and shoves through the newly revealed entrance to engage with the technician. The Mirialan lands a mean hook and he is smashes against one of the communications consoles, bouncing off it and coming to a rest on the floor. The technician is dazed but conscious, and Khalim follows him down with a grunt.
B'haav, grey eyes watering inside his Tetan goggles, manages to get his sneezing under control without alerting the entire House, only to find a guard in a secret security room, and Khalim atop said guard on the floor. A banner day for an aggressive Mirialan, it seems. Walls, guards, the man's unstoppable. But beyond that wresling match, the Balosar spots a flashing red light and - generally speaking - those tend to be not good. Holding to the door frame with his left hand, B'haav extends his right arm with another wince and quickly taps a few adjacent buttons, disabling the alert. Pulling himself back, B'haav steps to the side and away from the door while the others do the important work. He flexes his arm softly, feeling something pulling as he does.
"The healer labors day and night..." Netep mumble sings to herself, emiting a pleasantly lyrical hum as she grazes over the eye candy behind the frail, glass veil.
"To put the flaws of Men to right..." A glance down the line of polished shine finds that guard she'd left behind oh so very alone. Sajin has also vanished.
"With osma, herb, and words of might..." her fingertips hover milimeters off the glass, scrolling along the hefty spines of decrepit looking tomes and head swivels the other way. Even less interesting happenings that'a'way, unless she'd like to join in a conversation about fine cheeses.
"She heals her lit-tle chiiildren." Muri's going to have to heal her own boredom, it seems, but some brief kerfuffle of sound caught while passing by another corridor gives her pause. King went down this route not long ago, didn't he? She'd seen him cross through her peripheral. Was it this way? "The young maid dances through clouds high...." she embarks on a journey, taking careful steps to float herself toward that hallway. Was that a sneeze? "Winds carry-ing her ev'ry sigh.." a pause to listen again. All is quiet. Too quiet? Rmemeber, Muri: if you get busted, just claim you were looking for the fresher! "Inspiring hearts through-out the night..." she makes the turn to enter that hallway and finds herself with a view of King's backside and a glimpse of Eriu ahead of him. Paused in her lyrics, Netep ventures forward to stand alongside King.
"This isn't the powder room," she murmurs wryly and tiptoes on by to poke her head into the security office. "But my, my what fun we can have here!" Enthusiastic whisper.
Guarlaras? The art display masquerading as a guard just looks utterly confused in King's direction. "I...okay..Ummmm" yeah that is one confused Hapan and greatly distracted by the strange offworlder who is suddenly walking away. A breath of relief leaves him before he sets his posture again, but not before giving the cowboy a long side eye. Yes, for King to see, the glory of Khalim slamming his body into the guard just out of sight. The scuffle is loud, but not loud enough to draw attention and the one person who is actually qualified as security is down and groaning on the floor. The Terell security guard rolls to his side and is trying to get up despite the room spinning.
"Drek," whispers Eriu but B'haav is already fixing the problem inside. The blinking light is turned off and there is a crackle on the com sys. "Come again. We got a reading of a display being tampered with. Was a system malfunction?" WOOPSIE NETEP! Who is currently carrying around a stolen item in her possession. Oh look at those shiny buttons all waiting for her. The communication's array centers in here and all ingoing and outgoing messages are recorded. PERFECT.
Stealthy Sajin. That is a strange sight if people were inclined to notice. It may be Ilaina. Its her blonde hair, but she's wearing blue and speaking with another figure. A male in blue. Rich cloth, rich indeed. They are speaking and she is nodding while he gesticulates.
Sajin operated on the fact that people underestimated him. Constantly. Just a janitor. He couldn't possibly be stealthy. He was only good with a bowcaster. And while some of that might have been true in the past, things change. The fact was, that subversive attitude and inclination towards the clandestein is what allowed him the ability, experiance, and aptitude to put the Leader of the Knight of Ren down.
Sajin Kovo Kah - Verrni, slaughterer of Force Users.
From the shadows he creeps, slowly, hiding carefuly and disappearing into the shadows of the hallways. Butterflys spit through his stomach as he listens to the words. His worst fears coming true. The anxiety wells up, as if threatening to burst out into anger. THe need to take his pistol and blast the man talking to Ilaina mounts... but he quelches it and continues to observe the two from his hidden position.
Stepping into the security room, King moves towards the scuffle and, with a century's worth of training, just snaps out the heel of his shiny black dress shoe into the downed guard's temple. Those lights go out real quick.
King offers a hand down to Khalim before he's asking around. "Now, what are we lookin' at?" he asks, blue eyes moving around the security room. He should probably pay more attention than 'none' next time he's on a mission, but messing with that poor 'art piece' was really just too much fun for him to pass up.
Khalim's scrap with the guard takes a turn for the worst when the Hapan manages one, two, three solidly connecting strikes to the Mirialan's thick skull. Just dazed enough for the table to be nearly turned, until King's timely arrival and one perfectly executed dress-shoe KO. Khalim takes the Morellian's hand and uses the leverage to pull himself back up. "Perfect timing," he says around a nod of appreciation. "Some kind of comm station, and seems like security station, all wrapped into one." A frown for amoment, "I think."
B'haav Adasta gets his breath back and just catches word from an intercom in the room. Apparently, that flashing light was attached to some sort of alarm sensor. Well, knowing how things tend to transfer ownership in this group, it's not surprising. King's seen to the guard, with a quick application of shoe to the face-type area, and Khalim is making sure that he doesn't get up via wearing him out. Seeing nobody else immediately jumping on the com, B'haav takes another click-tap step or two back to the door, sidling between the two men and taking a braced seat on a section of open desk with one foot still on the ground. Okay, on the guard's shoulder. Calmly, he picks up the com and leans back to respond, affecting a very light but somewhat convincing Hapan accent. "Copy that, I tapped it a couple of times and it turned right off. There's an awful lot of dust in here, last shift didn't do a proper cleaning. I think the dust is interfering with the sensor pickups and it's giving us false readings. Seems fine on visuals, but maybe make sure next shift gives a thorough cleaning, yeah?"
Yeah, B'haav. Yeah.
You say 'stolen', she'll say 'liberated'. Netep Muri has liberated many a poorly appreciated, long-neglected artifact in her day. This one's just the perfect size to be called a party favor! Might be only coincidence that Muri's brows quirk with interest toward the crackling com, but...she's not saying. B'haav is ON it! Her eyeballs turn toward other consoles and the seemingly infinite array of shiny buttons just begging to be pushed. "Well, we know the security aspect is active..."
She and her slightly bulkier lil handbag rustle-clunk their way over to a different screen. She hooks the little swivel stool underneath the cubby with a spiked heel and tugs it out to land beneath her fancy tush. It's time for a closer look. The handbag is placed reverently into lap and she squints...pulls glasses off face, tucks those atop her head. A different set of lenses is pulled out from the handbag - one less fancy a little more ordinary. Dorky, even. There's the real Muri, rising to the surface. The farsighted version.
"The judges four, they see us all..." she resumes her little song, lullaby, creepy recitation of prayer, whatever this is. Lithe fingers waggle over the screen and surrounding switches and such as if trying to decide which ought get touched first.
"Marking every rise and fall..." those fingers go to work, tapping and swiping and cueing up a comm log before long. She whistles lowly under breath before filtering her search by punching in a range of dates. Those artfully arranged curls bob thoughtfully.
"So close your eyes, approach the wall..." the comm data is expanded again, creating a vast wall of holonet addresses, transponder codes, numbers, dates....SO much to scan through. But there is a trend that becomes crystal clear once one's eyes adjust to the dizzying scroll.
"They're wait-ing, lit-tle chiiildren." *Tap*. Muri stops and holds up a hand. "Anybody have a datapad handy? You're going to want to copy this." A vague gesture to the screen. "More rocks to sink'em with, hey? See theses? LOADS of messages between Terell and Jynell estates soooo loooong into history....but then it stops. Very nearly. Here." She points. "This is the night we turned up. Yeah? And a few of those exchanges are from a number that's, well. Not listed. Disposable, my guess."
She and her nerd glasses and her liberated deity rise from the stool with an arm flourish and bow and....well, that gown hem was going to get her eventually.
- Riiiiiiip*
The male Terell merely nods. "Yes I know. But decay does not happen over night unless helped and we do not want to make it obvious. Besides you have a place here with us so just relax." He motionst o her to follow him and Ilaina gives a glance back for a moment, missing Sajin with a sweep of her gaze. With a lofting of her chin she takes the lead seemingly knowing where she is going. The blue train of her dress is the last thing he sees as they are obviously going to some Terell meeting before the group is let into the area where they are supposed to gather with the house. Sajin is left with his revelation and the fact all of his comrades are currently out of sight.
Khalim managed and saved the day. It could have gone sideways right there - not that its going to after all this. This is bad Eriu decides as King slams his shoe into the face fo the security guard who goes limp but remains breathing. She glances to B'haav who artfully deals with the problem and gets a reply. "I will make note of the false alarm and alert the cleaning team that they need to double check their passes." That is the end of the transmission.
Muri delves into the console before her, pulling old communciations and information that is vital to their search. Eriu steps forward with a disk and inserting it offers the other woman some place to put the information. Its a quick motion that has her waiting to drag it out of the electronic. With the information burned onto something portable, Eriu reaches down to yank it out just as the dress rips and nearly drops the disk. She cries out! "MURI!" There is lamentation in her voice for the poor garment.
The woe of it all is lost in just a split second because suddenly.
BOOM!! (Yan's editor note: Click for the reason why!)
The estate shakes and Eriu stares as the windows rattle and for a moment the screens distort and show static. "Well what the hell. Yan?" She is guessing as to the chaos that is happening elsewhere in the city. There comes a call of surprise - closer to Sajin than them. "What was that!? Duchess Jynell?!" Oh shit. The com comes alive. "Is all well on your end."
Eriu glances at everyone. "Go. go go go. we gotta go!"
She is already pushing her way out, reaching out to help B'haav as she pockets the small disk.
Sajin's first instinct is to draw his Series III and blast the Terell Lord with an entire powerpack. Yet something stops his rage from boiling over into mass murdere mode. It was the explosion and the chatter over comes. 'We gota get out of here!' and Ilaina disappearing is all he needed before he turned on his heel and ran towards the exit. He close lines a guard on his way out, because he needed to vent a little of that rage somehow. <<"Eriuessa...">> Sajin says over comms, disappointment and sadness ripping through his voice. The seriousness and weight of his following statement made even heaviry by the fact he's using her real name. <<"It's Ilaina... she's doing all this. It's Ilaina...">> Nevermind everyone could likely hear him on the comms besides of course those without the Liz enable encryption.
The boom rattles everything. The estate. The duraglass enclosures. Khalim's teeth. It takes a moment for everyone to take stock of this development, but Eriu's exhortation to flee is what triggers the actual response. The Mirialan follows the crowd, until he sees Muri. Muri's rip. "That's the wrong kind of distraction," he offers, as he sweeps an arm around the bohemian woman and pulls her along with him. To be honest, he's not sure where he's going. He's going where /they're/ going, following the crowd amid the increasing alarm that surrounds them.
B'haav Adasta hears the call to flee, and tries. But, of course, he's still perched on the desk with a foot on the guard, and rough terrain was not meant for canes or those with only about 60% of their lungs at present. He tries to jump down from the desk and lands awkwardly on the guard's neck, twisting his leg slightly in the landing so as not to crush the man's throat by accident. There isn't a popping sound, but something rolls and B'haav's adding to his list of agonies as he leaves the com room, attempting to click-tap to freedom on his own. But his lungs are burning, and his ankle is extremely delicate. Then the firm Hapan hands of the Duchess Jynell are lifting his arm, taking much of his weight from him and helping him to move fast enough to not get left behind, nor to be disavowed and forsworn after capture.
"Thank you, Duchess," he manages under his breath. "Bless you."
"It's NOT MY F--" yes it is. But /that's/ not. The resonating BOOM and tremor shuts Netep's mouth faster'n a sucker punch and she passes a silent query around the room and it comes full circle when some well-intended Terell security person coms this security station for a third time. Arguments over whether or not Muri can be held liable for damage to EJ's dresses by natural disasters(herself) will have to wait! She needn't be told to run twice. Or once, really, girl's already heading for the door, but damn it if that comatose security guard doesn't TRIP HER.
That inconsiderate oaf.
Netep's flat on the floor in the worst of ways and bleeding from the mouth. One shoe is skittering to a halt half way across the room and the other is somehow still clinging to her ankle, by the ankle strap. The rest of her foot has come out of the shoe, don't ask how these things happen. "Awf...ffwink. Bith mah thongue!" Such dismay doesn't need to be properly articulated.
She and her handbag and the one shoe are blessedly peeled off the floor and hauled out by a helping Mirialan hand. His wit earns him a crookedly appreciative grin, bloody smear and all. "Thutup," she sighs and hop-hop-hops until that other shoe is kicked free and left behind somewhere in the hallway. Bork it. Bork it all! Oh no, some female was here doing sabatoge-y things, that never happens on Hapes....
They were really nice shoes though. Her new almost-girlfriend is going to be sad. Wherever she is, anyway. What was her name? This and more pressing questions clutter Muri's mind as they make their daring escape!
Sajin is the last of them but not by much. They were closer to the main entrance but he's definitely got better form and is not hauling anyone along. They stumble out into the sunlight and Eriu blinks, eyes adjusting after that dark hallway and security room. Their speeder is right there but the driver is no where to be seen. Likely off relieving himself or talking to the Terell servants. There is a commotion behind them and the guards that are art are moving now. THey can't attack but they are raising the alarm.
"DREK! Everyone in, this is no time for caring about dresses or how we look. Get in." She helps B'haav up into the classy speeder and glances to Muri. "You drive pods..you can drive this right? Take the controls." This is an order from her as she pulls herself up and into it.
"Get us back to the Jynell estate now!" Whichi s clear across the other side of the district. Alreayd there are Terell guards manning the gate and looking confused. "PUNCH IT!"
