Ask The Invention of Life

[Juniper]

​

When her Master had told her about Raxus Prime, it sounded like a dream. A whole planet, filled to the brim with ancient machinery and half-broken droids. A treasure trove of parts, boards and bits that'd be perfect for tinkering with. Just think of the treasures you could find! An upgrade for her droid. A new part for a ship. Something that'd fit real well for saber building, or something for the gardens back on Ajan Kloss. Then, she landed on there and realised they hadn't been kidding when the archives had said that it was a junk planet. Nara was starting to think that this was her Master's form of payback for drenching his ship in swamp-water.

It'd been the better part of a day, trudging through the collected filth of a hundred generations. Grime-coated metal surrounded them all as they headed deeper into the forest of twisted metal and decaying plastics. The puddles underneath splattered with each step, staining her boots with oil that was three times older than she was. Even breathing was difficult on there. Just off the ship, it'd been pretty rancid. Amongst all that wreckage though, it seemed actively dangerous. Like it was sawing at her lungs... and she'd lived in some pretty smoke-y, oil-drenched places before in her life.

"I think it's just around here..." she said aloud, though it was more to comfort herself than anyone else. Their little group had been making their way through this place for so long that she felt like tempers could be fraying. It was her first time off of Ajan Kloss without her Master. She only knew one other of the Jedi with her, the Blood Carver Padawan who attended her 'study group.' The other two, the knights? They seemed pretty okay, but she'd been too focused on finding that strange feeling in the Force to spend much time talking with them. That and... yeah, there were better places to socialise than this trash-drenched hole.

She turned a corner, around the burnt, twisted remains of some hundred-year-old fighter wreck, to see... a fire. An actual fire, set on an island of rusting hull and years worth of muck. Sickly, dark smoke coiled upwards towards the vile sky... and Nara noticed someone stir behind it. A spotted, wrinked face. A large, snout-like nose and a mouth... well, it'd put Nara's big mouth to shame, that was for sure. The Snivvian moved, gently climbing to their feet. Joints clicked as he grunted, rubbing his back.

"Who are you? What do you want?" The words came out quickly, with his eyes flicking from one member of the party to the other. "I don't have anything. Nothing. I can't... I won't.." he continued, the fear dripping from his words. Nara felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Poor guy. Probably thinks we're gonna rob him blind or something.

"Uh... hey. We're Jedi," she said in reply, though she followed that with a wince. That just sounded... wrong. "I mean, from the Jedi Order?"

Is that a question, Nara?

"We're from the Jedi Order," she finally decided, looking over her shoulder at the others, hoping they could join in. Maybe one of the knights should take over, right? Do their thing? She's only meant to be learning.

"Jedi..." the Snivvian grunted, working the spit around his large mouth. "Hmmfff... I think... maybe you could help me." His eyes looked around the collected group of Jedi, knights and padawans, the desperation clear in those milky-white orbs. "How much do any of you know about generators? And their power supplies?"

Nara waited for a second, looking around at the others, before slowly raising her hand.

@Die Shize @Turtleneck @Manufactorium

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

White robes streaked in blue—primary raiment from the wardrobe of Vayla Mirana. The custom for Jedi to don the robe had not been lost over the centuries, but it had been been put on hold on this particular day. The Jedi Knight dared not stain her attire with the dirt and debris that literally littered the planet. Instead, she paced beside her fellow Jedi in a dark grey leather jacket, brown cargo pants and black boots that did their best amid the puddles of oil and the waste of the worlds.

The utility belt around her waist came standard-equipped with a rebreather that she wasn’t certain whether she might need to wear after however many hours the group would spend on Raxus Prime. As foul as the very atmosphere was, however, it wasn’t disgust that Vayla harbored for the planet or those upon it, but sympathy. Poor place. Poor people. The myriad discards of distant civilizations, left to fester on the soil that had no say, amid the souls who have nothing left to say. A sigh escaped her nose as they reached the fire and the Snivvian who sat by it. For how long?

As the man grew defensive, Vayla remained unsurprised. Here were four strangers who had just invited themselves into his midst. Two Humans, a Pantoran and a Blood Carver. The women looked innocent enough, particularly the teenager between the two, and the twenties-something man held no violent visage, though the insect-like male might have come off as a tad daunting. As vast in number as species were in this galaxy, and as frequently as each one crossed paths with the other, individuals made up their own mind about each other. Ke Eoto had made up his the moment that he placed himself under Vayla’s apprenticeship, and their first mission together, on Raxus Prime of all places, would set the stage for journeys to come.

Her gaze was swept away from her Padawan as she blinked back to the scene before her. Nara had just spoken to answer the Snivvian, trying to put his nerves at ease. Three “Jedi” later and the campfire’s host had clearly gotten the message that these four individuals were Jedi. The entire exchange made Vayla smile, in part out of being amused from the sixteen-year-old and to further placate the Snivvian. He grunted at the identity of the group before him, probably more incredulous than impressed. Were the Order of today like that of aeons past then their very presence in a cold galaxy might have been met with as much warmth as the fire on this cold world.

Having caught Nara’s look for assistance and her hand raise, Vayla slowly raised her own in turn, hoping to offer humor besides harmony. “I don’t know if my hand should be higher or lower than my friend’s here. I know the basics but nothing advanced.” She lowered her hand. However much any of them knew or did not, they knew that they were here to help, and anything else could be learned. Knowledge, not ignorance. “I'm Vayla. This is Nara, Byron and Ke Eoto."

"Garl," the Snivvian replied in an almost tired tone, as if the name had once meant a greater deal to him than it did today.

Vayla thought little more of it and bowed her head in greeting. "How can we help you, Garl?”

 

[Ke Eoto]

Was just striding in long, smooth steps behind Vayla, scanning the environment back and forth with watchful eyes from beneath enclosed combat helmet that gave out suggestions of the inhuman shape of his head under it. The rebreather of his protective mask hissed slightly from time to time as it filtered the rancid air. Visible under his outer robes was a protective chestplate, stormtrooper white although blotched now with grime and dust accumulated just by strolling around on the accursed junkyard planet. On his back hanged his hunting rifle, a long-barreled crude looking semi-blaster with a crimson wooden stock decorated in elaborate etchings. Ke Eoto also had a tool belt on him, from which hanged a small pouch and the hilt of his lightsaber.

The Blood Carver came to a stop suddenly as the group came upon the stranger. He leaned to the right, peering over Vayla's shoulder easily to look over the Snivvian. He judged the porcine being with silent disdain for a xenos, listening to the exchange others had with the being first. Ke Eoto didn't expect the man to attack them though, so he neither reached for his rifle or lightsaber, nor did he took up a defensive stance. For now, he just watched, giving a light bow as Vayla introduced him to this alien, this Garl that interrogated them now about generators.

"They geen-orate."

The alien croaked out his best contribution to the topic. It would have been no secret that the Blood Carver had plenty of difficulty when dealing with Galaxy-standard technology and learning about it came rather slowly to him. Although the tribe he came from was not completely backwater, they were advanced enough to manufacture their own vibroswords and maintain or build blaster and cycler weapons, but they were still lacking when compared even to most Outer Rim planets. Whether the Blood Carver would know how to even work the generator that Garl was talking about depended on what kind of generator it was.

For now Ke Eoto fell silent once more, listening to how the situation was going to develop.

 

[Byron Alduun]

_

Despite the metallic aesthetic the planet had taken, it seemed brittle.

Everything seemed diseased, decayed. Almost as if the junk had a life of its own once, and now, all that was left was its dying breath. A planet in rigamortis, with the distant whirring and clinks but a memory of what once was. If anything, it felt as though their environment was setting the tone for what looked to be a long, long day.

Byron had seen his fair share of underdeveloped planets, but this was something else.

The sight of civilisation had swiftly eased his worrying. Even though the setting itself was as gruesome as it was, the fact that someone else was willing to live within it gave off the impression that it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. At least that’s how he saw it.

He allowed the padawan to take the lead with the situation, the conversation flowing through the group like a gentle breeze until it met him.

“How old are we talking here?” he asks, motioning to their surroundings. “Sounds like it could be centuries old at this rate.” Instead, he follows Vayla’s suit and says, “We’ll help any way we can. I mean, there has to be something around here, right?”

@Charndley @Die Shize @Manufactorium​

_

 

[Juniper]

Garl seemed to take them all in a little more now. His eyes slowly drifted from Knight to Padawan and back again, listening to their various replies and offers. The fact that they were all Jedi seemed to do little to impress him. However, he was there looking for help with technology. They might has well have been a bunch of decently-armed chefs for all the good their training might do them in this matter.

"Home... Cadomai Prime," he grunted with a pause, his eyes shining slightly in the light. Like the very thought of where he'd come from filled him with such awe. "Winter is... soon. My people, my family... we are preparing our caves." He winced as he stretched out his leg a little more. Clearly, it was causing him some discomfort. "The caves for our village, the caves we use, we have always had a generator. At the end of our last winter, it broke. The caves... they are not very deep. Without the generator, we can't make... the warmth... you can't..." he tried to say, before breaking into a coughing fit.

"We have few credits. We wanted to buy a new one but the prices... we couldn't even raise a tenth of what they wanted for a generator that size," he told them all, his voice rough, quiet and sad.

Nara frowned a little and took a step forwards. "Have you got anything from your generator? Something to help us figure out what you need?" she asked Garl. With a nod, he reached into some kind of knapsack and produced a battered datapad. It was a little strangely-shaped, with larger keys than her own, but there was no mistaking that screen. Garl tapped a few keys and a schematic appeared on there.

"Can I..?" Nara asked, before taking the pad from the Snivvian's gloved hands. She brought it back towards the group of them, holding it up a little more between them. She looked through the schematics, seeing what had been highlighted. What notes had been made.

"Okay... this looks like a really old model. Older than any of us, older than him, maybe a century or two like you said, Byron," Nara said, squinting a little more at the details and the tiny annotations in Basic. "Looks like the capacitors have blown out. We should be able to replace them and it'd work... but then something else might break." It was an old machine, and everything broke eventually. That whole planet was a testament to it.

"A generator this size, I think we're better looking at starships. Maybe freighters, small passenger ships... fighters too maybe? Though they might be a little less balanced than normal ones," Nara wondered aloud, wondering if the others had any ideas.

@Turtleneck @Die Shize @Manufactorium

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Music OOC [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

Garl, a being with years over years over his head, with a weathered countenance that sunk with age, had yet more experience and the wisdom that came with it than any of the four beings before him. Vayla was enthralled as she listened to the Snivvian speak, his words coming out like savored breaths, as though he were fighting with himself to reminisce as much as reveal. Or fighting to keep from hurting. His leg appeared to, his lungs no less (from the planet?), but there was an ache in the old soul’s bones that went beyond the physical. He feels the wound of a frozen future but, no, it’s deeper than that. What ails you so, my friend?

Nara frowned a little and took a step forwards. "Have you got anything from your generator? Something to help us figure out what you need?" she asked Garl.

Just then, the younger Jedi of four, Nara, stepped forward, and a smile sprouted on Vayla’s lips where she had been feeling Garl’s frown. In one step, the young girl had made an impression upon the young woman, Vayla’s eyes on her as she went to work embodying the tenets of her Order. Courageous and caring. Few foundations so fine. Nara was more than that, though. Such qualities amalgamated and pushed her forward into action without hesitation, leading up to a datapad in her hands and the screen before the four. Encouraged, Vayla viewed the schematics intently.

Byron had made a good call about the age of the generator that they might be accounting for, and in an instant it all made sense. The inhabitants of Cadomai Prime probably changed their generator as often as it broke and became irreparable, and otherwise they would have no need or means to replace one. If it is not broke, do not fix it. However, as the schematics showed, and as Nara enlightened, this particular generator was all but broken. They would need more than parts to provide for those in need.

"A generator this size, I think we're better looking at starships. Maybe freighters, small passenger ships... fighters too maybe? Though they might be a little less balanced than normal ones," Nara wondered aloud, wondering if the others had any ideas.

“Agreed. Wise suggestion, Nara. The bigger the ship, the bigger the generator, is how I understand it. And unless we stumble across a trashed factory or a crashed station then, well, I think starships are the way to go.”

The generator they were looking for was required to power the equivalent of a village, at least enough to keep them warm during the cold harsh winter of Cadomai Prime. In terms of size, a vessel like a freighter might be worth looking out for, and would certainly stand out. On the other hand, a generator that powered a sophisticated starfighter might need a fraction of its power for the purpose of these caves.

“Hmm…” Vayla blew thoughts out between her lips as she scoured their surroundings. “When it comes to a market like this, guys and gal, we don’t much have the luxury of being picky. I say, even if we don’t find this model or even close to it, we want to find any generator that can do the job, right?” She shrugged, speaking to the group as much as thinking out loud to herself. “Obvious truth, perhaps, but no less important to point out. Hmm-hmm…”

Vayla passed a reassuring smile over Garl’s gloom-worn face, which was now showing a few embers of hope, and gave her attention to her apprentice. “What do you think, Ke Eoto?” She knew that technology was not quite the Blood Carver’s forte, and perhaps he was more out of his elements on Raxus Prime than his peers truly appreciated, but his people were artists by design, in a manner of speaking. Ke Eoto would prove invaluable for his physical dexterity, his ability to hunt and track and thus help them find their prize, and he was outfitted in armor and an arsenal to boot. But it’s your mind that I want right now. What are you thinking, my friend?

 

[Ke Eoto]

Gathered with the other Jedi closer as Nara showed the datapad obtained from Garl to them. At first, Ke Eoto was glancing around for the most part, acting as a sentry for the group and keeping an eye on their surroundings rather than the presented schematics, assuming that he would not make sense of the blueprints anyway. However, the more the Blood Carver looked at the blue print, the more he was drawn towards it as something within him clenched at a realization.

The word of his master broke the alien out of his thoughts and caused him to bring his snout up to look at Vayla from under his helmet. He croaked out then four words that the others might have expected the least out of him,

"I know this geenera-tor."

He informed them before angling his elongated helmet back down to look at the datapad,

"I don't know its name, but I have seen it. Is old moodel like you said, old tech. We have one back hoome in my village, use it for our foorge to make vibro-swords and cycler-rifles."

He reminiscent as he studied the schematics and attempted to recall more about the generator his tribe used,

"Ours break too, but we fix it without complete replace. I don't know how thoough, most of us don't. There is shaa-man in village who does, or at least does ri-tu-als- move cables while chan-ting, zap things with a fusion cutter while singing prays to gods of kno-wledge and scream about faults of himself and maa-chine so that they may improoove upon them."

The Blood Carver described, most of it probably useless knowledge in their current situation, unless his fellow Jedi were willing to engage in a bit of pagan ritual generator repair,

"They make big pieces of metal, like crates, on side of the generator though. When it broke again, shaman calls for more and sends our hunters either searching or to colonist town for barter. I'm not sure what they use, speeder parts maybe? Moisture collectors? They use a lot of them, linked together in caa-bles, I think to form capaci-tor banks or side-generators to reinforce?"

He tried to make his best guess as he looked up from the datapad to others,

"I don't know how to do it, or if it will even work since we use ours differently. But if we can't find ship-generators, we might try looking for smaller pieces as al-ternaative to fix it and hope it will last win-teer."

Ke Eoto looked to Nara for confirmation, and to check if she was able to make any sense of his descriptions on how they were able to keep their generator running back on his planet, although again, just finding a completely new generator was probably a better option at the moment.


"Also, nobody told me that there are daatapad models with buttons, this would solve most of my ee-ssues."

 

[Byron Alduun]

_

Ever the impatient one – though ever since receiving his Knighthood, he had been trying to steer clear of such tendencies – Byron watched the group exchange words over the ins and outs of potentially acquiring a generator. It was almost going nowhere until the Blood Carver spoke. At this point, Byron approached the creature and placed a firm palm on what he assumed was its back.

“As long as Ke can identify it, we can find it,” he says, eyes looking over the rest of the group and lastly the Snivvian. “Like Vayla said, worse comes to worst, we’ll have to grab whatever we can find. You heard them, they cannot afford to be waiting around for us to endlessly hunt down a specific generator.” Honestly, part of his urgency came from his unwillingness to spend several hours desperately trying to hunt down a needle in a haystack. There were millions of machinery on this planet, how long it would take them to find the specific parts they needed? “Who knows, we might even be able to find them something better.”

He surveyed the junk around them momentarily, before continuing.

“Plan A: We find a working generator,” he states, raising his thumb to the group. “Plan B: We find parts to repair the old generator, with Ke’s help,” he continues, raising his index along with his thumb. “Plan C: We grab whatever else we can get our hands on,” he stated with a certain finality, his middle finger grouping with the rest of his raised fingers.

Byron looked from the group to the Snivvian and then back to the group.

“We’ll need a location to rendezvous at when we bring it back, and we’ll also need to know what we’re walking into. One surprise on this planet and we’re done. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my days wandering this planet.”

He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them. Cold fingers, cold reactions. “Unless any of you have anything to add, we should probably get going.” He snapped his fingers almost instantaneously as he finished his last line, almost as if you could see the idea sprout in the back of his mind. “The villagers may have mapped out the area. Might be worth asking about that.” By the time the last sentence had erupted from the pits of his throat, he had completely forgotten that the villager had been standing with them for the entire time.

@Charndley @Die Shize @Manufactorium​

_

 

[Juniper]

It seemed like Ke Eoto had the right of it. She listened to his explanation and nodded, impressed by what he'd remembered. "Yeah. That could work too. Probably the safest way to do it, if we can't outright replace the thing." She listened to both of the Knights, frowning slightly at the impatience of one of them. But she held her tongue, for once. Byron was right, they'd probably be better off with something more specific.

There was an awkward pause as Byron said that it "might be worth asking about that" when it came to a map. Nara listened to him and then looked at the Snivvian. She turned to him.

"So yeah... happen to have a map with you?" she asked Garl. He nodded, pointing to the datapad that the Jedi were manhandling.

"Here..." he grumbled, reaching in. Tapping a few buttons, the screen faded from the intricate schematics to a incomplete, rough layout of that part of the planet. Valleys of junk and mountains of trash mapped out before them. "Could not afford new scans," he explained to them, "best I could do by myself."

Nara smiled at the old guy, liking his curmudgeonly attitude more and more. She panned through the map of the area, tapping a few buttons to see if she could narrow down the wrecks.

"Okay, hopefully we should find something.... ah. Oh." The datapad pinged happily, at a point that was far distant from where they were then. A twisting, long path through patches that were marked 'FOOD WASTE,' 'SHOT-HULL SCRAP' and 'WAR-DROIDS.' That last one had an alluring little red skull next to it.

To cap it all off, a slender path lead to the wrecks they were looking for, right above a void. Nara tapped the little icon there and a warning popped up.

WARNING: DIAGONA PRESENCE DETECTED.

"Oh. Great." Nara looked around at the other Jedi with her. "I guess we better get a move on then."

@Die Shize @Manufactorium @Turtleneck

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Music OOC [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

As Ke Eoto explained at some length the procedure of generator operations on his homeworld, Vayla was suddenly there experiencing it. She watched her apprentice speak beneath his helmet, heard the remembrance in his voice, pictured the positions and colorations of his nose flaps that might hint of any nostalgia. Ke Eoto was among those species of the galaxy who did not venture too far from home. The Blood Carvers had more than an explorer in Ke Eoto. They have a pioneer.

Watching in her head his people tool with fusion cutters and sonic welders, repairing their machinery in song and chant, seeking ways to produce results better than the last, Vayla realized that Ke Eoto wasn’t just reminiscing or revealing to his friends the insight that might help their endeavor. He was just as much revealing to his master more about himself and about his people, and that was the kind of insight that Vayla could utilize even beyond Raxus Prime and the mission at hand.

She smiled at Byron’s enthusiasm toward her apprentice’s abilities. Ke Eoto was indeed probably the best scout in the outfit, and more than his nose could lead their way. As Plans A-C were relayed, Vayla leaned closer to the outcome of C. When all was said and done, these Jedi were at the mercy of a junk planet, and while much could be found among junk there were also dangers to be found among them. On that note, she held up a thumbs to Byron in agreement with his notion of not spending the rest of his or hers or anyone else’s days wandering the planet.

With that, Vayla leaned over to look at the datapad, their guide, taking mental notes of the paths through the debris, the location names and the warnings. Droids would be a problem, Jawas too, but Diagona were a whole other problem.

“Ah, garbage squids. I agree with your assessment once again, Nara. “Great” in the most ironic way imaginable.” Blinking away any scenario that involved encountering such creatures, Vayla took a deep breath, regretted it, and looked over the troupe.

“We should rendezvous back here. Garl can keep the fire going, we’ve got the fighter as a landmark, and we’re familiar enough with this position by now.” Barring any objections, she clapped her hands and put new light into her electric eyes.

“Righto, then! Let’s mosey.”

 

[Ke Eoto]

Glanced aside at Byron when he felt that hand on his back-equivalent and the Blood Carver gave him a nod.

"I will do my beest, al-though it all look the saame to me."

The alien reassured him with another croak from beneath his masked helm. Although the two Jedi did no get off to the best start in the best, with Byron accidentally insulting Ke Eoto in their past lightsaber training session by giving the Blood Carver a couple of compliments, and Ke Eoto on his part attempting to headbutt him, it seemed that they reconciled afterwards. At the very least, after whatever happened during that training session they practiced the Jedi custom of not holding grudges.

Ke Eoto's attention was taken again by Nara and Garl who was almost a complete anathema to the Blood Carver's slender, graceful physique. The insectoid nodded when Garl explained he had to do the scans of the area by himself and craned his neck once more to look over Nara's shoulder, which was done very easily since he was much taller, and study the map as well. He took in the path, the markings of various dangers marked along the way, none of which he was rather fond of. His people had few encounters with Jawas before; when they learned that the creatures were not bound just to their planet but encountered throughout the Galaxy, some shamans claimed that their interstellar-capabilities were a proof that no benevolent deities existed. He hoped that they would not have to deal with any on their journey.

On the other hand, droids were as alien to him as most of the beings he encountered. There were some on his homeplanet, mostly kept by the colonists, but he had no idea how they functioned and never bothered to study such things. Like with most things, he would probably let others take the lead when deciding how to approach them, at least until one of his expertise was needed.

His companions seemed to have been eager to begin their journey, and Ke Eoto nodded in agreement to their excitements as well. Should they start going, he would follow without stopping or holding them back. However, in his mind he went through their plan as well and found it necessary to croak out once more,

"If we caan't just fly there and haave to walk. How are we planning on mooving the paarts, or the whoole generaator?"

The Blood Carver asked, making sure that his hunting rifle was still securely slung on his back, and he did not lose any ammunition, or his lightsaber for that matter, so far.

"Or is the shiip going to meet us theree? Or we will worry aboout that when we get theree?"

He pressed on, slightly worried that they'll get to the scavenging point and have to move a whole generator back to the rendezvous point. Although perhaps with four of them using the Force, or taking turns to levitate the generator, perhaps it wouldn't have been that hard.

 

[Byron Alduun]

_

It wasn’t the first time things had gotten heated during a spar, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. So it was water under the bridge, for now. Though he would be lying if he didn’t feel some apprehension towards the Blood Carver, particularly given their environment. Sometimes grudges were held. Sometimes things weren’t so easily forgotten, let alone forgiven.

Byron quickly moved closer around the datapad to get a closer look at what lay ahead, its faint light creating menacing shadows in the faces of the rest of them.

He couldn’t say he was surprised. The path was littered with as many baddies as you could possibly imagine. Almost as if the planet had stitched intricate hazard signs across their eyelids, until all they could see, all they could read, was: danger.

“What a wonderful welcoming,” he murmured woefully as the path ahead of them was mapped out. “But at least we have a path we can go down. It’s better than nothing at all.”

Whe Ke brought up the situation with the ship, Byron was first to respond. “We don’t know what’s going to happen out there. It’s probably best we drop a marker on our current location if we have to walk back.”

The prospect of not only making the journey to the generator, but also returning with it in hand over the same distance was disheartening.

He began walking regardless, hands patting down his utility belt to make sure everything was functioning.

@Charndley @Die Shize @Manufactorium​

_

 

[Juniper]

Nara made sure to try and copy the data from the pad. Just so they could refer back to it. She saw a couple of the others doing the same, particularly Ke Eoto, so she wasn't worried. However, it could be useful to get the holo-projection version up when they were out there in the middle of all those wrecks. She set her pack down just before they left, whistling a little. The round, near-cylindrical shape of her droid popped out from her pack, whistling back at her. Three of his four eyes whirred and squeaked at her; the other left cracked and dusty.

"Hey buddy. Get this map downloaded so we can check it out later, 'kay?" she told him as the yappy droid nodded, scooting out of the pack for a second. Nara pulled the connector wire to the pad from his I/O socket, plugging it into the datapad. As she waited, she looked back up at Ke Eoto, thinking about his ship idea.

"Some of those wrecks look crazy dangerous on there," she said, pointing to the map still, "and past here, near the Diagona, that path is so rickety and thin we'll be lucky if it still exists. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't wanna be landing a ship near that. Your thrusters alone could destroy half these wrecks." She unplugged her droid after he beeped in conclusion, stuffing him back in her pack. "You know what we're looking for, Ke Eoto, and I can help disassemble what we need. Hopefully it won't be much to carry."

With that, the others grabbed their things and Nara joined them. They left Garl with his fire and a little bit of hope. Plenty more cynicism about his chances of getting that generator equipment but hey, there was a chance.

They emerged back into the outdoors of the junk planet, drinking in the thick, engine-oil rich air. One boot trudging in front of the other over rusty remnants of old machines. Magnificently huge pieces of hull stamped with long-dead corporate names from centuries long gone. Husks of ships destroyed in raids, wars and piracy. A thousand years of life, history and record just trampled under her boots. Nara found the experience... disconcerting. She wasn't really all that trained with the Force and the latent feeling around all that trash made her shiver.

It didn't take too long before the smell hit them.

Nara turned round the corner of a giant, crusted wreck of a planet-mining machine when suddenly, she felt like she was being punched in the nose. She gasped, leaning down and coughing hard. Eyes watering over her cheeks. The stench.

"Eugggggh..." she managed to hiss out, leaning back against the filthy wall as she thought back to the map. Looking out across an expanse of rotting fields, piled high with the refuse of a thousand worlds in the Outer Rim. Spoiled food dumped and left to rot. Leavings from agri-worlds and waste from vast collections of livestock. All there.

Nara had never before been able to see how much something stank.

"The Force better be with me," she muttered to herself, turning to the others. "How do we get across that? I'm really starting to wish I had a breather mask right about now."

@Die Shize @Manufactorium @Turtleneck

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Music OOC

Spoiler

​

As the Jedi quartet wandered the wastebasket of the stars, Vayla flirted between leading at an arrow’s speed and straggling further behind to ogle at the garbage. Even in such surroundings there was much to learn; visual cues from this culture and that one, treasures to uncover and sculptures to study that might even appeal to Ke Eoto. That latter idea was worth a grin, but the stench that assailed her nostrils had also twisted her lips into a kind of vulgar art.

“Tsss, akgh, oh my!” Totally agreeing with Nara’s own expression, Vayla coughed and fought with whether to breathe through her nose or mouth, either or neither and fortunately never both. Olfactory senses would certainly be invaded but there couldn’t have been any benefit in whatever permeated the atmosphere entering her mouth. Unlike her counterpart, Vayla had been smart enough to bring her rebreather along, and she promptly withdrew it from her belt before pausing.

“Ehm...here.” She extended the rebreather to the youngest member in the group if she was so inclined to accept; a girl who had certainly earned her place so far and as far as donning stink-masking masks went. “You might need it more than me...” Who am I kidding? I need it no less than anyone else. Oh well. Should have brought a helmet like my smarter-than-master apprentice.

With a gulp of some regret, Vayla let her prosthetic eyes linger on the foul sea of rot and refuse before placing binoculars over her gaze. “Well, it’s certainly a way to the other side... ‘Shot-Hull Scrap’ looks like a mildly more pleasant area in this amusement park that isn’t quite amusing.” Adjusting the scope, she focused on a closer position, making out what looked like a cargo container. It was upturned and rusted, with some kind of black goop laced across it like vines from the dark side. Spread out before it like spilled innards was a dishearteningly colorful collection of yellow and green, brown and gray—telltale tints and shades of mold and worse.

“Disgusting...” The binoculars shifted, closing in on a couple of contraptions fitted with mechanical arms that were bent or broken, leading up to lumbering bodies which had faired no better over time. Garbage loaders. Guess their pilots saw the task at hand and sought a career change. Or maybe they were broken in space and dumped with everything else. It made sense that, at least to some extent, a meager measure of order might have been attempted on Raxus at one point if perhaps never again. Still, those signs that marked off the dump sites hadn't sprung up by themselves.

“Aha!” Vayla held her view much closer to her group’s position. Whether the vehicle she gawked at had just as much been tethered to any operation for organization, or was the device of gone-fishing scavengers, it looked upright and functional and couldn’t have been more than a hundred meters off their flank. “There.” She lowered her binoculars and pointed.

“A skiff. If the Force is with us indeed then there’s our barge across the ocean. We can skirt the edge well enough to reach the craft without getting too much of last century’s dinner on our outfits, and then it’s repulsorlift-sailing from there, friends.” ...Yaaaaaay...



@Charndley @Manufactorium @Turtleneck

 

[Ke Eoto]

Followed in step with the group, nodding in agreement with Byron's assessment that it would be best to drop a marker, a small beacon device already in the Blood Carver's hand to be activated and dropped into the refuse littering their meeting spot with Garl. It was to be a backup way of retracing their steps, should the navigation systems in their datapads, which contained the coordinates, fail.

"There would be no need to laand. We could alwaays just leap, in faith that our descent would be sloowed by the Foorce."

The alien groaned out Nara in counterpoint to her concern, although soon enough the alien would shrug to himself, continuing on with his train of thought.

"But I supoose that the down-wash of engine-thruusters would meean we would have to jump from higher than recommended by coodices. Then there would be no telling if the impaact of our bodies would affect the struc-tures we would laand on."

He croaked out in an argument with himself, mulling over the predicament for the time being, before finally sounding out,

"Either way, if foot-path is the better approach, then I will put trust in your juudge-ment."

Ke Eoto relinquished to the group in another series of intonations forced out from his gullet, filtered and muffled further by the vox unit on his elongated helmet, giving it more of a mechanical quality in between hisses of his built-in rebreather. After that he would fall silent, signaling his acceptance that calling in an aerial transport wasn't the optimal way of getting to their objective.


Continuing on, the Blood Carver would step in pace of the group, keeping to the rear as he scanned over their surroundings wearily during their hike. For now he kept his hunting rifle securely slung over his back, and his lightsaber at his belt, although his gaze went over the hills and valleys of refuse and junk with silent, disgusted scrutiny. Although it was true that the piles of old tech and various more preserved pieces he could spot were far more familiar to him than ultra-modern devices most of the Core World inhabitants would be used to, he still saw the whole planet as a testament to the consumerism of the Galaxy and the precarious amounts of waste it created. Still, he felt at least somewhat encouraged to see so many dunes and mountains of junk around, landscape reminding him of his home planet, albeit in some sort of weird junkyard parody, and he could not deny that there was something alluring about prospects of lost artifacts and treasures being buried in the titanic amounts of trash.

Ke Eoto was just watching a loose plastic bag float away on a lazy breeze when the rest of the group stopped on the edge of what appeared to be an extensive field of rotting foodstuff refuse stretching out towards the horizon. Ke Eoto didn't need scanners of his helmet or any measuring device they would carry to know that the air around this foul landmark would be toxic.

The alien would look back over to Nara and Vayla when his master gave the young padawan a rebreather mask.

"Even with ree-bree-ther, I would not dwell into that sea of rot. There are miaasmas and feesters which can per-mee-ate through skin with mere touch. But it does help with smeel."

Ke Eoto pointed out as he tilted his head towards the point that Vayla was studying and the skiff-barge she spotted.

"It could be good way to transport the ge-ne-ratoor parts too back to Garl. Even if it does not work, perhaps the four of us could levii-ta-te it together?"

The alien proposed before looking back to the other Jedi,

"Either way, I think that skiff is our best shoot."

 

[Byron Alduun]

_

For most of the walk, Byron had stayed silent. Left alone to his thoughts, one of which was quite dominantly standing on top of the rest, carrying most of his attention. Disgust, and discouragement. Honestly, he thought of himself as quite a resilient individual, but every step into this environment was wearing away at whatever was left of his willingness to continue.

Are you kriffing kidding me? he wondered as they neared the horizon of filth, the sea of miasmic monstrosities in clear view for everyone’s sore eyes. So sore in fact, that they may as well have just kept them closed this entire time. Not only because of the highly probable acidity of the gases but also because it wasn’t a particularly enjoyable view to take in.

Vayla’s plan was sound in theory but he wasn’t going to be the first guinea pig to test it.

“Whatever it takes to get across that ocean, to our generator and off of this planet,” he said, fingers pinched around his nostrils. Usually the one to take the lead with feats of bravery such as this, the idea of falling or getting something… distasteful on his robes was enough to veer him off of the path of leadership. Especially when no one’s life was at risk. Not yet anyway.

Instead, he asked the group, “Who wants to go first?”

The idea of edging across this trash mass on this planet wasn’t the prettiest idea he had thought of but alas, he didn’t have anything better to go off of. The dangers that had blinked up on the padawan’s radar hadn’t left his mind ever since they had first cropped up, and he had only hoped that whoever was the first to secure a path to the skiff had not forgotten them.

@Charndley @Die Shize @Manufactorium​

_

 

[Juniper]

"Thanks..." Nara muttered to Vayla as she offered her the mask. She wasn't stupid, of course she was going to take it. The blast of somewhat-stale air was wonderful, more like breathing in a mountain spring compared to what she'd been forced to deal with up to that point. She placed her hands on her hips as she looked out across the muck and murk, wondering what to do.

"I'm not planning on swimming through it, Ke," she responded, rolling her eyes a little. They weren't traversing that mess without some help. Luckily, Vayla had noticed the skiff nearby. Though nearby was a relative term. It was still through a fair bit of filth.

Nara looked around at the others, hearing Byron ask the group. Then she sighed. "Me. I'll do it."

I'm going to drown in crap. Here lies Nara, she was always full of shit. Gingerly, she stepped forwards. It couldn't be that bad, could it? They weren't going through the worst of it. Just around the edge. Her boots mashed into soggy, thick ground. Splashes of oily brown and viscous blacks splattered on her trousers as she started to trudge towards it. Every step was careful. Easing her foot out of the ground, feeling it tug at her sole, threatening to eat her boots whole.

She kept moving, looking around for any signs of danger. Astonishingly... it was working. Maybe it was the rebreather, but Nara didn't really feel like throwing up. Sure, it stank, but it could be handled. The muck was a little clingy but there didn't seem to be anything hidden there, or any hidden sinkholes of filth.

She stood by the skiff and took off the rebreather, waving to the others as she called out. "It's fine! C'mon!" Oh no... that was a bad idea, she thought as she coughed at the smell. Still, the way was clear. She moved towards the skiff and touched it, starting to check whether it'd actually work.

Please don't make me walk through the rest of that. Pleaaaase.

@Die Shize @Manufactorium @Turtleneck

 

[Vayla Mirana]

Music OOC [Recurring]

Spoiler

​

Vayla nodded in agreement with Ke Eoto’s assessment about using the hopefully operable skiff to transport the generator parts, or whatever their bounty proved to be. After all, they didn’t have to end their skiff journey to the other side of the sea of filth; it might yet carry them further along. In place of a ship, it might just be their only option when it came to giving their legs a break. Levitating together, however, was quite another idea and it made her chuckle.

“Levitation! I like it!” Catching herself, she turned toward her Padawan with a careful smile. “Though, it would require a bout of coordination, Ke Eoto, even for us Jedi. It is in its own way a flawed suggestion that we may not want to test under present circumstances.”

Byron, meanwhile, seemed as ready to get this job over and done with as the rest of them, if not somehow more than the rest of them. It was dangerous enough remaining on this waste planet but much and more when it came to this particular stretch of it. Rebreather or not, with helm or without, the lot of them would be sure to get a medical checkup upon their return, and treatment if need be.

For her part, Vayla had also been sure to go through a preemptive screening prior to embarking on their quest, from vaccine to vitamin, but measures were only measures. On that note, she didn’t exactly fancy the idea of taking the lead on this trip to the skiff but she would do so for the sake of her team. Nara beat her to the punch. Oh, you are one brave girl…

“Be careful, Nara.” The direction was as obvious as her concern. The last thing that they needed was for one of the Padawans to lose her footing and sink into a pool of slime. Vayla cringed at the thought as she followed after Nara’s beckoning, careful to stick to the course as gross filth-stuff threatened to stick to her clothing. Moving across the muck had seemed to bring out its terrible odor, as if such a horrible thing were even possible. Disgusting...

At the skiff, Vayla lowered her hand from her mouth and tried her best to keep a straight face, patting Nara on the back for her efforts. “Good job, Padawan! Now let’s see…” Aboard the skiff, she helped with the search for good fortune and found it with the press of a button as the skiff buzzed and hummed to life. “Superb! Engines are a go! The crew has a boat to sail the sea of scrap and slime!” She slapped a hand on the railing in celebration, withdrawing it to find some sticky brown stuff on her palm. “Oh...dear...stars above…” With a gag, she fought to wipe the would-rather-not-know on her pants while her teammates were hopefully going about plotting a course. Just...disgusting...


@Charndley @Manufactorium @Turtleneck

 

[Ke Eoto]

@Die Shize, @Charndley, @Turtleneck,

Was about to volunteer to be the first one to step into the murk, on the account of his physiology probably being helpful in the scenario due to his long, thin legs like stilts, when Nara volunteered herself off instead. They all watched her make the trek across the putrid swamp, thankfully safe, and then climb aboard the skiff. Vayla followed Nara's path soon after, Ke Eoto turned to looked at Byron and gave out a shrug before unslinging his rifle off of his back and pushing off to make his way towards the skiff behind his master while holding the weapon up above his head to make sure that it wasn't accidentally splashed by the muck.

The alien walked in a slow stride, making long footsteps each time to cover as much ground as he could, carefully following the trail that Vayla and Nara took before. From time to time he had to stop as he pulled his long legs out and then back into the murk like a heron, checking to make sure that the shifting soil retained its consistency and did not degrade into a treacherous pitfall since Vayla's weight pressed down on it. He managed to not slip down into peril however and make his way to the skiff safely as well, although he hoped that the seal of his body glove and the additional layer of protective wraps on his feet held their integrity.

His rifle was hoisted onto the deck of the skiff before the alien grabbed onto its side and pulled himself out of the mud, vaulting over the skiff's side to join Nara and Vayla. If Byron was following in suit behind, Ke Eoto would offer the Jedi knight his hand to pull him up aboard the skiff as well before setting his rifle aside somewhere safe and then cleaning off his feet the best he could over the side to avoid tracking in more filth on their vehicle.

"Does any-oone know how to steer this thing?"

Ke Eoto croaked out, his breathing filtered out by his mask's systems as he looked to others, hoping that it wasn't a first time with a skiff for all of them. His expression hidden behind the featureless plate of his helmet, he wasn't any more happy to be on the filth-covered shores than any of them.

 

[Byron Alduun]

_

Byron was the last to follow.

To be frank, he was worse off going last. There was something uneasy about following the rest of the group, treading on a path already beaten by their soft footsteps. Blazing the trail was far easier than following it. In all areas of life.

Uneasily, he took the Blood Carver’s hand. Uneasily, because of his uneven footing, but also uneasily because of their history. If there was ever an excuse for an untimely accident, this was it.

“Thanks,” he said, briefly acknowledging the creature’s assistance. Eye contact maintained, trust established. The disgust crawled upon his face rather quickly once he realised he had gotten some who-knows-what on the bottom of his pants. Though, the notion of driving this contraption had quickly wiped the expression off as quickly as he had wiped off the gunk.

“I doubt these things are difficult to steer,” he said, responding to the Blood Carver’s inquiry. “They were built for ease of use. I don’t mind steering.”

He looked ahead at the sea of miasmic filth.

“The real question is: what’s the best path to follow?”

@Charndley @Die Shize @Manufactorium​

_