revivalproject | Two Weird Planets

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Two Weird Planets

WHO: Dustin, Felwinter, Tony, the Palm Cottage crew, and OPEN
WHERE: The Charcoal Star Map Roof in Temba, crew quarters on the Palm Cottage, various crafting guilds, the Eorzean wilds, and the Gold Saucer
WHAT: Curiosities, Crabbiness, Collecting, Crafting, and Cards
WHEN: First prompt is backdated to an evening in early July; the rest take place throughout the Eorzea event, July 17th - August 10th.
WARNINGS: Dustin is mean and uses mean words. Also, there might be violence/injury if monsters (or guards??) get involved on some of these quests.
NOTES: An outfit for the event!

1. Northwestern Temba Rooftops [Closed to Felwinter]

It's been a week. And, just like they'd agreed, Dustin is here - specifically, on the roof he and Felwinter had previously met. The familiar campfire has been lit to signal his presence, though its base is a lot neater than it has been; it rained yesterday, ruining the residual charcoal pile and washing away nearly two weeks of star map work in the process.

The boy who'd spent so much time drawing these maps is, perhaps, understandably perturbed - but not actually for that reason. Rather, as he paces agitatedly around the perimeter of the roof, the only thing going through his head is how he won't be able to keep up his end of the deal.

So fucking stupid. Dustin viciously kicks a piece of loose pavement in his path. Making promises I can't keep. Dumbass. I don't even know if he'll be pissed or not. I just wanna get this shit over with and go to sleep.

He pauses, casting a harried glance over the roof's edge.

Where the fuck is he?

2. Palm Cottage Crew Quarters [Closed to Palm Cottage Crew]

When the Palm Cottage and her crew slip into orbit around Eorzea and receive their directions for planet-side, Dustin does not leave the ship. Instead, he grabs the items the Agrii have left for him in his labeled chest, glances at the note with glassy eyes, stuffs it in his pocket and stomps his way back to crew quarters in silence.

In fact, Dustin's been pretty quiet the whole trip. Too busy sulking. His first time in space--fucking space--and he can't even enjoy it because the Agrii forced him here. They really do seem to have a knack for pissing in his cereal. So Dustin spends his time thinking about the best way to get back at them, and by the end of their journey he's settled on a protest of inaction. Any precious seconds he can spend not doing what the Agrii want him to do are victories, by Dustin's estimation. They can get some other sucker to go fuck around for their 'Seek Rats' or whatever. Not this guy.

He wastes the whole first day like this. A lot of it is spent just laying on the top bunk he's claimed, long since devoid of sheets that he stole on day one, tossing the bundled shawl of the outfit the Agrii provided him at the ceiling.

Thump. Thump.

That's definitely not going to get annoying.

3. Gridania Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Thankfully, Dustin's fit of petulance doesn't last long. By the second day he's on the ground like most everyone else.

He's surprised at how quickly he's able to find a place here. The concept of having to massage a population of strangers into giving him intel is daunting, to say the least, which is why Dustin immediately notices how ready the locals are to give him work. They peddle quests like merchants, flagging down passerby, talking loudly about their misgivings, never seeming to care about supply of potential applicants. They even have honest-to-god quest markers. To call the experience 'surreal' would be an understatement.

Dustin ends up having to turn down the first few requests, realizing quickly that he's not equipped to handle the monster-slaying or rumor-mongering needs of these people, but it doesn't take him too long to find something much more achievable: Apprentice woodworking. And from there, the whole world opens up to him.

The biggest hurdle is the tools. The Eorzeans don't use the same sorts of equipment that Dustin is used to for probably obvious reasons, though that equipment also appears to operate with different laws of physics, too. 'Magic,' apparently. All he knows is that this saw he's been given is too light and big to handle the whittling work he's able to squeeze out of it, yet here he is, gently shaping the curved end of a longbow with it like he's handling a precision carving knife. This shit just works and it's incredible.

Dustin does most of his carpentry (and eventually leatherworking) outside, on the small terraces facing the large, dark forest that surrounds Gridania. People wander past, but they don't bother him. The locals go about their business with a silent dignity that Dustin appreciates; perhaps they, too, just want to be in their own head, appreciating the simple beauty of this untouched wilderness.

His fellow spies from Agra-10, on the other hand, are probably not so quiet.

4. Ul'dah Crafting Guilds [OTA]

Dustin does not find Ul'dah nearly so pleasant.

Yes, it has more crafting professions for him to volunteer at. Yes, one of those is motherfucking alchemy. But also it's loud, full of little greasy merchants, and his customers keep riding his ass about meeting deadlines and cutting material costs and other stupid shit that Dustin does not have the patience for. However, for everything that Ul'dah lacks in decorum, it makes up for in quality of information. Dustin cannot fault the locals for their respect in coin and their diligence to follow up on debts paid. His crafting quests here have paid out twice as well as the ones in Gridania.

That being said, he doesn't want to spend any more time around them than he absolutely has to, so most of his days in Ul'dah are spent in the guilds proper. He finds that the Alchemists' Guild calls to him moreso than the others. The underpinnings of basic chemistry spun with something else is absolutely mesmerizing, enough that it helps to block out all the noise of the bustling stalls outside. Or the fact that he's in the company of someone else from Agra-10. Face down over a mortar and pestle, partially-made health potion bubbling over a flame nearby, Dustin reaches out a free hand to where he knows he set aside that water shard. It's missing now. He frowns at the table and, not looking up, snaps his fingers in the direction of the missing ingredient.

"Hey. I need that. Give it back."

5. Limsa Lominsa Crafting Guilds/Markets [OTA]

Limsa Lominsa is a unique blend of exciting jobs and absolute chaos. Dustin settles into being both an armorer and a blacksmith very well - especially so with blacksmithing, a job that he doubts he would ever have the constitution to perform without the assistance of magical tools - however the company that he finds himself in when he tries to sell to the market, or find an isolated place to work by the docks, is...questionable. Something about being surrounded by pirates makes him feel nervous. Sure, they're all very friendly and helpful pirates that he knows are being strong-armed by the local government into cooperating, but they wouldn't stick with the name if they didn't at least partially adhere to the definition, right?

In any case, Dustin is very paranoid at all times here and he constantly feels like he's being tailed. Maybe he is? He hasn't been yet, but today could be the day. It's the primary thought running through his head as he deals with the vendor currently trying to haggle a price for the set of simple leather armor he's trying to sell them. Dustin knows he's being scalped at the current offer and he couldn't care less. He feels so many eyes on the back of his neck right now.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Dustin hisses at the hapless merchant, shoulders hunched as he quickly pushes the roughly-bundled armor over the booth's counter. "Just take it, would you? I'm--I'm in a hurry."

6. Eorzean Wilds [OTA]

Alongside crafting stuff comes gathering stuff, and Eorzea provides on this front, too. There are plenty of people Dustin finds that have quests related to finding unique items out in the wilderness, with just as many willing to let him keep any extra materials he comes across along the way. The related guilds even loan him specialized tools for the job. He supposes he should be thankful for all of this generosity.

But there's a catch.

All of the best gathering spots seem to be inevitably patrolled by monsters. It makes a kind of sense, Dustin has to admit - these materials wouldn't be so sought-after if there wasn't a risk involved in procuring them, else everyone and their mother with a basic pickaxe would go out and dig the mountains dry. Problem is, Dustin is one of those people; he has made plenty of weapons and armor, and is even wearing some of it right now, yet he has no confidence in his ability to protect himself if he's attacked. A couple of daggers and a studded leather jacket will only get him so far without any kind of combat experience.

The only real solution to this problem is to bring someone along that can fight. Regrettably. So here he is, at the edge of town, shuffling his feet and anxiously looking around for faces he recognizes that might be headed in the same direction. Finding one, Dustin meets their eyes and tries to wave them over as subtly as possible.

"Hey! You. Where are you headed?"

Other times - well, most times really - Dustin lacks the patience to wait and tries his luck on his own. It works out well enough at first, as the simpler materials are not far off the main paths and the monsters he catches sight of are generally small and preoccupied with their own business. All he has to do is stay quiet and take his time so he doesn't draw any unwanted attention.

The first few solo ventures leave they boy emboldened. So when he goes out just a little bit further from the trail to park at an isolated pond, rumored to have rare fish in it that some merchant or other wants to cook for his fiance, Dustin is maybe a touch too confident that the local wildlife will leave him alone.

He is mistaken.

Diving out of the way from a swiped tail, Dustin abandons his fishing pole and scrambles for the rocks bordering the water. He's being menaced by some kind of giant, very angry salamander, either territorial or hungry or both. Honestly Dustin can't be bothered for those sorts of details right now.

Shit shit shit! He skids to a stop and presses his back to the cool stone, desperately trying to control his panicked breathing. Way too close. Fuck! How am I supposed to shake this thing?!

On the other side, Dustin hears the heavy footfalls of the salamander following his path up the slope.

Fuck!!

7. Gold Saucer [One thread for Tony, all others OTA]

For Tony

A casino is the last place Dustin expected to find himself. He'd never be caught dead gambling - it's a statistically ruinous waste of money, and the games that can be exploited are often a ruinous waste of time, besides. There are more useful ways for him to make money.

It's not until he gets some intel that the Gold Saucer is selling a few strange, wooden boxes as grand prizes that he starts to reconsider. Now this is something Dustin can justify sinking a bit of time into.

The unpleasantly loud and busy atmosphere is oppressive, enough to drive Dustin to look for the familiar. Scratch cards, racing, costume contests...nothing piques his interest at first. But then he stumbles on a small table in a corner, one of several like it, green-felted with a semi-circle of chairs and a dealer. Dustin slips into the crowd to observe a few hands and finds that whatever game they're playing works remarkably like blackjack. It only takes a round or so for him to memorize this foreign game's rules and card composition, which is enough for him to recognize that he could easily cheat.

Worth a try. Drawing his shawl further over his face in case this massively backfires, Dustin shuffles out of the crowd and takes a seat at the table, signaling for a hand by tapping two fingers to the velvet. As he unconsciously glances around at the rest of the contestants, one of them sees the writing on the wall (and likely his coinpurse) and returns his cards, scuttling away to the bar as the House scoops up his coin. Another man takes his place - some flashy asshole in shades. Dustin narrows his eyes at him briefly before returning his attention to the cards.

Don't need to focus on anyone else, he chides himself. Just count the cards and you'll do fine.

OTA

Later, Dustin settles on playing a game that requires a bit more hard strategy - without needing to cheat at it, anyway.

He's learned the rules of Triple Triad from various inhabitants of the three cities and, inevitably, won their cards off of all of them, so it's a pleasant surprise when he finds this deceptively simple card game being played in a tournament structure at the Gold Saucer. Easy money. It helps that the local custom is to give away one of your best cards if you lose a match, so each win Dustin accumulates makes the next one even easier.

It's starting to get a little boring, actually. Slumped back in his chair, Dustin waits for his next opponent at the gaming table, languidly scratching his head through his hair until he suddenly realizes--

--This is someone else from Agra-10. Dustin's expression shifts rapidly from boredom to surprise to blanket irritation. Looks like the fun's over.

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"Yeah, and?" Tommy asks, shrugging. "I mean, capitalism sorta fucking blows."

Though he was rather interesting at the way the kid sees it that way too. Maybe the kids are alright.

"At least one of us knows a lot about maps. I'm not the greatest at this shit."

Dustin barks a laugh. "Don't say that too loud - the Protectorate might hear you."

Of course he's joking. The GTP can't hear them here, that would be ridiculous.

No direct comment on the maps; Dustin just smirks and taps the side of his head, like that explains everything.

"The who now?" he asked, raising an eyebrow because it didn't make any sense at all.

Whatever kid, you're a mess.

"What, you say you've got screws loose up there? Could already tell."

"Man, fuck off," Dustin scowls, though there's no heat behind his words. He doesn't need Tommy to validate his memory, and besides, he knows the guy's not being hostile about it.

There's a beat. "...You really don't know about the Protectorate?" Dustin arcs an eyebrow. "The GTP? You're shitting me."

"Never heard of it. What are they like?" he asks as he keeps moving. There it was, a nice bit of tree-lined path. Clearly this is the route. He hopes.

Dustin doesn't seem concerned about their route - rather, he seems like he's getting more paranoid about what might be on it. The dappled light is giving way to shadow, the light backdrop of birdsong fading away to just the rustling of leaves in the slight breeze. Dustin's eyes flicker uncertainly from shadow to shadow, his shoulders hunched, even as their more casual conversation continues.

"Yeah--the Global Trade Protectorate," he explains. "Kind of self-explanitory. International corporate protections enforcement. You...really never heard of them? They've been around since the 40's."

The change in the quality of the route means Tommy's hands are settling, casually, on the hilts of his knives. He's got this. Relax man.

"Definitely not a thing on my Earth," Tommy said. "Thank fuck. Late state capitalism is already evil without something that sounds as self-interested and abusive as that."

Dustin huffs a laugh, but it comes out sounding a little more high-pitched and anxious than he was intending it to.

"I don't disagree with you," he says, equal parts wry and baffled. "They're basically all corporate legal jargon and mercenary management. Miserable bunch of assholes. Kind of weird to think about if they weren't there, though - most of the big companies would've torn each other to shreds years ago if the GTP wasn't around to slap their wrists."

Dustin's gaze settles on Tommy's hand closest to him resting on the hilt of a dagger. Though he doesn't say anything about it, this has the opposite effect that Tommy was likely intending; Dustin's expression turns serious and his whole body tenses, eyes swiveling about for threats. Surely if his traveling companion is on-edge, he should be too, right?

"Yeah, corporations just focus more on tearing apart the rest of the world and the people in it, than upon each other," Tommy answered with a shrug. That was just how things were back home. "There are some that aren't bad."

Most of them are mutant or Stark run.

"Maybe where you're from." Dustin's tone seems to match his posturing now, though there's something a bit more vindictive behind his cold, narrowed eyes. "I don't think destruction is their goal, but they recognize a resource when they see it. They'll take it by force and use it until there's nothing left. Helps them get a leg up over their competition? Even better."

"Yeah man, where I'm from. That's literally what I'm saying," Tommy says, rolling his eyes. "You were shocked it's not true for me. I'm explaining some difference."

Dude, chill out.

"And sounds like what you're discussing is destructive."

Dustin turns his glare on Tommy, looking distinctly annoyed. "--Yeah, I get it," he snaps. "Whatever. Forget I said anything."

A beat. Dustin's shoulders bristle as he takes a quick, agitated glance around them.

"Take another left. Why's it so fucking quiet? I don't like this."

Long past the point where this guy can chill, it seems.

Geez, the kids these days are not fine. And very angry. Tommy rolls his eyes. Was he ever that much of an angry youth? Which is a solid yes.

"Because we've been lucky. You wanna fucking jinx the luck?"

Which, you know, of course Dustin had done. Because there, coming out from some heavy coverage, was a small group of large, scorpion-like creatures. Well fuck.

"You ready to fight?"

Dustin's answer to that question should be obvious even before he says anything. All petulance and bluster is immediately dispersed in the face of actual combat as he freezes in place, head swiveling to look at Tommy with an almost comical deer-in-the-headlights expression.

"You--what?" The boy processes this ask like Tommy's requested he go streaking in a snowstorm. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

Not that his protests mean anything; at this point the group of monsters have definitely seen them and, if they're aggressive, Dustin knows they're too close for him to run or hide. He fumbles clumsily for a dagger - his best bet at defending himself.

Crazy? Tommy's expression darkens briefly. No, he didn't want to be called that, thanks. Instead he just acts. He rushes the nearest creature and cuts across one of it's legs before dodging aside from the tail.

"Fight or hide, I don't care."

Dustin glances helplessly between Tommy, the big scorpions, and his dagger, brain spinning in bewildered circles. He wants very much to take that suggestion to hide - it's what he would've done if he went out here alone, and it's what he has done all the other times something like this has happened. But now that Tommy has openly engaged these monsters, Dustin can't, in good conscience, leave them alone. He will not abandon someone that he already feels he owes a favor.

I'm really doing this? Dustin takes a steadying breath and lowers his stance, getting himself physically and mentally ready for what he anticipates will be a very unpleasant experience. Yeah, I guess I am. Fuck. Ok, just play to your strengths and--

The scorpions do not give him time to work that one out. A tail comes stabbing down at him from his left, and though Dustin sees it coming, he's not fast enough to cleanly dodge it. He stumbles away from the exchange with a slash along his leg.

"Motherfucker!" Okay, maybe a better idea to at least get out of the melee for a minute while he observes, then engage when he has enough combat data to be useful. Dustin skips backwards down the narrow trail to try and get some distance. "Can you hold them for a minute?! I just--I gotta think!"

Hold them? There's more than one. Tommy looked back over his shoulder, because what the hell man?

"I'm not stretchy, able to grab them all and hold them still. So just get out of here!"

He did move on the one that had attacked Dustin, moving a bit faster than a human should, and yeah, he cut off a leg, but there's still that tail to deal with and he has to dodge.

Dustin shakes his head wordlessly back. There's too many of them; he can't expect Tommy to deal with all of them by himself, not without getting seriously hurt, or worse. The only option is to find a way to be useful. He has to.

They showed up in a group, Dustin considers. His eyes flicker through the group, tracking each creature's position, comparing it to where they started out, seeing how they interact. But they lack dedicated coordination. Seem singularly focused on tail stabbing. Maximum reach is...

A few more long seconds of this go by - long enough for Dustin to really start to feel the sting from the slash on his calf - before he finally feels ready enough to step in. Which is fortunate, because Tommy can't keep aggro on all of these scorpions at once, so two of them have split off and are coming Dustin's way. This time he skitters around behind them, keeping close so they have to pivot first to strike at him, and slashes out at a tail. His dagger--

--bounces, because Dustin has put the strength of a wet noodle behind the strike and met it with a sturdy exoskeleton. He keeps moving with another hissed curse, trying to reassess. "Aim for the tails!" he calls to Tommy instead. The career superhero probably has a better chance of doing proper damage with that intel than Dustin does.

Of course Tommy could take them alone. Or he'd lie to himself and claim he believed that. Still, the advice is nice, especially as it comes while Tommy gets a cut against his cheek. Fuck this.

"Why the tails?"

But he does try, jumping nimbly onto the back of one to slash at the thing.

"Primary weapon!" Dustin shouts back, too breathless and distracted to give any further details. Seems Tommy has the right idea, anyway.

He focuses back on the two scorpion monsters still untouched and antagonizing him. One is stuck in a pivot, the other has broken off and is trying to flank him on the right. Okay, maybe they are a little coordinated. Dustin decides to focus on the creature circling him, twisting away and into the zone he's estimated is past its tail's maximum reach. The stinger tastes air, and the failed strike reveals another flaw: The exoskeleton plates flex apart in spots when the scorpions attack, revealing softer tissue in the joints. A plan forms.

It's not a great plan. Still, Dustin decides Tommy should hear it, even though his companion is not having nearly as much trouble cutting up the monsters as he is. "Bait the attacks!" Dustin barks, ducking to the side of one of his monster assailants - intentionally in striking distance of both.

Well that's a good point he supposed.

"Why?" Tommy called back. He was so busy trying to cut the thing's tail off that he doesn't really know what to look for. It also helped that, you know, he wasn't going as fast as he could. That meant he wasn't taking the time to think fast too.

The scorpion Dustin is facing strikes at him, but by this point he's made enough observations to easily telegraph its speed and target. A sidestep dodges the tail, and a lash out with his dagger at the gap in its plates cuts deep, leaving the stinger hanging limp.

"Because that," Dustin responds, sounding either out of breath or exasperated or both, hard to say given the circumstances. "Weak spots when they--"

Dustin cuts himself off, crying out in a combination of shock, pain, and outrage as the other monster he'd been antagonizing stabs him in the side. The scorpion doesn't get the chance to strike again; he grabs the stinger still lodged in his torso and uses it as leverage, sawing off the end of the creature's tail with several furious slashes of his dagger. It's a hefty price to pay, but the gamble has left both monsters crippled and recoiling to the edge of the path, apparently looking for an opportunity to flee.

Shit, kid don't talk when you're fighting if you're not use to it. Tommy jumped off of his target and moved a lot faster than he probably should have to get to Dustin's side so he could possibly pull the guy aside.

"Let them go, take a potion."

To Dustin's credit he seems to be taking this sudden and slightly traumatic injury quite well, likely because adrenaline is starting to kick in and there's still enemies littering the path ahead. They keep him focused on the Task; pain and shock are pushed into the middle distance, inconveniences rather than emergencies, which is probably the only reason why he's able to pull out the severed stinger by the time Tommy is next to him. Dustin lets it drop, hunched and panting, looking a bit feral with the diremite blood-soaked dagger in his other hand.

"They're running," he says - an indirect acknowledgement of Tommy's command to let them go. He was going to do that anyway. "Potions in my bag."

Dustin does not grab a potion from his bag. Instead he glances sharply up at Tommy, eyes squinted in irritation.

"--Why haven't you been moving that fast this whole time?"

Well, at least the creatures are fleeing. Tommy takes a brief breath and moves to stand between Dustin and any threat so the kid can heal himself.

"Did you miss the be seek rat part of the message?" Tommy hissed at Dustin. "I didn't blow anything up either."

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