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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That's something Cayde agrees on, and he nods as Dustin speaks his reasons. "Don't get many opportunities. I make it a point to stock up on what I can when we do get to go off-world somewhere." The weapon selection is something to be desired, but at least there's plenty of other things he can find. And he is determined to have the most dimensionally diverse bar by way of drink selection.

He stares a bit at the rag as it's handed back, now also covered in amphibi-gunk. "Hm? You saw it. Barrel's melted, hammer's probably fused in place. Guess weapons here don't handle solar very well."

Dustin passes Cayde a flat look alongside the rag. "No shit," he drones, using both hands now to sheathe the dagger. "Basic observations are not my concern. 'Solar'--do you mean that literally? Some kind of fusion energy channeling?"

The Hunter raises his hands- and rag- in a shrug. "Pretty literally, anyway," he says. "Comes with the Guardian-Ghost package. Space magic." The grin can be heard in his voice.

He holds the rag out and the hand grasping it flares with that same golden fire. The rag is incinerated, which takes care of problem, and Cayde extends two fingers as a fiery throwing knife forms between them. He opens his fingers and lets the flames vanish.

"There's solar, void, and arc. Obvious what my personal preference is."

Dustin's expression seems to be lifting with interest...right up until Cayde calls it 'space magic.' His face falls past flat and into annoyance. No wonder this asshole doesn't know how his shit works, if he's just brushing it off as fucking magic, Dustin rationalizes. Even the flashy display of his powers isn't enough to impress him out of the resulting foul mood.

But there is one thing - a thought, which has the teen blinking in consideration.

"You prefer to use an ability that melts your own weapon?" he asks, more leading than incredulous. "Have you ever figured out a way to make it not wreck your own shit?"

If Dustin wanted to talk technicalities he was better off talking to a Warlock. Cayde totally isn't grinning behind his helmet as he watches the teenager's shifting expressions.

The question is unexpected and gains a snort. For a metal man he sure does a lot of huffing and sighing despite a lack of lungs. "If I had my hand cannon, it wouldn't have been a problem. Honestly I didn't think it'd be one here, because usually it don't matter what I'm holding. Either we just build 'em sturdier on Earth or whatever operates in this world doesn't mesh well with whatever I work with."

Cayde's explanation is along the lines of what Dustin is thinking. If this is a well-known power set, then surely weapons would be developed to accommodate them, right? Or at least weather them better than one use - otherwise that would be one hell of a resource sink.

"It's almost certainly the materials," he considers, scratching at his chin. "Or an industry-standard heat shunt. If it's actually some kind of localized fusion event, you might even get away with an EM-field that redirects plasma away from..."

Dustin trails off as he internalizes the rest of that thought, eyes twitching while he works out the numbers. That's...not impossible. If my assumptions about his abilities are correct, anyway. Needs testing.

"...Sure, yeah," Dustin says, an answer to an unspoken question, and squares his shoulders. "I think I could do that."

The Hunter would lament all the beautiful guns he'd inadvertently destroy too, if that were a thing. Guardianing hadn't come with an instruction manual however, and he's pretty sure there were plenty of them freaking out the first time anyone learned they could self-combust with a thought.

"Materials," he agrees with a nod. "Personally I think whoever's making guns here spends too much time in the look over the operation. I mean, I like a flashy looking thing but not if it's crap for balance." He knows for a fact you can make flashy and functional. He hadn't been much impressed with the performance of the last gun he'd been using either. Maybe it's good enough for most of the run-of-the-mill monsters running about, but it still had felt all over the place.

He realizes the kid's been quiet for a bit, looking over then with a blink.

"Do what?"

Dustin blinks back at him, as if what he'd been thinking was obvious.

"Modify one of these guns to not melt when you use your abilities," he states. "Plasmas are already ionized, so you wouldn't need too powerful of a magnetic field to shift the majority of the heat away from the gun's surface. The real trick is allowing for all that energy to still flow into the individual bullets without wearing down the barrel from the inside." Dustin plants his hands on his hips. "Doable, but not trivial. Right?"

"Huh!" Cayde lifts his helmeted head a bit at that before giving a nod. "I'm not usually the one putting those things together and honestly have no idea what smiths have to work with around here- so yeah, definitely not trivial. I'll take your word for do-ability." Banshee's the gun expert and alas, he is not here, although Cayde imagined the poor old Exo would get himself hopelessly lost somewhere or another if he was, as shot as his memory is.

"If you can manage to throw something together that I can use solar here in a pinch, then I'll be impressed."

Dustin shrugs, but spares Cayde the details. The tools and resources allotted to him from the various crafting guilds is not nearly as much as he'd like, but it's still way more than he's had back on Agra-10. He's spoiled for choice, by comparison. The other craftspeople don't even bother him too much while he's working, so he's not terribly concerned with getting found out because someone snoops on his projects. As long as he gets their work done, everyone's happy.

But there is one thing he needs to make clear. "I'm not doing this for your approval," Dustin says, deadpan. "I owe you a favor--several favors. Consider this one of them repaid, if I can get it done. Deal?"

Cayde brings his hands up- hey now, no need to get your britches all in a twist! "And I'm not looking for a fight," he points out. "But you got yourself a deal." He's never going to turn down a new weapon, although he's willing to give some leeway with unpaid debts considering the lengthy list he has back home. But if Dustin insists!

The Hunter holds out a gloved hand to shake.

Dustin's britches are perpetually twisted. Case in point: He doesn't immediately take Cayde's offered hand, instead staring at it like the Exo just held out an angry snake. The fear isn't totally couched in baseless paranoia; Cayde did spontaneously combust just a few minutes ago purely for demonstration purposes, Dustin hasn't forgotten about that. But eventually he relents. After a slightly too-long pause, the teen shakes Cayde's glove with his own.

"I'll drop off the finished product on your ship, if I can complete it before we leave," Dustin says. "The Bishop, right?"

The Exo's helmeted head tilts in a sort of 'don't leave me hanging now!' sort of way as he keeps his hand out. He gives Dustin an enthusiastic handshake before releasing his hand.

"Sure thing. Yeah, that's the ship. If no one else is aboard, Colonel should let you in."

Dustin grimaces through the handshake and gives his shoulder a ginger roll and massage after he pulls away. Probably some soft tissue damage. Note: Use other arm for the next couple of weeks.

This discomfort doesn't seem to discourage him too much, though. "Colonel?" Dustin asks, tilting his head. Not a title or name he recognizes anyone having, but a memory tickles his brain nevertheless. His eyes shimmy slightly for a couple of seconds as he sifts through conversations, 'Dictionary' entries, network posts--

--And he gets a ping in the same place he recognized Cayde's voice. Dustin's face settles into a scowl.

"--No, calling bullshit on that," he declares in exasperation. "Your chicken cannot invite people onto your ship."

The helmet may hide his grin but not the brief snicker that escapes him, and his shoulders bounce once with the movement. "Why not?! -okay, fine," Cayde says as he decides not to push it. He supposes even if answering the figurative door might be possible for a chicken, he wasn't quite sure on how far the whole ship registration levels went.

"I'm sure someone'll be there. I usually check in towards the end of the day to dump stuff and catch a nap."

Some kind of critical threshold of absurdity must have been reached, enough to keep Dustin from continuing to argue his point. Moreso that than recognizing that Cayde is being playful, anyway. Regardless, his expression softens back to neutrality.

"Right. I'll try to stop in when you're around." Because most of the people on the Bishop are either people that Dustin has not met personally (and has no intention of doing so unless he absolutely must), or York. He's not ready to see York again - not until he finishes that biocomponent and testing rig. So that leaves only coordinating with Cayde, and he figures he can get away with that well enough.

That seems like a satisfying enough plan. Dustin nods once and gives himself a last check-over to make sure he's not leaving anything behind. He's short a fish for the quest he'd taken that brought him to this stupid lake in the first place, but the idea of trying for another so soon after being slapped around by a giant salamander is daunting, to say the least. Plus, he could really use a nice lie-down.

"Expect me in a couple of weeks."

A couple of weeks is a long time to go without a gun, but Cayde knows a good one's worth the wait. He'll just have to find a replacement in the meantime and hopefully not run into too many things he'd have to Golden Gun. The Hunter nods.

"All right. I'll catch you then. Try to stay outta trouble, okay?" The grin in his voice is evident, and he gives Dustin a two-fingered salute. "-unless you want me to walk you back to town or something..." He doubts it if the kid's counting favors owed, but he figures he'll offer anyway.

And the deadpan comes right back. "I know the way," Dustin responds quickly, combing a hand through his hair and frowning at the dried muck that pulls away with his fingers. A nap and a shower, definitely. "Don't need an escort."

Without any further preamble or thanks, Dustin starts back up the slope in the direction of the road.

"Suit yourself," Cayde says with a shrug.

He watches Dustin start to head off, waiting just until he's well up the slope before he begins to be on his own way. He may not have a gun, but so long as he doesn't come across more giant critters for the time being, he can make do.

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Two Weird Planets

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