GM Dinketry and the Dead Suns AP (Inactive)

Game Master dinketry

Zigvigix appears amused, his antennae waving in ripples as they trill a high-pitched staccato noise known to be equivalent to laughter in the shirren people.

"I will leave you to it, then. Telion, I believe we will have our headquarters kitted out and functional within a fortnight. I have some favours to call in - it might be even sooner. It has been amusing, Starfinders! Ta-ta for now." With a high-pitched whir of gears, Zigvigix walks away from the crew and back towards the park.

Diamaante tries to stifle a giggle at Jaxom's embarrassment. She smiles and waves at Ziggy.

"Is there anything else we need to do today? If not, why don't we take the rest of the day off and meet back in the morning."

"Sounds great. Be thinking about how we should spend those credits!"

Jaxom heads on home for dinner, but not before he tries to finally purchase an infrared adaptor for his armor.

August will distribute the funds to the party equitably and bow happily after collecting the rendezvous point.

The next morning he'll be there as himself, chain smoking and reading a Dataphiles extract of Pact World news. He's a little perturbed by the fact that so much of it involves celebrity rehab check-ins and rumors about romantic assignations. He's also amused by the fact that there's a note about Diamaante, star of short-lived cult drama Succubi Squad Six, having assembled a harem.

Jaxom, on his way home, stops by an arms and armour supplier and successfully picks up his desired armour upgrade. The merchant at Steel Fletchings - the weapons store nearest his home - sends him away with his purchase and a curious farewell.

"That's two days in a row that you've come in. What do you think the odds are that you'll make it three days in a row tomorrow?" the smooth-voiced vesk states as he hands Jaxom the chrome-shell armour case containing his infrared sensors.

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Jaxom, what would you like to do?

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Idar will spend the afternoon tuning the sights on his laser cannon, because clearly they don't work properly.

Then he'll get a good night's sleep (Recovering 1 HP) so he can show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for Diamaante's mission.

”Yes, it’s me, give me a second Mom.”

Jaxom opens and reads the envelope’s contents.

On the way back to the Moons of Sleep, Telion stopped by at a cramped shop full of buzzing, broken robots and various other bits of mechanical equipment. He quietly selected and paid for a simple engineering toolkit, then headed out and turned in early, only taking the time to disrobe and quickly stretch his battered muscles before slipping into bed.

In the morning, he arrived downstairs early and had already begun devouring a massive breakfast as the others filtered in.

Reflex Save for Jaxom: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Engineering: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

I’ll snap a picture of the message with my comm unit if I can.

The next morning, some of the crew (minus August and Jaxom) meet up in Minnie's breakfast nook for coffee, waffles, and discussion.

Please let me know how you all wish to proceed.

Diamaante greets everybody in the morning when they meet up. "Hi, boys. Ready for our meeting? We are heading to Steel Fletchings to have a chat with the Dealmaker, Radaszam."

She leads the way to the shop.

I want to catch up with the gang and show them the picture of the threatening message, but not before I inform my parents, and instruct them to see about taking advantage of protection from the Society.

Jaxom meets up with the crew outside of Steel Fletchings as everyone is about to enter.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

August nods at Telion, Idar and Diamaante as they sit down.

"So apparently Diamaante has broad tastes and is incredibly magnetic."

He says as he pulls up the news item on Diamaante "stepping out" with her gentlemen friends at a nightspot in Downside.

Looking at Jaxom he raises an eyebrow.

"You look a little off today?"

"Obviously fake. Looks nothing like her." Telion replied with a grin.

"What sort of 'meeting'? Hopefully not the same kind of meeting as in August's pic?"

August eyes Telion rather obviously.

"Oh I don't know, I can think of worse things. At least she doesn't have a thing for Vesk."

"There's nothing wrong with having a reptile fetish. To each their own," Diamaante says breezily. "But he has assured me that this is strictly business. A potentially lucrative job opportunity."

August snorts.

"I'd prefer a definitively lucrative job opportunity."

Awaiting Jaxom

"Fortunate that celebrity gossip leave out gunfight. Might hurt public image."

"Or help it. From what the Infosphere Holovid DataBase tells me, Diamaante has done an unusual number of 'laxploitation' action movies and the knowledge she got involved in a real gunfight in a sleazy bar could give her more credibility."

Jaxom shows his friends the photo he took of the message he received last night.

Jaxom Sandstrom, we know who you are. We see you. We see your parents, Mirren Sandstrom née Ephelier and Jaxor Sandstrom. We see your Starfinder Society contacts. Forget anything you know about the Acreon or the Fusion Queen. Different gangs and other violent people can be hired quite easily for a variety of jobs, including dissuading interest in legal squabbles, covering up tracks when hired guns screw up simple jobs, or making beloved but elderly parents disappear. You see us now.

August looks at the message and up at his fellows.

"And you people stayed at the same hotel."

"Such a threat is unacceptable." Idar checks his weapon straps. "Best response to gunpoint is bullet-point, yes?"

"Somebody really doesn't want the Starfinders snooping around. Which makes me all the more inclined to do some snooping."

"And you people stayed at the same hotel."

"Minnie make good breakfasts."

"I assume you've already talked to your parents? Weren't they Starfinders or something? Retired?"

”I have, and told them to contact the Society about protection.”

Diamaante leads the crew through the doors of Steel Fletchings, the arms and armour store that they had visited just two days ago. Awaiting in the front lobby is a large vesk in a bespoke suit, very similar in style to what he wore two days ago. (IMAGE - minus the gun and replace the powered armour with a suit)

Diamaante holds out her hand to shake the vesk's hand. "Radaszam. A pleasure, as always. These are my companions."

She introduces the others in turn.

"Ah, Diamaante," the velvety-voiced vesk begins, turning away from a display as he greets the envoy. "And you've brought friends: welcome. Please excuse me one second." The vesk leans into the collar of his suit and speaks in a low voice. "Derrella, I'll need you to take over the floor now, please. Thank you."

With that, the vesk raises his head and smiles confidently and widely, his mouth closed. "Welcome, friends of Diamaante. As you may have become aware, I am Radaszam, also known as the Dealmaker. We met a few days ago when you made some minor purchases here - I trust all of the equipment was to your satisfaction?" At this point, a door opens near the back of the shop and an android dressed in a form-fitting suit strides into the display area. Radaszam turns abruptly towards the androgynous figure and says, "Thank you, Derrella - please, friends, follow me," and leads you through the same door and up a flight of stairs, talking the entire time.

The vesk waves a hand around, gesturing at the compound. "I have owned and operated Steel Fletchings for a number of years now. I was able to open this store after I retired from my former operations, the Obsidian Spiders. Well," Radaszam grins mischievously, showing a few teeth as he opens the door at the top of the nondescript flight of stairs, "semi-retired, in fact."

The upstairs door leads into an open-plan corporate workspace and lounge covering the entire area of the downstairs store. Leather couches and micro-fibre lounge chairs populate the floor along with wide and clear wood-polymer work benches and desks. A handful of other employees work at comm-pads, tablets, and circuitry boards. "Anyhow," Radaszam says, heading for a poly-glass cordoned area of the work floor, "an opportunity arose after the Scoured Stars incident - you're familiar, of course - and the Starfinder Society came a-calling. They needed someone who could fix their cash flow situation, and fast. They came to make a deal." The Dealmaker grins widely, showing many teeth. He points upward within the sectioned-off area. "You can order any refreshment you'd like - I've wired this area to respond to voice commands preceded by the code word 'Ariel', like this: 'Ariel, pineapple juice, please.'"

"Order received. Estimated completion in 30 seconds," an electronic voice replies.

"So, now I run the newest Starfinder Society faction - the Acquisitives - and Diamaante, you are the newest jewel in our crown. Well, hell," he laughs gregariously, "perhaps you ARE the damned crown - HA HA HA!" The vesk slaps the seat of the leather sofa as he plops down. "Please, sit! We've got a lot to talk about!" A flying droid buzzes over Radaszam's head bearing a condensation-dripping crystal glass of pale yellow liquid. The vesk gingerly takes it and looks askance at you all as he sips his pineapple juice.

August sits and orders coffee.

"I take it this about some work you need done?"

Diamaante laughs politely along with Radaszam. She sits and asks for a pineapple juice as well, waiting to hear his job offer.

Jaxom watches the Vesk, and finally instructs, ”Ariel, a cold Abadarian Cola please.”

Radaszam gives August a sideways look. He then looks back at Diamaante.

"This one's all business, eh?" A long pause freezes the room.

"Order received. Estimated completion in 5 minutes."

"I LIKE it!" the vesk finishes, placing his empty glass on a side table. Radaszam leans forward. "Ok, here's the deal. I didn't get to be the Starfinder Society's purse-filler by running a successful ammunition business, but it has helped. My interstellar connections with other movers and shakers in the mercantile industries on both sides of the Diaspora - THAT's what did it. So I can tell you that the sweet tweet that I heard about an Akitonian rare minerals vendor thinking about selling his shop that came as a result of my connections is an example of where my Dealmaking has truly paid dividends."

Radaszam adjusts himself comfortably on the couch before continuing. "You wouldn't think a guy named 'Shy-eyes' would be a hard sell, but that's the case. Now, I'm not above a little hostile corporate takeover, but I'd like to figure out some other way to fix this situation. That is where Shy-eyes' son, Ratrod comes in." He leers at Diamaante. "I know, right? I don't understand the way these ysoki name themselves. Still, I'm no cultural attache."

He continues. "So Ratrod lives here on Absalom Station. He's got himself a partner...Laboni something-or-another. Turns out she's a Starfinder agent-in-waiting, very similar to how you were not too long ago. I've checked out her profile - she's a mechanic, but I'm not too impressed with her skill-set, to be frank, AND she's partnered up with this Ratrod fellow. Ratrod is a junkbot racer and a part-time gambler. He's also got some gang affiliations - in short, Laboni could've dated a lamp post and it would've looked better on her Starfinder Society application. I digress."

"So Shy-eyes has a problem with his son dating a human. I'm surprised at the xenophobia, but apparently ysoki have a thing about the sexual mores of other races. Maybe its an Akiton thing, but it is an angle I can work, especially if Shy-eyes decided that his son's sexual education was more important than running a multi-planetary vanadium and beryllium export business. Problem is, Laboni is fiery and Ratrod is an idiot - the kids are having a lover's spat currently, so I need some match-makers. That's where you come in."

The Dealmaker looks around to see if everyone is following along. A droid delivers Jaxom his cola.

Jaxom accepts the drink and takes a sip, "excellent!"

August leans back and takes a long drink of coffee.

Did he just ask us to play matchmaker?

"This one's all business, eh?" A long pause freezes the room.

"Yes, all business. Sometimes is strange business."

"It's only strange if you look at it straight on. Look sideways and it makes perfect sense."

Radaszam nods and continues. "So Ratrod races in this Botscrap racing circuit run by the Salvage Union. Laboni does too, but apparently she's pretty lacklustre - surprise, surprise. Ratrod actually is a pretty good junkbot racer, so he's got that going for him. I've heard from my eyes-and-ears on the ground that the two lovers are squaring off sometime this afternoon in some season-ending race. I don't know the specifics; I don't deign to know much about junkbot racing. I do know that you can find the two of them there. I also have heard that they're giving away an autographed copy of the just-released album by that Strawberry sugar-punk band as a prize along with the racing trophy. I'm not one for music, but that album would definitely be worth something to certain people."

The vesk abruptly lowers his head and speaks into his collar. "Yes, I can take the call; I'll be 2 minutes. Would you please have them put on hold?" Radaszam stands and extends his hand to clasp each of yours in turn as a form of farewell.

"I trust that you'll have no problem with this assignment, Diamaante. Find your angle; apply pressure to Ratrod or Laboni or both, but help the lovers reconcile. It is all about love, actually."

Once he answers any last questions, he leads you to the door to the stairs and sees you out.

Well played. I expect quotes from scifi films - that I wasn't prepared for.

Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30
Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

Engineering: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11
Piloting: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

"Alright, so we'll head down to the race track now and see what we can do to help smooth things over," Diamaante says. "Should be a piece of cake! A piece of Strawberry Machine Cake, perhaps."

She leads the way to Botscrap.

Culture: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

On the way to the botyards, Idar walks up next to Diamaante. "Have plan? Matchmaking...not wheelhouse, yes?"

Engineering: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

"Hopefully this time we can have a nice, quiet mission without a barrage of bullets? I'm not familiar with junkbots, but the Salvage Union at least passes for some form of government down there."

"Yes,and how could a government named after picking over the remains of the dead and dying not be trustworthy? Frankly I defy you to find a single resident of the Ghoul Confederacy dissatisfied with the virtuousness of their free-humanoid-meat-for-all policy or a spacer who questions the efficiency of the Vulture Fleet in scavenging the hulls of ships they've blasted to pieces for daring to cross their chunk of the Diaspora."

On your way down to Botscrap, Diamaante receives specifics on her comm-pad regarding what Laboni and Ratrod look like, as well as specific directions as to where to go (you're directed towards the competitor registration). Leading you along, the envoy brings you all down to Botscrap (specifically, level 44). The racing circuit is a hollowed-out section of a mountain of spare parts. As you come into the compound, you see the circuit tube in front of you - a copper half-pipe stretching in an irregular oval. Upon registering at the competitors’ entrance, a small robot informs you of the basic rules of the race:

"Racers and their pit crews are to build and improve vehicles from available scrap around the racetrack. Vehicles built at previous junk-races can return to race. Racers can fire upon other competitors during the race, but firing into the audience is grounds for immediate disqualification; racer weapons must be nonlethal and may affect only opponents’ vehicles. Good speed."

Map updated!

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Christ almighty, die-roller.

"Yes,and how could a government named after picking over the remains of the dead and dying not be trustworthy?"

"Relax, friend August. Maybe less coffees?"