"It would seem the logical next step would be to find a way to get to Aurelos, hopefully undetected by the Azlanti Empire" - AXL ponders, curiously looking around at the many tables - "Would you agree?"
"That makes sense."
"So...who knows how to find out Aurelos' coordinates?" Nosmo asks, still nervously looking around the cantina. "Even back on Absalom Station, I kept near the academy. This place...well, I'm out of my element, to say the least."
Wait a minute, he thought with a start. Had he heard of such a place?
"Perhaps Mothkala's acquaintance can be of assistance"
Beings that resemble yellow crystals with spindly, spiderlike legs gather near a table. Glowing light in their crystalline bodies brightens and dims, accompanied by bursts of crackling noise.
You notice one of these fine crystaline arachnids looking at a three dimensional model of an azlanti vessel before stuffing it away into a pouch.
Several other patrons seem to be playing some kind of game of chance.
Trosvod looks about, seeing if there's a bar. In case the group ends up having to wait. He lights a cheap cigar while he does so.
A short while later you are signalled that Talmrin is ready to meet and are given a rhytmic beat to tap out on a pipe in a certain section of the station...
The sounds of the rhythmic tapping echo from one pipe to another, reverberating in a soft chorus with each other until they finally die out. A minute passes without response, then two, then three. Patience eventually pays off, as the soft sound of nails clicking against metal heralds the arrival of a creature in response. A pair of huge, shimmering eyes appear in the darkness of a large bronze pipe twenty feet above the ground, then blink in curiosity as they regard the creatures down below. “Foreign critters in Azlant space?” the being asks, craning her long neck to get a better view of the people who summoned her. “What dost thou seek here?”
Nosmo is far too overwhelmed by the myriad sights and species in the cantina to notice the finer details occurring around him. However, many nights spend back in his academy days staying up too late playing games rather than studying mark Nosmo as a gaming fan. He focuses his attention upon the gambling aliens to figure out the rules.
However, he prefers strategy rather than chance, so he struggles to pick out the basic rules.
.....
At the meeting point, Nosmo is frozen in surprise as he tries to assess the newcomer appearing from the shadows above.
"Oh...um, we're...I guess we're trying to find directions somewhere. Somewhere called Aurelos?"
He hazards a friendly smile to win over the eyes above, completely forgetting the helmet on his head obscures his face. Thus, he tries to maintain a confident but cordial tone to earn their trust and cooperation.
Tamlin smiles as he sees some of the people travelling with you. "Aurelos? I know of an old Azlanti Scientist by that name but they've been dead for centuries. Seeing as you've brought some of my friends with you I can try to help you out. I'll see if I can find a place named after a scientist. It's certainly not a planet, perhaps a small moon, celestial body or continent? Or just one newly acquired."
"Regardless that ship of yours will need some upgrades. One of my people Hasshachir has a spacedock at the edge of the station. It's a converted old Azlanti maintenance workshop but has been modified a lot over the years. It will take a few days to upgrade ye but I think it would be a wise investment."
"That sounds good. Thanks! Anywhere we can get bigger guns?"
Elthaeron quietly wondered how they were going to bankroll all of this. He really hoped that it wouldn’t be expected for them to provide out of pocket.
It will take several days for your ship to be refit, for the time being accomodations are available as part of the service.
A stark entrance of simple gray polymer separates the kitchen, relaxation suite, and repair bay. Three doors (to the south, east and west) offer entry into the complex, while a steel door to the north
exits out onto a public thoroughfare. Several cubbies adorn the alcove walls, in which the PCs can secure clothing, tools, and other personal effects.
A row of four glass-fronted pods rests along the western wall of this sterile room. Hanging over the pods are several robotic arms housing a smorgasbord of grooming and surgical tools tailored to meet the needs of myriad species. A computer workstation stands along the northeastern corner. What appears to be a wheeled couch can be pulled out of an alcove in the southeastern corner. A large door exits to the east.
Two comfortable booths offer a place to lounge and enjoy simple food and drink provided via a food synthesizer along the eastern wall. A large door leads out to the west, and a smaller plastic door exits to the east.
Two airlock doors separate the living areas from the repair bay. The control panel in the niche along the eastern wall is used to cycle the airlock, which is necessary only when the repair bay’s force field is down and the room is open to space.
This booth overlooks a recessed bay through several transparent aluminum windows. A wide set of controls looks to be used to manipulate a series of articulated heavy-duty mechanisms within the bay. A steel door to the north can seal off this room from the rest of the suite.
The view of space through this recessed repair bay’s open southern wall is blocked only by a few starships docked outside. A ten-foot-high catwalk runs along the northern edge of the bay between a set of steep stairs at its western edge and an airlock door that exits to the north. A large power generator stands against the western wall and a control booth to the east, with a mass of robotic tools
hanging under it, overlooks the area.
"So, Moth, anything especially fun to do on this station?"
"It's a space station but a rough one. We're a long way from the Veskarium or Pact Worlds so anyone picking a fight wont be worrying about reprisals. There's that cantina we were in before I guess, the Furnace Marketplace and there's a kind of Casino... truth be told I'm still recovering so I'll be parting ways with you now. Good luck with your meddling and shoot some Azlanti for me."
"Cheers for the tips and will do!"
Trosvod turns to the others, lighting a cheap cigar.
"So, who's up for finding something fun to do?"
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"No, thank you," Nosmo grunts as he struggles to drag the "wheeled" couch from the southeast alcove. The wheels are out of alignment or perhaps rusted, for it is far from an easy task. "I've come to the conclusion that you can be a hero without actively looking for action."
With a decidedly non-heroic shriek, Nosmo loses his grip and topples backward, banging his knee, elbow, and head against three different surfaces. He grumbles and groans in pain for a few moments before heaving a sigh.
"Blast it, fine. Did you have somewhere in mind, Trosvod?"
"We can check out that casino!"
The majority of this chamber is taken up by several raised platforms, some of which are covered by scattered pieces from unusual games: squares of plastic bearing holographic images, plastic chits of various shapes and colors, and hexagonal wooden containers filled with glass beads, among other paraphernalia. A door exits to the east, and a ramp leads up to another chamber to the south.
You don't actually understand the rules of these games though it's clear that the minimum bid is equivelant to one hundred credits.
Trosvod ponders the sight before him. Calculating...
"I dropped too many creds on digital card games back in my days at the academy," Nosmo rues as he surveys the colorful pageant of skewed chance and luck. "I'll leave this to you guys. I'll just watch. And help."
Despite his reluctance, Nosmo watches each table carefully, trying to digest the rules at play.
He shakes his head, afraid to admit how overwhelmed and baffled he truly is.
The game just seems counter intuitive to you, building on concepts the other gamblers are taking for granted but are completely unknown to you. People seem to be winning or losing for reasons that are beyond your grasp.
"I'm not getting it. Damn! Let's have a wander about the station and see what we see."
Trosvod soon enough runs into a stout, dark-furred being has large eyes and four hand-like appendages. It sits near a blanket laden with items in the corner of the chamber, grunting and howling at passersby and showing very sharp teeth in its massive maw.
You can see that the xaarb looks instinctively aggressive.
If the xaarb engages in a dominance contest, the best response would be
to cow them without harming them.
Nosmo leans over and whispers to Trosvod, "Is that guy...er, thing...trying to sell stuff? He looks kind of...well, really scary."
Arriving at the station had, at first, been an unbelievable improvement over the party's stint in the Azlanti prison. However, that relief has been diminishing as Nosmo increasingly finds himself to be a stranger in a strange land.
"Not a clue. Let's keep walking."
A ramp leads down from the north to a pair of huge, blinking machines. Abandoned bins have been shoved into the western half of the chamber, their insides still crusted with solidified rivulets of metal. A large cluster of pipes juts from the wall five feet above the ground next to the bins.
These roughly translate to “crushed succulent paste,” “fermented meat honey,” “jellied skin fungus,” “tar whale polyps,” and “tongue and eye fish."
Trosvod grins.
"These sound like good eating!", he says cheerily, as he looks for a way to open the bins.
"Fermented meat honey, here I come!"
"Are you certain?" Nosmo asks, his words as nervous as his gaze upon the bins. "These aren't even refrigerated."
The thought occurs to Nosmo to hold his friend back from eating the mystery food, but he thinks better of putting his fingers near Trosvod's mouth. Instead, Nosmo examines the bins and their contents to see if they are safe.
Trosvod has to pay the equivelant of three credits for the meal. He is rewarded with something similar to pulled pork glazed in mead. It's odd but tasty.
Looking up some nutritional information... which is confusingly laid out Nosmo realises most of the foods available are edible, though how palatable will vary person by person. There is an exception "Jellied skin fungus" would be quite poisonous to a human or a lashunta!
Trosvod is amused that he has to pay for the food but does it anyway.
"Tastes pretty good!"
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”Can’t shake the feeling of how weird this is. Not so long ago we..” Elthaeron trailed off, realizing how foolish he almost was. ”Anyways. Think I can find somewhere that I can buy a mask here? Not having one is like...not wearing pants. You can live with it, but it isn’t preferable.”
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"Pants are overrated. Unless they're armoured."
Elthaeron can find an array of masks in exotic designs and materials at the space station.
As the party explores the station, a shaven-headed human saunters up to them. With a sly smile he says in an Azlanti accent, ”You look like an unusual lot. I make a point to talk with those I find unusual. I’ve got a proposition for you all, if you’d be interested. There’s a decent drifter bar near by, cheap booze and better stims than the toxic sludge that most places around here sell.” He pulls out a worn-out vaporizer and takes a long drag, a cloud of smoke and the minty scent of some sort of stimulant concoction wafting past the group, ”So, what do you say? Drinks are on me.”
Trosvod turns to face the newcomer and listens, liking what he hears.
"Lead on, new friend!", the Vesk says with a toothy grin, lighting one more of his cheap cigars.
Nosmo cringes. His face twists somewhere between blushing in embarrassment and blanching from fear. Despite his experiences thus far, the majority of his life has been spent as a bookworm. Thus, he reacts much like a "nerd" when accosted by such a character.
He can scarcely squeak out a complete word, let alone a full sentence, as with much hemming and hawing he questions whether the party should follow this newcomer.
However, as Trosvod readily locks step behind the human, Nosmo sighs with resignation to also follow. He tells himself he is coming to keep the Vesk out of trouble, but in truth he wants to keep close to this strong friend.
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Finally spotting a new mask, Elthaeron felt like someone wearing the most ridiculous of clothes. But still, it was preferable to being dressed like a beast of the wild.
With as much dignity as he could manage he said ”I can’t see the harm in hearing him out.”
Aygavan’s bar of choice is not quite a hive of scum and villainy, but it’s close.
As the party takes a seat, Aygavan waves down a server, ”Four vesk moonshines and a Klaavberry hookah.” He turns to the rest of the group and says, ”What do all of you want?”
Once drinks are sorted out, he leans in, ”So, I must imagine you’re skeptical of an Azlanti man asking all of you to talk. Given your Vesk companion though, we may have a common enemy. The Empire has grievously wronged me. I want to see it burn.”
Trosvod grins.
"Whatever has the most booze in it."
He turns to Aygavan.
"Yeah, the Azlanti have given us trouble. Their guards pack a punch, no doubt. You got any specific ideas on burning it all down?"
”All of it may be a tall order. But a bloody nose?” He looked at the man expectantly.
Aygavan nods, ”A bloody nose could do for now. As for specifics, I have certain...talents.”
He picks up his glass of moonshine and focuses for a moment. In the blink of an eye, instead of the cheap plastic cup of hooch, it’s a faceted crystal glass, halfway full of some sort of slightly glowing liquid, ”Liavaran moon-wine. Finest there is. Somewhere, there’s a reality where I’m drinking this in a wood-panelled office on New Thespera. I can pull a piece of that reality to myself. Stranger things too, if needed.”
"Neat move. Do your talents point us a weak point to smack the Azlantis on?"
When the smell of the moonshine creeps up to Nosmo's face, it feels like his nose hairs have caught fire. He tries - and fails - to disguise his wince to save face. He cautiously, slowly nudges his cup towards Trosvod sitting to his right.
In the meantime, he otherwise listens intently to the as-yet unnamed Aygavan. He tries to keep his mind from wandering to fantasies of heroics, forcing himself to focus upon the present matter.
"Well, I was hoping you all might know something. Even if you don't, you all might do well if I tagged along."
"Do you know Aurelos?", Trosvod asks.
"We're going there. To take back or blow up a Rune Drive."
"The more blasters pointed at them, the better. I have no issue with teaming up." Elthaeron said.
”Fascinating! No clue what a rune drive is, but if the words “blowing up” are involved with the Azlanti, Imtgame!”
As you discuss future plans and walk back towards your quarters the sound of a loud explosion echoes from the repair bay, briefly shaking the nearby walls. Fire alarms ping in all the chambers. A brief blackout casts the spacedock into darkness before dim emergency lights flicker along the floor and illuminate the rooms.
"Hope I didn't set that off!" Aygavan looks at the group with a slightly unhinged group, "Any case, if there's chaos, that's where I'm meant to be! Shall we?"