Before the group split up to retire for the evening, Grix spent 10 minutes rubbing Spectre's robo-shoulders until Besmara finally saw fit to repair the android.
Recovering Hit Points Naturally
With a full night’s rest (8 hours of sleep or more), you recover 1 HP per character level. Any significant interruption during your rest prevents you from healing that night.If you undergo complete bed rest for 24 hours, you recover 2 HP per character level.
Grix obviously then waits for Spectre to arrive and gives him his magically restorative massage while the group waits for Ted to show up. While he's working he quietly mutters "Sometimes a little khredit donation to Besmara helps smooth things over with the Pirate Queen. Makhes her more free with her boons. You khan thinkh of it as a business transakhtion!"
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Spectre thanks Grix for his restorative assistance.
"This is a handy skill," the droid says. "However, your references to Besmara and the Pirate Queen are not contained in my database. Are these words euphemisms for something else?"
When Ted walks in, the droid says "I arrived precisely ten minutes ago. Where have you been?"
"Not in your database Spectre? You're trying to makhe khontakhts with rouges and scoundrels for your master and they didn't tell you about Besmara?" Grix pats him apologetically on his cold metal back "You poor thing."
"Besmara is the goddess of plunder and piracy! The goddess of spacers, khrooks, junkhers, and anyone who wants to makhe a pretty khredit. I owe her my life, for more reasons than one. You probably do too if you've even traveled through open space. Most free khaptains lookh to the Pirate Queen for protekhtion and luckh!"
He clutches a medallion bearing her holy symbol excitedly, but manages to control himself.
"We were here to talkh about something else though, right Arc? The ambassador from Eokhs. You worried? I thinkh its a good chance for good workh."
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Ted's top jumps from hovering above one hand to the other as he absent-mindedly throws it around, "Not sure I'm in to pirating. I don't mind doing what needs done, but mayhem for profit is a lit out of my league. We might want to think about rebooting Spec's software. Maybe the ambassador has a programmer who could help us."
Ted nods to Grix, "What type of work you expecting the ambassador has for us?"
Grix nods eagerly at Spectre's interest in Besmara "A higher lifeform, yes you khould say that! But you shouldn't khount on me for introdukhtions, Besmara makhes her own rules. She'll let YOU know that you're worth bringing into the networkh. In your own words, kehe." He quivers with amusement at the thought of Spectre becoming one of Besmara's faithful.
"Try pirating once Ted and you get hookhed! It's mayhem, but there are good pirates too, if that suits ya." He slaps an enthusiastic claw against Ted's back, interpreting his statement as some semblance of interest.
To his question he follows up with "Not a khlue. I thinkh Arc had an idea, but he's been in the loo for a while. Anyone want to checkh on him?"
Just skimming back through the posts and saw this. Yeah, I think that's fair. She's now one of the 20 major gods. But ignorance of her works, too. Certainly made me chuckle.
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Arcalinte rushes out of the bathroom, shaking his hands dry after clearly washing them.
"I should NOT have had that much tea!" he mutters to himself when he hears Grix ask about him.
"Hey everyone. So...we seem to have attracted the attention of a planetary ambassador, specifically the ambassador of a planet ruled and inhabited by undead. As I was saying to Grix, I think whatever he wants to discuss with us will involve the Drift Rock. We only just became Starfinders in an official capacity, plus our assault on the Fusion Queen got us on the news trivids. The only 'claim to fame' all of us share is our connection to the legal conflict between the Hardscrabble Collective and Astral Extractions, and the gangs that acted as their proxies, over that asteroid."
Grix scratches at his carapace. "So?"
"Are you thinkhing we should be worried about this guy? Khonflikht of interest, or something likhe that?"
"Bekhause the Starfinders didn't seem too interested in the Rokh, so if this guy IS, and he's offering good khredits, I don't see a problem."
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Eventually you arrive at the embassy. You are briefly detained by mercenaries employed as Eoxian security but flashing your invitations grants you access to the compound. The embassy is decorated in a style reminiscent of traditional Eoxian architecture: black marble and bone-pale limestone, vaulted ceilings, sepulchral furnishings, and disconcertingly organic architectural details. Inside, a pair of undead skeletal attendants lead you to a well-appointed office that feels something like the inside of an ancient mausoleum.
Within is a "man" with an elongated cranium devoid of any flesh while an eerie light burns in his otherwise empty eye sockets. He is manifestly one of the undead. Elaborate robes black as space and trimmed in a deep purple shroud his figure. As he has no flesh, he cannot smile, but his voice conveys a sense of a welcome as he gestures to the comfortable chairs upholstered in bone-white leather around a black-marble conference table.
"Please, sit. I'm grateful you accepted my invitation. I am Ambassador Nor and you are, lets see... Grix Krizvit, Arcalinte Soter, Ted Under and..." He pauses on the droid. "I gather you registered with customs as S-P37. I'd thought there was another of you? A goblin, yes? I'm sorry he couldn't make it but I don't want to wait overlong as this matter is somewhat time-sensitive." As he talks, the aides who escorted you to the room offer chilled water with ice as clear as the crystal in which it's served.
"To business... I’m certain you’re aware of the recent interest in the prospecting ship Acreon and the asteroid being referred to as the ‘Drift Rock,’ and I believe you’re also acquainted with the dispute between Astral Extractions and the Hardscrabble Collective over both the ship and the asteroid. Both parties are currently awaiting legal arbitration, but the wheels of justice often turn quite slowly. As a result, I have offered my services as a mediator in hopes of finding a solution that is equitable to both factions.
“The first step in this, of course, is learning the specifics of the opposing claims. Reports of your recent endeavors in dealing with some of Absalom Station’s most notorious gangs have led me to believe that you might be useful in this undertaking as well. You’re new to the station, you seem to possess a wide range of skills and abilities, and you certainly appear capable. In short, you’re perfectly positioned as a neutral third party that could cut through all of the red tape surrounding this issue and get to the heart of the matter.
“I would like you to go to the Acreon, find out precisely what happened to its crew, and ascertain the value of its asteroid cargo, as well as determine whether this Drift Rock is truly as ‘mysterious’ as the media claims. You would go under my authority as an official mediator, and station security will not interfere with your passage.”
He stops speaking, the room suddenly silent as a crypt, and seems to wait for your questions.
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Grix walks through the Eoxian compound like a foreign tourist, handheld comm out to take pictures of every "baroque" hallway. He nudges Ted as they walk, rasping "These guys are loaded. Way way more money than they know what to do with. I'd say we're in lukh for this job." He reviews one of the photos on his comm and makes a weird throat-clearing sound in his thorax. "But don't you thinkh their tastes are a bit... takhy?" He gnashes his mandibles in distaste at the picture of a particularly bony-fleshy looking pillar.
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Once in the audience of the potential employer though, Grix manages to be much better behaved. He listens with what he hopes looks like rapt interest, anxious to secure what could be a lucrative job.
"Yes yes, we khan khut right through any red tape, or blue tape, or any khind of tape really. Just point us in the direkhtion of the tape and we'll khut it." He folds his claws together nervously, then reaches for a glass of water, then thinks better of it and folds them back together.
"Ahem. As ekhsperts, we do have some khuestions for you. Khould you elaborate on what the ekhsakht dispute is between the Khollekhtive and Astral Ekhstrakhtions? What ekhsakhtly are they khlaiming, each of them? It would helps us know what to fokhus on once we are on board!" Grix leans forward "And what do YOU ekhspekht us to find there? You know something about it, right? Otherwise you wouldn't go to the ekhstent to find us instead of just your average hired goons. You thinkh there's something there that needs partikhular skhills?"
Grix tries to judge Ambassador Nor's reaction to tell what he may or may not be holding back.
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"I'm saying we should be cautious of what we've gotten ourselves involved in. We can't really have a conflict of interest if we don't know just how many interests are in play here. We just got started with the Starfinder Society, and while it DID get us mixed up in a gang war, that's...small? But now a planetary ambassador's involved. A planetary ambassador from a planet inhabited by undead people."
He strokes his chin.
"I'm not saying we should be WORRIED about meeting the Ambassador or his intentions, but be aware that undead don't THINK like the living do. Sarenrae teaches that sometimes the light of truth and goodness can shine from the darkest hearts, but her light still burns the undead. Even if the Ambassador doesn't wish us ill, he's not going to care as strongly about our needs or our feelings simply because of what he is."
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Arcalinte breathes quietly through his nose as they enter the embassy the next day. As they take in the oppressive atmosphere of the building, he looks at the others.
"This was what I was talking about yesterday. The aesthetics here are practically designed to make living people uncomfortable or scared, which then gives them an edge."
When they arrive in the office, he makes a small bow to the Ambassador before taking the offered seat.
"Greetings, Ambassador Nor."
As they listen to his explanation, he gives the others a knowing look. If Grix is listening telepathically, he gets a confident "Told ya." At the end, Arcalinte speaks up.
"You're remarkably well-informed Ambassador. But...what is YOUR interest in this dispute, exactly?"
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Spectre doesn't find the undead creatures or their choice in decor disconcerting. This is the first time he has seen their kind, though he had heard of them.
"It is probably right that these creatures cause you concern, Ted, inasmuch as that organic vessel you call a body will almost certainly end up as one of these. Whether you are under six feet of soil or reanimated, there is no software upgrade that help you. Perhaps there are some benefits to my metallic form."
After listening to Ambassador Nor, Spectre chimes in.
"It is good you have contacted us. You seem to be looking for a capable group, and I would be happy to assist you in finding ways to spend your credits. However, I have not yet detected what you have to benefit from this transaction. You pay us credits. In consideration for what, I wonder."
The ambassador nods in response to your questions but otherwise makes no movement whatsoever. "The dispute between the Hardscrabble Collective and Astral Extractions is technical in nature including multiple claims and counterclaims but it essentially boils down to who has rights to the Drift Rock. Astral hired the Acreon, a member of the Collective, to prospect for unclaimed mineral resources. The parties dispute whether that was limited to merely surveying prospective sites, or that Astral would also have rights of ownership or exploitation of resources found. The contract did not contemplate the Acreon actually bringing back a physical object. Astral claims it is theirs, while the Collective says it belonged to the crew of the Acreon. As the crew cannot be found, there is a question of whether the Rock and perhaps also the ship become available as a matter of salvage and, or, ownership reverts to those who'd hired the Acreon for its last mission, namely Astral."
He pauses a moment to let you process that information, then continues to the next question. "I've been asked to serve as mediator as I -- and Eox -- have no ties or connections to either Astral or the Collective. But, that is not to say Eox is wholly disinterested in all the circumstances surrounding the Acreon's curious appearance. The quarantine has created something of a challenge for us.
"And, it is a detail on which I would like to ask for your assistance as well. Consider it a secondary objective with bonus pay. Unrelated to its work for Astral Extractions, the Acreon was carrying a piece of cargo destined for the embassy. Of course, with the ship being quarantined, the package has been undeliverable. I’ve been eagerly awaiting its arrival, and I’d consider it a personal favor if you could
find the package and bring it to me when you return to the station. It’s clearly marked, so I don’t imagine it will be too difficult to find.”
He steeples his fingers before him, offering some hint of animation and movement. "You would be well compensated for your time and expertise. For your investigation into the state of the Acreon, I can pay each of you 600 credits. If you return the diplomatic package to me without incident, I can pay you an additional 500 credits each."
Grix is unable to sense any deception on Nor's part. Maybe he's being honest, maybe it's his undead mannerisms, or he's just an extremely adept politician and dissembler.
The Eoxian's head swivels slightly so the burning lights that are his "eyes" look directly at Arcalinte; there is a certain resemblance to Spectre in the mannerism. "I honestly could not, or not in the way you suggest. I can tell you it will be large enough that it will not be easily hidden, and it will be marked under diplomatic seal for the Eoxian mission here at this station. All I know is I was to expect the delivery of a physical object of some 'substance'; not a letter or other easily stowed item."
He unfolds his hands into the as if to show there is nothing hidden up his sleeves. "I realize that may seem peculiar to you, but the ways of government and inter-planetary politics are Byzantine and even I do not know what my government expects me to do sometimes."
Ambassador nods slightly and offers a sound that mirrors Arcalinte's chuckle, although in a hollow, resonating fashion. He then turns to the droid and says, "I thought I was clear but, perhaps not. I want to you to go to the Acreon and learn what happened to the crew and the circumstances around its discovery of the Drift Rock. Any evidence you can collect as to what happened could be critical to the resolution of this matter. I understand both sides' legal arguments, but I do not have all the facts. I need them.
"Further, to avoid any risk of either side impeaching your own findings, I will send a simple robot to make a video and audio recording of what transpires. It will in no way interfere with your actions."
Grix sends to all of his allies, excluding the Ambassador "Arc was right, this job is too convenient and too lucrative. The Eoxians have some dirty laundry hanging out in that ship. Probably the package. Not that the job isn't worth taking, 1100 credits each is a pretty sum!! But we're going to bleed for those credits one way or another, that's clear enough."
Out loud to the Ambassador, Grix rasps "Hear you loud and khlear sir. But I khouldn't help but notice that you said the khrew went missing on the Akhreon. A missing khrew sounds like danger, which is the reason why you wanted us, yes? A lot of danger if no one has takhen a peekh inside yet." Grix twirls a claw.
"We are going to need ekhuipment to deal with... eventualities. Ekhspesive ekhuipment. It would help us a lot of we khould get part of the pay for this job as an advance. Say... 50%? Your drone will be watching us in any khase, so there is no riskh to you."
"Otherwise this job sounds satisfakhtory."
The Eoxian is silent for a moment while he stares at Grix, the flames flickering in his eye sockets. Silence lasts for several awkward moments until he says, ”Fine, but only half of the payment for the primary task. As the second task is for the embassy and is not required, strictly speaking, that will remain a bonus to be paid upon completion in full.”
"Ekhsellent." Grix waves a claw in Ted's direction "And don't worry, we'll kheep your pakhage from being khaught in a stray ekhsplosion. Right Ted?"
He quickly sends to his allies. "Good enough for me. Do we want anything else? He seems... flexible."
Out loud he continues to address the Eoxian Ambassador "You mentioned a khuarantine. Did you khlear the way for us to enter? Or is it on us to find a way on board?"
"You needn't worry about the quarantine. Well, at least not from the perspective of station security. I've secured access to a shuttle that can take you to the Acreon, it's been cleared and authorized as part of the mediation effort. As to what you'll find when you get there and any precautions you need to take, that's up to you. The ship arrived sending no signals with life support down and no life signs aboard. Visual scans indicated hatches had been opened to space yet the vessel appears unharmed and fully intact. I can send you the full report. So, whether there is a biological or chemical threat in the environment... I cannot say. But people do not abandon ship in the middle of the Drift for no reason."
He sweeps his hand over the table in front of him and an embedded display and interface flickers to life. He presses a few keys and a moment later each of have another 300 credits on your credstick.
"Wonderful!" Grix wobbles his antennae in excitement as he clutches at his newly energized credstick. "We'll start immediately!" When he sees Arc bowing and being all formal, he adds his own incredibly awkward mini bow and adds "Uh, thankh you, Ambassador sir."
He sends to his allies "Shopping trip? And then to the Acreon? We could use a couple of tools for emergencies."
As you're debating next steps, two messages find their way to your communicators. The first is from Chiskisk. He asks that you return to the Lorespire Complex as soon as possible as he has additional personnel he'd like you to meet.
The second message is from Astral Extractions, asking for an opportunity to meet with you at their headquarters and discuss matters of "mutual interest".
To this end, you have all recently completed individual assignments and research projects. While waiting for a new task, you are called into a meeting with Chiskisk, one of the senior members of the Society and a member of the elected leadership council called the Forum. The shirren is friendly and welcoming, speaking to you telepathically. "Thank you all for coming so promptly. Your respective lieutenants have all spoken well of your abilities and say you are promising members of the society. We have some new initiates who are looking to be equally promising, having already looked into the circumstances surrounding the death of our friend and fellow Starfinder, Duravor Kreel. You may have seen some reports relating to their work on the holovids. I don't have an assignment for them -- or you -- right now, but I'd like you to meet with them. I've asked them to report to the Lorespire as soon as possible, so if you can wait here in the complex until they arrive, I would appreciate it." They wait to see if you have any questions.
A rebellious-looking woman with a neon orange pixie cut leans with one neon pink boot flat against the wall. ”Thanks for the opportunity,” she pushes off from the wall and outstretches a hand to the other new recruits, ”Sidney Jordan, but call me Sid. I’m not into formalities.”
The operative turns back to the skirren, ”So, this Duravor Kreel. How’d he die? Ship crash? Because I promise that won’t happen with me around.” Sid points her thumb to her chest. Sid proceeds to walk around, examining various objects in the room with her hands in her jacket pockets.
”Mmh. I haven’t watched any holovids. You got some here?” Sid stands with her feet apart, hands in her jacket pockets. She shows a slight interest, but her eyes keep glancing over at the “Star Sugar Heartlove!!!” pen on the desk. How’d they get that? Concert freebie? I had to wait in line for seven hours just to get my shirt.
Grix's faceted eyes gleam as he reads the messages coming in to his comms "Oho, as soon as we speakh to the Ambassador, Astral Ekhstrakhtions wants to talkh to us! They sure didn't when we were just roughing up street thugs." He rubs his claws together "Its all about makhing the right khontakhts. Just likhe you were talkhing about Spectre! How about we makhe them stew for a bit and go talkh to Chiskisk first?"
Assuming no one is too against it, Grix'll lead the way back to Chiskisk's office.
Chiskisk’s antennae rub together and make a sound vaguely resumbking a chuckle. ”The initiatives are competent but...unorthodox. I think two of them are criminals, or have ties to such elements.” They shrug slightly and add, ”Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The Society accepts help from all quarters and smugglers and others have helped us transport pre-Gap artifacts when it could have been complicated.”
To Sid’s question, they answer in a more somber tone, ”Duravor was murdered, gunned down in public in the middle of a gang war to make it look like an accident, but it was an assassination. One funded by, we believe, one of the factions claiming rights to the Drift Rock. The Forum believes it was intended as a warning of some sort.”
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The tall kasatha soldier's eyebrows go up at the word "unorthodox" and even higher at "criminals". He takes in Sydney's rather... bright attire and suppresses a grimace.
This one knew that getting involved with the Starfinder Society and other races would bring about challenges... of course this one was hoping to find admirable people, but that is seemingly the luck of the draw. Still, there is no going back to the honorable Kasatha... not for this one. This is the future. This one will do his duty.
Isu steels himself and draws himself up to his impressive height. "This one has seen much with the Starfinder Society already, and more yet when this one served as a guard with Ambassador K'yon Everett Hlallu. If this is the will of the Starfinder Society, this one will protect these unorthodox criminals with the blood from this one's body."
"Drift Rock?" Sid picks up the pen she's been staring at and starts spinning it in her hand. Using only her pointer and middle fingers, the "Star Sugar Heartlove!!!" pen twirls around and around in her nimble hand. "Is that a racing stadium? If not they should make it one. Name's perfect."
"So, what was Duravor involved in that the feds wanted him dead? Oh, sorry - one of the factions." Sid leans over towards the tall kasatha soldier: "can't always trust those in political power. They got mad-fat credsticks."