Dead Suns AP by GM Cellion (Inactive)

Game Master GM Cellion

Isu stops when Spectre makes this most logical of statements. "This is getting worse and worse. This one needs to sit down. This one is now wondering if the undead halfling cult uses Eox as their primary hideout..." He sits on the curb looking disturbed.

Spectre inclines his head.

"Regrettably, inasmuch as this is the home world of the undead, it is logical that this would also be the homeworld of halfling undeath cults."

Spectre makes a few calculations. "I have calibrated my sensors to emphasize targets of small stature."

Visitors are uncommon in the Splice, and amenities for the living are scarce enough to be nearly nonexistent.

Sydney complains about the last of fast food joints after the party has been walking around for a little while. She shakes her head at Spectre's comment.

Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19

Arcalinte is able to confirm Isu's insights are accurate.

"The Splice, Slum of the Undead. Sounds like a horror flick." Ted follows the party in to the sepulchral city.

"Probably not an Abri Anned movie, though," Arcalinte comments. "Not...philosophical enough. I get the feeling this'll end up more like a grindhouse trivid."

Isu stops when Spectre makes this most logical of statements. "This is getting worse and worse. This one needs to sit down. This one is now wondering if the undead halfling cult uses Eox as their primary hideout..." He sits on the curb looking disturbed.

Arcalinte sighs and sits down with Isu.

"Isu...you're getting our enemies mixed together: we have undead enemies, we have cultist enemies...and you just threw in halflings because of the pizza conspiracy. But we don't have any enemies that are specifically a cult of undead halflings. We'll persevere. Just remember the Edicts of Illumination: Shed light, act true, embody good, give charitably, shun intolerance, know patience, expose lies, and redeem evil."

He gets back up.

Sydney complains about the last of fast food joints after the party has been walking around for a little while. She shakes her head at Spectre's comment.

"Which is why I recommended stocking up on snacks and stuff before we came here," he says to Sydney's complaints, not unlike a parent trying to be patient with a whiny child.

"Let's start canvasing some of the local dealers, see if any of them have merchandise like our Whispering Gyre here."

Lol, Arc's more like the kindergarden teacher trying to get all the kids to eat their snack and then play with blocks without hitting each other with them. :P

Heads down, you head out toward the Splice. Unlike Pact Port, most of the public services here don't serve 'breathers', so you're forced to wait for what seems like an unreasonably long time before an auto-cab finally pulls up in front of your group to take you to your destination. You look out of the untinted windows of the autocab and see streets teeming with undead citizens. At least one in three notices your team as your autocab zips by and gives you a long, blank stare. The few living people on the streets keep their eyes down. From their hunched backs and hollow stares, they all seem to either be incredibly tired or afraid of the repercussions of standing tall.

The cab takes you by several blocks of grimy apartments and smoke-belching factories before dropping you off in the central square of the Splice in front of a run-down looking factory that billows with acrid green vapors. You take a moment to orient yourselves and connect to the local Infosphere.

(Map updated!)

You note that some of the businesses and points of interest nearby include Gentlesage's Necrografts and Sundries, Bonesmith's Boutique, Whitemarch Bail Bonds & Shawarma, the factory Fleshworn Fabrications, and The Ministry of Eternal Vigilance.

Isu pats Arc on the shoulder. "Do not fret, Arcalinte Soter. Yes, our enemies are many. It is overwhelming. But we shall triumph! It is good for you that this one looks out for enemies of all types and sizes." Isu pats Arc on the shoulder again as he stands up and considers the stores around them.

"Hey, aren't we supposed to talk to someone at the Ministry. Let's go in there." He readies his hammer. "In case of undead halflings, of course."

"Spec, what are the odds we blow up the Ministry?" Ted chuckles as his top stays close to his shoulder for protection from the undead zoo.

"Now I wonder if you're just missing my point deliberately," Arcalinte mutters at Isu's reply.

"Yes, Waneda Trux was the name. And Isu, in the event that there ARE undead halflings working there, PLEASE avoid smashing them unless they actually attack us. I'd rather we not cause a diplomatic incident by harassing the colleagues of an Ambassador's friend."

"This one shall watch them like a fox at the henhouse." replies Isu as he leads the way into the building.

"This one shall watch them like a fox at the henhouse." replies Isu as he leads the way into the building.

"That's...not a good simile."

You head toward the Ministry of Eternal Vigilance and find it to be a wide, two-story building of black and rust-dappled gray. It stands out from the other
dilapidated structures on this densely packed block. A holographic banner above the sliding double entryway displays the words “Ministry of Eternal Vigilance” in Common and Eoxian. A smaller sign on the front doors declares that the office is open for at least 12 hours every Pact Standard day, even if the stench from the nearby necrograft factory and the building’s lack of windows and architectural accouterments are less than inviting.

The front doors unseal and then rattle open as you approach. You enter straight into a large waiting room with rows of rusty and, in some cases, lopsided hover chairs. A tall, boxy machine in a corner dispenses numbered tokens. Beside the machine, projected in a hologram on the wall, are instructions for reporting 'suspicious' activity to the ministry. A basic drone sits atop the front desk, its holographic front panel reading 'Now serving visitor #74334'.

Only two people are present in the lobby. A shabby human man in stained overalls sits uneasily in a hover-chair and stares anxiously at you as you enter. And a female ghoul, likely a halfling while she was living, sits behind the front desk, absently entering information from an enormous stack of papers into her computer terminal. She's totally engrossed in her work and doesn't look up as you enter. The drone atop the front desk beeps and recites (first in Eoxian and then in Common) "Please take a wait token and then take a seat. A ministry official will assist you shortly!"

The drone atop the front desk beeps and recites (first in Eoxian and then in Common) "Please take a wait token and then take a seat. A ministry official will assist you shortly!"

Sydney looks around for a wait token. If she finds one, she'll hold it up to show her companions before sitting down across from the shabby human, crossing her arms over her chest. She gives the other human a look over, trying to guess why they're here.

Spectre immediately turns to Isu. "As I said, I have calibrated my sensors to emphasize those of diminutive stature. Though others in this group may doubt, ahead is an undead halfling. Certainly, this is a member of the undead cult. Be on your guard."

Sydney notices that the tall boxy machine she saw on the way in was dispensing numbered tokens. That must be what the little drone is talking about.

"Spectre? What did I say about diplomatic incidents?" Arcalinte asks Spectre in a quiet voice.

Isu very nearly freezes up at the sight of the receptionist. "This is... this is...uh... this one...whoa. This is getting serious, very serious."

He approaches the front desk, hand fingering his weapon. "Halfling dead! Tell me, where are the rest of your people? The light of Sarenrae wishes to greet them!"

Arcalinte moves and grabs Isu's shoulder, concern clear in his face.

"Isu?"

"What? What? This one is merely greeting the receptionist in the name of the Dawnflower and asking about her family. Her short, undead family."

"And if she tells you something you don't want to hear?" Arcalinte replies.

Isu ignores Arc and gives the halfling a smile.

Ted shambles in with the crew and takes a seat in one of the crooked chairs. "I'll take bets on many arms over the short one."

The undead halfling behind the front desk ignores Isu completely, tapping away at her terminal with the speed of someone with data entry augmentations. As he continues, she blows a bubble of black bubble gum, then extends a worryingly long tongue out to wrap around the bubble and crush it.

If Isu or anyone else persists, she spares half a second to point towards the token-dispensing machine, then towards the seating area, then returns to her work without even looking at the person who tried to interrupt her.

Spectre's head rotates toward Isu. Speaking quietly, he says "It is as I calculated. The cult is powerful, and she feels she can act with impunity, not even acknowledging your presence. She thinks she is above the law, or Sarenrae's light, for that matter."

Isu is puzzled and sits down. "This halfling cult is a nefarious beast indeed. Did you see that tongue?" He shudders.

Sydney already took a token though.

Arcalinte joins Isu in sitting.

"Or...you know...this undead halfling pizza slave cult conspiracy could just exist in your imagination...like I keep telling you."

Spectre looks at the undead halfling.

"You must not be seeing what I am. Apparently, you need to re-calibrate your sensors."

Oops, misread Sydney's earlier post!

You take a peek at the token Sydney picked up from the machine and see that it's marked #74336. Seems you and the sallow-faced human man are the only visitors here. Not that that seems to be making the wait time any shorter.

The human glances furtively up at your group, then back down at his weathered hands, then up at your group. Just as he seems like he's about to say something, the drone at the front desk emits a *BING* and the ghoul behind the counter calls out "Number 74335, Misser Goulding, to the front please." in a surprisingly pleasant voice. The human man blinks a couple of times as he's taken out of his internal back-and-forth and he staggers to his feet. He affixes a scowl on his face and marches to the front desk. When he arrives, an automated privacy field forms around the desk to block you from hearing what he might be here for.
----

It's only a minute or two later when the field drops and a now red-faced human almost shouts out "I'm sure of it, alright? Got it?" before the ghoul affixes him with a flat stare. "Misser Goulding, I have all your details dear. We'll give you a ring if we have any more questions. You have a good day now."

The drone beeps and prints out a report receipt for the human. He takes it and stomps on out of the Ministry.

The halfling ghoul hits a few keys on her terminal, then calls out "Numbers 74336, to the front please." When you step on up, the privacy field forms around you and you finally have her attention. In warm tones, she speaks "Fancy that, two reports from breathers in a row. What can I do for you darlings today? Mind you, if you're here to report being hassled by any of the citizens in the area, you'll have to report that to the Ministry of Discipline."

"I see a person. Undead now, and a halfling in the past, but that's it. I do not see anything involving pizza parlors, slave rings, cults or conspiracies, or any combination thereof. Entities should not be multiplied without necessity, and the answer is probably a lot more simple."

When they're called up, he takes the lead, holding up his palm and displaying the Starfinder Society's sigil.

"Good afternoon. We're looking to speak with Ms. Waneda Trux. Ambassador Gevalarsk Nor informed us that she could provide us with information relevant to an investigation we're pursuing."

"I beg to differ," Spectre says to Isu.

"I calculate that the stain on her shirt has a five percent chance of being indeterminable, a thirty-seven percent chance of being blood, and a fifty-eight percent chance of being pizza sauce."

"I apologize for my fellow Starfinders' insensitive remarks," Arcalinte continues. "This is the first time we've visited Eox and a number of rumors they've picked up via the infosphere have contributed to something resembling...culture shock."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + 12 + (3) = 17

Ted grins at the spectacle, the first time he's smiled since stepping on to this planet.

I'm enjoying the halfling debacle but let's not make it the whole game now!

Isu tries to remember why they are really there. "Uhh... Yes, my friend here is right. Waneda Trux. We have an appointment."

He stares at her shirt trying to determine if that is indeed pizza sauce as Spectre claimed.

"We don't have one YET, Isu," Arcalinte says, correcting him. "Though if she ISN'T available at the moment, we'd be happy to set one up for her next available opening," he says to the receptionist.

I'm enjoying the halfling debacle but let's not make it the whole game now!

Don't let me down, Isu!

"Yes--take us to your leaders," Spectre says. "We will wait, if we must."

The ghoul smiles at your back and forth. "You're looking to find Waneda Trux, is it? Well my dears, you've found her." Her smile broadens revealing sharp teeth that are in stark contrast to her welcoming tone. "And you're the Starfinders that the Ambassador told me to look out for. Welcome to Orphys~ It's a positively homey place, isn't it?" Her pure black eyes twinkle with amusement.

"As for you, I can't blame you darlings for your suspicion. There are an awful many people here who would like nothing more than to extinguish any breathers they get their hands on. But the Ministry of Discipline keeps the streets safe. Safe enough even for folk like you."

"But you're not here to talk about how the undead view the still-sparked. The Ambassador mentioned you'll want some information regarding the Corpse Fleet activities of late. You've come to the right place." She eyes her desk for a moment and then draws an extra datapad out of a slot on the side, placing it atop the desk's surface. "The Ministry of Eternal Vigilance gets reports of Corpse Fleet activity almost every day."

"Most reports are, I'll be frank with you, not worth an iota. Citizens come in with stories so out there you'd think their brains rotted with the rest of their flesh. Just yesterday, I had one where a lady said 'My neighbor kicked my pet skullcrab; I think she's a Corpse Fleet sympathizer'!" She throws her hands in the air at the gall. "Or 'The Corpse Fleet stole the brand-new Ultralight Cruiser from my front yard, and I want to Ministry to compensate me.' Ha! They must think since I've been undead for less than a decade I'm an idiot."

"The few with some merit, I pass on to the superiors so they can send teams out to investigate."

"Most reports are, I'll be frank with you, not worth an iota. Citizens come in with stories so out there you'd think their brains rotted with the rest of their flesh. Just yesterday, I had one where a lady said 'My neighbor kicked my pet skullcrab; I think she's a Corpse Fleet sympathizer'!" She throws her hands in the air at the gall. "Or 'The Corpse Fleet stole the brand-new Ultralight Cruiser from my front yard, and I want to Ministry to compensate me.' Ha! They must think since I've been undead for less than a decade I'm an idiot."

Sydney stands to the side, trying to look cool. Are these just ramblings or is this all the information she's got? The ace pilot operative frowns. Half wondering if their time meeting with Waneda Trux will pay out, and the rest of her mind trying to imagine what a skullcrab might look like.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13

Isu speaks slow, rattled by the somewhat verbose nature of this particular undead. "So those with merit... are you willing to give those to "Breathers"? Like us?"

"Or, perhaps to me. I'm not a 'Breather.' Perhaps we could strike a bargain."

When Ms. Trux reveals her identity, Arcalinte bows apologetically.

"I apologize, Ms. Trux, for my presumptuous words...Do...you run this entire department alone?"

He listens to her explanation patiently.

"While I'd honestly be suspicious of anyone who exhibits cruelty to animals, especially other people's pets, I see your point. The Corpse Fleet appears to be a very polarizing issue, even here on the planet they claim to champion."

When she finishes, he raises an eyebrow.

"You're...in charge, are you not, Ms. Trux? In your discretion as such...would your superiors approve a team outside of Eoxian governmental authority to address these reports with merit? A team, perhaps, of do-gooding Starfinders who've been burned by the Corpse Fleet before and are looking to strike back?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 12 + (1) = 19

Sydney's impression is that Waneda's just a good-natured undead lady who likes to chat.

She looks between Arc and Isu before answering Arc's first question. "Right you are dear. Back when I was living, I did most of my academic research and writing on Eoxian history. Turned out the good Ambassador was one of my readers and he offered me an immortal life as a ghoul in exchange to taking up this post here."

"He didn't say I'd be almost running the whole show. But that suits me fine. I still have some time on the side for research, what with the not sleeping and all. And the ghoulification suits me, don't you think dolls?" She gives another sharp toothed grin while fluttering desiccated eyelashes at the group.

"And of course you can take a peek at those reports. The Ambassador wants you to see them. Here." She taps the datapad on the desk and its screen lights up to show two report files.
--------

Spectre reads the reports in quiet contemplation.

"I find the incident reports to have a high likelihood of being credible," the droid says.

"Are there any others? How old are these reports?"

"So you're a fellow student of history!" Arcalinte replies when Waneda tells her story. "The Ambassador must have been quite impressed with your work if he felt you should continue it into perpetuity. What aspect of Eoxian history were you researching?"

He listens as she continues and the others look at the reports. When she bats her eyelashes at them, he gives an awkward smile.

"I...can't really comment, Ms. Trux...I'd maybe need a pre-ghoulification photograph of you to compare and contrast if I wanted to make an educated aesthetic judgment."

When the others are done, he takes a look as well.

"Looks like we know where our Whispering Gyrus came from; Fleshwork Fabrications."

He grimaces as he reads the transcript of Nessex's good-bye audio.

"Your assessment here's spot-on, Ms. Trux. By the time someone starts talking about restoring their society to a prelapsarian ideal, open declarations of fascist sympathies are all but inevitable."

"She's very helpful. Too helpful? Is this a trap? thinks Isu as Arc talks way too friendly to the ghoul.

Waneda picks the datapad up and passes it to you guys for your use. "Both reports came in two days ago. Rapinder was rightly rattled when she came to submit it. Darksend I'm not so sure about - seemed a self-serving sort, maybe not above manufacturing a story." She leans back in her chair. "That's the only worthwhile reports in my jurisdiction right now. If you darlings want some more to investigate, you'll have to bother the higher ups." From the way she narrows her eyes at that, you get the feeling that probably isn't likely to be productive.

When Arc prompts her about her research, she responds with "The great war, the Gap and Magefire Assault, and Eox's role against the first Pact signatory have all been done to undeath. My interest in on the Necropoleis era. The jockeying for power between the Bone Sages is fascinating stuff. When you have immortality, you tend to get creative."

"That's the only worthwhile reports in my jurisdiction right now. If you darlings want some more to investigate, you'll have to bother the higher ups." From the way she narrows her eyes at that, you get the feeling that probably isn't likely to be productive.

Sydney bristles from being called a 'darling.' Sourly, she asks: "why'd Ambassador Nor get mailed a Corpse Fleet member? You guys report on Corpse Fleet incidents but then have one mailed to you? In secret?" She shakes her head and takes a step back from the desk. In relation to the other party members, she'd already been standing the farthest away. "Seem hypocritical. I'd like to know what's going on." They'd been instructed to not look at the cargo, but Sydney was glad they had. She angles her chin up defiantly and stares down the undead as if challenging the other woman to call her 'darling' again.

Ted crosses his arms and bobs his head to Sydney's question and gives an agreeing, "Hmmphf."

"Hmm!" Waneda perks up at Sydney's comment "A Corpse Fleet member mailed to the Ambassador? Now this sounds juicy. Spill the beans, how'd this happen?"

"Alright, Ms. Trux, context first, are you familiar with the Drift Rock? It was on the news around a standard month or two ago, an asteroid literally pulled out of the Drift into Pact Worlds space."

Spectre's gaze remains fixed on the ghoul.

"Why are you providing us with this information. What do you want in return? Surely, you expect some kind of quid pro quo."

"Right, the Drift Rock. I think I saw something about that in one of the bulletins the higher ups send out. Big hunk of rock with some critters on it, I hear." She shrugs. It doesn't seem she's too familiar with it.

To Spectre she adds "What I want?" She grins "Weird thing about being an immortal academic - the only thing you wish you had more of is time! Events moving too fast to keep track of them all. You learn anything good about the Corpse Fleet and you come back here and give me the gory details."