GM Dinketry and the Dead Suns AP (Inactive)

Game Master dinketry

Medicine makes it clear that I cannot take 20 on a Medicine checjk to apply first aid, but as it doesn't declare this for take 20, I assume such is legal, and thus...

Jaxom will apply first aid to the poor fellow.

Medicine Check of 17.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Culture: 1d20 ⇒ 5

"He's just sleeping, Jaxom. Probably enjoying his dreamshiver. Best to let him be, no?"

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10
Culture: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Idar is somewhat suspicious as they approach the unconscious body. He isn't sure where gang territories begin, and feigned sleep is not the worst way to post a lookout in public, while an unconcious victim might still be bait.

Both Telion and Idar get the smell of vagrancy and substance use from the unconscious fellow.

Jaxom, I don't understand your post. Your previous Medicine check of 10 stands.

Jaxom determines that the fellow is sleeping off something and is in no danger of exposure damage due to the warm clime.

Step way for a minute!

Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

"All the empty space around here and he sleeps on the street."

August will pull up the local InfoSphere to get information on the location of Mama Fats on Level 21.

He looks at the disguised Diamaante.

"I've been in worse. At least there isn't laundry hanging across the avenues or corpses left to rot."

"Drying laundry and rotting corpses? You know those two things aren't comparable, right?" the lashunta asked, eyebrow raised.

August doesn't find anything on the Sphere regarding "Mama Fats" on Level 21. Frustrated, the android notices the following on the side of a rundown tenement building. He glances at the rest of the group and catches Diamaante's eye - the two share a knowing look.

At just that moment, the group walks past a series of buildings with laundry strung out to dry between them.

Jaxom puts his hands on his hips and gives August a stern look, "you had to say it, didn't you?" He pauses and considers things briefly before adding in a sarcastic and wistful tone, "at least there aren't really intelligent and attractive single human females looking for long term companionship around." He glances around hopefully...

"Nice try. But just between us you might get farther with the fairer sex if you spent less time stuffing posters down your pants in front of them. But if you want I can put together a Spark profile for you - someone might swipe right if you're more open minded. How would you feel about a nice Shirren girl?"

August looks around for his favored information depositories: bars, food stalls, urchins, beggars, gangers inexplicably alone in surveillance camera blindspots. Not necessarily in that order mind you, it's a gestalt.

Jaxom shakes his head, "Please! I have a profile there, and I have narrowed the search to warm blooded bipedal vertebrate females?"

Diamaante rolls her eyes at the conversation behind her. "Keep your eyes open. I think we are in gang territory here." She continues to walk beside Telion, heading towards Mama Fats.

Idar pulls his hood back, to ensure his peripheral vision is unobstructed.

Just to be sure, where exactly are you going to look for Mama Fats?

August spots a group of three humanoids, one of whom is walking a pet on a lead, cross the road in front of your group by about a half-block, headed in a southward direction. You are headed east, for your information. You also see what appears to be a sign for a bar at the corner of the next block down.

So, in a scene or two, my character has morphed into a sex-crazed computer geek. Not at all how I envisioned him, but that's what he turns out to be!

"You said the restaurant person described it as a store in the southeast district? Was your contact any more specific?"

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Diamaante shakes her head. "She only said it was a corner store in that district. Let's go there and look for a sign."

Is there a space-ramen stand nearby?

August does not spy any food stalls on this street.

"Well, how many corners can there be, right?"

August will go around searching for any corner stores named "Mama Fats" or anything that seems like it could be called "Mama Fats" in the area, possibly near or around "21" gang tags.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

Idar sniffs the air and sighs, muttering a blessing in Kasatha under his breath. Happy memories, followed by remembering his outcast status.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

A ksarik?! Telion remarked to the group. Somehow I doubt that keeping one as a pet is legal here on the station. When they grow up they can be very dangerous, especially when they hunt in packs. We once had to intervene when we found out a farmer in a border town had been tending a grove of ksarik, right up until they killed him and planted their seeds in his corpse.

"I'm not surprised. We didn't come down here expecting to find a bunch of fanatical law worshippers though, right?"

"You never know, strange things are said to lurk in the Spike. O-o-o-o--o-o-o-o-o-o."

August wiggles his fingers at Jaxom as he moans eerily to scare the poor human.

Jaxom shakes his head at August, "you're an idiot."

August and Diamaante guide the group in the southeastern direction, eyes open for signs of gang territory. It doesn't take long to spot another tag on a nondescript building with a large chained and padlocked cargo bay door. An open freight container also sporting the same tag sits to the side of the darkened doors.

Perception: 1d20 + 0 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 0 + 1 = 10

Jaxom points at the ksarik, ”more of your illicit pet owners yonder.”

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

"Anyone think it's odd that there's ksariks running around? Can they be used as attack dogs?"

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Maybe? I've only ever seen them in the wild, but they can learn to hunt together. That was a different group though, seems a lot more like guards patrolling the area.

The group reaches the next intersection. At the end of the next block, a jumble of drums and a tinny horn sound out from speakers affixed to what appears to be a small grocery store. Wooden produce racks full of fresh fruits and vegetables line the corner entrance to the store. A human female and a lashunta female appear to be doing some evening shopping, both women picking through what appear to be melons of some sort.

As the group approaches slowly, everyone receives the same telepathic message.

"Are you looking for something sweet this evening, honey? You look like visitors to the space station. Maybe we could show you our black holes? Just 100 credits an hour for a single trip, 300 credits an hour for a space jam with all of your friends."

Both ladies are holding a single melon in both of their hands up against their bosoms, their lusty eyes fixed on the approaching group.

Here's your chance to do your dance at the Space Jam. Alright.

Diamaante stifles a giggle. "No thank you, loves. I hear black holes are dangerous objects--once you get sucked in, there's no coming back out. But perhaps you could be of assistance and tell us where we can find Mama Fats?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

Jaxom was about to respond to the offer from the seductive females when Diamaante replied first. "Let's not be too hasty in our declining those offers," he thought, "one of them may be Mama Fats, after all." Still, he figured he had better let Diamaante do the talking.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

So much for it just being a corner market. "No. Will not be doing that.", Idar answers the shoppers.

"Answer big-nose lady's questions, yes?"

Aid another, diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Look, Idar is 'helping'.

The lusty quality to the two female shoppers' eyes goes out almost immediately, and they put down the melons. The lashunta wanders away from the market entrance abruptly, but the human female leans inside the open doorway of the market and sings out - "You've got a customer!" - before giving the group aggressive eyes and wandering off into the darkness after the lashunta female.

You are left alone, just north of the entrance to the corner bodega, tinny trumpet music blaring from the speakers into the street.

Diamaante glances at the others before stepping into the market.

Idar follows Diamaante inside, doing his best to look imposing.

Jaxom will follow, but attempting to look insignificant.

A brief electronic buzzer overhead signals the damaya lasunta's entrance into the cramped space of the corner store. Convenience foods of numerous cultural origins burst from shelves in vibrant colours. Cooler cases line the walls, filled with various bottles and drinking containers of liquid and gaseous makeup. Somewhat-fresh produce sits in shipping crates that looked to have been simply opened and placed in the middle of floor with price signs. Multiple plants in various pots sit on the main counter in front of a smiling halfling male.

"Hey." The smile doesn't fade, though the tone of the greeting seems completely business-like.

"Good evening," Diamaante says, matching his smile. "I hope you might be of some assistance. We are associates of a dwarf named Kreel. I believe he might have had some dealing with you?"

She surreptitiously slides the scrap of paper she found in the dwarf's apartment to the halfling.

August will busily try looking through the drink cases for canned-fresh coffee.

Telion followed his companions in and stood beside Diamaante casually.

Would using my racial ability to detect thoughts be noticeable to someone if I try to read surface thoughts?

Diamaante, please give me a Diplomacy check.

Telion concentrates on the halfling, peering into his mind.

August is shocked at the variety of cold brewed coffee drinks in the cabinet.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

Perception: 1d20 + 0 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 0 + 1 = 3

Jaxom starts looking and feeling around his body, pockets, etc. He has misplaced the goggles that are ever present on his head.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
So close!

August will grab an ultra dark coffee from Castrovel out of the drinks case (on the side it says "Extra bitter!") and pay for it while he waits.

He will again look for a "No Smoking" sign.

The automated pay kiosk on the front counter accepts August's credstick and debits his account 2 credits. August does not spy a "No Smoking" sign.

The halfling replies to Diamaante "Oh yeah?" in a nondescript fashion, the smile not moving on his face. He pulls the scrap of paper towards himself and pick it up to glance at it.

Two human youths walk into the shop, both sporting similar stylised-appearing outfits made of cargo fabric, festooned with disused starship armour plating on their shoulders as epaulets. Both youths have their heads shaved completely save for curled wisps of brightly-dyed aquamarine hair and canary yellow hair (respectively) from their forelocks.

The teenagers head for a specific refrigerator case, murmuring in low voices to one another.

August will also check for gang symbols on the youths.

Culture: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (15) + 10 = 25

Looking at the idiotic hairstyles and frankly ridiculous looking clothes August shakes his head - while simultaneously lighting a cigarette to have with his coffee.

"When I was first activated the government told me I was guarding the citoyens against subversive influences. I can't believe they were right."

"Yes, Diamaante says. She glances at the teens and lowers her voice. "I'm not sure if you're aware or not, but Kreel has suffered a terrible fate. Perhaps we should go somewhere to speak more privately?"

Culture: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

Idar steps out of the youths' way, but keeps an eye on them.