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"Spread out!" Stiehle hisses to the others, then moves to his right, trying to throw the creature off by staying in its periphery vision as he squeezes off a shot with the laser that he pulls from its holster. He also has his tactical pistol out in his other hand, but for now just uses the one.
vs EAC
energy
vs 20 + CR
Steihle's shot hits the creature in the flank and burns a hole in its thick hide, while Grinds drives his pike home in the thing's shoulder, causing it to bellow and snap furiously at the hafted weapon!
Delea chooses to let the others have the spotlights and Raatchet runs with it. His shot hits the crest-eater square in the forehead, burning a hole into the thing's thick bony skull. It looks confused for a long moment, then collapses to the ground with an earth-jarring thud.
"OUR WINNERS, the ANTI-BANANAS!" The announcer's voice thunders as the crowd roars with approval. You are given time to gloat and strut over the carcass as the arena slowly empties of spectators. A few moments later, the norther door that the crest-eater came out of opens again.
An attractive, muscular korasha lashunta with reflective glasses struts through the northern door. He casually walks over the remains of the defeated crest-eater, stepping over the carcass with a skip. He lowers his sunglasses to reveal dilated pupils and flashes a toothy grin. “Stellar,” the lashunta man slurs. He glances at the floor and his smile changes to a look of disgust. He takes an exaggerated step over the bare ground as though trying to avoid an object there and trips, falling face-first into one of the metal pillars on the arena floor. He immediately springs back up and dusts himself off.
“You killed two of those things? That’s amazing!” The man holds out a hand in greeting. “I’m Envar—Envar Tamm, you’ve probably heard of me. I know, I know, I’m way more handsome in person. It’s a pleasure to meet me, I’m sure. Now, tell me all about you; I want to know all about my new best friends.”
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Right after the beast goes down, Raatchet swaps out the battery in his rifle with a fully charged battery.
Raatchet grits his teeth at hearing the team name 'Anti-Bananas' but he thinks to himself, 'Let it go... and just go with it.... just go with it...'
In trying to just go with it, during the gloat and strut time, Raatchet pulls out a spray paint can and sprays a no bananas symbol on the carcass.
Raatchet takes his hand and shakes it enthusiastically, "It's a pleasure for you to meet you too! And there were three of those things actually! One of them just sorta melted into the ground and disappeared. Weird huh? But I'm sure you've seen that happen before!
"The lovely lady over there is our leader Anna, the dashing individual over there in leather is Malcolm, this big fella here is Basher, and I'm blaster! And we're the.... Anti-Bananas!!" Raatchet gestures at the spray-painted symbol on the carcass.
"So hey, I've got a very, very important question for you. I only feel comfortable asking because we're best friends."
Raatchet looks left and right furtively, lowers his voice and asks, "got pesh?"
"Pesh, baby? I got EVERYTHING!" He chuckles and suddenly lunges at Raatchet, grinning. For a moment Raatchet feels like he's about to be attacked, then Envar takes a selfie with the ysoki.
"How'd you guys become fighters? Where are you from?"
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Stiehle holsters his gun with a flourish when the beast is killed, posing on their kill with one booted foot balanced on the lizard's crested head and waving to the audience until they begin to disperse.
When they meet Envar Tamm, the spoiled bureaucrat is everything he expected. Still, he keeps a firm grip on his initial reaction of disgusted amusement and forces a smile on his face. "Envar Tamm, is that right? Wow, never thought I'd meet someone as famous as you! It is truly an honor to be in your presence!" He gushes, fighting to keep a heavy note of sarcastic derision from tinging his voice.
When their target asks about their background, Stiehle picks a likely place that he knows at least a little something about. "Ah hell, you've probably never even heard of the little red planet I hail from! I was born and raised in a little town called Tasch on Akiton. I tell ya, the boys at Digger's Dive sure ain't gonna believe I met the one and only Envar Tamm! But as for this..." He draws his gun again and fires off a quick shot at the carcass of the crested lizard, aiming for the center of the 'anti banana' that Raatchet spray-painted onto its dead body, then re-holsters the sidearm with a fancy flourish meant to impress - if the kid can even focus enough to appreciate it.
"Just a little something I picked up hunting womp rats in Beggar's Canyon. Those critters can get as big as dogs you know. And of course taking down the occasional outlaw to collect on bounties. Figured I'd show off my style here to make a name for myself, maybe meet famous people like yourself, and of course for the women! Am I right?" He nudges the drugged scion of Ilia Tamm and gives the dazed youngster a conspiratorial wink.
"HELLS YES, Mallowmar! I am swimming in the ladies, baby! I got ladies coming out of my antennae, baby. I got..." Tamm seems to space out for a second, staring straight into space. He shakes his head suddenly, as if clearing it. "Yeah, baby. While you’re here, do you wanna check the place out? My personal tour covers all the hot spots. If you want the VIP treatment, come with me, baby.”
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Stiehle turns to the others and catches Delea stepping back a bit. He gives her an apologetic grimace with his back to Tamm, then calls out. "Hey guys and gal, a night on the town with the one and only Envar Tamm! Could we get a luckier break?" The operative gives a roll of his eyes to show exactly how he truly feels, and then turns to fully face their target again. "Hells yes is right, my friend! Show us to the ladies! Hey, we won't miss the next fight, will we? I don't want to lose the chance to show the Pact Worlds what Malcom Reynolds can do!"
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Replying to Envar, Raatchet says, "Like many ysoki, I'm also from Akiton. But I work at a no-name corp that anyone who is anyone has never heard of called the Starloser's Consortium. As inconceivable as it sounds, the people there didn't really like me so I kept getting passed over for a promotion. So I thought, 'Screw this! I'm gonna go kick ass in Brilliance's arena and BLAST my way to the top of the TPS reports hierarchy in Arch Energy, the PREMIERE corp in all the pact worlds!!' Amirite??
"So yah, let's hit the station for some VIP partying then if you'll show me to my new office, you'll see that I kick ass not only in the arena, but also in the... uh.... TPS...ing. That's right! Blaster kicks uh... TPSing ass!!"
Raatchet says telepathically to Delea, 'Don't you worry about the slime ball, we've got your back.' Raatchet pauses for a moment then says, "Oh and by slime ball, I meant Envar... uh... not me." Raatchet grins weakly before turning his attention back to Envar.
"Oh and hey, can you show us how to follow your infosphere feed? I'm sure you post only the BEST stuff, right?"
"Hey hey hey, top shelf, baby! I will show you the BEST of the BEST, my friends! Smile!" He steps in front of you and snaps another selfie. Judging by the angle, he missed all your faces, but his was front and center.
Envar starts his tour by walking backwards into a wall. He leads you through the maze-like halls until you spot a sign for the Eclipse Lounge. Suddenly a holoprojection of Ilia Tamm appears, triggered by proximity sensors. Envar nearly falls over as she begins to speak.
“Security is important to Arch Energy. Remember to reset your computer passwords once a week. Use a 16-character password that does not contain any recognizable words or patterns to increase its security.” Envar's shoulders slump and he immediately looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I told you, Mother, I can’t remember all those letters and numbers. That’s why it’s still— Wait, where’d she go?” He looks genuinely confused as the holo-projection ends.
The doors don't open as you approach. Envar grins and mutters that "we don’t let just anyone into the VIP areas,” before swiping a keycard.
A small foyer leads to a large open room furnished with hovering black marble tables and dark-orange leather booths. A semicircular bar occupies most of the north wall, its multiple tiers backlit in blue and purple neon where glowing, flaming, and frothing drinks are served. A small holoscreen above the host stand in the foyer broadcasts an image of a scowling shirren in a white chef’s hat accompanied by the text “Chef Ghornak personally endorses Eclipse with a five-nova review!”
"Chef Ghornak is a total softie, baby! Big friend of mine. Personally declared this place a find after I brought him here!" Envar murmurs proudly.
A male android clad in a white suit and orange tie greets you from behind the podium and offers to check your coats and weapons.
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Raatchet telepathically conveys a message to Delea, "Can you remind the others that some gangster is after Envar? I'm not entirely comfortable letting go of my weapons."
Raatchet says, "I'll keep my weapons, if you don't mind. I mean, my name is Blaster... having this blaster is kinda my thing, y'know?" Raatchet pats his laser rifle.
Raatchet quickly follows that up with turning to face the entry we just came in, saying, "Oh snap Envar! I think I just saw your mother at the front. Quick, let's head in before she spots you and starts hounding you again about passwords, yah? Let's move!"
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"Wow! That's your mom? Seems like she's wound a little tight." Glancing at Raatchet, he gives the Ysoki a nod and speaks further. "Yeah, no time, man. Surely your good friend won't mind if we keep our sidearms, right? I'd feel like a rattlesnake without its fangs if I had to give up my pistol. We'd better hurry though."
vs DC 10 to give Raatchet a +2 bonus to his Bluff check = Success!
The android maitre d' shrugs and says "As you wish. Please follow me." He leads you to the bar. The waitstaff here all seem to be android, though the bartender is a Kasathan with six arms, two of them cybernetic.
The bartender smiles at you while her six arms flash, pouring and mixing drinks with vigor. "Would you care for a cocktail, or perhaps service at our premium gas bar? We carry oxygen, carbon dioxide, nitrogen— whatever suits your pleasure.”
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"Well that is some fancy handwork you have goin' there. I'll take an Akitonian dark whiskey straight up, if you have it. And a gas bar! You serious? Hell, I can breathe oxygen for free just walkin' around! That's the damnedest thing I ever heard. You ever used a gas bar, Mr. Tamm?" Almost unwillingly, the operative is beginning to get into the rhythm of his backwater, gunslinging persona. Much more of this and he'll have to get a horse and start chewing that nasty black tar he's seen them spit in the holo-movies.
The Kasathan smiles as she slings a dark whiskey and a virgin lemonade. "Yes, but our gas is 100% pure, guaranteed to please!" Her smile breaks, and she suddenly slides the drinks across the counter and moves away. Turning, you spot a small, scarred Ysoki female sauntering toward you with two hulking Vesk standing just behind her. She nods pleasantly toward you and addresses Envar. "You're late on yer payments, Tamm. Too damn late. Where's my money?"
Tann squeals and lunges toward the Ysoki, only to be grabbed mid-lunge by the bigger Vesk, who holds him tightly by the shoulder in a vice grip as Tamm cries, "Aren't you just the fwuffiest widdle cutie pie I ever saw?!? WHO WANTS A CUDDLE? WHO WANTS A CUDDLE-WUDDLE?"
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Raatchet says to the bartender, "Gas bar? What?? That's gotta be the biggest scam this side of the station!!! What kind of pointless, useless offering is that? Only an idiot would bother breathing gas instead of drinking alcohol at a bar!" Raatchet turns thoughtful for a second, then says, "No wait, Envar! We're best-est friends right? So you're treating the gladiator victors tonight... right?" Raatchet quickly turns back to the Kasathan and says, "Oxygen for this idiot please!!!" as Raatchet points toward himself...
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While mid-breath, Raatchet sees what goes down between Envar, the ysoki, and the two vesk. Raatchet removes the mask from his face and says, "Ms. Razor I presume? Your illustrious reputation precedes you!! I'm a fan, a big, big fan of your excellent work! Please allow us to introduce ourselves! That lovely lady there is Anna, the brains of our outfit. The space cowboy with the six-shooter there is Malcolm. This big guy here is Basher. And I'm Blaster! You may have witnessed our humble performance in the arena just a little while ago? Yes? What did you think?
"And as for Envar here, please allow me to translate. I believe what he's saying is 'I've got the cash but need to go to my office and access my computer to transfer it to you.' but as he's in his usual inebriated state, his words are coming out a little bit...odd?"
"He's high as a skreeling, Blaster. I ought to know, I sell him the stuff. But I like your style. Tell you what, you best me in a game of wits, or beat my boys in a game of strength, I give this junkie fool another week to pay. Deal? What will it be? Strength or wits?" Razor makes a gesture and the bigger Vesk sort of propels Tann back into his bar stool, where he sits, staring at the big lizard for a long beat before pulling out his holo-recorder and livestreaming what he thinks is the best recipe ever for Cerulean Monkey-fish. It's hard to follow.
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Stiehle regards the three newcomers, then deliberately picks up his whiskey, drinks it down in a single gulp, and steps away from the bar as he eyes the scarred ysoki and his voice takes on a serious tone, his hand hovering near his pistol. "Seems like you've been bird doggin' our new friend here for awhile now. Maybe we should settle this in the arena? Or you have something else in mind?" His eyes shift to the towering vesk. "But if your hand touches metal, I will end you." There is a long, tense moment and then the operative slaps the bar counter and laughs. "Ha! You see there, that's the kind of showmanship and drama the people here on Brilliance are waitin' for! And the Anti-Bananas are exactly what they need! But here, why don't you tell us how we can help our new friend here. Some kind of private contest? Or are you maybe looking to send your men against us in the arena so we can put on a show to really impress?"
"Either one of you arm wrestles my biggest lad here or one of you plays me in a game of Farley's Crossing. Your choice." Farley's Crossing is a holo-vid game where each side controls an armada and tries to destroy their opponent's armada.
Razor's grin widens and she leads you to an alcove where a holoscreen is set up.
"I call Swarm!" Razor barks, grabbing a controller!
ROUND 1: FIGHT!
Envar looks mesmerized by the screen, then slumps forward and starts snoring loudly.
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Stiehle grins. "Guess I'll have to settle for the Independents, then. Shiny!" Taking hold of the controller, he maneuvers his armada...
vs Opposed Check
He hears Delea's comments and gives the lashunta a wink. "You don't know the half of it, sister." He says confidently as his virtual ships swarm against those controlled by Razor. Surely she couldn't fight her way through this formation.
Razor leans into the controller, punching the buttons like mad-rat-woman.
Despite her best effort, her first aramda is destroyed!
Razor goes first!
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Stiehle considers the tactics of her ships, and realizes that this round's effort is much tougher than the one she utilized last time.
vs DC 23 (Opposed Check)
But after a moment's concentration, the operative grins and defeats her second squadron with only minor damage taken by his own ships. "Well hell, that was a mighty fine round, Miss Razor! But damned if I wasn't practically raised on these kinda games back home. Wasn't much to do when my da' was workin' in the mines all night an' day. Ma thought these games were a fine distraction for the young 'uns when she'd go out to work at the diner. Or wherever she went, my da' was always sayin' she was prob'ly just seein' men on the sly." I'm going to get as bad as Raatchet if I keep up this persona much longer... Stiehle thinks to himself as he throws a glance at the passed out Envar.
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Grinds grimaces This is the thing you spend all your time and credits on Sti- Malcom Grinds says sort of disappointed that this is all it is. He had imagined giant robots and explosions!
He does however keep a close eye on Stiehle's level of fatigue and stress level and at a key moment offers him a moist towel to his forehead to cool him down.
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Delea sees that Razor is too engrossed in the game for direct distraction to accomplish anything, so she tries another approach. She walks over to one of the Vesk and starts to talk to him. She seems to laugh at every stupid comment he makes, and listen as if every inanity he speaks is fascinating. Her main purpose is not the Vesk, but instead to be a distraction to Razor, who is right next to her.
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'Malcom' grins at the haan, deftly continuing to play the game even as he turns his attention away for a few moments. "Hell Basher, I don't spend credits on these games anymore - I make credits off 'em! Yes sir, I'm just that good." When Grinds mops his brow, the operative gives his friend an appreciative nod as he focuses his attention on his game during a critical moment. In truth, that little bead of sweat that had been trickling down toward his eye was getting on his nerves, and Stiehle was thankful for the haan's consideration - though he had hardly expected such from the scary-looking warrior!
Razor scowls and focuses even harder!
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Raatchet figures it is time to try diggin into his vast trove of bureaucratic corporate knowledge to distract Razor and help Stiehle out...
"Did you know the amount of work necessary to build an armada of ships? I mean the sheer number of TPS reports required before a single ship is green-lighted is mind boggling! Then multiply that by a hundred or a thousand to make up a single armada! I did mention before that I'm a TPS report specialist right? I mean, for a single ship, there are docking clamp TPS's, automated door TPS's, floor lighting TPS's, overhead lighting TPS's, potted flower TPS's, air flow control TPS's, captain seat warmer TPS's, pilot cup holder TPS's, red alert klaxon TPS's....."
And Raatchet drones on and on in Razor's ear for the remainder of this round.