[SFS OutPost Style] Starfinder 1-04: Cries from the Drift (Inactive)

Game Master GM Red

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The goal of a Starfinder agent is the discovery of knowledge and galactic exploration earmarked for one unifying tenet: that increased dissemination of information can foster growth, development, and ultimately peace. You've all been successful in completing your inaugural tests and challenges as official Starfinders, and you've emerged as the first new wave of Starfinder graduates undergoing accelerated training.

A muffled static escapes from the personal communicators affixed to your armor, followed by the soft voice of a woman. "Ah, freshly minted Starfinders! Please make haste to Lorespire Complex. Your commencement awaits!"

___

I'm opening up mustering, but we won't officially start until 08/25.

0689 checks the comm unit on his arm and looks down inquisitively.

Freshly minted, this construct is close to a decade old.

He shrugs and clears the comm. He picks up his rifle and starts to follow his navi system to the Longspire complex.

*KRRRSSHHHTT*

"Oh! So sorry about that, dear, forgot to switch off my comm. Ah...what was your question again?"

The young kasatha reporter brings the microphone back to her own mouth-or to the scarf covering her mouth at least-and repeats her question, "I was just asking what's next for you, now that you've completed the Absalom Station Grav-Run, but I suppose we have an answer, don't we? So tell us, how did you get involved with the Starfinder Society?" She moves the microphone back toward Faraeon, who grins broadly and brings a hand up to smooth back his long, well-manicured antennae.

"Well, you know, I heard about their recent set-back and heard they were really hurting for some new recruits, so I thought I'd give 'em a hand, at least for a while, you know. And hey! If that means I end up traveling to other systems to spread the Star-Jumper brand out into the Vast, then what could it hurt, right? Hahaha!" With that, Faraeon bends down to collect his gear, hefts his bag over his shoulder, and gives the reporter a parting smile. "Well, duty calls! I'll see you all again soon, alright? And remember, if you wanna reach the stars, all you've gotta do is...," he points to the crowd assembled behind the reporter, and they shout, "JUMP!!" as Faraeon leaps into the air, does a seamless back-flip with a half-turn, and begins to run off toward the Lorespire and his new part-time gig as a Starfinder.

A loud banging at the doorway to the common sleeping quarters is followed by shouting from a burly, hairless simian "Hey Rat! They just called you up. Get moving soldier! Where the hell is that Rat?" The question is met with silence from the others in the adjoining common area connected with the sleeping quarters. "It's a bloody sty in his area look at all that junk around it's bed. When I find that Rat it'll be cleaning hulls for two weeks...huh.. what the?" At the third reference to the word 'Rat' the pile of junk begins to shake and from it emerges a large ysoki. Over one of it's eyes the ysoki wears a bandanna covering it. The skin around that section of it's face looks burnt and scarred with the hair having grown back in patches.

The ysoki rushes the burly man and before the man can react the ysoki scampers past him and climbs up his back. "Yasee..Iheardya.. thesecondtime. Callmethatword..onemoretimeagain..andyou'llwakeup..hearingticktickticktick. I'llhaveleft..apresentforyou..likethisonehere." from his mouth he spits out a makeshift frag I grenade that he easily catches with his little hand and then clips it to the stunned man's vest. As he climbs off the man's back the ysoki watched as the other soldiers quickly turned back to what they were doing. He hadn't come here to make friends that was for sure. The others looked at him as being crazy and he was fine with that because he kinda was.

Gathering his pack full of junk and his comm unit he headed off to Lorespire Complex hoping to find better company.

bzzzz... Poppilo feels his comm vibrate in his armor slot, but ignores it for now, glad that this time, he had remembered to switch it to the silent mode before the service began.

"... and now, go forth and plunder under the flag of The Pirate Queen." Poppilo lowers his head, crosses his arms in front of his neck, simulating the skull and crossbones symbol of Besmara, as he brings his benediction to an end.

As the measly few attendants straggle out of the ramshackle shrine, Poppilo greets their back with a wry smile. Oh well, pirates ... um ... privateers, I mean, have never been a particularly a religious lot. Until the stewards are blasting out their propulsion drives, that is.

He withdraws the comm unit, tap a few keys to play the recorded message. "Ah, freshly minted Starfinders! Please make haste to Lorespire Complex. Your commencement awaits!"

"Yes, finally!" It has been a long year by his reckoning since being stuck on Absalom Station. Yes, Poppilo was one of the few who supported his Captain-Bishop's urging for the Free Captains to respond to the Starfinder Society's call for mercenaries following the embarrassing Scoured Stars incident. But it was inherently unfair that Poppilo was left behind as his representative, while he continued gallivanting across the Drift raiding unfortunate merchant ships. Ah well, I listen and I obey, Poppilo reminds himself, his inner voice dripping with sarcasm. Let's see what this Starfinder Society can bring for us. And for me of course, he broods internally as he makes his way to the Lorespire Complex, with the most charming grin he can muster.

Communication acknowledged the android known as I-5 thinks, automatically sending the reply through her comm unit attached to her dataport.

It gathers its backpack and moves towards the Lorespire station. It checks its pockets and removes a medaillon engraved with the starfinder insignia. Nice as it is, they still did not make me a full Starfinder. I hope that changes soon

It's the 25th in half of the world already, isn't it? ;)

All six of you were called to the Society after the Scoured Stars incident, the incident which claimed eighty percent of the Society's agents, lost somewhere in the distant stars. Even worse, the Scoured Stars incident cut off the rest of the multiverse by a barrier of incomprehensible power. Now thoroughly crippled, the Society needs every new agent it can hope to obtain.

As the doors to the Lorespire Complex slide open, a green holographic image of a middle-aged human woman shimmers into view at the center of the room.

"Greetings," it says, in a soft, almost human-sounding voice, "I am Guidance. Please use the cheek swabs in the open receptacle to provide a genetic sample for Starfinder Society identification purposes. If desired, you may place your hand on the glowing panel to receive a subdermal implant further marking you as a member of the Society."

A glass panel illuminates bright green next to the receptacle with the outline of a handprint on it. A similar panel with the outline of a tentacle is next to it for species lacking hands. A blue line scans each panel from top to bottom every three seconds.

Ehdd's many eyes blink and shine as he looks down at the small screen on the wrist, partially hidden beneath his stylish white tux. A woman appears directing him to an important meeting, one that he's been waiting for. So excited! So much to do! What to do first... oh my hat!

He turns around to see a plethora of brightly colored top hats lined up along the wall on pegs within his personal cube. Oh yes, white looks great! He shudders a bit as he takes the hat down and flips it up and on top of his head with a flick of his 3 clawed hand. His mandibles click rapidly with excitement as he rushes out and pushes the button to close the cube entrance with a WHOOSH! He straightens his orange bow tie and quickly heads off.

And so it begins!

A small insect-like creature... a Shirren, approaches the holo image with mandibles clicking in excitement, a high pitched voice in the common speak enters your mind as he does so "Ehdd will go first! Here we go! Left hand? No right? Hrm... ok left it is!" He reaches out quickly and places his hand on the panel nervously. "Ooo try that! Or not.. feel free!"

He then cocks his head to the side and ponders the swabs before deciding to swab each side of his inner mandibles twice before returning the sample to the holo box. Once he's finished he bows down towards the woman, stands and straightens his bowtie and shuffles himself back out of the way to a squeeky beat-box sound suddenly echoing into your mind: Veep booop! Bleeep Doooop! WAAAAAAG!

Prof:Dance: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25 Which as unorthodox as it is, times itself to the sound impressively well.

Ratatatat enters the scurrying around and between the legs of these new faces his attention drawn immediately to the center of the room where the machine generating hologram is stationed.

Moving right past the hologram he stips and looks at the receptacle and then back at the hologram. With a sneer he opens his mouth grabs a cheek swab and scrapes the inside of his mouth before depositing it back in the receptacle.

"Dontbetrying...tocloneme...Imoneofa kind..andImeantokeepit...thatway...sopassthatom...towhatever...Dataphilesis responsible...forprogrammingyou...Guidance." and with that he slams his hand on the glowing panel cursing to himself about the Bug getting to the panel before him.

Hmm, do shirrens have eyelids? :)

Poppilo enters the room and almost before he has the chance to look around, the holographic image pops up in front of him. Woah there, lady! I know you can't wait to get your hands on me, but let's have dinner first. He grins to himself.

Only then does he notice the two who have arrived just before him. Ah well, whatever the crew... The grin on his face doesn't waver, although his antenna starts swaying unconsciously. While waiting for his turn, he takes a quick glance at his reflection in the mirrored windows, adjusts his auburn hair just so, and gives himself a wink. Dashing as usual.

"Dontbetrying...tocloneme...Imoneofa kind..andImeantokeepit...thatway...sopassthatom...towhatever...Dataphilesis responsible...forprogrammingyou...Guidance."[/b]

What?

After swabbing his check, Poppilo follows along and rest his hand on the imprint of a hand. "Ow!" he calls out, more in alarm than in pain, when something gets injected under his skin. Looking around, his antenna waving animatedly, he quickly adds, "Um, that's my sensitive spot." He unconsciously wipes his palm against the back of his trousers.

Choosing to speak openly rather than mentally, Poppilo smiles charmingly as he calls out, "So, a bug and a rat, eh. Have worked with some of your kind on the ships. Many of them good folk. Figured that we are going to be working together on this, so tell me about yourself."

Yes, those are trigger words... :)

I-5 stands right behind lashunta when he made his unfortunate comment he will be calling me a bot ... probably did not get enough affection in his early years...

The android is devoid of any gender markings. It swabs its cheeks and replies to the hologram "Here you go. That implant, what exactly does it do? As far as I know I am not a Starfinder agent just yet..."

Faraeon moves ahead toward the receptacle and panels, bopping along to a beat that he just can't seem to get out of his head. He swabs his cheek without much fuss-though he curses under his breath that the ysoki stole his joke-then moves along toward the panels. He eyes them curiously for a moment, then shrugs. "It's a big universe, right? Might as well add a little extra here and there to make the Faraeon experience that much greater!" He presses his hand to the screen and flinches slightly as the implant is injected, then turns to face his new crew mates.

Faraeon's smile disappears faster than a drone bot in a junk yard as he turns and sees...

Allergies: 1=Ysoki, 2=Android, 3=Shirren
1d3 ⇒ 1

...that the ysoki who had stolen his joke is now on his crew as well! "Oh, gread," he moans as his nasal passages begin to flood with mucus. He approaches the group standing around to greet each other, but picks a spot as far from the ysoki as he can find while still staying close enough to be in the group. "Hey dere, friends," he says, sniffling a bit as he tries his best to speak through his congestion. "How's everybody doing today?" He shoots a smile at the others, except for the ysoki, whom he eyes with a look of mild dread.

0689 goes after the other Android, and accepts the cheek swab for DNA.

completely useless, this is just a shell of which I will be using for the next century. do these meat bags understand that they can not record me with DNA.

He looks down at the panel. "No" and walks away.

I have enough device in me, I do not need another

Everyone but 0689 (and possibly I-5) places their hand on the panel, one at a time. A quick sting on your palm followed by a pleasant BEEP - THANK YOU rings out, assuring you that the implant is completed. A soft outline of the Starfinder Society's symbol flickers brightly as you look at your palm.

Each cheek swab is sucked into the receptacle and, after being scanned and processed, a grinding sound implies their destruction. Not to worry, your DNA is safe.

Pleased with your DNA donation, Guidance continues. "It is our pleasure to officially welcome you into the Starfinder Society. Today is the commencement of your new role as a Starfinder field agent. It is our tradition, at the end of the graduation ceremony, for new graduates to present themselves to the heads of our most prominent factions and complete a task at those leaders’ behest. This allows the leaders of these groups to become familiar with all new Starfinder agents, and it provides a constant supply of agents for handling situations in our holdings on Absalom Station. While these tasks were formerly symbolic, the heavy loss of Starfinder agents in the Scoured Stars necessitates that these missions become something more. Please treat any tasks given with the gravity you would grant any other Starfinder assignment."

The green panel where most of you had placed your hand now flashes white with text on it, a proper computer screen. The details of each faction are listed on it. See Slide 2 in the link in my header.

"Please review the screen and seek out each faction leader. Once you complete a task, a signal will be sent to Guidance indicating your success. Thank you, and welcome!"

You can roll a Culture check to see what more you know about Absalom Station

Culture: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

"Does the Society have a spaceship available to transport us to the Armada when we will seek out Fitch? Also, where exactly in the Downlow can we find Zigvigix?"

I-5 will not get the implant, unless someone shows what it does to it / her / him

Culture: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Ratatatat glowers as the he hears one of the two lashuntas call him the R-word. His mind already racing wondering if those moving antennae were trying to read his mind.

'Just in case add this image to your mind reading memory.' With that he immediately imagines a rather comical scene of the lashunta walking along a corridor where a closed book lies on the ground and a sign points to it saying 'Read Me'. Upon opening the book the lashunta finds a grenade that explodes in a cloud of psychedelic coloured bubbles that end trapping the lashunta and sending him into the Vast.

He turns slowly facing the lashunta and gets even angrier looking at the perfectly symmetrical face. "Thiscango...oneoftwoways...eitherone...youwontlike...oneItake...oneofthese beauties...andstuffit...upyourrear...ortwoItake...myspecialhere," with that he pauses and opens his mouth again to reveal a grenade clenched between his teeth, "and...stuff...this...down...your..throat...so...that...the...next...time.. .I...hear...you...is...through...your...soon-to-be... broken...antennae." Closing his mouth he slides the grenade back into his cheekpouch. "Callmethatword...onemoretime...andmydream...becomesyour...painfulreality."

He turns and then looks at the other lashunta whose droning voice is beginning to irritate him. "Youplanningon...speakinglikethat...fortheentire...mission?" He could feel his irritation for these two continually growing and hoped whatever task they had ahead of them would find himself rid of these two quick enough.

Woohoo! First official roll in Starfinder, here we go!

Culture: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27 Heck yeah!

Faraeon nods along thoughtfully as Guidance communicates the general idea of his first mission as a Starfinder. Ah! So it's a meed and greed with a twizd! Sounds gread! *AAFTB*" His excited summary of the mission is cut short by an explosive sneeze, and the lashunta turns to face the small and excitable ysoki as the creature complains about his speech. "I'b terribly sorry aboud my voice. You see, I have a slight allergy to the natural oils dhad gin your peoble's coats dhad wonderful shide! Here, lemme try someding to clear dhis ub..."

Faraeon rolls up the sleeve of his stylish jacket and waves his hand over what seems to simply be his bare forearm. A screen illuminates from out of his dark olive complexion, revealing the Second Skin armor he is wearing beneath his street clothes. He taps an icon on the screen and a faint bubble appears around his head, letting out a slight hiss as the air seals are put in place. He breathes deeply for a moment, then speaks again, his voice now sounding slightly more tinny as it comes through his comm speakers. "Much better! So...what do you all know about our fair station?" He then goes on to discuss all the pertinent information he can call to mind with the others, along with a bit that's less pertinent and more self-aggrandizing. Pop them spoilers ya'll!

""I'mabeallergic...toyourkindtoo...fromthelooksofit...CALLme...Ratatatat...c allmeanythingelse...cometime...whenyouwake...youllseeabunchof...tickingeggs ...readytohatch." Ratatatat laughs at this joke and listens to the congested lashunta speak.

'Sounded better when he was dripping mucous. Maybe I can find a way to pop that bubble on his head?'

"FitchandZigvigix...aresomegoodones...Dataphhilesandmercs...makemewanttoitc h...butwegotourorders...andImstuckwithyou...untilwefinish...letsgetgoing."

I do not quite get your speech little one, but I do enjoy your enthusiasm.

0689 answers Popilo's question, even though it was not directed at him.

I am suited for aspects of life on a starship....I am not programmed to lead a crew however. But other functions are with in my scope. I also am capable at combat, and locating single objectives

Does the Society have a spaceship available to transport us to the Armada when we will seek out Fitch? Also, where exactly in the Downlow can we find Zigvigix?

The expressionless hologram responds. "A chartered Society shuttle will jettison you -- bzzt..crack.. error -- transport you to the Wayfinders' ship. As for Downlow. One moment, please," the hologram shuts its eyes and its green outline flares brightly. Fans in the enormous computer whirr to life, and then all is quiet as Guidance once again opens her eyes. "Ah, yes. Downlow. A poor, but trendy neighbourhood. Caution is advised. Zigvigix is currently located here..." as she says this, she raises her imaginary palm and projects a map onto the metal wall across the room. Zigvigix is marked with an icon depicting a shirren.

You may also ask for additional information around Lorespire Complex and Gather Information with a Diplomacy roll.

With that, let me know which Faction Leader you'd like to tackle first! You can do these in any order.

"Lovely to meet you, Ratatat! And the rest of you, I'm sure. I'm Faraeon. You...may have heard of me. Please, don't let my celebrity get in the way, I'm here to help just like the rest of you. Now, let's see here..." Faraeon steps closer to the screens to read about the various faction leaders. "Ah-hah! I've heard of this Fitch person! I'd love to meet him! It seems foolish not to start with what's closest, though. Shall we star with meeting Historia-7? I'm sure we'll have plenty to learn from them!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

"Man, did you all hear about the beef going on with Ratrod and this newbie? Crazy stuff! Not as crazy as that weird creature that's been killing folks in the Downlow."

Culture: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15 Ehdd's been around the Station, and being who he is he's paid attention to the smiles and the extra coins Starfinders collect here.

After a few moments of bopping his head to his own beats he tilts his face towards the interactions between Ratatat and Faraeon.

Now seeing their objectives first hand, Ehdd introduces himself to the others in their minds "Hey Starfinders! Call me Ehdd, Master of Motion! Let's bust a move on these missions and capture some cred(s)!" With that he moonwalks away from the group to head out to pick some brains about what they can expect.

He sets up shop in the busiest of intersections, dropping his hat to the floor and sliding and wiggling up to any interested passerby's who stop and seem to have a one sided conversation with the man. Anything awesome happening around the Lorespire? Not telling me just doesn't feel like the right thing to do does it?

Intimidate (gather info): 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 7 + (4) = 17 Let me know if I can't use it in this fashion...

Ehdd nods his head and clicks his mandibles furiously when Faraeon mentions the goings on "Oh yes! But you left out the most exciting thing! Strawberry Machine CAKKKKEEEE! Sick sounds those guys!" He waves the others onward towards the data nerds. "Come come!"

Yeah, I don't understand the cheek swab thing for androids...

Poppilo looks down on his palm, turning on the augmentation on and off in rapid succession. "Cool..."

He turns slowly facing the lashunta and gets even angrier looking at the perfectly symmetrical face. "Thiscango...oneoftwoways...eitherone...youwontlike...oneItake...oneofthese beauties...andstuffit...upyourrear...ortwoItake...myspecialhere," with that he pauses and opens his mouth again to reveal a grenade clenched between his teeth, "and...stuff...this...down...your..throat...so...that...the...next...time.. .I...hear...you...is...through...your...soon-to-be... broken...antennae." Closing his mouth he slides the grenade back into his cheekpouch. "Callmethatword...onemoretime...andmydream...becomesyour...painfulreality."

"Woah, woah, woah," Poppilo backs off rather quickly, genuinely surprised by the ra... uh ... ysoki's response. He objects to that? "Much as I like something stuffed up my rear end as the next guy, I usually reserve that after the third date." he replies in a voice dripping with both mirth and sarcasm. "On the ships, I call my crewmates much worse than that. And get called the same. 'Manbug' is my current favourite. But sure, Mr Ratatat, whatever launches your ship."

He turns away, hiding a smile. Well, his buttons are easy to press. He pointedly looks at the rest, and again with his charming smile, introduces himself, "So, when I'm not going by manbug, I'm also known as Poppilo Moraeme, acolyte of Besmara, the Pirate Queen, at your service," punctuating it with an extragant bow to all present.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

So, two half-bugs, one full-bug, two cans and a ra.. ysoki. And two celebrities at that. Not exactly a low-profile group we have here.

Poppilo takes a quick glance at the faction leaders, but Radaszam, his own faction leader, is the only name he recognises. He shrugs and follows along. "Sure, let's take a look at the bot-hivemind."

Now that might be useful

I-5 slams down her right palm on the imprint, stoically accepting the implant.

"Sure, let's take a look at the bot-hivemind."

and there we are...how predictable...

"I assume you refer to Historia-7?"

Ratatatat turns towards the shirren and is about to say something when he clamps his mouth down his glare aimed at the dapper looking bipedal insectoid.

Ratatatat turns to face his antagonist. Iaintpart...ofyourcrew...PirateQueen...Youreamerclikely...yourwordisboughta ndsold...withtheflashofafreecreditstick...letsgetthisdone."

@Ehdd: I'm fine with that Intimidate check being used in that way!

Deciding to visit Historia-7 first, you head through a set of metal doors leading further into Lorespire Complex. The corridor ahead is lined with fluorescent tubes that illuminate automatically as they sense movement. You pass by a lashunta stealing a private moment away with a human, the duo quickly fleeing deeper into the Complex as they're noticed. An adjoining room is a workshop of sorts, and a ysoki hammers away at a junk racer, his drone assisting him in retrieving screws, bolts, and tools from the far wall.

The Lorespire Complex, home and heart of the Starfinder Society, is a striking campus dedicated to knowledge. Communal labs and historical departments study the Archives' massive collection of artifacts and texts, gathered by generations of agents from across the galaxy. A quick search of the directory indicates Historia-7 frequents the Archives' Cortex, a computerized matrix containing digital records of the Starfinder Society's most prominent discoveries.

The android reclines on a raised chair and is plugged into the local infosphere when the doors open. The neural cables detach themselves from her neck as she swivels in her seat to address the new arrivals. "Greetings, Starfinders," she says calmly. "I am Historia-7. If you are seeking a mission from me, please be aware that my request requires both discretion and speed. Do not accept it if you feel incapable of working within these parameters."

"I discovered someone recently hacked into Bluerise Tower's computer systems and stole a large amount of sensitive data from the resident corporations. I wish to be privy to this information. I managed to trace the hacker's location through many proxies and erased the trail so that station and corporate security should be delayed in their pursuit. This deception will not fool them for long, so you must move quickly to retrieve the data before they can recover it. I will leave you to decide what to do with the hacker afterward, but should it be feasible, I believe that person would be an asset to the Society."

Ehdd heads off, leading the others towards Historia-7, at least where he's pretty sure to find her. He's always quick to hop in front of the group and be first to take this turn or that and wave the others along if they dally much, he always communicates to them with telepathy when he speaks "Not much farther here, then a couple turns I think!"

He's quite creative and expressive, especially when he walks. Everything seems to have a rhythm while he moves, almost like he's practicing or 'something' as he goes. Whenever he passes someone he's often gives them a wave or a head nod in acknowledgement. "Woah someone's workin on a little sumpthin sumpthin right there! Booyah!" He gives an air fist bump towards the couple as they flee down the hallway for a darker corner.

Honey I'm home!

"Hey there Historia-7! How they hangin? Heard 'round the spire you may be needin' a bit of a hand with something... and by the sounds of it, dayum that's somethin! Count us in! Right guys?" He flashes a double claw thumbs up at Historia-7 as he looks to the others, especially anyone who looks more brains than brawn...

Tracking down a hacker, should be easy. 0689 activates a screen on his left arm and starts going through information. So am I understanding you want him alive? Should be easy enough. Are you able to download the information to us so I can start processing out target?

Historia-7 casually opens up a panel on her right arm and pulls out a data chip, holding it out to 0689. "You will find the details on there, including the hacker's last known address. Alive would be ideal, but I will leave that decision to you. The hacker is located in a flat in Drifter's End, a district in Absalom Station's Ring known for its cheap housing. It attracts vagabonds of all sorts."

0689 takes the data chip and installs into a port to begin downloading the information.

Echo, assign mark category on individual. limited information. Preferred outcome, alive.

GM using the bounty hunter theme for this. He will be my mark for the time being

Very well, we shall do the best we can

"do you mind? I-5 holds out a cable that can connect one dataport to another

Not at all 0689 cuts a look to Poppilol, and installs it into another port in his arm. You know hive mind and all that

Ehdd watches all the building tension between the group and throws his clawed hands up in the air "Ya'll smell that? Smells stanky. Smells like a dumpster down in Old Chinatown... full of old rotten BEEF! Can't we all just get on the same groove here? Lots of different parts in one big circuit board brotha! Bring it in...!"

He holds out a clawed hand for a big group high five!

"A high five? I have learned about that before," Historia-7 slants her head at Ehdd. "I like a Shirren who breaks the mold. A high five is sure to raise your team spirits and success rate of the task being asked." She extends her arm to join in the high five party, but her awkward movements implies she really isn't a master of emulating biological lifeforms and their cultural pleasantries.

Just RPing while we wait for Popplio and Faraeon to catch up!

A gnome sneaks into the room, preparing to follow the party around and take notes. "Shh... Tell no one I was here."

Ehdd tilts an antennae to the side as he watches Historia-7 join the circle awkwardly he waves her on it and steps over to offer his guidance (telepathically of course!) "No no like this sister!" He grabs his hand and holds it up, spreading her fingers out a bit, and straightening her arm. Then he reaches up and slaps it somethin fierce with his three fingered claws.

"Bam! And that's how we do it!" After another moment in thought he tells the group "Scan the memory drives and all that mumbo-jumbo for the old Human television frequencies for entertainment called: The Jeffersons, Sanford and Sons, and The Fresh Prince of Bel Air! Some of the sweetest stuff ever to hit the airwaves!"

Lets Dance!

As the group moves on to meet with the Dataphile big cheese, Ratatatat is absorbed in tinkering with a device you think is a...bomb? Every now and then you hear him snickering and sucking his teeth in frustration but is still able to maintain following the group seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.

When they finally reach the big cheese he looks at the android.

'Surprised she doesn't have antennae. They all seem to be pretty nosey.' he laughs to himself as he thinks this and then shoots a glare at the Pirate Queen. He'd been quiet but was likely reading his mind right now. 'Wait was he? Get OUT of my head in case you are there!'

When he notices the shirren is holding up his claw he wonders if he has a question to ask, but then realizes he is asking for everyone to do some ancient human custom.

'The insect is a weird one. But he's growing on me...kind of.' With that he runs in and jumps high delivering a devastating high-five he hated being second in anything. 'That's how the humans did it wasn't it?

"Oh! I've heard of this before! Here, Ehdd, have you tried this one before?" Faraeon then leads Ehdd through a series of complicated movements stemming off of a high five and moving through several more hand-slaps, snaps, finger motions and so on. "Fantastic! Glad to see someone else here knows how to do things properly!" He laughs as he admires Ehdd's style and seemingly endless enthusiasm. This whole Starfinder thing could actually be fun if more people like this shirren were around.

"Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Historia-7! I'm sure our little team here will be more than capable of finding this hacker and getting the information you need, and I think once he sees the kind of great folks that are involved in the society, they'll be more than glad to lend their talents. I know I could hardly stop myself when I heard of all the great opportunities being an agent offered! So, sounds like we're off to Drifter's End! Shall we?"

"I have downloaded all the available data. I am ready" I-5 states while ignoring all the high fives and more complex motions.

Ratatat tries to note down the intricate moves of the shirren and the lashunta but his interest starts to wane and he goes back to working on the device (aka the bomb) he was tinkering with prior to meeting the Dataphile big cheese.

"Bytheway...whatyaplanning...ondoingwittheinfo...onceweacquirethismark?"

Sorry I tend to slow down on weekends... :P

Ratatatat turns to face his antagonist. Iaintpart...ofyourcrew...PirateQueen...Youreamerclikely...yourwordisboughta ndsold...withtheflashofafreecreditstick...letsgetthisdone."

Poppilo laughs. "Oh yes, I'm a merc. If not for us, this Starfinder club of yours would have splintered into self-serving factions by now after the Incident." Turning serious, he adds, "Our guns and ship may be bought, but our words are always our own." Finally, grinning self-derisively, "Hey, honor thieves, they say. So yes, let's get this done." He follows along as the party to meet the Dataphiles' faction leader, making small talk whether or not anyone actually responds to him. It seems that he has dropped the confrontation from his mind completely, paying Ratatat no more nor no less attention that the rest of the team.

As Poppilo enters the Archives' Cortex, he looks around and whistles appreciatively, his antenna waving animatedly. "Quite impressive..." he mutters.

Not at all 0689 cuts a look to Poppilol, and installs it into another port in his arm. You know hive mind and all that

"That's a useful talent you bots have got there. Might replace one of my arms with a prosthetics one day, just so that I can install that." Poppilo looks on admiringly.

"A high five?" Poppilo's eyebrows rises in incredulity. Oh well, celebrities have strange habits. With a bemused look on his face, he slaps the shirren's claw.

Finally turning to address Historia-7, he summarises, "Find the hacker. Get the data. Smooth-talk him into joining. Got it, bot-lady."

"The information is invaluable to the Dataphiles and to the Society as a whole. Bluerise Tower, a private office structure maintained by multiple corporations is legally protected to the point that even the station's Stewards have difficulty entering. Why they need absolute sovereignty over their own affairs is suspicious," Historia-7 calmly says. "They know more than they let on. The Society needs to stay informed in its current vulnerable state."

Provided with the needed data, you exit the Archives and depart Lorespire Complex, moving through a series of tunnels towards Drifter's End. A ysoki with a remote-controlled mechanical rickshaw offers to transport you the rest of the way so he can "finish fine-tuning" the bucket of bolts.

Despite the bumpy and nausea-inducing ride, you quickly emerge in the central district of Drifter's End. Neon signs and rowdy space bars dot the streets. A human stands at the corner of an intersection shouting verses to Iomedae and foreseeing the second coming of the Plague.

Historia-7's coordinates lead you to an apartment that resembles a cement cube, with several tomato plants in plastic barrels sitting on an otherwise barren porch. A young human man appears to be hand-pollinating the plants as you approach.

Ehdd smiles as he sees who he hopes is their quarry and jives and shuffles until he's within his telepathy range of 30' and speaks so everyone in the group can hear him "Hey man! Sweet looking 'stank' plants you got there! Any potent strains you come up with yet? You wouldn't mind if we try a sample maybe?"

Intimidate + Expertise: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (8) + 7 + (4) = 19 Veiled Threat