Part 1: Incident at Absalom Station
You are all currently on board the passenger shuttle Okimoro, bound for Absalom Station. Some of you may have been returning from visiting family, or a contract that was given by one of the businesses on the station, and some of you are arriving for the first time. You have all been told to meet with a Duravor Kreel, a dwarven member of the Starfinder society, on Absalom station.
The shuttle itself is comfortable, for a shuttle. You can still see out of the front viewscreen and the pilot and very small crew of the shuttle, and you see one of the crew open a communication channel with the station. "This is Reed of the Shuttle Okimoro, requesting permission to dock at Absalom station."
A few moments pass before a voice comes through "Okimoro this is Absalom Station control, you're clear for docking at bay 94."
Over the journey, you have all discovered you are here to see the same person and have an opportunity to get to know each other a little more before the shuttle docks.
Having spent the last few months at Absalom station after his ignoble escape from the captivity of the Drow, Miles has found work as a mercenary doing several low level jobs--mostly guard duty. Working through intermediaries was irritating, but he had to take what he could to earn himself a place to sleep and food for his belly.
But this invitation from Kreel, this shows real potential--perhaps an in with the Starfinder Society itself! This could be a real money-maker and pad his credits enough for him to actually upgrade his kit, not just feed his face. A bit short on details though, as he has never met the dwarf and the invite was pretty vague.
As he sizes up the others who were invited, Miles contributes carefully to the conversation, "Hi. The name's Miles. I'm a mercenary, but I've never worked for this Kreel fellow. Anyone heard tell of his rep?"
Miles is a diminutive figure, a halfling, and wears an outer layer of common (if a bit dark) spacer clothing, but underneath you can get a glimpse of a much blacker inner layer--perhaps some kind of black armor? As for visible weapons, there is only a star knife clipped to his belt, in easy reach of his right hand. He speaks with the clipped tones of a soldier; uneasy with much small talk, just concerned with getting to the core of the matter.
Tall and willowy with silver hair and violet eyes, Atrios is every bit the typical Elven beauty. At first glance he is anyway. For one thing, his face is exposed, neither masked nor veiled as is the custom for Elves away from Sovyrian. For another, he seems comfortable surrounded by aliens. He wears a white tunic with an asymmetrical hem over an almost painted on blue-grey bodysuit and a slim satchel over one shoulder. His hair is gathered in a bun atop his head. At one point he loosens it to cascade over his shoulders. It is said that Elves often take on the colours of their environment. One wonders where this one has been living.
There he sits, tapping away at a hand held computer, wearing a pair of ear buds. The device he uses is unlike anything you've ever seen, clearly a custom build. It is light, delicate and powerful. A particularly sharp sense of hearing will pick up hints of ethereal ambient music. He removes one of the earbuds to answer Miles' question in a very soft mellifluous tone:
"I tried looking him up on the Campus Datasphere. Other than his being a Starfinder, nothing useful emerged."
A tall, light green skinned lashunta sits toward the back of the transport in a relaxed manner, but his eyes are constantly scanning the passengers. He is wearing a long jacket over his travel clothes and appears to be carrying a survival knife in a hip sheath. Upon closer inspection, one can notice a leather holster across his chest, probably concealing some sort of small arm under his jacket. He has close cut light colored hair with a stubbly beard that looks like he hasn't shaved for a few days.
Well that last contract was a little worse than normal but well worth the credits. I just don't understand why people always think they can get away with kidnapping, eventually someone always makes a mistake or leave a paper trail. Oh well, hopefully coming back to Absalom Station and taking this new contract with the Society will prove to be a nice change of pace, I'm tired of being shot at all the time.
Nodding toward the elf and the halfling he speaks up, "Ah, Miles is it? Name's Netharan. I haven't worked for Kreel, or in fact the Society, but they are known to have reliable work and, as far as I know, are on the up and up. Netharan pulls out a tablet and begins going over the details of the contract one final time. "They were a bit skimpy in the details weren't they."
Bluff: 1d20 ⇒ 8
Turning to address Netharan, Miles replies, "Right you are, Netharan. I'm looking forward to some steady work and maybe a bit o' excitement, if you know what I mean. Guard duty can be downright boring sometimes."
The scarred and somewhat... withered? Shirren had introduced themselves as "Tetch", though the end of their name was more of a chitter particular to some types of the insectile races than conversational Common. While their appearance bore the signs of a hard life upbringing on their desert-colored carapace, their clothing was an eclectic mix of what could probably be best termed as "utilitarian traveler". No one piece of clothing had much of an association with the other, from the coverall in the color that had come to be known as "station standard gray", to the jacket that had been thrown atop that in the faded green of some terrestrial military, perhaps. It had to be secondhand, by the fading and wear along the elbows and hems. Their boots were Vac-Tec's "Wanderer Series", advertised as "being able to handle everything from a terrestrial march to the specific demands of EVA use *(With proper equipment, of course), or your replacement is free!". As far as visible weaponry went, there was a simple pistol and knife in a multipurpose hip holster, though the belt was a faded and worn black compared to the gray of the coveralls and the not-olive-anymore of the jacket.
The less said about the color mistake that was their backpack, the better.
When they had first gotten on the transport, there was a tension to their movements that had relaxed somewhat as the trip continued. They still had that kind of nervous, looking-over-your-shoulder kind of twitchiness, though. "This one does not know of Kreel, or the Starfinders in any significant sense. That can be considered a p̵͖͈̥̏̆ositive, p̵͖͈̥̏̆erhap̵͖͈̥̏̆s." A casual gesture in lieu of a shrug was made with one hand, the other still nursing a Gold Nutribev.
"Huh," said the small robot, tearing their attention away from the front viewscreen for the first time in several minutes, "now that you bring it up, I've never heard of Kreel, either. I did put out some feelers saying I was interested in an opportunity to see more of the Pact Worlds, but I wonder if my mentor gave my name to him. I should have asked her, but she doesn't carry a personal comm; I sent a message, but to actually speak with her I would have had to visit in person and there wasn't time."
The robot was small, similar in height to Milo. Its visible components were made primarily of a shiny white material, although for a face it had a plain black circle. In lieu of what humanoids might consider typical expressions, this face lit up with colors from time to time. On this journey, it had been flashing excitedly for most of the trip.*
The robot's equipment seemed fairly new, although none of it was particularly interesting. The backpack was a plain blue, the holster on their belt held a cheap laser pistol, and they wore only the important protective parts of their armor; few robots bothered with pants.
"It's W-12, by the way, if I didn't tell you that. My name, I mean." A brief glow of a slightly embarrassed reddish or pinkish hue as they shook their head. "Unless you feel that's, how did she put it? 'A lifeless designation for a piece of equipment, ill-suited to a being regardless of whether it's a machine itself.' My mentor and her colleagues nicknamed me 'Wiz' or 'Dub,' if you like those better."
Their face focused again on the image of the station on the viewscreen. Have any of you been to Absalom? I'm excited to see its structure, but I think I'm more interested in that park...
But then their head whipped around again, blinking excitedly. Do you think they'll have us working together?
*I'm picturing a design somewhat similar to the robot on the front of the Alien Archive.
Somewhat embarrassed that he had mistaken one of his fellow travelers for a simple shuttle tech robot, Miles pipes up in response.
"Wiz sounds good to me," he says, smiling a bit, "and I've been to the station a time or two. The hustle and bustle are a welcome relief from the boredom of guard duty--just watch yourself, though. Where many gather close together, some try to take advantage of the unwary".
sense motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Atrios placed his computer in his satchel. Removing himself entirely from his daydream-state was unbearable but these new acquaintances required his full attention (especially Miles)
"I was a research fellow at the Arcanimarium until my funding was ... discontinued,"
...exceeded time limit on the post-doctoral fellowship, my eye!. How could Atrios be faulted for his perception of time? It wasn't just being an Elf. It was the daydream-state. So difficult to leave. That robot, though, was a surprise. He should have caught that! Machines were just another form of life after all. Atrios' dreams were full of life beyond living things.
"A fresh start sounds good to me. I have had my fill of academics!"
Atrois catches Miles trying to look at him without looking directly at him, then Miles quickly averts his gaze. Not being directly addressed, Miles says nothing, but his thoughts are racing.
"So very unlike the cruel dark-skinned ones who haunt my dreams. Is this one in disguise? Have they sent this one to retrieve me? They do not give up their prizes easily...no, they do not!"
Miles forces himself to relax, opening his white-knuckled fist as it had drifted towards the starknife at his side. Taking a deep breath, he looks out the viewport to see if they were yet approaching the station.
"The Arcan... are you a mage?" W-12 held out their left hand and tapped the palm with a finger on their right. "My mentor is a Xenowarden. She taught me about living things, but also a bit about magic."
As W-12 drew the finger away, a small tree sprouted in its wake. It was pretty, but obviously brittle and soon crumbled to nothing as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm not the strongest spellcaster in the system, but I can do a little healing. Hopefully you won't need to know that, but..."
The robot took note of how many of their group were visibly armed or armored and looked pointedly at the weapons. "...but I think we might expect it to matter."
”Will wonders never cease? A spellcasting robot priest!”
Although not startled, Miles quickly enters a state of readiness as the small robot starts casting a spell. Seeing no threat materialize, he simply says, ”Aye, a healer can be useful when the job goes sour, that’s for sure. Maybe we’ll get assigned to the same team, Wiz.”
Responding to the small robot he had noticed upon boarding, Netharan says,"I used to work for one of the security forces on Absalom Station, but that was years ago. It is a pretty interesting place, but if you go to the wrong places you can definitely get into trouble, so I'll try to keep us out of those places if I can Wiz."
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
The Okimoro gets clearance from the Station, and you watch as you enter the large docking bay. It takes a few moments for the shuttle to land in one of the many starlike arms that encircle Absalom Station's equator. After a few minutes, the docking procedure is complete.
"Welcome to Absalom Station, please ensure to take all your belongings," says the pilot/captain of the shuttle.
You all filter out of the shuttle onto the docking bay floor.
The docks are brightly lit and are currently abuzz with activity with travellers passing by, preparing to board or disembarking from starships bound to or from any of dozens of worlds. You see brash and swaggering starpilots, scurrying ysoki mechanics, and expectant colonists all mingling together with kasatha mystics, hard-faced asteroid miners, imposing vesk mercenaries and more. It provides a microcosm of the abundance and variety of life within the Pact Worlds. New arrivals are meeting with friends, loved ones or some even meeting for business purposes, and are whisked away into the humming activity of daily life on the vast space station. Beyond these groups, you can spot ground crews tending to the docked ships, and dockworkers in mechanized cargo lifters loading and unloading freight and baggage. There's a sharp tang of ozone that hangs in the air - a byproduct of electrical discharges from the docked ships - but underneath that smell, the station has a sightly used aroma. As you stand on the deck, the plates thrum beneath your feet, though whether it's from the passage of innumerable feet or the vibrations of the station's power conduits and air recycling systems is impossible to say.
Let's get perception checks from everyone
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
This was Atrios' first time back at Absalom Station since his research career ended. Yelling at the Funding committee and the Arcanimarium chair felt good in the moment but the consequences were dire. Two hundred years before he'd be allowed back in!
But that smell, that vibration! Atrios had missed this place more than he expected to.
He checked his own weapon, a simple numbing beam. Fully charged. As endearing as Wiz's reaction to magic was, Atrios' abilities were meager and trifling. Not for the first time, Atrios wondered about the true wizards of Ancient times. What he could do now was nothing in comparison: cobbling together psychic phenomena and technological workarounds into something like magic. The so called 'esoterics' at the Arcanamirium thought themselves more than this but they were on a fool's errand. This was the only way.
As the group made their way out of the shuttle, Atrios made sure to place himself in the rear. Whatever the Starfinders had in store for them, it behooved Atrios to be ready for anything.
Netharan disembarks from the shuttle and glances around at the familiar surroundings and crowds.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18
This place... it was actually more similar to home, in some ways, then W-12 had expected.
The place itself, anyway. The people here were quite different, and the atmosphere seemed more chaotic. That may have just been anticipation, though.
There were... a lot of bodies. The space of just the dock, and its sounds that were more than just the people, the smells of numerous cultures, crafts, and creations, it was a lot to take in. The scale of things, as well as the sense that it was also part of a larger whole... Amazingly distracting. There was so much to see, but likewise, old habits picked out vantage points, access control designs, and markings. This was a new place, with new dangers, and it would not be good to get too distracted.
There was a moment of wonder at it all, and just as quickly, reality smothered that spark with the press of bodies, engine stink, and refuse. Not home, as usual, but it would do.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Standing in the middle of the docking bay, you all see a dwarven figure who after looking down at a datapad and waves in greeting to the group of you. However, W-12, Netharan and Atrius all notice that there are two groups of people furtively getting into cover and defensive positions around some crates and machinery.
Kreel is rather tall and lanky for a dwarf, his beard is a bristly iron-grey and beneath two very bushy eyebrows, he has deep-set eyes. His coveralls are patched and stained, but he is singled out from the dockworkers by his badge that displays the Starfinder Society symbol. He gives you a warm smile as he greets you.
Before you get the chance to do anything or respond, the air is filled with the sound and sights of laser blasts, as the two groups that W-12, Netharan and Atrius noticed open fire on each other. Bystander's and dockworkers flee and scream in terror, and Kreel being effectively surrounded is paralyzed in the situation. Before you know it, one of the shots fired from the northeast catches Kreel in the crossfire, who gets hit with a fatal wound to the head. There is plenty nearby to get into cover.
We're now entering combat. Tetch and Miles did not notice the gangs approach and are surprised. I'll still get an initiative roll from you though and that will come into effect on the next round.
For everyone else: Roll Initiative, and then your first move. To help with this, the two gangs are going to fire on each other with a chance of catching you in the crossfire.
Initiative for gang members: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
"Watch out," W-12 started, putting a hand on their weapon, "I see--"
But it seemed it was immediately obvious what they'd spotted, and that they hadn't noticed early enough to do much about it.
Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Focused on Kreel, Miles completely misses the threat on the flanks and Wiz's warning comes a split second too late...Surprised, he hesitates a moment before being able to make sense of the sudden battleground.
Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
No amount of preparation could account for something as absurd as this! Atrios had spied the two groups of people shifting into position but the idea of a firefight in the docking bay was silly to the point of vulgarity. Kreel dead. Energy blasts everywhere. People screaming.
Atrios drew his weapon(a tactical numbing beam) and prepared to fight for the first time in his life.
Initiative: 1d20 ⇒ 3
Some of the smells here were like things they had encountered before. The fumes were from fuel, were a little more acrid— higher quality, but they were not a specialist, so the difference in price was something that could only be speculated on. Even the press of people exiting the ship and on the docks were influenced by so many cultures, likely present at the station, which provided some sort of cultural pressure, since some of the fashions were contrasting, and that had to have been an interesting shift—
The sound of laser blasts snapped them out of their distraction, the first instinctive response was to drop prone, out of the way of any stray shots. There was nothing that they had done that would warrant any sort of reprisal on this level, they had thought. Was the Red Dragonfly Clan that vindictive? Who had set them up?
Atrius is first to act on the scene, pulling out and readying his weapon.
Atrius: 1d6 ⇒ 6
W-12, seeing the threat just in time, acts next preparing themselves for whatever happens next.
W-12: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Next to go, due to the rest of the group not noticing the threat in time, is the people who started this firefight.
Miles: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Netharan: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Tetch: 1d6 ⇒ 5
Thankfully, none of the shots hit the group this time, as the two groups open fire on each other once again.
Attack from first gang member onto 4th gang member: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Attack from 2nd gang member to 5th: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Attack from 3rd gang member to 6th: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Attack from 4th gang member to 1st: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Attack from 5th gang member to 2nd: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Attack from 6th Gang Member to 3rd: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Another round of fire goes off as the six gang members open fire on each other once again, each one finding their target on the gang member opposite them.
Netharan gets into cover and pulls his pistol ready to return fire if necessary.
That's the surprise round over, so now we are entering combat, everyone can post their actions and then I'll summarize - the gang members are going to continue shooting at each other, but there is a 1 in 6 chance that each of you might get caught in the crossfire
Miles stares in shock as the friendly, waving dwarf is shot through the side of the head with a laser bolt, obviously instantly slain! Focusing on the source of the shot, Miles sees a gang member to the northeast, crouching behind some containers.
Miles breaks into a sprint at the murderer, jumping at the last instant in an attempt to clear the obstacle and land behind him, his star knife materializing in his hand as he lands.
Full round action to run, including a jump at the end to land in the square to the east of the northeast gang member (the one furthest to the north). Swift action to call the starknife to his hand. Rolling to make the jump (both acrobatics and athletics are at +9).
Athletics to Jump: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19
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Are they really going to shoot this out? There are only the five of them versus two gangs. Atrios finds this situation so familiar. He had daydreamed this once! But how did it go? What did he do? Atrios sees Miles run off after one of the shooters. Brave but foolish. He needs help.
Atrios provides covering fire for Miles against the same enemy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Gunfire breaking out was not something that Tetch was unfamiliar with, and in this case, there seemed to be no reason why it had anything to do with them. Staying as low as they could, they went for the nearest cover to keep their head down. The air was tasting more and more acrid— 'likely from the bolts being fired back and forth', a part of their brain idly commented– but all they had to do was keep out of the line of fire.
After making their way to cover with the shipping crates to their left, they looked back out to the others that Kreel had brought together, to see how they were reacting to what was going on. An incident such as this had to be something that was not common on the docking bays.
What had they stumbled into?
In theory, W-12 was a decently skilled medic. In practice... well, they didn't have much practice. A laser blast through the head almost certainly meant Kreel was beyond their help, but W-12 wasn't entirely confident they'd be able to judge instantly how badly one of their new allies was hurt in the middle of a firefight.
"Please tell me if you need to be healed," they said tersely as they aimed their weapon.
Of course, if these allies weren't used to magical healing they might not be any better at identifying when they'd need it. But somebody had to make that call.
W-12 fired a shot at the closest violent human as they ran for cover, though it was far too high. They'd never fired at a person before, but all these humans were, a best, willing to risk innocent lives. Attempting to stop them did seem necessary.
"Do you think I should have done that?" W-12 asked Tetch.
Firing with my laser pistol at the enemy near to us on the left, then moving into cover on the other side of those crates from that enemy.
Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Damage, if needed: 1d4 ⇒ 1
Netharan says psychically to the group, "Everyone get behind some cover and we will try to take care of these gang members."
Using the lashunta limited telepathy feature.
Netharan moves up to the crates and ducks behind them, on the bottom of the 4, and lines up a shot on the gang member closest to him.
Taking the Full Action for a trick attack.
Trick Attack, Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17
Missed with that attempt.
Attack: 1d20 ⇒ 12 Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1
As Atrios begins providing covering fire for Miles, Miles gets ready to take off running to his target. As he continues running, W-12 begins shooting on the other side, unfortunately, unable to get a hit on the gang member they were targetting.
Miles then runs up to the north-east, heading towards the person that shot Kreel and gets most of the way towards the one that killed as his Starknife appears in his hand.
W-12: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Miles: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Netharan: 1d6 ⇒ 4
Tetch: 1d6 ⇒ 2
As Miles goes running, one of the gang members takes a shot which catches him in the crossfire.
One of the stray blasts manages to hit Miles in the shoulder dealing 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4 points of Fire damage from the laser pistol as it strikes. The gang members then proceed to fire on each other
Gang to the west
2nd Gang member Attack Roll against 5th: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
3rd Gang member Attack Roll against 6th: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Gang to the east
4th Gang member Attack Roll against 1st: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
5th Gang member attack roll against 2nd: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
6th Gang member attack roll against 3rd: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Another round of shots go off, one hitting Miles as he runs past, and the rest hitting either their target or missing due to the cover provided by the crates in the area.
Netharan opens fire towards the gang member closest to him as he himself also dives for cover in this sudden gunfight that has started in the docking bay, but unfortunately, the laser hits against one of the crates, missing his target.
Based on all of your posts, this is where I've got you all at the moment, let me know in your next post if that isn't where you wanted to be. Miles, feel free to make your opportunity attack and I'll sort that out first before everything else on the next round summary post - the gang members are going to be doing the same as before.
Winged by a stray bolt as he races by, Miles dives into cover behind the murderous gang member. Astonished that the idiot is so focused on shooting the rival gang that he ignores the threat in his back pocket, Miles takes the chance as the enemy drops his guard to stab with his starknife!
Starknife Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Starknife Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Being just about the height of the containers, Miles ducks his head a bit to be out of line of sight from the other trigger-happy gang members.
Atrios feels every bit the rank amateur with a gun (!). Maybe the moment has come to try something else. He looks at the scene before him and finally remembers the daydream that had been hovering at the edge of mind since this fight started. It wasn't exactly like this, but Atrios remembered what he did.
Was Atrios casting a spell? W-12 could do that too, but... that spell took several seconds to actually take effect. And without a clear leader or heavy-hitter to target, it was probably better to conserve their energy for healing, at the moment.
Not seeing a better position to move to, W-12 leveled their pistol at the same thug they'd fired on before and kept shooting.
Full Attacking against the same target.
Attack: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (17) - 2 = 15 Damage, if needed: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Attack: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (11) - 2 = 9 Damage, if needed: 1d4 ⇒ 3
I am assuming you want Miles’ regular turn this round as well.
Assuming the murderous gang member is still active, Miles continues attacking him as quickly as he can from behind (full attack).
Starknife Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 - 4 = 9
Starknife Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Starknife Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 - 4 = 15
Starknife Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
...and if he continues to shoot and ignores Miles, he strikes again with the Starknife!
Starknife AOO Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Starknife Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
While the shots were streaking back and forth, it did not seem like they were shooting at them, specifically. So far, there had been no taunts, threats, or otherwise to make them think that this was nothing more than a random occurrence that they had the misfortune to be in the area. That the others they had met were engaging with the ones exchanging fire was something that was somewhat confusing. Tetch saw no reason to act if they were not the target, as firefights were often the actions of someone else. They just ducked behind the crates, trying to make themselves as small a target as possible.
The query from the robot regarding their engaging with whoever was firing, received a negative gesture from the Shirren. "They do not seem to be attacking us, sp̵̙̼̙̩̞͚̽͐ecifically. I see no reason to p̵̙̼̙̩̞͚̽͐rompt them to do so."
Standard Action: Total Defense. EAC/KAC: 15/16(+Cover bonus?)
Netharan, not pleased with his aim, moves 15ft to his right to get a better shot at the gang member, staying behind the crates. He tries to gauge were his target will be and squeezes off another round from his tactical pistol.
Full Round Action: Trick Shot (Sense Motive, DC=20+Target CR) Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12
Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1
As the shot is fired by the gang member near Miles, he didn't pay any mind to the threat that approached behind him, unfortunately as Miles goes to stab him with his Starknife in retaliation, the thug moves just out of range to get a shot on his own target.
All of a sudden, the image of the insignia of Absalom Station appears near the centre of the room, along with a countdown and the words "Diffusion Protocol Engaged. Kill Team ETA 3 minutes and counting,"
The countdown begins to go down
Gang member 1: 1d20 ⇒ 3
Gang member 2: 1d20 ⇒ 3
Gang member 3: 1d20 ⇒ 18
Gang member 4: 1d20 ⇒ 7
Gang member 5: 1d20 ⇒ 4
Gang member 6: 1d20 ⇒ 9
Before the gang members can respond to this new situation, however, W-12 lets off two shots at the gang member he shot before. His first shot manages to hit its mark, and the gang member drops to the ground unconscious, another shot comes out from him that misses the gang member.
The attack misses, otherwise I would have let you change the target for the second attack.
After missing with his first strike, Miles makes another two swings with his star knife on the one that killed Kreel. The first attack isn't able to penetrate the thug's body armour, but the second attack hits the gang as it draws some blood. There is no doubt that he is now fully aware of the new threat.
The gang all notice the new stimuli and realise that it's only a matter of time before guards arrive, so they all start to flee, taking the Withdraw action to do so (this includes the one that Miles is in melee combat with). One of them, however, sees through the illusion, but noticing that he is left alone, slowly backs away as they all leave the docking area, leaving the docking bay free from fire, but the lingering smell of ozone that remains can still be smelt. There are a few casualties, and of course the dead body of Duraver Kreel laying in the middle of the docking bay.
That is your first encounter dealt with. I'm going to be using a mixture of exp and milestone-style levelling - so if your not at a certain level by a point I'll make a comment to say to level up to the next level when we get there, but for those that want to track experience, you will each gain 120 exp from this encounter. We are now also out of combat.
As the last gang member leaves, Station Security arrives after the fight has finished, too late to join. The Security personnel begin questioning witnesses but aren't starting with the five of you, you have a few minutes before they approach you to decide what you want to do.
If the thug that killed Kreel fades into the crowd with his withdrawal, Miles may not be able to do much about it, but he will still try (Perception roll maybe?). If he can still see the gang member, Miles will move forward and throw his starknife (keeping his last unused roll unless you want him to roll again). His intent is to take the thug down, then drag him back to the scene of his crime for punishment.
Netharan moves over to the unconscious gang member and begins looking over him for any signs of what gang he belongs to, so that we can at least know one group who was responsible for the attack.
What kind of check would this be?
Thank the Dreamers I got Distinction in Visual Arts at school. Atrios dismisses the hologram as soon as the last gang member runs off. As the image dissipates he resists the urge to imagine where each stray photon went.
As awful as it was to see that tall dwarf get cut down, it felt good to fight side by side with these new... friends? Friends.
As Miles starts looking and having a look around, one of the Security guards of the station calls out "Nobody leaves until we have dismissed you, we will have questions for all witnesses!"
By the time Miles might be able to see them, the Station Security have set up a perimeter and stopping people from leaving, but it looks like the gang member that murdered Kreel had already escaped.
Netharan - that would be a culture check
Slipping their laser back into its holster, W-12 ran closer to Kreel. They held out a hand toward the dwarf; nothing happened, and W-12's face darkened. A disappointing result, but if they'd expected better they'd have risked acting sooner.
Spinning around, the small robot raised a hand towards the thug they'd shot. A greenish white light filled their hand, and then a similar glow enveloped the thug's most recent wound. "That will keep him from dying," they called out to Netharan, "unless something else hurts him. I can't predict how soon he'll actually wake without healing him more, so I'd make sure to disarm him."
W-12 scanned the bystanders, keeping an eye out for anybody else who'd been hurt in the crossfire and repeating their spell if any of them were down. "Is anyone else hurt?"
It was surprising that the Stewards didn't take an immediate interest in their group, but it was probably for the best. As restrictive as Aballon could be at times, W-12 had heard that artifical lifeforms and intelligences weren't always treated fairly on other worlds. Of course, they were the only robot--there weren't even any androids in the group.
Oops, forgot to say what I'm actually doing.
W-12 attempts to cast stabilize on Kreel. I know OoC that he's dead for sure, so the spell fails outright. W-12 then casts stabilize on the dying gang member, and any bystanders that are dying.
Snarling in frustration as the killer escapes into the crowd, Miles makes his way back over to the others and Kreel’s body. Looking at the laser burn on his left arm, he responds to W-12’s query, ”Eh, I’ve taken worse shots. I’ll be fine with just a bit o’ rest.”
Looking down at the dead body, he continues, ”I almost had the one that did poor Kreel in here, but the killer escaped into the crowd just before the law showed up, so I couldn’t avenge the boss-man here. I wonder if that means the job is blown.”
It was at least a minute after the shooting ended that Tetch looked from around the cover that they had taken, bringing themselves up to standing and surveying the remnants of what had happened. Only then did they see the body in what was likely the crossfire, and the comments from the others clued them in to who that was. The exchange between Wiz and Miles confirmed it, their contact here had been crossed out. Void take it, this was going to be some dangerous work if they wanted to find out who did this.
Responding to Miles' thought, the Shirren looked from the body to those nearby."Only if they were working alone. Legitimate organizations often have documentation." Their attention going back to the body, they gave a negative headshake. "If this dwarf was shady, they were not that good at it." The sudden announcement of the Station Security made them sigh again, drooping— so much for leaving the scene of the incident, avoiding attention— and they looked around at the distance that the security would have to cover.
"Moment of truth, my friends", they were rubbing their hands together— a nervous habit they had. A glance was given to each of them, considering their attitudes. "We came to this station for a new chance. Are we going to p̵̙̼̙̩̞͚̽͐lay our dealt hand clean, or dirty?"
"The Starfinders will be notified that one of their own is lost" says Atrios."As for the hand we're dealt, we shall find out soon enough, no?"
Atrios is still coming down from a high. The hologram worked! He is so squeamish about violence, many of his nightmares are of visceral conflict. But this has been a way to stop the whole thing! Do... the others know that it was he who created the hologram? Wiz diefinitely noticed. Maybe that's for the best in case Atrios broke some kind of station regs or Pact Worlds Law. His own ability to tell the future is more fnatasy than not. But the waking dream-state is the path to prescience, he just knows it!
Netharan scans the thugs body, making sure to assess if he was armed. He pulls out a pair of binders and cuffs the thug, making note of anything giving away his affiliation. He jots down notes on his datapad in a new file, hoping that they will come in useful later.
Culture: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
Motioning to the others Netharan says, "Let's make sure we comply with station security and then report to the Starfinders and see if the job they hired us for is still available. I for one don't think playing this in an underhanded way would be smart for us. We are fresh off of the transport and definitely don't have all the details."