[SFS] GM Bigrin's Table 1 - Acts of Association (Inactive)

Game Master bigrin42

"Seems a bit far-fetched, though it'd make for a good story - maybe even a movie! I like the bribing idea, myself. Well, I don't, but I think it'll do better."

I'd prefer something less overtly illegal chimes in Buscador, Perhaps Tchisk or Ivan could get us into their reservation system, and we could add the Ambassador to tonight's list?

Malcimex slowly calms down after being insulted on her communicator, resisting the urge to smash it on the ground. "Yes, these servants at the restaurant are rude and not worth talking to. I suggest that we just update their computer records."

Catsial for the moment is disappointed by the fact that his plan didn't get enough traction. He takes out his datapad from the bag and starts running tools to scan the security measures used by the restaurant.

Computer, aid another: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Catsial will support whoever takes the lead on the hacking attempt.

Silver Streak sighs.

"The lesser evil I suppose."

She then checks the schedule and rearranges it to add our names.

computers: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

"And what do we do about the party we are replacing?"

"They will need to eat somewhere else obviously. Perhaps send them a message indicating that there was a bug in the booking software so they do not cause a scene."

With Catsial's help, Silver Streak is able to break through the firewall protecting the restaurant's schedule and place your names on the reservation list. He wasn't sure about what to do with the party he bumped - marked Glenlivit invocation ceremony - but decided it wasn't that big of a deal. It was just a restaurant, right?

The reservation was within the hour, and you manged to get there a few minutes early. Reflective walls and an understated sign mark the location of Perfexion, one of Absalom Station’s most exclusive restaurants. A small crowd of well-dressed hopefuls lingers near the door while a red-velvet cordon keeps them back from passing into the establishment’s entryway.

A pair of vesk doormen - bouncers at any lesser establishment - checked people off against a reservation list, turning away those hopefuls that were desperately waiting for a walk-in spot. One of them asked for your reservations in a polite tone of voice that said quite clearly that the politeness was only an act. Silver Streak mentioned that you had reservations under the name Wymdd Ambassador, and the vesk looked at his datapad.

"Of course. Right this way gentle-sophonts. We have you in the private dining area this evening."

A human male detached himself from a small cloud of black-clad hosts and hostesses and came to greet you, a brilliant smile on his face. he led you into the main dining area, through it, and to the private dining room. As you navigated your way through the tables, you could hear a high-pitched ysoki voice behind you proclaiming, "I had reservations, you dolt! I made them three months ago for my daughter's coming of age party. We've been practicing the public ritual for days. Are you saying you lost our reservations??!?!? What, should my precious daughter be forced to perform her Glenlivet in some public establishment like a mere merchant?..."

The main dining area was spectacular. Elegant, transparent furnishings and multicolored lights fill this luxurious space with an ethereal glow. At each table, a small group of socialites watches in awe as dexterous chefs prepare food in a show that is as much acrobatic as culinary. Liveried waitstaff move between the tables, bringing beverages and clearing plates. A floor-to-ceiling holographic aquarium fills one wall between a pair of staircases, and large windows provide a breathtaking view of Jatembe Park. The private dining area was more of the same, only with a smaller number of tables, none of which were occupied at the moment.

You were seated, and a white-coated chef visited your table. He was a thin lashunta, and he explained that he must perform a psychic reading on each of you to determine your ideal food preferences and experiences. He went on to say that the experience was guaranteed to look only for your food preferences and nothing else, and that the chefs of Perfexion are highly trained in its use.

Do you submit to the scan?

Tchisk inquires if their table could accommodate the ysoki's party. If so, he'll invite them to dine with the ambassador. He suggests that the ambassador might find some interest in the coming of age ceremony.

Having nothing to hide and wishing to set any of the ambassador's concerns to rest, Tchisk agrees to a scan.

Ivan leaves his horse again, preferably nearby in an area one would put a bike. "I can't believe that worked...so far."

He feels bad about the ysoki, and starts thinking of a way to slip them a credstick - not that they likely need it. He hopes that hasn't bled into his surface thoughts when asked about a psychic scan. "Fine, of course," he grumbles. "Only because I have no idea what to eat. But you'd better stick to grub preferences! Don't be taking any of my inventions."

Malcimex allows the scan.

Tchisk inquires if their table could accommodate the ysoki's party. If so, he'll invite them to dine with the ambassador. He suggests that the ambassador might find some interest in the coming of age ceremony.

Having nothing to hide and wishing to set any of the ambassador's concerns to rest, Tchisk agrees to a scan.

"I am afraid that would completely obviate the need for a private room and reservations to begin with. I do not think the manager would be amenable to that. Your reservation did indicate only seven beings, after all"

Once out of earshot she softly says "Perhaps performing the Glenlivet among the common people will do her some good. Money is a tool. It should not blind you to the lives of those who are not rich."

"Scan away. We look forward to the experience."

Please do, I am most curious to see what your chefs come up with.

Catsial walks with confidence in the restaurant feeling very well in such places. Hearing the Ysoki complaints about the lost reservation he is genuinely surprised saying:

"Such things should not take place. That is outrageous."

After that, he walks toward his seat and positions himself setting his cane next to his chair. As he is asked about psychic reading Catsial responds:

"I would prefer to answer a set of questions. I am not a great fan of psychic readings."

The chef frowned at Catsial's response, and Ambassador Nugblub seemed to as well, given its posture.

"Very well. I will submit to scans of purpose for eating. Delectable morsels have prepared we are waiting."

The chef bowed deeply to the ambassador, and to the rest of you, pointedly leaving Catsial out of it. The physic scans leave a little tingling sensation in your mind, but otherwise you are unaffected.

Within a few minutes, the chef has pulled several ingredients from the coolers built into the table, and with a junior chef at his side, began making the most scrumptious looking of meals. The plates were small, but delicately plated, and there were several courses, so that no one felt that they received less food than they were hoping for. Even Catsial's dishes were good, as beautiful as the rest, but he did not get the ecstasy of flavors that the others seemed to be enjoying.

The ambassador ate with relish, obviously enjoying its choice of dining place. There must have been a gap behind the mask, or perhaps its mouth was on the underside of its head, as it forked the food up behind the mask with ease for consumption.

It was in the middle of the ambassador's main course - a plate with butter-poached crustacean of some sort, thinly sliced and lightly fried root vegetable, and curlicues of some green vegetable in a light broth - that it happened. The ambassador began coughing gently.

"Ah, yes, this food is rather spicy, is it not?" Malcimex continues eating happily.

Catsial looks smiling at the cook's reaction saying quietly:

"I think our cook is a bit touchy. The peculiar reaction, given the number of aliens and different cultures that dine here."

However, he does not allow to ruin the evening and quickly he turns to talking and eating, splitting the meal into small pieces and eating it with his right hands. His left-hand serve only lifting a bit a piece of clothing covering his mouth while his right hands bring the pieces of food.

Seeing that Ambassador began coughing, asks:

"Ambassador are you alright? Do you need some water? Or maybe a medic?"

Buscador greatly enjoys the meal, absorbing each new dish and expressing telepathic sighs of delight.

At the sign of the ambassador's distress, he comes back to himself.

Medicine: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

@Buscador - you didn't list a shirt in your boons, but if you have one then yes. You don't have to be wearing the shirt, but please be wearing A shirt!

Buscador alerted everyone to the cause of the ambassador's distress, and the envoy immediately stopped eating, pushing its plate back.

The chef glanced suspiciously at the scene, for some reason taking offense at the meal's interruption.

"What is this? Some kind of trick? Your scan said you had no allergies! Are you trying to get out of paying? Someone get the manager and the bouncers!"

Catsial looks at the chef, and his sympathy and understanding melt away with every second.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

After a surge of anger, Catsial stands and walks towards the cook

"Calm down! We are not here to cause scenes, and we are not faking anything. Ambassador is having an allergic reaction so call for the manager and a medic! On your toes."

Dimplomacy, trying to speak to his senses: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

Read the spoiler, as I might not have passed all of the information accurately.

Thanks - I always forget about them until they are needed. Happily for all involved, I am wearing a shirt...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 The dice are against me!

There is nothing fake about that swelling, adds Buscador gesturing wildly with his tentacles.

Was I able to learn anything from the Detect Affliction

Silver Streak gives a cold look to the chef.

"An assassination attempt against the ambassador or a mere allergy you missed? For your sake it better be the latter."

Poogle glares in an intimidating manner: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Then she coughs as the glare dislodges something in her cheek pouch.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

"It'll save these chumps more face to fix a problem than doing this," Ivan mutters darkly. "Making everyone think we're faking." But he stops paying attention from there, instead doing his best to tend to the ambassador. Hopefully someone more skilled will arrive to take over.

Medicine to help: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Malcimex starts flicking her wings in agitation. "You have made a mistake to accuse the ambassador of faking it. We are no peasants who need to cheat to afford food. I believe you owe Ambassador Nugblub an apology, but worry not, stop these charades and if Ambassador Nugblub is not injured, we will be able to work out a peaceful resolution."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

"If payment is all you care about..." Tchisk offers his credstick. "Now we need to see to the ambassador."

@Buscador - you are certain it is merely an allergic reaction

Someone had apparently called Station Security over the chef's yelling, and the restaurant manager arrived with two StatSec members in tow, along with one of the vesk bouncers. Seeing the chef's accusing you of trying to stiff the restaurant of the bill, the StatSec members tried to arrest you, but the manager held up a hand.

"Ferrol, why do you make such a fuss? Is there not a better way to handle things? Ambassador, please excuse my chef here. He is known for...overstating things. Tell me, what happened here?"

The chef, Ferrol, said, "This one had no allergies. I scanned him thoroughly. Then, halfway through the meal, he began coughing and this other one, who refused to be scanned started saying it was allergies. It is just like that time last month when those two humans tried to get out of paying their bill by faking allergies. The scan would have shown if they were allergic!"

"Not if the ambassador here did not know of a particular allergen, Ferrol. Tell me, what seasonings did you use in the butter-poached kiz-lice?"

As the chef began going over the recipe, the manager held up a hand. "Never mind. I assume, ambassador, that you have never before been exposed to some of these ingredients? Of course not. We have never served one of your race here before, and thus likely our hypo-allergenic ingredients list is not tailored to one of your kind. Please, accept my apologies for our mistake, and the meal of course is on us. Ferrol, please apologize to the ambassador and his escort, then kindly retire yourself to my offices where I will join you shortly."

Ivan's ministrations helped stop further reactions, but Ambassador Nubglub still showed signs of swelling, as evidenced through its raspy voice. "Sometimes trying things of unknown can result in bad expectations. Not diamond-hard feelings here. Simply reprimand the accuser, that future events may not unfold. Think I that all four true stomachs are in no more mood for cravings."

The manager bowed his head and replied, "Not to worry. No matter how talented the chef, there is no excuse for actions such as these. Ferrol will not be working here longer than it takes for me to join him in my office. Thank you for your understanding, and your indulgence. If you would ever care to sample our cuisine again, we welcome you to return. And, if you like, we can arrange a full allergenic screening from the smallest of tissue samples, that this may not happen again."

After another round of apologies, the manager takes his leave, freeing you to finish your food if you like, or simply leave yourselves.

Congratulations on navigating an admittedly confusing scenario.

Wearily, the ambassador slumped on its chair. "I had hoped souvenirs to take home for the little ones, but swim-tired I am. Is there some place within short swimming range that purchases can be made? Some place with variety, but not too crowded?"

I'm glad it was nothing more serious, sir. Though it is a shame that our meal was cut short they think to themselves.

Buscador tries to recall a good nearby shopping district.
Culture: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
I believe I know of a place which will meet your needs.

"Yes, let us forget this whole business of food."

Malcimex looks towards Buscador. "Buscador, I assume you also know the way?" Malcimex will readily follow.

"Bunch'a louts," Ivan shakes his head upon leaving. "Only concerned about covering the appearance of the mistake. Well, I can't hit allergies with my hammer, but let's stay on guard." He manages to vault back onto his horse on the way to a tourist trap.

Tchisk follows the others for some shopping. "Ambassador, what sorts of items are you interested in purchasing? Perhaps we can make some suggestions. For instance, if you're interested in music, I can suggest Strawberry Machincake."

The open mall that Buscador suggested was taken as a good place to go, and you all walked, as it was not too far. Along the way Tchisk and the others tied to suss out what types of gifts the ambassador was interested in obtaining. It turns out that the ambassador was interested in obtaining a lot!.

After an hour of merciless haggling and selection, you are all laden down with large bags and boxes. Ivan was even walking, as he had his horse doing pack work, carrying three large bags bulging with foodstuffs, electronics, and even a swimming robot - the ambassador said it was so kitschy it just had to be taken home.

You were walking beside some shops and an open waterway when Malcimex spotted something glinting on an upper walkway. It was long and looked like..."Sniper!" he called, just as Tchisk felt a sting in his neck. The ysoki pulled out a dart and felt woozy even as he noticed the blue liquid seeping out of the injection tip.

Then, down the next path leading to a parking area, a dark-clothed ysoki stepped around the corner and lobbed a grenade at your feet. It exploded with a fine white mist that confused the senses.

Malcimex may act in the surprise round. You all currently have your hands full of packages.

Fort: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11 Using Dream Whispers to add +2

Seeing the dart hit Tchisk, Buscador remember what Whisperer of Solar Winds last told them. They quickly harden their skin moments before the grenade hits allowing them to avoid the worst of it.

They hit me right in my best save.

v Poison Fort: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
v Staggered Fort: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Tchisk's upraised hood prevents the dart from injecting most of its insidious poison into Tchisk, but, as he gets it out from the cloth, the explosion and ensuing mist confounds him.

A question about logistics. Dropping gifts is a swift action, and how about putting them to the ground? Still swift? Are we all within the line of sight of the sniper? Hard to say if things between us and him can obstruct the shot.

Fort vs Staggered: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

Malcimex coughs as the grenade blasts smoke into her face. "I am the blade of Damoritosh! You have attacked the wrong foes!"

Malcimex looks to the South and sees one of the ambushers. I will make an example of you. Mind Thrust on White

Mind Thrust damage, DC 15 will for half: 2d10 ⇒ (3, 9) = 12

A question about logistics. Dropping gifts is a swift action, and how about putting them to the ground? Still swift? Are we all within the line of sight of the sniper? Hard to say if things between us and him can obstruct the shot.

Setting things down gently is a move action. And yes, definitely in sight of the sniper

The ysoki with white patches on his face shook his head violently as Malcimex's spell brushed him, but he resisted the worst of the effects. The ysoki moved in, each carrying a whip-like weapon that seemed to buzz with energy. They didn't say anything, but they definitely coordinated their attacks, with several in front trying to take down Tchisk and Buscador, while another attacked from behind. Tchisk was hit, and the taclash the enemy used against him yanked his feet out from under him.

Softly Silver Streak says "Stay down ambassador."

Keeping a tight hold of the packages he mentally sends 3 force missiles at the sniper.

force dmg: 3d4 + 4 ⇒ (4, 4, 1) + 4 = 13

Ivan lets loose with a rush of Dwarven that could melt the skin off a rock. He starts putting gifts on the cleaner patches of ground, as gently as he can.

I put a rudimentary Roll-4 on the map. Taking two move actions to put down both my boxes and the Roll-4's.

Hit by a sniper, exploded by a grenade, and tripped, all before he can act. What did Tchisk do to those ysoki?

Catsial quickly sets the bags on the ground after he is done he reaches for the map cover that he carries on his back. Instead of putting it down he wields the round object in his hands.

Catsial is wielding diasporan rifle still hidden behind glamered fusion.

Looks like the ambusher positions haven't been updated on the map since no one is in reach of Tchisk & Buscador.

I'll get the sniper! projects Buscador before taking off in that direction. They launch a rock at one of the ambushers, as they go.

Telekinetic Projectile vs Blue: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Flying up to the level of the sniper, away from the ground folks.
They will keep their package. And toughen their outer skin this round (swift action AC +1). Can use again in 1d4 ⇒ 3 rounds

@Tchisk - as a fellow ysoki they know how dangerous you can be :)

A squeal of pain is the response to Silver Streak's magic missile attack, as the sniper rolled over to try and get behind cover. It was no use, though, and the missile struck home as they normally did. A rock skittered off the rooftop and slammed into the sniper even as she tried to bring her rifle back on target. Malcimex continued to focus on White Patch, burning his mind away with each casting of her spell. Ivan, Roll-4, and Catsial all set down their packages in preparation for combat.

It was just what the ysoki were waiting for. The white face one moved up and with a snap of his taclash, he put Malcimex on the floor. Small forms rushed in, grabbing at parcel handles and retreating as fast as scurrying legs could take them.

Silver Streak felt the brush of passing air as the sniper fired at him, narrowly missing.

Yellow has a package, as does blue. No AoOs due to either successful acrobatics checks or the staggered condition.

Malcimex stands.

Ivan vaults into the saddle with surprising skill, then rushes a fleeing ysoki, swinging his hammer. "Come back here with that!"

Assault Hammer vs. Yellow: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Catsial lifts his sniper rifle and takes an aim at the opponent sniper.

"How far is he?" thinks kasatha, quickly assessing the distance. He opens the sight and takes an aim. He breathes slowly setting the distance to around 72 ft. Catsial verifies the wind by checking how much Buscador is flapping on the wind.

After a few seconds, everything is set, he pulls the trigger and the laser shoot travels through the air ...

Shooting vs EAC: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

It passes Buscador in the air and hits the wall next to the sniper.

Move action: aim the sniper rifle
Standard action: take a shot at extended range

"Buscador help retrieve the packages, I'll focus on the sniper."

Following word with deed Silver Streak sends more missiles at the sniper.

magical force damage: 3d4 + 4 ⇒ (4, 3, 1) + 4 = 12

Edit...

Will do! They change direction and launch a rock at one of the fleeing ysoki.

Telekinetic Projectile vs Blue: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16 Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Without bothering to stand, Tchisk casts Grease (DC 16) underneath white and blue.

Both of the ratfolk affected by the grease spell managed to keep their footing, though they were slowed in their retreat. One clutched his head, where Buscador's rock had collided with his temple. The one by Ivan ducked the dwarf's initial swing and continued running, clutching the precious package to his chest. The sniper ignored Catsial's shot, jacked another syringe into her rifle, spinning to sight in at Buscador. Even as she did, Silver Streak's magic blasted into her, killing her instantly.

Ivan gets an AOO on the fleeing yellow ysoki.