Outpost III - GM Alex's SFS 1-01 The Commencement (Inactive)

Game Master Terminalmancer

William looks at the hole then turns to his fellow morlamaw. "Is it just me or does that appear to be a bit of a squeeze?"

"Alas, My Good Bull, I have found many things among the Pact Worlds that are ill-made to accommodate such a healthy physique as ours!" Sir Feighnswelle replies.

@GM Terminalmancer - Do you want us taking moves/turns in rounds? Would you prefer that we post a sequence of planned moves? Or should we just describe generally what we are doing and where we are doing it?

Does Vreelin see anything in the hole with his low-light vision and darkvision 60 feet?

Also, do we need to be told about the discolored ceiling in character? That sounds promising, but Vreelin is currently looking down into a hole after grabbing the medkit, not up.

Osho stays with his partners. I will check the room for any magic. As we move about 30 feet. I cast detect magic again
Osho casts detect magic 60 ft range

A shiver goes down Osho's spine, he suspects the feather stalker is near. Just says softly out loud, I got a bad feeling about this. Remember the feather stalker probably resists electricity!

For the moment, we're in pseudo-rounds. You don't have a source of imminent danger, although you know it's around here somewhere! You can keep moving about--we'll say take another round's worth of actions, give or take.

It's easy enough to communicate that the ceiling's got something going on. You don't need to wait for a compatriot to post something explicitly pointing it out.

The hole seems to have been created by some calamity in the distant past--or at least, not a relatively recent past. Some corroded trench shoring keeps whatever is beyond the hole from getting into the warehouse, its corroded hydraulics and plates suggesting that Ziggy is going to have a heck of a time removing the once-temporary fix. The subfloor is standard for Absalom Station and unremarkable, save for the standard mysteries of the Station itself. The alloy is ridiculously strong and resists most attempts to cut through it, including whatever demolition created the hole in the first place.

You see signs of some sort of life here, in the chewed cabling and spots of blood, but you think the creature is somewhere further inside the warehouse.

Dr. Apati locates a mouldering crate--a real crate, of rare plywood, from Castrovel!--with some disused equipment in it. Most of it is junk, but one of the flares isn't past its expiration date yet.

With a bit of a heft, Sir Feighnswelle pulls his girth atop of the barrels, hoping that the vantage will give his tusks leverage on opening the barrels and give his eyes a clearer view.

Athletics to Climb: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Perception to look in barrel: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17

"I didn't know Castrovel had bloody plywood trees," Winston says, pocketing the flare.

Brivarius will careful edge up near Feighnswelle and observe the pile of rubble.

perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7

"I don't think it's over in the hole," Vreelin says into his comm unit. "I'll go check this storage area..."

Vreelin carefully moves around the hole until he gets a good view of the crate storage area to the west.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Osho remembers he has a light on his armor and turns it on. I move toward the hole in the floor and look all around the room, as far as his light will shine. He looks up at the ceiling.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Feighswelle finds a Hmmm: 1d4 ⇒ 3 junked flashlight--that still seems to have a functioning battery in it! It flickers on with a bump of a flipper.

Osho is alert... Vreelin looks up from the hole, and doesn't see anything... up until there's something. A horrible large mass of feathers unfurls itself from behind a crate up on top of a walkway, and begins "gliding" toward Vreelin!

Initiatives!
=======================
23: Vreelin
21: Brivarius
19: Osho
16: Dr. Apati
13: Feather Stalker
12: Sir Feighnswelle
10+?: Winston T. Walrus

Vreelin, Brivarius, Osho, Dr. Apati, you're up! Winston, I don't have an initiative mod from you.

Brivarius starts to glow with solar energy as they enter photon mode.

They aim their shell at the feather stalker and fire two little harpoons.
Ranged Attack vs EAC: 1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (9) + 5 - 4 = 10
Fire Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Electric Damage: 1 = 1

Ranged Attack vs EAC: 1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 5 - 4 = 11
Fire Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Electric Damage: 1 = 1

Taking out his Needle Rifle, he looks over at Brivarius and says, "Here is a dose to help with that shell of yours." He shoots the copaxi, using one of his Basic Boosters, to give them a +1 AC boost. He will also take a look over at their prey, trying to figure out more about it...

Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27

Vreelin, Brivarius, Osho, Dr. Apati, you're up! Winston, I don't have an initiative mod from you.

Winston is a +4, so 14 total, after Apati.

Brivarious fires wide, twice, their harpoons embedding themselves in crates as the feather stalker climbs over them.

Dr. Apati recognizes the feather stalker!

This is a N Large aberration. You can learn 3 things about it. What would you like to know?

Initiatives!
=======================
23: Vreelin
19: Osho
14: Winston T. Walrus
13: Feather Stalker
12: Sir Feighnswelle
21: Brivarius
16: Dr. Apati

Vreelin, Osho, Winston, you're up!

Vreelin, seeing the large feather mass begin to "glide" toward him, immediately screams and runs away.

"FOUND IT! Over here! Shoot it!" he yells, pointing with one of his three claw appendages as he quickly retreats toward the rest of the party.

Double move away

You sure did find it Vreelin! Osho takes cover and waits to see how close the creature gets. Holding my action.

Dark entropic energies crackle around Winston's taclash as he closes to within 10 feet of the bird and unleashes an entropic strike.

vs. EAC: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
acid damage: 1d3 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

extra crit damage: 1d3 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

No extra crit effect.

Winston barrels over to the feather stalker and lashes it quite effectively! Feathers drop straight to the ground, revealing that they are merely examples of convergent evolution, and not literal feathers at all...

The feather stalker lashes back at Winston...

Feather 'appendage' full attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Feather 'appendage' full attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Feather 'appendage' damage (bludgeoning): 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8
Feather 'appendage' damage (bludgeoning): 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

The feather thing bashes Winston over the head for 8 points of bludgeoning damage!

Initiatives!
=======================
12: Sir Feighnswelle
23: Vreelin
21: Brivarius
19: Osho
16: Dr. Apati
14: Winston T. Walrus (-8)
13: Feather Stalker (-12)

It is now everybody's turn.

Ossho takes cover near Winston. Let's take this thing out Winston!

Osho casts Cold Hazard I summon a minor hazard from an alternate reality, creating a blast of freezing air. Each creature in the area must succeed at a Reflex save (DC 14)or take 1d3 cold damage.

Brivarius continues to charge up photon mode.

They move a bit closer to feather stalker and fire a tiny harpoon.
Ranged Attack vs EAC: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Fire Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Electric Damage: 1 = 1

"Good show! It seems we have ourselves a row!" shouts Sir Feighnswelle as he scoots off of the barrels, drags himself across the torn floor plates, and flops atop a stack of crates.

Assuming the terrain described above is all difficult terrain, that is a double movement. Gained 1 EP.

The feather stalker tries to stay warm as a broken refrigerator unit materializes out of thin air! Reflex save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 It's doused with a blast of liquid refrigerant Cold damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3 that quickly vaporizes in the higher temperatures of the warehouse.

Just then, as a tiny harpoon strikes the center of mass of the creature.

The feather stalker is still in decent health...

Initiatives!
=======================
23: Vreelin
16: Dr. Apati
14: Winston T. Walrus (-8)
13: Feather Stalker (-18)
21: Brivarius
19: Osho
12: Sir Feighnswelle

Vreelin, the good Dr. Apati, and Winston T. Walrus, you're up!

"Don't worry, Winston! It's just a bruise! Feathers are light and airy and don't hurt a bit!" Vreelin shouts across the warehouse as he moves out from behind Sir Feighnswelle to try to get a better view of the creature.

Standard: Inspiring boost to Winston to heal 5 stamina. Move: move.

Winston gains 1 EP from each hit and is now up to 3.

Winston scoffs. "Is that the best you can do, foul fowl fiend?" He charges up his entropic strike as a move action, the crackling entropic energies also forming a shield on one flipper. He swings once with the taclash.

vs EAC: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
acid damage: 1d4 + 2d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + (3, 4) + 3 = 11

Winston burns 2 EP as a move action to give his next strike +2d4 until beginning of next turn. Also as part of that move action, he forms his shield, though it isn't aligned on anything yet. With 1 EP remaining, his AC is still boosted by 1 and thus is now 19 EAC / 20 KAC.

Not liking the hit that his patient took, Dr. Apati aims his gun and shoots Winston with a Basic Booster to AC, giving another +1 to AC. He would them move up some, in case he needed to get into melee.

"Now now, don't get hurt out there, take that creature down so I can see what is on with that creature."

Filaments fly, and fall to the ground in a fast-dispersing cloud. The feather stalker has less and less in common with its common name as the damage piles up, and the cuts and petty insults accumulate. The dignified morlamaw begins ripping apart the creature.

The feather stalker attempts to return the favor!
Full Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Full Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Feather Appendage: Bludgeoning Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

The vanguard avoids the worst of it, but takes 5 points of damage!

Initiatives!
=======================
13: Feather Stalker (-29)
23: Vreelin
21: Brivarius
19: Osho
16: Dr. Apati
14: Winston T. Walrus (-8) (Basic Booster: +1 AC)
12: Sir Feighnswelle

Everyone's up! The feather stalker is looking to be in very poor health...

With trepidation, Brivarius moves to get a better shot, hoping they can end it before they make themselves a target.

Pew pew mini-harpoon!
Ranged Attack vs EAC: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Fire Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4
Electric Damage: 1d1 ⇒ 1

Let's see how you like acid! Osho casts Acid Hazard I summon a minor hazard from an alternate reality, creating a splash of acid rain. Each creature in the area must succeed at a Reflex save (DC 14)or take 1d3 acid damage.

"Oh, bother." hrumphs Sir Feighnswelle as he scoots from crate to crate, drawing his pistol as he does. "I suppose we should just shoot the thing and be done with it."

Ranged azimuth laser pistol: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Damage (F): 1d4 ⇒ 3

Reflex save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Under a hail of fire and acid (and, yes, tiny harpoons), the recalcitrant crinoid goes limp! It falls to the ground with a sound that's not exactly a crash, but more of a floof--the sound you hear when you fluff a pillow, or pull your bedsheets up in the air and pull them down quickly after.

Several of its arms drop into the pit, and it slowly begins sliding, leaving a trail of greenish-bluish liquid on the floor.

After half a minute, perhaps forty-five seconds, your comms come to life. Starfinders, do you copy? What's the situation?

A minute later, Zigvigix limps into the warehouse. Your minds flare with telepathic speech.

"Oh! You're practically unscathed! That's so much better than the last group of initiates we sent in there!"

"Congratulations on a successful extermination! What did you do? Did you learn anything?"

"And there's still time to get in the line for Strawberry Machine Cake's new album! You guys are really incredible. "

Behind you, the feather stalker falls into the hole in the warehouse floor with a PLOP!

"Righto, old boy! We gave the foul fowl the old what-for," Winston says as he rolls up his taclash.

"Good job, everyone! We were faaantaastic!" Vreelin exclaims in a sing-songy voice. "Onto Strawberry Machine Cake!"

Well done. Now that you mentioned Strawberry Machine Cake, I would love some strawberry shortcake. I am always hungry after a battle.

"What did we learn? 'Never bring a feather to a gunfight.'" chimes Sir Feighnswelle. "Now, let us get some Cake!"

"The creature does not seem to be feather light despite it's appearance." Brivarius muses as they stare into the pit where it fell."But yes. Let us get this Strawberry Machine Cake album for Historia-7."

Ziggy gives you all one last triumphant high-five (or however many finger-like appendages shirren have) before they sit down and begin coordinating the carcass removal and emergency plate reconstruction crews. The AbSec squad surrounding the warehouse let you through the cordon, such as it remains--they pull the last of it down a few minutes after you pass through. In under 15 minutes the district is back to normal, with kids and gangsters and businesspeople all bustling about as if nothing had happened.

===========================

Your next dangerous stop on your perilous journey brings you to a Tune-Mart not far outside the Downlow district. The line stretches around the Absalom-standard retail block so perfectly, that when you get to the back of the line you can see the adverts for some obnoxious new tuneware through the transparent aluminum of the Tune-Mart.

"Tunebot 2000!" the advert screams. "Unparalleled musical technology in a retro shell!" Three sizes--well, models of those three sizes, you suspect--are on display. A lashunta teenager who gets in line behind you jokes to their friend, "Yeah, it's just a tune-pad and some speakers in a garbage can. They just let you pick the size of the garbage can. It doesn't even have an artificial personality! And they want five large for it. What a ripoff."

Your time in the line seems interminable. (much like this wall of text, perhaps - signed, The Management) You read the legalese on the Tune-Bot Registered Service Agreement three times before you even move out of sight of the window. Eventually, the line snakes all the way to the front door. Unfortunately, "eventually" means six standard Pact-hours.

Fortitude saves from everyone, please! Standing in line for so long can be fatiguing...

Eventually, you squeeze your way into the release event--which seems to just be a series of lines to buy some sort of archaic physical product. What was once a giant stack of Star Sugar Heartlove!!! memorabilia has declined significantly. In front of the rapidly declining stack is a bored-looking androgynous elf of similarly indeterminate age. In a surprisingly deep voice they ask, "Arright, it's 50 credits per. How many you want?"

Ziggy's request came complete with a credstick with 50 credits on it, but you have the opportunity to buy additional copies for friends and loved ones. And, perhaps, yourselves?

If you would like to buy an additional copy of this for yourself, please mention that in your next post!

Fort: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Brivarius leans against the wall. "I did not think that queuing could be so strenuous. The feather stalker was less exhausting." Brivarius murmurs half-sleep on their feet.

---

Brivarius will buy a copy for himself. "Can this be placed inside the TuneBot 2000 that is advertised outside?" they ask the clerk.

Stands there patiently, waiting in line as he watches those around him. He wanted to be with the new 'Hip and cool' of the younger generation and will purchase a copy.

Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

"Tuna-but 2000?!" chimes Sir Feighnswelle, "And shellfish?" Images of a heap of thousands of fresh, delicious tuna-halibut hybrids surrounded on a plate of clams swims before his eyes. However, he soon becomes disheartened when he learns the advertisement actually for some sort of non-aquatic noise emitter. The onset of hunger simply makes the long wait all the more unpleasant.

Fort save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

But, with a stiff, whiskered, upper lip, he soldiers on, bolstered by the promise of cake. Believing that the credits he forked over to be a bit pricey for a morsel, he is even more depressed to receive only a flat disk in return. "What devilry is this? This a plate, but there is nothing on it!"

Sir Feighnswelle purchases an album copy for himself.

Brivarius can handle combat, but the rigors of waiting in line? That's a lot. They are fatigued. Dr. Apati and Sir Feighnswelle withstand it better, and are unaffected.

The clerk lifts the top from a white corrugated box with a bright red ribbon on top. They show you a round plate of gleaming silver. "This collector's edition vintage media can be read by lasers!" they say, in an exaggerated tone. "But if you would like a more conventional copy..." they pull the plate out and set it down, revealing more "collector's edition" items below. "...the album is also stored in this limited-edition CAPTAIN*CARMINE figure!" A small plastic or resin figurine of a human woman in a black dress and red pirate's coat is nestled in a foam compartment.

"The album is compatible with most digital audio players--and yes, Tune-Bot 2000 as well!"

An android in a well-tailored suit moves toward your part of the table and hands Brivarus a sheet of paper. It looks like some sort of legal document. "We are no longer accepting preorders for the Tune-Bot 2000 at this time, but if you are a member of the class that purchased Tune-Bot 1500, your legal representation has received instructions for you to request a discount on the Tune-Bot 2000, or a free Tune-Bot 2000 if you or a family member suffered 2nd-degree or worse enzymatic burns over 20% or more of your body."

Three more party members have purchasing decisions to make!

Fort Save: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

"I'm certain this-" Winston checks his notes, "-'Strawberry Machine Cake' is the dog's b0llocks, but I'll only require the one for Ziggy."

Fort: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

"Oh, Strawberry Machine Cake! Of course I would love to purchase a special copy. I'm a bit of a singer myself..."

Invigorated by the prospect of getting a piece of music history, Vreelin melodically covers a SBMC song or two while in line.

Profession musician: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19

Osho's head sinks and says This is taking a long time. Who would have thought, 6 hours!

Fortitude save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

I do not have enough to buy myself a copy.

"Osho, I can... what is the word? Hmm... Ah, bankroll? I believe that is what the person outside called it. I can bankroll the album for you if you desire one." Brivarius offers.

GM approval required. It would come off your chronicle sheet credits in the end as PC can't buy gifts for others, but you'd be able to get it.

I am fine with this! You can decide what you'd like to do in your next post. In the meantime...

The party finishes claiming their collector's edition albums. Further down the line, one of the people working the table--an orange, balloon-like creature called a barathu--slowly bellows out "I'm almost OU-ut. PLEA-ase provide more AL-bums from the ba-ACK." Murmurs spread like wildfire through the room--and down the line. Outside of the Tune-Mart, someone yells, "They're almost out! We'd better get in and get some!"

A throng of panicking queuers, mostly in gothic lolita dresses, presses up against the transparent aluminum! AbSec keeps the situation under control, but you get jostled, hard, on your way out the door. Those gigantic electric kotos have some sharp edges--even the cosplay versions!

Reflex save, everyone!

Crush Damage, Reflex DC 11 negates: 1d4 ⇒ 2

Finish up any purchasing decisions and we'll wrap things up with Ziggy tomorrow. In the meantime, who would you like to talk to next?

Reflex Save: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (8) - 1 = 7

The doctor doesn't move very well around, and gets trampled by the rush of people. His want to sedate them all grows high, but the last time he did that, it was a long talking to by his lawyers....

But he has his music, and waits for everyone to get together for their next mission. He does make sure to see if anyone needs any special medical attention.

"Well, I never! I remember back on Anisellle when the cosplay community elevated safety above all else and acted with responsibility.". Air Feighnswelle hrrumphs as he attempts to dodge the spikes.

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

"Bother and thunderation," Winston mutters as the crowds press in on his blubberous form. A few shoppers edge away from him as crackles of energy flicker across on his rolled-up taclash.

Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Ref: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13

"...And someday all the world will sing our song, don't break it, don't break... Hey, everyone, would you... stop pushing!"

Vreelin barely avoids being trampled by excited crowds, sadly cutting his song short.