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

Game Master Terminalmancer

I am good at talking to people so I can talk to the unscrupulous coroner. I do not have much credits so maybe we can find out what the coroner is unscrupulous. I will do some digging in the news if anything about the coroner. Once I find some news I would like to go find the coroner and talk to them.

What roll do I use? I was thinking computers or culture.

I can help get a body from the coroner and/or after help with getting her alias and background with Bluff. What would I roll for finding information about the coroner? Maybe blackmail this person. Do I just go and talk to the coroner?

"Hmmmm," Sir Feighnswelle ponders aloud. "Were there not some fairly fresh corpses as the result of that feather-stalker lying around? Since we vanquished the creature, perhaps we could convince a coroner to allow us to assume possession of one of them--for the further protection of the community of course!"

He heads to the morgue to try and obtain a suitable body--one that is suitably maimed as to be hardly recognizable.

Bluff: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

He moves in to look at the computer, sighs as he cracks his fingers on both sets of arms, and goes to work, taking his time, on making her death certificate...

Computers Take 10: 10 + 10 = 20

Unless you want me to roll...

Ceren bustles around the house for a few minutes. Brivarius puts in some calls. "Editing video? Well, I did promise myself I'd stop working for real when I retired..."

Before she leaves, Vreelin providers Grandma C with a disguise. It sort of fits. She wasn't very patient during the fitting.

Feighnswelle stops the coroner. "What do you mean, the body could still be dangerous? It could have infected the body with larvae?? No, we're not prepared for containment protocols! Please, take it!" The morlamaw has procured a body.

Dr. Apati starts breaking into the coroner's network; it turns out they don't protect the dead bodies very well.

Osho, on the other hand, goes looking for an unscrupulous coroner. It's not hard to find a promising lead: he easily finds an overworked one. A young woman in an "ASCO" uniform hustles through the hallway, pushing two gurneys with white shapes draped over them. [b]"Wait, you have another body for me? Don't tell me--it's a barathu that died of incontinence! No, wait, it's an elf who died of an ear infection! Ugh, this week has been one of the nine hells for sure. So what did this one die of?"

Osho, you think you've found someone who probably won't be paying much attention and doesn't have much energy left. Want to make that Bluff check?

Hello, I was sent here by my superiors at ASCO to help you out. You look like you have had a rough day. I can help you process one of those bodies, which one do you want me to help you with?

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

The woman shoves one of the gurneys into a room with porcelain-white walls. "I don't know, take the new one I guess!" she says, and huffs. "Won't SOMEBODY take the initiative around here?"

Osho, you can now "process" the body.

After several hours of work, you're fairly satisfied with yourselves. The documentation supporting Ceren's death aren't bulletproof, but they're everywhere. The sheer volume should make it convincing. Besides, the coroners' own system checked her corpse in!

After a bit of a hike, you meet up with Ceren at the coordinates she provided. The old woman gazes into the waters of Warriors Brook in Jatembe Park from a small and presumably unnamed bridge in an isolated corner of the park.

She spots you and gestures briefly, but makes no move to leave the bridge. She seems a little wistful. As you approach, someone else does, too--three human men in mismatched armors lacking regalia or insignia approach from the other side of the bridge. They have what look like brand-new pulsecaster pistols in their hands. "Yo, you Ciren?" one of them asks. "You're worth a lot of money to someone right now. Why'ncha come with us?"

Are you really going to let your elderly intrusion specialist get taken like this, Starfinders?

Winston interjects his bulk between the men and Ciren. "Hullo! How can we assist you gentlemen?" Entropic energies begin to crackle across his coiled taclash.

"I say, you Scallywhompers," begins Sir Feighnswelle as he follows his fellow morlamaw's lead and approaches the thugs. He begins rolling up his sleeves (?), "Your vision appears to be failing you, perhaps due to your eyes being ill-placed upon your face. I suggest that you quickly take them elsewhere unless you'd prefer that my compatriots here and I do the rearrangement for you."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 6 + (6) = 23

Vreelin tries to be intimidating behind Sir Feighnswelle. "That's right. You'd better back off if you know what's good for you. We were just talking about all about the types of unsanitary things these two do," Vreelin gestures to the morlamaws "in the water. You don't want that to be you."

Intimidate assist attempt: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

sense motive: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0
There are absolutely no motives here.

Brivarious will move closer with the rest of the party and hover protectively near Ceren.

I prepare the body.

I come up behind Grandma C and say What business do you have with our friend Ms. Ciren?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (2) + 0 = 2

I have no idea what they are doing, probably nothing good.

This women is of extreme importance to us and she is urgently needed reading stories to orphaned morlamaw's, home world Arniselle.

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Ciren turns and says "Jubair! You--oh." She begins backing away.

The closest of the thugs, wearing a set of obviously mismatched chest plates (the left plate reads "ARCORP / RITY") stammers. "Th-that's okay. We didn't get paid enough for this job anyway." His compatriot behind him, a younger man who hasn't shaved recently, says "Boss! This wasn't the idea! C'mon! We can handle some morlamaws! And a copaxi! And a--I don't know what that is!"

You only catch half of the glare as the boss backs away. Ciren futilely stamps her foot. "Good! Get out of here!" She turns to all of you. "It's nice to have some muscle to back me up. I've missed it."

In the distance, you might catch:
"Didn't you learn anything in primary school? Those aren't morlamaws, those're humanoid walruses. They got some sort of other name. You shouldn't get your Golarion wildlife mixed up like that. And that coral thing is a quorlu."

Ceren says, "I checked up on you all. Seems I'm really dead!" She cackles with glee. "I haven't felt this alive in--I don't know how long. I'm gonna go collect my grandson and my tomato plants. I've got to get ready for work next week! Ta!"

Ceren slowly ambles off. After a few minutes, you all receive a ping on your comms. It's Historia-7.

"I've been informed that Ceren feels confident enough in your work to return to public life effective immediately, Starfinders. I have also received the data she retrieved from Bluerise."

"That is the kind of acceptable work product we expect from our agents. Continue operating at this level and you will find your yearly evaluations less stressful."

A crate-shaped courier robot with six wheels and a little flag to indicate its position (to prevent being stepped on by members of larger races, you believe) drives up to you shortly after, and beeps. Inside you find a credstick with 200 credits and a frostbite-class zero rifle with a note.

"I found some of my old gear from my high school days. I'd like your Starfinders to have it! - Grandma C"

Nice work! You've finished up the Dataphiles mission.

Next up: you can go and visit the Acquisitives, or you can visit the Wayfinders. Here's the slide with the relevant information.

What's your vote for next mission, Starfinders?

Vreelin gives a quorlu smile, which might be hard to decipher for people unfamiliar with the race. "Great job everyone! And I didn't mean anything by the unsanitary comment, Triune knows my species gets its share of comments due to our somewhat unique physiology. I was just trying to help scare them off!"

"Where to now? Fitch is first alphabetically!"

"Let's go visit Fitch, then." Winston's stomach rumbles. "And I could stand a spot of tea and some biscuits as well."

Good enough for me!

You head to the Arms to borrow the Society's shuttle to meet with Fitch.

The station’s Armada can be seen from the shuttle’s view screen as it takes off, gleaming figures standing out against the emptiness of space. The Master of Stars immediately stands out from the rest, as layers and layers of scaffolding obscure its hull. Tiny lights flicker among the metal beams as distant figures weld plates and heat shields to the ship’s exterior. The shuttle smoothly glides closer until it reaches the starship’s docking bay, slipping through the magic field that keeps the hold pressurized with breathable atmosphere. As the shuttle doors open, a small drone flies in and pops up a holoscreen, displaying a harried-looking ratfolk.

“Finally, fresh meat!” the ysoki exclaims over the screen, sounding pleased. “Name’s Fitch!"

"All right, pleasantries over—time to get to work. I had some trouble earlier with the lights flickering on the ship, and now both the lights and computers have suddenly gone out on E-Deck. No idea what’s causing it, but you work this job long enough and—”

Fitch’s attention flicks to something offscreen, and she shouts “Kirkath! The welding torch is not a toy! You wanna go in the toddler’s pen with the other kids?”

She snorts dismissively before continuing, “Sorry, some of these little ones would cut off their own heads if I let them. Anyway, it could be some lunkhead screwed up the wiring, but that’s a pretty big system failure for a simple electrical short. I’d prefer to send in some people with combat training to scout it out, just in case someone or something is sabotaging the ship. If it’s nothing, great, get the power back on if you can. If there’s something suspicious, use your comm units to report in to me. I’ll give you the access codes, so—"

"Selicha! If you touch that panel I will STAPLE YOU TO THE HULL!”

The screen on the drone cuts out, then flashes to display the ship’s schematics and the passwords for the computers on E-Deck.

You might remember something about the Master of Stars:

The elevator opens to E-Deck, not that you can really tell without darkvision or infrared sensors--it's pitch-black here. In a moment it becomes clear that it's not just the lights--it's dead silent here, the quietest you've ever heard a starship. The computers are offline, and the power doors are out, too. The ventilation isn't working. Does the blackout mean the toilets don't flush? It smells like that makes the toilets not flush...

You think the first order of business would be patching the power delivery systems to bring the power back online, however briefly. That would make the rest of your job easier.

Computers or Engineering to reroute power from D deck

Brivarius cocks their head. "Is that... usual for the Pact Worlds? I am not sure if I have ever seen someone so... animated."

"I do not know anything about electricity, but I have my solar flare. If we are attacked, hopefully it is not as scary as the feather stalker." Brivarius will start heading off in what they think is the direction of the E-Deck with their mote hover between their horns.

When they arrive at a dark section of the ship, they will activate their solar flare causing them to glow. Brivarius will be shredding dim light in a 20-foot radius.

Brivarius waits patiently for someone with more of a clue than them to figure out this power thing.

Culture: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

He looks around the ship, marveling at the beauty of it, "Such a nice ship... Now, about the electricity..."

Engineering take 10: 10 + 10 = 20

He takes his time working out the wiring, being careful to not accidentally destroy such a wonderful ship....

If you want me to roll, here it is

Dr. Apati works quickly in the light provided by his bioluminescent coral ally. The Doctor bridges the D and E decks' networks with a makeshift switch, and when he's sure (enough) of his work, he completes the circuit.

One by one, the lights come back on, illuminating several impressively long walkways. Some nearby maintenance terminals spark to life; two of them display

| UNSTABLE VOLTAGE
| The system has detected unstable or fluctuating voltage.
| (Error Code 0x1C)

but the third, a clearly older terminal, seems fully functional. You see a number of tiny rectangles appear on screen--most are black, but a few are showing images. Is this a security terminal?

Your comm units light up with activity.

"This is D Deck. We just experienced some massive power fluctuations. Are we seeing any anomalies in the grid?"

Fitch's voice replies, "I just sent a crew to E-deck. Let's see... yeah, it looks like the E-deck crew just rerouted power from D-deck. Good idea E-deck, but let's make this quick! D-deck, operate as best you can with your reduced capacity. Let's take this opportunity to inspect our failover protocols. Better now than during an operation!"

When you check out the security terminal, many of the cameras are still down, but a few of the old black-and-white models are still functioning intermittently. You don't see any damaged wiring. You do see one sign of life, however--two small children (somewhere between 5 and 7?) lurking in an otherwise empty storage room.

Once you make your way to the room marked on your map of the MoS, the door easily opens for you.

Scattered barrels and boxes line the lowered floor of this storage chamber. A thick bulkhead to the port side leads farther onto the deck, while a similar bulkhead to the aft (which you have just entered from) connects to an arterial hallway that runs the length of the deck.

Two children are hiding behind crates in a back corner, but they didn't make their Stealth checks. In Common, you hear them whispering loudly back and forth.

"Do you think they see us?"

"No! We're hiding! Shhhh!"

"But what about--"

"Shut up, Lan!"

Winston harrumphs. "Not even time for a spot of tea. Ah, well. Let's get on with the screaming and dying." He pokes at the power system with a flipper, but lacking any related skill, he's at a loss.

Concluding the two children are most likely human, Sir Feighnswelle turns to Osho. "They would seem to be a pair of your kind. Any ideas on how to proceed?" asks the morlamaw. "An offering of raw fish? Distract them with a ball to juggle on their noses, perhaps?"

"Hello, children. You are very good at hiding. We wouldn't have seen you if we weren't so perceptive. We should probably get you to an inhabited part of the ship. But what are you doing here? You wouldn't happen to know what caused the power outage would you?"

Diplomacy is needed: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"That's right, kids. You can trust us. Fitch sent us to make sure you were okay. You can come out now!"

Diplomacy assist: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Hmm I wonder if I know this ship.

Culture : 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
I do not recall any ship named Masters of Stars.

Now children I appreciate your hiding skills but this is no place to play. Come on out. We are friends with the Fitch and Starfinder agents. Do you know why the lights went off?

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

A small boy squirts out from between two barrels.

"Come on out! It's okay! These are good people!"

A girl says, "Lan, don't--no, that could be dangerous!" In a moment she also emerges.

"Okay, so you got us. We'll never tell! You didn't break me!" she says.

The younger boy says, "Be careful when you open the door! We made a trap to protect our friend!"

His sister says, "Shhh! We don't have any friends here! And we don't... we don't know nothing about the lights!"

We are friendly. Thank you children for your help. What kind of trap did you make?

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

The girl says, "Nothing!" while her brother says, "Si changed the degrees on the fire thingy!"

Si scowls at Lan.

Osho, on the other hand, checks out the door. It sounds like the trap shouldn't be tied to the door but rather to the room--and cracking the door a bit and looking inside, he does see that someone has tampered with the fire suppression system.

It appears that someone cranked up the AC inside the chamber back here, and turned the triggering temperature for the fire suppressant down to just under typical human surface temperatures. Whoever walks in the room would almost certainly set it off.

It's a crude trap and it shouldn't hurt anyone, but you'd have to spend a few hours scrubbing off your armor or suit, and you might need to replace any clothing the fire retardant hit.

It looks like someone might be able to disable it from here, if only they had some Engineering skill...

"Anybody know how to fix that? I... don't," Vreelin says, giving a quorlu shrug.

Moving up towards the area of the children's trap and sighs before patting them on the head with his large arms while his small arms begin to work...

Engineering: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

And gets the trap taken down before anyone is angry at them. He then gives them both a hug and says, "Now, don't go and get into anymore trouble you here? I would hate to see you in my hospital all right?"

Dr. Apati resets the thermal settings in the room, and it's safe to re-enter!

Beyond the doors, you see an area consisting of two adjoining chambers. Four large containment capsules fill the fore room, three of which hold stasis-locked objects, including a tablet, a strange curved sword, and an odd spiral of bioluminescent coral. A crack leaks fluid from the fourth capsule, which displays a foot-wide breach near the bottom. The aft room contains several desks, each hosting a deactivated computer terminal and a number of knick-knacks--you see toolkits and drinks. A half-disassembled comm unit is on one of the desks underneath a Pathfinder Society recruitment poster. Another desk has most of a flight drone. In a corner are lengths of conduit.

Lan peeks his head around the corner. "Hey! That's my new alien buddy in there!"

Osho looks into the room. I only see the things described.

Culture : 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Si yells at Lan from inside the front room. "I told you not to talk about him! Especially after it started eating wires!"

Si looks at the walrii. "WHAT? We put them back!!"

Culture: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

One of the walrii shrugs.

"So, what does this 'new alien buddy' of yours look like, Young Pup?" Sir Feighnswelle asks of Lan.

Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10

"I am not sure you can just put cables back. Where is this new alien friend of yours? I would be interested in making their acquaintance." Brivarius asks as they step into the room to look around.

Lan says, "It keep changes what it looks like! I don't know where it is now!"

Now that you know for sure there's an alien in here, you can make a Survival check to track the thing, in addition to the other checks up above.

Si yells from the other room, "Shut up, Lan! And our dad's an engineer! I tied the cables in knots and everything! I even used fancy spacefarer knots just like they showed me in Star Scouts! Even better than Dad's knots!"

Vreelin doesn't know very much about tracking creatures.

Survival: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

He does know a little bit more about looking around.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Turns out he doesn't know much about any of that.

"Well this is a little embarrassing, but I don't know what they're talking about or where it is!"

Sounds like we need to look for this alien before it chews up any more cables.

I say to Si Good job on tying up those cables.

Survival: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12

Can I also use detect magic?

Survival: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2

"Well, I am bleached," Brivarius says as they flounder like a fish out of water.

Winston tries his hand- er, flipper, at Survival.

Survival: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

Survival: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3

"Perhaps, this 'new alien buddy' is all in mind." postulates Sir Feighnswelle.

Osho and Winston each try following the tracks and lose the trail, but they end up staring at each other. Simultaneously, they look at the wall, where the poster hangs...

The weird man with the muttonchops on the poster blinks, slowly, at each of them and opens his mouth in a weird little wordless scream! the poster grows weird little spatula legs and scuttles up into a vent before anyone can react!

Lan and Si rush into the room. "He woke up!" yells Lan.

You hear some rattling in the room that you all just vacated. Returning to that room, you might look around a bit...

...and realize that the HVAC system is spewing freezing water all over the room! The floor is ice!

DC 12 Acrobatics to make your way across the sheet of ice on the floor, unless you've got something else going on that helps! If you can make it across the ice, you can start inspecting the room.

"Oh she learned how to use the thermostat!" says Si. "That's so cool! And... cold."

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1

A "walrus" that can't slide across ice?!

Sir Feighnswelle starts to head through the door, but instead aggravates an old injury. "Ah, to be young again," he laments.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10

Brivarius gives Feighnswelle a perplexed look as they walk across the ice. Stopping at the vent, they peer inside. "I do not see the creature in the vents. Perhaps it is elsewhere?"

Interesting creature, it has some intelligence.

Osho heads into the room with ice on the floor.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (11) + 0 = 11

I slip on the ice.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

Winston effects a near perfect basic forward spiral (the Eoxian judge gave him a 5.8) across the ice.

Perception: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Unfortunately, he is so enamored with his skating that he misses everything of notice in the room.

Walruses wheel and spin on the ice--graceful and majestic (until Sir Feighnswelle careens into a desk chair, anyway). The rest of the party is somewhat less thematic, but still functional.

Eventually, you all find your footing and can investigate anew!

Try, try again?

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (8) + 0 = 8

After careening into a chair, the walrish creature smacks his head on a desk.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (4) + 0 = 4

Then, another piece of furniture.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (12) + 0 = 12

Before sliding pretty close to where he had intended.

Culture: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Spying a nearby object, Sir Feighnswelle notes, "A block of birdseed. Interesting what these Starfinders keep lying aro--" The pinniped pauses as he makes a revelation. "Why, I bet that that is the strange creature!" He cries, pointing a flipper towards the false feed.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Winston nails the rare quadruple lutz.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Winston realizes he accidentally used only 40% of his perceptive powers last time and applies himself to the task. Unfortunately, he fares no better rolling a d20 instead of a d8 as he obliviously skates by a pile of birdseed.