GM Quirk's Threefold Conspiracy (Inactive)

Game Master Quirk, Private Eye

You left out “paranoid”… we’re now paranoid murder hoboes.

An unintentional oversight. You are quite right, paranoid murder hoboes.

Cidribvoot stands with his two lower eyes closed, while his third eye observes. Arms crossed, he appears to be thinking. After a few moments he says ,"John, we could try an investigative journalist. Change our tactics if OCI denies our application."

"I don't think we would want the publicity, but it's good you're thinking of alternatives."

Cidribvoot herds the androids towards the exit. "Yes, yes. I suggest if you see us in the future, you change course."

Once the androids are gone, he asks, "Are we all going, or should someone guard the ship?"

"It would be bad to lose the ship. It's possible we'll run into more trouble. Why don't you stay with us? At least we'll be stranded together."

John drops his gaze to his armor, skintight, scarred, and patched. His weapons and the armor. They were all he'd worn since the Chimera. He hadn't been able to bring himself to wear any of the reptoids' clothes left in the Voidcrier. That thought was too creepy. It was better to air bathe when he washed his undergarments and they dried while he slept. He was dressed like a security guard with action hero delusions, or, a desperately poor pirate.

He casts a quick gaze over his companions. Clad as they all were, and bristling with paranoia fueled awareness, the androids should have steered clear of them. They didn't look like easy marks. They looked like the team that whoever was running the androids should have sent to intercept us.

No wonder his tired attempt at proselytization had failed. He had been lacking two essential tools, conviction and image.

"If we're going to try doing business in a civilized manner, we need some new clothes, a mask."

Personally John wants to buy a suit of business wear, a pair of sets of loose robes, sash, and wide-legged trousers. He'd like to pick up a slim backpack, a hacking, an engineering, and a disguise kit.

"Power coupling?" Cidribvoot chuckles at Rar'gul's comment. "No, no, we don't need to do that. It will be fine. The ship will be fine. I just worry a little too much sometimes." He pats the side of the ship near the entrance ramp.

"New clothes?" he asks. "There should be some spare flight suits in the ship if you don't mind Pike's Perytons' branded gear. Do you have a preferred clothes retailer? If I am lacking funds, I'll just go to a 'lost-and-found' at a security station and borrow a jacket or cap. Then just leave it behind before departing the station. Works in many cities too."

Moving further down the docking spar, you come to an intersection. Here you find a cornucopia of choices for food, as well as several shops featuring clothing and other goods that might appeal to starfarers. It's quite easy to find suitable choices. You even find a vending machine that has small, compact packages containing flight suits. Pull a tab, and voila! You have a properly sized flight suit. Treat the vended flight suit as "Stationwear--Flight Suit." The only difference is that it's somewhat cheaper, 75 credits instead of 95.

You can all shed your old clothing and replace it for fairly modest prices (just use the equipment lists from the books). For things like weapons or armor heavier than level one light armor, you'll need to venture deeper into the station.

Lilly picks up a new flight suit in a pleasing pastel purple.

“I need a break from the sharp colors.”

She slides her hand over the arm of the flight suit.

“There’s something something about wisteria that always helps relax.”

...

"New clothes?" he asks. "There should be some spare flight suits in the ship if you don't mind Pike's Perytons' branded gear. Do you have a preferred clothes retailer? If I am lacking funds, I'll just go to a 'lost-and-found' at a security station and borrow a jacket or cap. Then just leave it behind before departing the station. Works in many cities too."

John shudders briefly. "I'm not going to wear things from the dead reptoids. Makes my skin crawl to think about it. And I want something that broadcasts respectability. "

Lilly picks up a new flight suit in a pleasing pastel purple.

“I need a break from the sharp colors.”

She slides her hand over the arm of the flight suit.

“There’s something something about wisteria that always helps relax.”

"Looks good, Doc. And dressed in that, they'll never look for the needles."

For himself, John picks up a selection of clothes and tools. The tools are easy, basic hacking and engineering kits that were smaller lighter, and more complete than the ones he'd cobbled together during their odyssey. So is a very efficient slim grey backpack to replace the beat up back sack that he'd salvaged.

It took a while to find a decent clothing store. Once inside, he moved through it in business-like fashion, making his selctions swiftly. His first purchase was underwear. Next was the suit of grey business wear to make him feel like a proper Abadaran again. Third, was two sets of loose robes, sash, and wide-legged trousers for comfortable use aboard ship. He picked up a small collection of items from the cosmetics section.

He'd planned on wearing the business suit out of the store, but putting it on in the dressing room, he suddenly realizes how vulnerable he would be without the armor. They could be out there anywhere. Who knows when they might attack again? Besides, corporate attire, even if it was three steps down from Abadaran Armani, wasn't right for dockside transactions.

He changed back into his armor to peruse the store once more. He settled on a lightweight black canvas jacket and dark cargo pants to wear over his armor. They should blend well on the docks. He strapped his gunbelt over the pants, and kept the good sword cane in hand. Everything else went into the pack. He cinched the compression straps down and slid his second cane under them.

I make that 1 normal, 2 athletic, and 1 formal outfits. 16 credits
Disguise, hacking, and engineering tool kits . 60 credits
Industrial back pack. 25 credits.
.
That will leave John with 2969 credits. If anyone is short he is happy to lend them some cash.

T'sorkel steps out to the station promenade and it all feels...normal. No one was shooting lasers at them, and no radiation alarms were going off. It was a safe and bustling environment with plenty of food and conveniences, where no shapeshifters were trying to do medical experiments on him. It was all so dull.

As the Shirren is grappling with this feeling, the twins pipe up about being hungry. Yes, of course. We'll get food in a minute. I think we're shopping for some new clothes right now. And both of you are beginning to outgrow your vials. Let's see if we can find something more suitable.

T'sorkel studies his choices from the vending machine after Lily is finished. He makes his choices and a green pinstripe flightsuit emerges. T'sorkel quickly changes. He holds up his armor. We should see if there's a place to wash.

While John is shopping, T'sorkel looks for new containers for the twins. He briefly considers a double, wheeled version, but realizes that would be quite impractical on a ship. He settles on a backpack style case with more than double the capacity for each of the boys. It's like you have your own rooms now!

75 creds for the new threads, plus perhaps that again for the vials? I don't think T'sorkel has gained any credits for a while since we really haven't been selling anything.

Cidribvoot examines the vending machines closely. Should he get a hat? A new belt? Shoes? Or perhaps a finger timepiece?

In the end he, buys three packs of everyday wear, one formal suit -- "I assure you, it's not for a future appearance before a judge! I think the fabric's color harmonizes with my skin tone." -- and a pilot's professional suit.

He changes in the ship and appears in a long sleeve light gray shirt and casual dusty-rose pants. His laser pistol is on his right hip. A bandolier holds two grenades and energy clips.

credits spent and deducted: 13; 1+1+1+5 (formal), and 5 (professional)

You're able to find all of your items, and new shoes, clothing and your other items feel GREAT on you.

T'sorkel, you find vials for the twins. I would think 50 credits total would be fine for the vials.

An attractive woman approaches John. Her smile turns into a scowl. "You jerk, I want Mallo back!" She then attempts to slap John.

Am I on my own for this or with the party?

John steps back out of reach, and looks around quickly. Just the kind of thing that greys would do.

sense motive: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
Perception : 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22

"You're confused and upset. I only just arrived on station. If you calm down, maybe I can help."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19

Am I on my own for this or with the party?

Everyone is nearby and sees this incident.

Cidribvoot notices the woman accost John. He puts down the backpack he was considering and starts watching for someone using this as a diversion to focus John's attention. For example, someone like a pickpocket or sniper..

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

T'sorkel tries to help. Ma'am, who are you and who is Mallo? I don't think my friend is who you think!

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (13) + 12 = 25

The woman at first looks at John as if he's depraved. Perhaps she thinks he's attempting the ultimate in gas lighting by trying to convince her he's not a former friend, companion, or lover.

The she hears T'sorkel and also takes note of all of John's companions. A look of confusion washes over her face. "You're...not...Enrique? NO!
You ARE him! Right?"

Cidribvoot, you don't see anything unusual happening around this.

This has got to be a grey ploy. Is it more dangerous to engage, or keep her close? John sighs.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I am not Enrique. My name is John. You seem upset. Why don't you tell me your story?"

Still confused, she utters "I've been without Mallo so long! There's never been a squax like him."

She looks into John's eyes, looking for any sign of deception.

She finally sighs and lets her shoulder droop hopelessly. "You look like my ex Enrique, in every possible way. He left me months ago and took our pet squax with him."

Cidribvoot's head turns to look at the woman anew. "In every possible way?" he asks. "When were you a couple? Does he still live on Absalom Station? Are you currently influenced by substances that are impairing your reasoning and critical thinking?"

He looks at the others. "John has a double, do you think we might too?"

Cidribvoot's head turns to look at the woman anew. "In every possible way?" he asks. "When were you a couple? Does he still live on Absalom Station? Are you currently influenced by substances that are impairing your reasoning and critical thinking?"

He looks at the others. "John has a double, do you think we might too?"

The woman replies to Cidribvoot: "It's quite uncanny. Enrique and this gentleman could be twins. And yes, so far as I know that jerk is living on Absalom. No, I am not currently under the influence, though I think I could use a drink."

She only gives Cidribvoot a curious look when he suggests that everyone may have doubles.

"I am sorry for your troubles, ma'am. How long have you known, Enrique? Where was he from? Was he a great thinker?" He looks at T'sorkel on 'thinker'.

[diplomacy, gather knowledge] 1d20+ 12 [/dice]
trying to get a sense whether Enrique could be a clone.

BLuff, secret message: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (4) + 16 = 20
You can use Bluff to pass a secret message to an ally without others understanding the message’s true meaning. Doing so in combat is part of combat banter. The DC of this check is 15 for simple messages and 20 for more complex messages, as determined by the GM. Those overhearing the message can attempt an opposed Sense Motive check to learn the gist of the message. You cannot take 20 on a Bluff check to pass a secret message.

T'sorkel is ahead of John's request. He begins a psychic conversation with the party. This is the grays again, isn't it? They made copies of us and have their people living lives here. Maybe it's training for further missions.

Now it was beginning to feel right. The familiar panic settles on the Shirren.

No spoiler since it's to all of us, just not the NPCs

"I am sorry for your troubles, ma'am. How long have you known, Enrique? Where was he from? Was he a great thinker?" He looks at T'sorkel on 'thinker'.

[diplomacy, gather knowledge] 1d20+ 12
trying to get a sense whether Enrique could be a clone.

"I was with Enrique for well over a year. He grew up on Absalom Station, and I'm pretty sure that's where he is now."

The woman gives John a strange look. "Was he a thinker? What a strange question, but I think the answer is no. He's sort of a DUMBASS,actually. He works at a souvenir shop near Jatembe Park on Absalom, at least last I saw on Spacebook.

She doesn't seem to notice your innuendo toward T'sorkel.

"Thank you for helping me understand. We are not squax snatchers...if he has stolen your animal companion, you should seek the services of an attorney."

There is much to speculate and consider. Should we seek Enrique? he adds to the group's psychic conversation.

T'sorkel is ahead of John's request. He begins a psychic conversation with the party. This is the grays again, isn't it? They made copies of us and have their people living lives here. Maybe it's training for further missions.

Now it was beginning to feel right. The familiar panic settles on the Shirren.

No spoiler since it's to all of us, just not the NPCs

"Could be the greys. Clones were my first thought. They took those tissue samples. But they could have planted memories in her. If we get a spare second we could look up Enrique."

"I was with Enrique for well over a year. He grew up on Absalom Station, and I'm pretty sure that's where he is now."

The woman gives John a strange look. "Was he a thinker? What a strange question, but I think the answer is no. He's sort of a DUMBASS,actually. He works at a souvenir shop near Jatembe Park on Absalom, at least last I saw on Spacebook.

" IF you like ma'am, we could dig a little deeper than Spacebook. GIve me your contact information and if we find anything, we'll let you knpw."

" IF you like ma'am, we could dig a little deeper than Spacebook. GIve me your contact information and if we find anything, we'll let you knpw."

The woman offers to exchange com codes with John. She offers her thanks. "Thank you all for the conversation. I'm sorry to have bothered you, and my apologies especially to you, sir, for that slap. Should you find anything, please let me know. Mallo was quite dear to me."

With that, she is off (unless any of you have any last minute questions for her).

A few questions to help the search, Enrique's last name, and when he left for Absalom.

John intends to search for Enrique when there's a little spare time. He's interested to see if Enrique really exists -- which would support the clone theory, or if he is an online front , which would support the memory implant theory.

A few questions to help the search, Enrique's last name, and when he left for Absalom.

The woman at first looks at John with suspicion. Then she shrugs and provides any information she has including her comm codes and enough of Enrique's information to make a reasonable go at tracking him down if you wish.

You learn that the woman's name is Jeva Quon (if I haven't already told you--GMQ).

You also see that Enrique has a Spacebook profile. Would you like to look at this time?

Visa first. If we have to wait. I'll look him up then.

As the docking spars turn into neighborhoods, shops, restaurants, and recreation areas, you notice generally well-behaved crowds out taking care of their errands or simply enjoying themselves.

I need perception checks from everyone. This will give you all a chance to check in.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (1) + 14 = 15

T'sorkel is now anxious once again. What's happening? Are there clones of us everywhere? Or are they grays? The Shirren is looking around and being quite conspicuous about it.

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 30

No real customs control. Interesting. And you'd think they'd put the visa office near the docks. That would make it easy for greys or reptoids to infiltrate. Of course dock security at Absalom Station isn't much better.

"This is a special place," Cidribvoot says. Security levels rise and fall I'm sure.

perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Rar'gul catches up with his companions as they leave the docking spars behind. The trox is dressed in his ceremonial garb - a plain grey tabard emblazoned on the breast with the shirren head of Hylax, crossed from shoulder to waist by a crimson stole of rank - and carries his hammer as a staff, the haft tapping the floor in cadence with his stride.

"That tookkk longerrr than expected, " he rumbles.

Pausing, he looks around at the new space

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 33

John looks back at the trox. "Never seen you looking so good, Rar'gul. What's the occasion?"

Lilly gives Rar’gul a slow, appreciative head-to-toe look.

“You look stunning. Walk me through your outfit. I had no idea you even had something like this!”

Perception as Lilly looks around: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (20) + 15 = 35

"Thankkks,' the trox grunts. Clearing his throat, self-conscious, he explains in his deep rumble, "I've told you of the crrrypticc visions that set me on my qqquest. And that I have had severral morre since ourrr time aboarrd The Chimerrra. Theirr intensity and frreqqquency have been inccrreasing the closerrr we ccame to Liavarra. I believe it's due to my prroximity to the Drreamerrrs' songs." He cocks his head to one side, as though listening to something distant.

"When I reporrrted my visions and... changes... to my superiorrs, they werre ccconcerrned but uncconvinced. They taskkked me with finding something morre definitive."

He gestures to his vestments, his mandibles parting in a wry grin. "Besides, a little pomp and pageantrrry might do wonders on our trip to the OCI."

You guys crushed those perception checks!

The jovial discussion continues, but suddenly pauses as everyone notices a human sitting at a nearby table near a noodle stand, about 30-40 feet away. You could swear that he has what can only be described as a horrified look as he in turn notices all of you.

He leaves his meal sitting at his table and hurriedly makes his way through the crowds.

John's torn. Let him go and just try to hurry through the permit process, or chase him to find out what he might say about the party. The impulse to pursue quickly wins out.

John dashes after the man, leaving this message floating behind him on comms. "I'll see what he has to say, and catch up with you later. "

Of course you can all come along if you want.

Rar'gul hesitates. Like John, he is torn - he instinctively wants to chase after the man and find out more about the reason for his reaction but also recognises that the sight of a twelve-foot tall, hammer-wielding, uniformed trox charging through throngs of beings in pursuit would do little to dissuade the fellow in his concerns. Not to mention the spotlight such attention would draw to them.

Not safe to go alone! Right behind you, he messages to John. Might be more than a little behind you, he adds, navigating the crowds

The trox tries to use his height advantage to keep his eyes on the man and help coordinate John's pursuit.

The man navigates the crowd deftly. You suppose he's a local--somneone who lives aboard the station.

at this point, I will entertain some sort of skill check from all of you to chase, or somehow assist each other. Things like athletics, acrobatics, or perception are obvious choices, but a creative choice is always welcome.

If it matters, John has a land speed of 40'.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24
Athletics: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29

He's good, but I've spent a lot of time on stations. It's still about reading the traffic. John tries to glide through the interstices in the flow of pedestrians. He wants to move as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

Is he looking back? Does he know we're pursuing?

Rar'gul also has a movement speed of 40 ft

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (14) + 13 = 27

Craning his neck, Rar'gul scans the the crowd ahead for patterns and currents to the flow of beings.

"That's it, John. Kkeep going in that dirrection forrr a while. Lookkk out forr..." he directs over comms.

The Shirren clicks rapidly as he sees John and Rar'gul take off after the man. Where are they going? He rubs his hands together anxiously and then set off after them, just following in the Trox's wake.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19

While passing the stores, Cidribvoot realizes he should buy a new backpack. He uses his comm to arrange a backpack to be delivered to their starship. His body's dimensions are sent so it will be properly fitted.

Industrial backpack; level 1, price: 25

Cidribvoot almost dances as he moves through the crowd, or at least he feels that way. A large step here, three quick trots to the left, a spin, "Excuse me, excuse me, oh pardon me," he says. He moves alongside the storefronts, hoping the people entering the shops will give him space to pivot quickly in the pursuit.

acrobatics: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20

Lilly weaves through the crowd, tracking on John and Rar’gul.

Using her Perception, a touch of Acrobatics, and her Scurry ability to find/make fast paths through the crowd.

Perception to continue the pursuit: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19
Acrobatics to weave through the crowd: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28

If it matters, John has a land speed of 40'.

[dice= Acrobatics] 1d20 +15
[dice= Athletics] 1d20 +13

He's good, but I've spent a lot of time on stations. It's still about reading the traffic. John tries to glide through the interstices in the flow of pedestrians. He wants to move as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

Is he looking back? Does he know we're pursuing?

The stranger does seem to be aware of all of you, and you're pretty sure you see him look back toward all of you.

He begins an all-out run, and as he does, he runs by a large flat-bed cart carrying an enormous number of packages and boxes. It spills all over the floor just in front of all of you.

He turns the corner into a smaller corridor.

Let's do one more set of skill checks. If I can get successes from the majority of you, the chase continues. Otherwise, there will be a mystery about who this mysterious man is! I'll need athletics or acrobatics once again. Please let me know if you have any relevant feats that might speed you up. John, your high speed is noted.

Cidribvoot shakes his head. Not the boxes, he thinks. He heads for the tallest box and pushes off it with his left hand, swinging his body over the box.

Athletics: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

Alas, only packages and boxes and not crates of rending geese?

Seeing their quarry take flight, Rar'gul momentarily considers the consequences of his large frame charging head-long through the crowd of beings navigating the marketplace.

As their mark disappears around a corner, the trox decides the man's urgency should be reciprocated. Picking up his own pace, Rar'gul employs his talents and training to traverse the crowded area with minimal disruption to the flow of beings, and dislodged packages, left in his wake.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

The idea is to sacrifice some speed for improved maneuverability and hopefully drawing less attention.
Possibly relevant mechanical/flavourful abilities spoilered below.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

T'sorkel tries to manuever around and through the boxes, but he has to slow down to do it and pick his way through.