tt's Acts of Association (Inactive)

Game Master therealthom

The conference room in the Lorespire Complex to which you've been summoned is on a higher floor than usual. Behind the door is a room richly appointed. A collection of chairs and sofas, some designed for humanoids, some not, surround a large circular crystal table. Real leather patterned in narrow swirling black and white bands covers the furniture. The species is unfamiliar, but it is definitely real leather, and not the synthetic substitute used in the lower floor conference rooms. Primitive sculptures from many cultures line shelves on the dark, wood-paneled walls. Again the wood has a texture and aura that synthetics seldom manage to imitate.

On a long table along a side wall is the remains of a conference feast, baked goods, simple proteins, dips, and coffee and various infusions. Judging from the size of the platters and the relative virginity of the remains, the feasters politely restrained themselves from eating half the food.

The view from the window looks out on the great crystal dome in the center of Absalom station. Above, the stars shine; below, parkland rolls to the next set of high rise towers.

Baila takes the stairs, skipping up the steps, all the way to the higher floor.
She waits a bit, to get her breath back and not appear tired when she knocks and then enters the richly appointed room.

Looking around--
"Hello, hello, it's Baila. I've been summoned."
--she seems quite used to this type of luxurious decoration.

But she does seem very happy to look out the window at the great views.
She remains gazing at the stars--
--a dainty and diminutive Halfling at 2 1/2 feet for 25 pounds, she looks young, like a human pre-teen… but with a lot of makeup.
She is dressed in the latest purple Apostae Drow noble-house fashion.
Her clothes fit her well, and are cut for dancing— with weights to make the hem twirl, a hard nose in the sandal to do points…

She is joined at the window by what could be described as a human female but with celestial radiance i.e. an aasimar. She smiles at the halfling.

Lovely view isn't it she says. My name is Celestia but most people call me Celly

She too moves like a dancer, even though she's dressed in formal attire.

A halfing with a distracted look and a notebook in hand arrives in the office. His clothing looks like he probably slept in it and his slightly bleary eyed appearance really help to put emphasis on the point.

"Oh... hello. " he says, looking up.

"Office. Beautiful customer. Hmm, so far a predictable start to the story." he mutters, eyeing up the buffet table. "Food... now that is interesting. One should always pay attention to the details." he says moving across to it and sampling the pasteries.

Then, finally his eyes land on Baila. "Oh, well, Hellooooo" he smiles. "Now this is an unexpected twist."

Then, realising he has perhaps not made the best first impression, the hafling offers a bow to each of his fellow Starfinders.
"Shokil. Author. You might have read my work?"

I may have .. I read a lot Celly replies. Which titles are yours? Celestia or Celly, Psychologist and ..... dancer ... mostly in zero-gee or underwater actually

She looks over to Balia So what dancing do you do?

"Well.." smiles the halfling, who alternates words with bites from the free food.

"I only have two at the moment. 'Sgt. Smith bites a bullet' was the first." He gazes at her, hoping to see signs of recognition in her face.

"I'm working on a new one though. It involves a complex tri-party negotiation between a farmer, a university fraternity and the ghost of a horse. Not quite worked out the title for it yet though."

He extends a crumby hand "Shokil, author. Starfinder, Veteran. And connoisseur of all things beautiful." Though his words seem a little over the top, the way he glances at the buffet either indicates his immediate feelings of beauty are directed at the food rather than the dancers - or he hasn't eaten in a long time.

Baila bows to the radiant woman who joined her at the window, noticing her fluid moves.
"Hello, Ms. Celestia. You are as radiant as those stars up there!"

Then Baila sees the disheveled Halfling arrive.
"And hello to you sir, but I must say that I am no one's twist!"
Baila frowns:
"Oh? Which reports did you write? I am new to the Society so have only read the newcomers' information packages, and some field reports."
She bows to Shokil--

--before turning back to Celly, looking impressed at the mention of underwater dancing.
"I am getting back to dancing, creating my own contemporary choreographies. I used to do a lot of classical Drow stuff..."

Baila turns her attention back to Shokil.
She mutters, to herself: "Sgt. Smith Swallows a Bullet"... as she sees her fellow Halfling eating away.
She shakes his hand:
"And I'm Baila. A survivor of all things ugly."

The next entrant to the room is very different from the others. Standing well over 2 meters tall in his black leather outfit and boots, this vesk is also very different from the typical specimen. Significantly thinner and without a vesk's normal massive musculature, he nevertheless cuts an imposing figure. And whereas male vask are normally various shades of green, this one's coloration is so pale and almost bone gray as to appear unhealthy. Or dead.

He strides slowly into the room, elbows akimbo, and as he passes the sofa, his long fingers slide appreciatively across the real leather. He exudes an aura of superiority and self assurance as he eyes the food and his companions. Tossing a protein cube into his toothy maw, he chews it slowly as he listens to the tail end of the conversion about books and dances.

"That makes two of us, Baila," he replies quickly to the halfling's comment about ugliness. "Perhaps we should share the stories of our survival someday."

"I am Skorpahlich. Vesk..., but not. I do with my mind what those brutes do with their brawn," his voice dripping with disdain at the implied mention of other vesk.

He pronounces it "Skor-PAAAH-lich", and you can't help but notice the strange coincidence of a vesk with scales the color of death sharing a name with an undead sorcerer. Or is it a coincidence?

"Wow..." says Shokil, attention diverted from Baila as he comes nose to knee with the massively tall vesk.

"ScorePARlick?" he says, trying out the name as if to see if he likes it. "Unusual name for a vesk." he notes, before perhaps taking in the full unusualness of the vesk himself.

"And maybe appropriate. Say... I guess you have noticed... but you don't look like any vesk I've seen before. I mean for one thing, no big choppy axe. "

He steps back to take into full view the figure, before a look of horror crosses his face. "Noooooooooo" cries out the little author.

"Please tell me you didn't just do that. We have food. Real food. And you just took a protein cube?" No priest upon hearing the gloating "confession" of an unrepentant sinner could have a more disturbed look on his face.

Then, under his breath, he adds "No wonder he looks so thin compared to the rest of them."

Baila looks up at Skorpahlich, who is way more than twice her size.
But then realizes he is probably not some Eoxian--
"So, you survived, sir? As in... you did not die?
Whatever the answer, glad to meet you Mr. Skorpahlich."

Why thank you Balia She smiles more, which somehow seems to light up the room. If you hadn't realised, I'm an aasimar. Our species tend to do that. And I am not familiar with classical drow dances. Most of my inspiration is from the ancient elven dances on Castrovel. I would very much like to see the sort of dances you do and if you desire, show you mine. My friend and flatmate, Chryssi, who is a tiefling, also dances. I should ask her to join us, if you don't mind.

She ponders a bit as she glides to the buffet table. Chryssi tends to take inspiration from modern drow - Abysshead, and other .... gothic heavy metal styles. Is ancient drow anything like that?

Snagging a slice of cake she then turns her attention to Shokil. No. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of reading your works. My tastes tend towards high fantasy, sword and sorcery - like the tales of adventurers on Old Golarian for instance. And pray tell, what forms of beauty move you to joy?

She then turns her attention to Skorpahlich and seems not to be taken aback by his appearance, instead, greeting him with the same warm friendly smile that she had given to everyone else. And welcome to our little group, Skorpahlich. She extends a hand, the one not holding the slice of cake. it seems to me that you have had several ... experiences ... I too would love to hear those stories.

While consuming the cake, she adds to Shokil. It's called a Doshko

" Survived. And thrived. Thank you," he answers Balia with a nod and a tiny bow.

As Celly and Balia discuss dance forms, Skorpahlich turns to the table and begins mixing coffee with enough sweetener and cream infusions to choke a space whale.

"Most foods are simply foods," he replies dismissively to Shokil's shocked reaction. "But coffee. *That* is the nectar of the Gods."

He takes a sip and lets out a slow rumbling sigh of contentedness as he accepts Celly's proffered hand with a barely noticeable bit of awkwardness.
"I will share my story. But it may not be appropriate for all ears," he says looking at the 'preteen' girl.

Baila is very interested in Miss Celly is talking about-- especially the Elven dancing.
But she does frown and shuffle her feet somewhat when Drow, modern or classical dances are mentioned.

Baila wonders if it is the cake that is called Doshko?

Smiling at Skorpahlich, Baila points to her Halfling ears: "These have seen a lot... well, heard?"

Celly pours herself a cup of tea to go with the second piece of cake.

Never been a fan of coffee .... but my flatmate drinks it by the mug. She says if she doesn't, she'd probably break things, and even more grumpy than she is .. she might be right.

"Yes.. Doshko... generally a good idea to remember the name of weapons that have heads bigger than mine." grins the author.

He raises an eyebrow as Skopahlich aims for coffee. "I'm not sure I could stomach that just yet. The lads had me out partying late last night. Only just had time for a quick shower before making it here. " He grins shyly. "And trust me... you need a shower after a party with these guys."

His eyes follow the lines of the next skyscraper over in the station, drawn all the way down to the parklands far below. "I'm kind of hoping that we end up in a mission on planet somewhere. Open spaces, fresh air that hasn't already been through thirty other people before it gets to me.." he says longingly.

Celly smiles. Was it an in house party or were you touring the nightlife of Absalom Station? Cause if you were thinking of doing that, I can give you plenty of suggestions for places to go. I've also got some painkillers in my kit if you need one

She muses at the thought of open spaces and fresh air. She then nods. That would be nice. Although Watembe Park can be rather pleasant. I often go there to peruse the gardens and to unwind after a hard day at school .... still working on my Psychology degree.

"House..." smiles Shokil... "house..." he bursts into laughter. "I guess you could call it a house, more of a shack really. Ahh"

He coughs, blushes a little remembering where he is. Clearing his throat he quite obviously puts on his 'game face'. "Anyway, has anyone heard any rumors about what they want us to be doing this time? I'm always looking for new material to work into my stories."

Baila glances back at Celly-- then frowns.
She thinks that I'll be damned, I could've sworn she flickered out for just a second there. Thought she was going to disappear.
Come to think of it, she does look a little pale...

"Maybe try some coffee, Miss Celly, you do look like you could use it."

"So, Shokil, who were those lads you were partying with? Other Starfinders?"

Celly sighed and her cheery disposition disappeared as did her glow. Now she was looking a bit frazzled even with her immaculate grooming. She sat down in a comfy chair. Sorry. Just a bit tired. Was dancing late last night in one of the nightclubs. Sort of have been burning the candle at both ends. And when I did get to sleep I had a nightmare about being in a bug hunt and fighting for my life. Really really scary. So I didn't get much sleep .... or breakfast. But, duty called and I am here. No idea why I was called though. I think I'll have to take a vacation after this.

Baila looks a little concerned: "Hey, you have to get food in you. I mean, I know that's a Halfling thing, but it is true for all, even you Magical People from Other Planes. There's a whole lot of food here..."
Baila moves over to the tables, and makes a plate of food for Celly, brining it over to the lady.

My post just was consumed by paizo and spit out. Where? I don't know :| Apparently my wall of text was not good enough :D

Through the doors, another agent walks in. On her head, she has undercut haircut exposing two tattoos on the sides of her head. One presenting three circles crossed together, a well-known symbol of Triune, while the other presents a fire in a forge which might be a symbol of Angradd.

In her nose, she has a half-ring made of gold and silver. Her black clothes match her heavy boots and long brown coat. On her back, you may see an odd rifle with a wide barrel, a gulchgun Ysoki calls it. Not a frequent sight amongst starfinders. The insignia badge that she has is brand new, without any scratches or dents in it.

"Hi I am Makai Eriksdotter, I am new to Absalom Station and Starfinder. Nightmares about bug hunt? Last season we were exterminating some bugs on our ship as they could eat through the wires."

She pours herself a mug of coffee

"Did you know that expression to have a bug in code actually comes from the bugs nesting in the computer and causing odd behaviour? But that was ancient times..." she sips the coffee.

Celly took the plate with a sigh of satisfaction. Thanks. I must admit it would be nice to swim in the warm waters of Castrovel and have an entire lagoon to play in instead of just a display tank

She then noticed Makai. Oh hello, I'm Celestia but Celly will do. And yes, I think Chryssi told me that once.

She glanced at the wall clock and frowned slightly.

Skorpahlich doesn’t contribute or ask anything about the partying or bug hunts, simply listens expressionless. It looks like he’s about to say something when Shokil asks what they know of the mission, but he stops and defers to Baila’s questions.

After refilling his coffee, he moves towards the chairs and finds one that accommodates tails. When the conversation dies down, he invites the others to sit. ”I have a tale for your stories, Shokil. Sit. Please.” He adds the ‘please’ as he looks to Balia and Makai with a nod, Celly already being seated.

”My name and build are not the only things about me unusual for a vesk,” he begins when everyone has joined him in the sitting area. ”I was not born and raised in the Veskarium. Never even been there, in fact. I was born on a Corpse Fleet science vessel and raised as a lab rat by the bones.” He spits out the last word clearly meaning it as a pejorative. He pauses for a sip of coffee and to let the hook of his story sink in.

When he’s sure he has everyone’s full attention, he continues. ”My Mother was captured by the undead at the end of the Silent War and just at the beginning of the Swarm Invasion. They held her on the Black Lancet, a science and research ship, and experimented on her and the clutches that they forced her to bear. Their experiments affected me uniquely and activated genes for what Mother called a ‘venomthought vesk.’ She’d never seen one of my kind, but all vesk know the stories told on Prime about the supposedly extinct caiagara race. It’s said they magically and psychically modified ancient vesk centuries ago. Now the rare freak is born that manifests strange mental powers. Whatever the racial history, the Eoxians’ infusions of negative energy did something to me. In more ways than they expected.”

”The bones knew I was special, so they took me from Mother and the young ones that hadn’t died yet. They gave me to Tauzah, a human now undead…” He pauses a moment and then laughs. ”Well, now dead dead. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He takes another sip and makes that rumbling sigh again. ”Tauzah, too, had been captured by the bones, and she helped me unlock the potential of my gifts over the course of several years. Her methods were … not pleasant. When a Steward’s patrol ship stumbled upon the Lancet and opened fire, I used my newfound powers to engineer an escape. The Stewards were apparently surprised to detect actual life aboard the fleeing shuttle so they brought me aboard. I requested asylum as a prisoner of the war between the vesk and the Pact Worlds.”

{{sigh}}

”As they were explaining to me that the Silent War had been over for years, I watched the battle with the Corpse ship unfold. Mother never found out that her war had ended before the Black Lancet was utterly destroyed. The Stewards swept thru the wreckage to eliminate any remaining undead, and then returned to Absalom Station where they delivered me to the Vesk Embassy.”

”Those brutes didn’t know what to do with me, and they clearly didn’t like what I was. Fine by me. They never even tried to find Mother after the War; I had to tell them what had happened to her. Even then, they didn’t really care. So I forge my own path now. ‘Vesk, but not.’” He delivers the last statement with extra emphasis as he stands. And then heads over to get more coffee while surreptitiously watching his teammates for their reactions to his story.

Shokil's eyes grow larger and larger as the story unfolds.
"My goodness. Maybe I will have a coffee afterall." he says, grabbing another pastry at the same time.

"So, rejected by your biological people, rejecting the undead monstrosities that brought you up, you have fled to this haven of the misunderstood and meddlesome!" he concludes.

"So..." he asks "Venom-thought. I've not heard of them. Can you spit poison? Or do you poison others thoughts?"

His eyes then flick over to the goth-dwarf who has also joined the throng. "Hello Makai, best dig into the food while you can. With two of us halflings here, well.. you don't need bugs to finish a feast!"

Addressing himself finally to his fellow halfling he tosses a roll to Baila. "Well.. they might be joining the society. Hard to tell really. They don't really fit in where they are... kind of 'displaced persons' a bit like Skorpahlich. But without the scales and with more hair. I hope they do join up, but in the meanwhile they certainly know how to celebrate. And they will celebrate anything and everything."

The forums were playing up for me earlier as well.

The dwarf lady takes a solid sip of coffee as she listens to the story

"And I thought that finding my own way through the dwarven society would make me unique. That story is so messed up!"

She looks around, surprised that she said that out loud.

"That is an awful story! Sorry, this is not what I wanted to say. I am sorry for what you went through. Skorpahlich." says in her strong dwarven accent.

She stands up and begins piling some food as suggested by Shokil

My first post was also eaten- oh well clearly occured in another reality!

Entering clearly late to the gathering and at the end of the woeful tale of the odd Vesk is a tall thin grey skinned Damai man in a long Red coat that has clearly seen it’s fair share of troubles, it being faded and torn in places and singed in others.The coat is worn over their similarly battered and rough armour, though there are few scars upon the man to match the sheer abuse their equipment has clearly withstood. Embroidered on the coat's left breast is a Skull and Crossbones in ivory thread with a Crimson phoenix sewn on the opposite side. The Damai seems unfocused as they enter the room as if watching many scenes at once before finally focusing in on this one.

"Hmm, I could have sworn I was already here, yet your faces are new..." they say distractedly as they take in the room proper. "Aha! Shokil, I just finished Twice dead, three times the charm?! The ending was exquisite, what a twist! I must be back in reality Prime then,good."

The Damai strides over to the buffet table, wasting no time in filling a plate and pouring herbal tea for themselves. "Oh yes! ”I’m Venari Of the Hitoru clan of Free Captains. I see into other realities and can pull them into this one for a while when needed. Glad to meet’cha” they introduce themselves before throwing themselves into the fine leather seats, oblivious to the tea from their mug splashing on the arm.

"Oh hi Venari!" smiles Shokil. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Did you know some of the Bro's came to the station? They set up a mud pit last night and then broke some fire regulations...." grins Shokil.

"I'm still recovering."

Celly listened quietly to Skorparlich's story, frowning slightly, her lips pursed in thought. At the end she asked quietly I take it you didn't know if your mother was still on board the Black Lancet when it was destroyed. I do not know how much I can do to help you in that regard but ... she paused for a bit ... if you ever need someone to talk to, come see me. I may not have my qualifications yet, but I am always willing to listen and help if I can.

She then looks over as Venari enters. Was I .... missing ... in any of these realities? she asks, her voice full of concern.

Shokil's mention of a mud pit then catches her attention and her smile starts to light up again. "A mud pit? And fire regulation violations? Oh please do tell ... that sounds absolutely ... naughty. she giggles at the last word.

Baila welcomes the new arrival: "Hello, Makai! So long as you have a bug in code and not up your..."

She smiles as she pictures swimming in warm azure Castrovelian waters--

--but, instead of a dive into warm waves, she sits before Sporka.. Skorpahlich, and takes a dive into darker things.

After hearing the story, Baila moves over to Skorpahlich, and gives him a big warm hug-- well, she hugs his knee!
"Hey, at least you are a rare freak!"
She looks up at him--
"I was saved by Stewards too!"

Baila looks at the Skull and Crossbones--
"Hello, Hitoru."

Makai shivers on the idea of bugs being inside one's body and drinks her coffee.

She nods to Venari still wondering who are those aliens who set up the mud pit on Absalom station. Apparently the universe is full of odd aliens.

"Why did Stewards have to save you Baila? Were you working in a dodgy place?"

Venari lets out a snort as they drink their tea at Shokil's statement, the liquid staining the fine wooden table. "Haha! I am sorry I missed them, will have to catch up - what a time we had eh?" Venari sighs as the reminisce but it soon sours as they remember the hollow feeling of the ending of that particular tale. They take a sip of tea and a bite of a pastry whilst thinking.

As they munch, they turn to Celly and ponder their question before shrugging, clearly missing the hesitant nature of their query and the concern evident to others. Their eyes glaze over for a moment "hmm, I don't recall seeing you... but there was an issue with bugs invading the station in one of them recently..." they shrug again before refocusing back to the present. "Sorry I can't be of much help, they're a bit of a mess sometimes, like a tangled ball of string."

They smile at the Halfling dancer and raise their teacup. "Greetings, I have a good feeling about this. Should be rather...interesting!"

Celly shivered as if she was cold. That was my nightmare. Trying to rid the station of bugs ... and at the end ... I think I died. The last thing I remember in the dream was being stung .. then everything went dark and cold. That was when I woke up feeling rather frightened.

She took a large swallow of tea. Could we not talk about bugs any more? she pleaded. And I'm not sure how I'd react if a shirren walked through the door right now

I take it you didn't know if your mother was still on board the Black Lancet when it was destroyed.

Skorpahlich looks Celly straight in the eyes as he responds. "I absolutely knew that she was still aboard. She had no opportunity or ability to escape as I did. Her death was her escape from the bones."

I do not know how much I can do to help you in that regard but ... she paused for a bit ... if you ever need someone to talk to, come see me. I may not have my qualifications yet, but I am always willing to listen and help if I can.

Baila moves over to Skorpahlich, and gives him a big warm hug-- well, she hugs his knee!

In spite of his air of self-confidence, the strange vesk is clearly affected by the offers of compassion - and hugs! He seems to not really know how to react to such expressions, especially when made by females. He even stammers when he looks down to the tiny dancer at his knee and echoes Makai's question, "Umm, ye- yes, Balia, what is your story of the Stewards?"

Celly didn't know what to say in answer to Skorpahlich so she just nodded in acknowledgement before snagging a large piece of cake. It was apparent that cake is her comfort food.

She also looked over to Balia, silently asking for her story as well.

Baila smiles at Makai: "I was on a pirate ship. It could have been named Dodgy Place!"

Baila pats Skorpahlich's knee: "Well, you are free now. And making your own choices... that's nice!"

Looking back at Celly: "My story? That is here, with you all!"

As Celly listened, she started to relax more and her normal 'glow' reformed around her.

"So, you used to be a pirate? Hm, maybe you should meet Chryssi then, she was one as well until she got caught on an old Starfinder ship called the ... erm ... Amber Reconnoiter I believe it was

And hopefully, your current story will be a good one.

Makai nods to Baila's response. She considers Vesk story to be very personal for the fact that he does not know them. But Makai learned years ago that different aliens bond with others on a different paste. She takes a sip from her mug.

"Yeah I hope to explore a bit as part of society's missions. It sounded like the best idea when I looked for an organization that would allow me to explore the vast space and earn some money." Makai says as her hair changes color from silver to brown.

Once again not quite getting the point Venari blurts out. "Never heard of the Dodgy Place - must not be part of the Free Captains? Where did it sail out of?" The Damai asks the halfling as they side track the questions a little. "Hmm, yeah I've done a bit of travelling around - but the Society here seems like a good place to get out further. Just don't like being cooped up underground prefer the open space and sky!"

@Venari I think Celly was speaking to Baila who is also a Space Pirate Theme ;)

Makai listens to Venari and comments

"Don't want to be cooped up underground? Yeah, you sound like my clan alright. They believe that Quest for Sky did not finish with dwarves leaving underground so they sailed through the stars and still keep looking. I spend my whole life leaving on a spaceship but I got tired of it. Absalom Station seemed like a good compromise between living on a ship and a planet."

She begins the hunt for something to match her coffee.

"The air is still recycled, as is the water" points out Shokil.

"The station is big, has trees, and higher ceilings... but scratch the surface and it is still a space-ship."

He helps himself to another pastry. Where does he put them? Surely nobody so small could really eat so much.

"Of course the press of people is exciting too. So much going on. So many stories waiting to be told... or retold. Completely not based on actual events. "

"I, too, have spent my entire life in a ship, Makai. Admittedly, I was slightly ... uncomfortable during my very first trip to a planet."

Skorpahlich turns back to the table and mixes more coffee, cream, and sweetener. He follows Celly's example and tries the cake - shoving the whole piece in at once - but finds that it, too, lacks any real flavor in his mouth.

Why am I sharing so much with these beings? Their easy camaraderie is still so new to me.

Washing the flavorless cake down with more coffee, he addresses the Space Pirate. "Venari, I am unfamiliar with your species. What are you?" he asks, either blissfully unaware of or unconcerned with how blunt that question is.

Baila nods to Celly:
"I used to be a pirate? I guess. Or used to be owned by pirates.
When I was a teen, the Drow leisure yacht I was on was successfully attacked by pirates, the ones that call themselves Free Captains, though they do not offer freedom to those under them, I guess. Free Captains, not Free Crew."
Baila shrugs:
"So, well, instead of being sold somewhere, I was offered the chance to pay off my own life-debt by working for them..."

What as... Celly asked with interest. A dancer? And I hope they treated you well. And you started off on a Drow leisure yacht?

She paused. The more you reveal the more it seems that our .... careers are more similar than I expected. I too, currently work in a .... erm .... place of adult leisure, i.e the Starlight Nightclub. That's where I do my exotic aquatic dancing. We should compare notes.

Venari shrugs, also blissfully unaware of the impropriety of the question as they reply. "Me? I'm a Damai - from the Kyokor-forsaken Damailko. My people generally live underground hiding from the Collossi that rule the surface. Glad to be out of that mess I can tell you!" they get up and go back to the refreshments table, filling their teacup and grabbing a piece of cake before the Shokil eats it all. "A life amongst the stars is much better! Spaceship guns have a much better time dealing with great beasts than those of us on the ground."

The door to the well-appointed conference room opens, and Chiskisk, a member of the Starfinder Society’s Forum, enters, their antennae bobbing rhythmically as they move to take a seat at the head of the table.

The shirren is tall despite his slight stoop. The impression of height is further increased by his hat which looks something like a longhorn bull's head with deely-boppers hanging from the horns.

“Welcome, colleagues. As you know, the Starfinder Society has been quite efficacious of late. The acts of brave agents like yourselves has made the Society once-again respected and known throughout Near Space and even in some areas of the Vast.

“I had the honor to conclude preliminary negotiations with one such ambassador. They are about to sign an exclusive exploration and trade treaty with the Starfinder Society, largely based on our recent exploits. However…” the shirren pauses awkwardly, then moves to the expansive window.

“The delegate has requested a recess in negotiations to explore Absalom Station before signing the agreement. Of course, I granted them freedom of the station, as long as they accepted an escort of local Starfinder agents to see to their every need.” The shirren turns back to face the conference table. “That ‘escort,’ of course, would be you!”

Chiskisk slides a data disk across the table. “Here is the dossier on the visiting dignitary you’ll be escorting. Find out what they’re interested in seeing, and take them there. Be gracious hosts, entertaining tour guides, bodyguards, or social planners, as the dignitary requires. It should go without saying that this emissary’s safety and security are paramount, as is their continued goodwill toward the Society. If you do a good job, we might just secure the opportunity to explore a new world. Any questions?”

Data disk contents coming to the webpage shortly.

CULTURE (RECALL KNOWLEDGE) OR DIPLOMACY (GATHER INFORMATION)

One roll each. Read all that apply.

Celly was looking forward to Baila's answer when the door opened revealing Chiskisk. Even though Celly knew Chiskisk, she had a momentary flash to her nightmare but hopefully managed to maintain her composure before Chiskisk noticed - although she nearly spilled her tea onto the carpet.

After listening to Chiskisk she picked up the datadisk and scanned it's contents.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16

I'd rather have a diplomatic mission than a bug hunt ..... ooops ... sorry sir ... that was rather ... rude of me she sighed as her 'glow' dimmed a bit. A trox .... Maybe I'm going to have to lie on my own couch for a while.

Soooo .... does this gentlebeing have any foibles that we should know about? .. and .. where does he? she? it? they .... how does one address this ambassador ...... want to go?

When Celly finishes with the disk and places it back upon the table, it suddenly seems to rise of its own accord and float straight into Skorpahlich's hand. The pale vesk skims the contents but doesn't note anything of particular interest.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

"How do we know this one isn't one of the spies you mentioned?"

diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20
"While I was out with the Bro's last night, I overheard some interesting stories.." starts Shokil.

"The trox are another multiarmed race. You know, sometimes I think it would be handy to have more arms."

He shrugs, red eyed. "Ouch, too early for that kind of word play, sorry, totally unintentional."

He shrugs "Anyway, they worship Hylax, goddess of peace and diplomacy and protector of the weak. So they might appreciated some questions about her... so long as we don't confuse her with hylux, goddess of transport. Respectful folk, respectful."

He eyes up the group. "Anyway, during 'the seeding' which sounds like some kind of dispora, their groups got scattered and many enslaved, so they don't like any form of slavery, including magic that summons or cooerces people. I'm guessing browbeating locals would be seen as a no-no. So we have to play extra nice and kind."

Giving the two former 'free captains' a look he adds "So no pirate jokes would be my suggestion, lets tone down our more colourful pasts."