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Reflecting on what she surmised from what she heard, Bele was unfortunately caught napping when the gang took flight. By the time she realised they were gone, she knew she would not have a chance to catch them up.
Instead, she keeps up a steady jog, hoping to keep at least one of the Starfinders in sight.
Five brave Starfinders begin the chase. Kneepuncher's heavy stomping and grim demeanor part the crowd and get him out in front of the group early and hot on the tail of the two Uniters. But then he thoroughly frightens an older shirren couple who just freeze instead of dodging away and the halfling loses ground.
Shokil, by dint of hard work and artful dodging manages to keep the fugitives in sight. It's a long chase through the concourse into a service area with cages and machinery, through leaking utility tunnels where water sometimes pools in puddles, and service corridors with peeling paint that's often clogged with stored cases and boxes.
Aided by comm contact, Oda, Bele, and a lagging Saeron manage to keep Shokil in sight.
Low in the station the pair dodges into the more commonly inhabited area. This is a far cry from the gleaming commercial markets around the Lorespire. The floor is dirty in places. Mold, moss, and mangy, but hardy plants, eke out a bare existence in forgotten corners. People are dressed in hard worn, practical clothing. Although their heads are up and scanning the area, no one makes eye contact, and everyone walks like they are in a hurry.
Just outside a small low apartment building the recruits are stopped by a vlaka. The vlaka doesn't seem pleased and remonstrates them. The building is a ramshackle structure with a hanging sign in the one window, indicating in various languages that the building is scheduled for demolition. The front entrance door hangs crookedly in its frame, and graffiti—both fresh and half-scrubbed—adorns the walls. The smell of sewage intermittently wafts throughout the area.
Staar meanwhile examines the pamphlet which is strangely devoid of a name for this miracle institution of medicineand learns the contact number. Placing a call on her comm unit, she's greeted with "Uniters for the Open Collective. What can I do for you?"
Staar is able to wrangle an address to 'a location' in the Spike where she can fill out an 'application form.' She takes station transit, during which she notes that the others seem to be running toward the Spike also. After a short, unhurried walk, she finds herself looking down a disreputable street at a small, shoddy apartment building.
A vlaka and two humans looking remarkably like her Uniter recruits are having a low-key confrontation in front of the building.
Beyond them, Shokil skids out of an alley.
The humans and the vlaka have been holding hands. They drop them and the vlaka motions for the humans to go inside. One lays a hand on the vlaka's shoulder and the alien glances back at Staar before facing the advancing halfling, half-orc and damaya. The vlaka points at its ear, then waves its hand. "Kont-teer."
The dog-like vlaka has thick, greyish fur with white patches that looks like protection against all but the most bitter cold. It stands erect, about 6 feet tall and must weigh 225 pounds. (Roughly 5.9 m and 100 kg.) It wears cheap light armor, and a long thin sword and some kind of energy gun hang from its belt.
It stares steadily at Shokil, Oda, and Saeron.
Wolflike creatures with thick fur, vlakas hail from a doomed planet called Lajok, an arctic world in the Vast that is the most distant from its system’s dying star. Life is barely sustainable on Lajok, and as its sun grows dimmer, it might be able to sustain an ecosphere for only a few more centuries.
Vlaka fur is usually white with large patches of pale blue, gray, or black, and it provides them protection against all but the most bitter cold. Around two thirds of vlakas are born blind or deaf. Although they have long had access to magic and technology that can mitigate or remove such conditions, not all vlakas choose to do so, valuing the cultural touchstones such as language and perspective variances that are associated with differing ways of sensing the world. A typical vlaka stands 5-1/2 to 6-1/2 feet tall and weighs between 175 and 250 lbs.
Vlakas hail from a doomed planet called Lajok, an arctic world in the Vast that is the most distant from its system’s dying star. Life is barely sustainable on Lajok, and as its sun grows dimmer, it might be able to sustain an ecosphere for only a few more centuries. Some vlakas respond to this knowledge by building strong communities that can last as long as possible on their home world, but others travel among the stars seeking a longer-term solution.
Many vlakas are born blind or deaf. Although they have long had access to magic and technology that can mitigate or remove such conditions, not all vlakas choose to do so, valuing the cultural touchstones such as language and perspective variances that are associated with differing ways of sensing the world.
A few vlakas who visited the Pact Worlds before the Absalom Pact was signed served as a bridge between Eox and other worlds. Vlakas have since become famous as dependable go-betweens for groups seeking genuine accord.
Vlaka negotiators might even work with clients who have been bad actors in the past, hoping to find a situation beneficial to all sides and to see ethical improvement in future behavior.
Vlakas can appear unnervingly serious, but they’re acutely attuned to the emotional state of others, and they offer friendly encouragement when they sense it might be helpful. Vlakas emphasize on the well-being of the group over the individual, a practice that evolved from survival strategies required to thrive in the tundra of Lajok. While not wholly self-sacrificing, vlakas go to great lengths to assist, protect, and encourage their friends, colleagues, and kin. Vlakas frown upon self-aggrandizing leadership, and they respect those who display wisdom, listen the most, and speak the least.
Most vlaka groups are led by councils whose members rotate between roles and dutifully carry out the will of their constituents rather than seeking political power for themselves. Vlakas who travel with other races often find themselves thrust into leadership positions thanks to their penchant for working for the benefit of and listening to their allies. Most vlakas accept such responsibilities but deflect any unwarranted respect afforded them solely due to their title.
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"Well" smiles Shokil. "It has been said that I have a way with the ladies... And that there is a whole lot of lady."
Turning to the other starfinders he adds "I get fan mail from all over the system. Even from Vlakas. Apparently they hail from an artic world out in the Vast called Lajak. Often they are born blind or deaf. I'm guessing this one cannot hear. Likely means their speach... ahh that is what she said 'Can't Hear'"
He smiles and waves to her.
"They are diplomats - fine ones at that. Act as trusted messengers between groups that want peace."
He steps forward, hands away from weapons.
"We are looking for friends." he says slowly.
The vlaka drops her hands down to her weapons, but makes no move to draw them. She glances at Staar again, then returns her attention to Shokil.
About 10' behind Bele is a side door into the building.
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Raising her hand, Saeron gestures for her companions to hold. She motions down with her palm several times in a placating manner.
The lashunta regards the vlaka in turn, nodding at Shokil's words. "I will try to speak to her telepathically," she informs the others.
Hello. I am Saeron, she sends tentatively. My friend here is named Shokil. We're looking for information about a missing friend... well, friends. You can also respond to me this way, if you wish. I can then relay your words to my friends.
The vlaka looks around before concentrating hard. "I am Bargai. By what right are you harassing my people?"
"We are not harassing those people." says Shokil."They were handing out pamphlets for their clinic, and ran off before we could get all the information. They approached us!"
Bargai waits for Saeron's mental translation, then replies through the lashunta. "They said you threatened and pursued them through nearly the entirety of the station. I think you wanted more than pamphlets."
"We are Starfinders."When Saeron passes this along, the vlaka stares intently at the group for a long time.
"Starfinders!? Very interesting. I might know something that would interest you. But it will cost you. And I'll want guarantees that non of my people will be detained or harmed."
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"If none of your people are responsible for our people being missing - or at least won't stand in the way of us getting them back... then they have nothing to worry from us." says Shokil, authoratively.
"But you are right, the do know something... that they ran from us when we asked questions shows signs of a guilty conscience."
"Or that they were frightened by being accosted by a band of heavily armed unknown persons. They said one of you growled.
But that's not really important. What is important, is that I happen to know where one of your wayward Starfinders is. For a small fee, maybe 1500 credits, I could recover them for you."
"I am prepared to do that also, again with the proviso that you will not harm or detain myself or any of my people. Since you would be taking the risk I'd be willing to drop the price to 1000 credits. Take it or leave it. "
She lays one hand on her pistol.
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Shokil shakes his head. "So you won't let us help our own people without paying an extoritionate fee. Helping them from trouble that 'your' people seem to know about and likely got them into. That doesn't sound like a good deal to me.."
He glances back over his shoulder to see how the rest of the team feels about the direction the negotions are taking.
Might be time to growl again...
"Then we have nothing further to discuss. It may be too bad for your shobhad friend. Lady Lashunta, thank you for translating."
With a nod to Saeron, Bargai turns on her heel and steps through the doorway. The two humans begin to push the sliding doors closed behind her.
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Saeron chewed her lip. This was not going how she had hoped.
"Wait!" she called urgently. "You are right," she said, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue. Oh gods, Saeron, what are you doing? You're no negotiator!
Hoping she got their attention, she pressed on. "Uh, in hindsight, we may have been a little... unrefined... in our approach with your people earlier. We're very interested in learning more about what you offer," she says, holding up a pamphlet. "While the Starfinders help pay our bills, we are not what you'd call wealthy. Perhaps there's some other way we can assist you?"
The vlaka steps inside. The two humans begin to push the sliding doors closed behind her. Staar rushes forward to stop them. Saeron calls out to keep the peace.
Initiative order:
Oda
Kneepuncher
Shokil
Staar
Bele
Thug1
Thug2
Saeron
Bargai
Kneepuncher hurries towards the closing door. Staar tries punching, but the door obstructs her blows and slides inexorably closer to shut.
Initiative order:
Oda
Shokil
Bele
Thug1
Thug2
Saeron
Bargai
Round2:
Staar
Kneepuncher
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Shokil sighs loudly.
"There has to be a better way than combat... "
He adds, looking around the area. "I'm not going to be the first to draw a blaster. 'Pulp fiction author mistakes reality for fiction' - I can just see the headlines now. Of course... that might be good for sales."
He does draw his blaster, but holds off putting it to use. Rather he heads to the next door down and tries to open that.
The halfling retreats along the building's wall, seeking an alternate entrance.
Oda
Bele
Thug1
Thug2
Saeron
Bargai
Round2:
Staar
Kneepuncher
Shokil
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Bele continued to listen and learn. Given she was usually in the thick of the action, this was something of a new departure for her. But the truth was that she was a little overwhelmed. Not with the requirement of the mission, but at the pace of those at the forefront of leading their efforts. So much so, that she missed opportunities to step in and demonstrate her undoubted abilities at times.
And, because she was musing about her own inadequacies, she missed the escalation of the mood between the parties and – without any warning at all (at least to Bele) – a fight broke out.
She was one of the slowest to react, as a result, and pulled her pistol and aimed at the closest enemy combatant.
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Bele continued to listen and learn. Given she was usually in the thick of the action, this was something of a new departure for her. But the truth was that she was a little overwhelmed. Not with the requirement of the mission, but at the pace of those at the forefront of leading their efforts. So much so, that she missed opportunities to step in and demonstrate her undoubted abilities at times.
And, because she was musing about her own inadequacies, she missed the escalation of the mood between the parties and – without any warning at all (at least to Bele) – a fight broke out.
She was one of the slowest to react, as a result, and pulled her pistol and awaited the opportunity to join the fray properly.
Bele and Oda charge toward the fray.
The dark-haired man lifts his gun and it roars as he fires point blank at Staar, but the solarian dodges asides and the bullet just skims her.
... P; critical knockdown)
The blond woman tries to close her door.
Saeron
Bargai
Round2:
Staar (-3 SP)
Kneepuncher
Shokil
Oda
Bele
Thug1
Thug2
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Seron hesitates, battling indecision as her companions' struggle at the door ahead and Shokil passes by in the opposite direction.
Oh, look at you. Thinking you'll do something that actually makes a difference! the inner voice cackles.
Saeron ignores the negativity. Reaching her hand out toward the group at the door, she gathers light from the surrounding area, the collected energy coalescing into a small glowing orb.
The orb zips by her companions and through the doorway, where it settles into an erratic, flashing orbit around the female thug's head.
"Bele, stay by me and Shokil. It looks like we're trying this side entry."
Saeron hurries toward the front door and sends a globe of light to circle, menace, dazzle, or otherwise distract the blond woman.
Inside the building the vlaka steps to the side so that she can line up a straight shot on Oda over the man's head. Oda suddenly feels her face heat up, her sinuses feel a surge of tremendous pressure which is relieved as air and hot mucus whistle out her nose.
... F)
Round2:
Staar (-3 SP)
Kneepuncher
Shokil
Oda (-6 SP)
Bele
Thug1
Thug2
Saeron
Bargai