
Game Master S |

After gesturing at the corpses, but before Hack-it actually stands up, Booker checks the door. Other than an awful smell, there's nothing untoward about it, so he presses the button.
An acrid, sulfurous stench seeps from this vaulted rectangular room. Eons of exposure to caustic chemicals have worn the walls to a smooth glossy shine. Six massive, dingy white vats of various shapes and sizes occupy most of the floor space, their wide walls rising about four feet high. The phosphorescent, nauseatingly bright-green liquid in the vats is the source of the stench.

Hack-It |

"Any bet that whatever is in the vats can politely referred to as 'unpleasant'?"

Gig Razorbyte |

"Politely? I am not going to bet on polite language, but I think you can go with undeniably unpleasant."
Gig covers his nose and tries to cast detect magic around the vats to see if there is anything that shows up on his scans.

Torin Janzi |

Janzi does a quick detect thoughts about the room. From his spot on the map he should get all of the vats.

Game Master S |

Janzi finds nothing other than the party thinking... Booker isn't sure what it used to be, but there's enough to scrape together about a half dozen doses of... whatever it does Higher DC or Mysticism.

Hack-It |

Hack-It takes a look.
Physical Science: 1d20 + 28 ⇒ (20) + 28 = 48
He's definitely the sort to know things. But will he share?

Game Master S |

Whatever it is, it's likely just pure acid now. Hack-it catches one place where he thinks he could scrape together 5 doses of haeshi-shaa serum

Booker Broadshaw |

"Right," Booker mutters, his voice tinged by mild disgust. He stalks east along the wall to peer around the next corner.
Stealth: 1d20 + 31 ⇒ (13) + 31 = 44

Game Master S |

This broad, rectangular room is awash in mangled debris. Chunks of plastic and metal that may have once been furniture lie in piles throughout the room, entangled with an occasional remnant of foam or fabric. Sections of the walls are dented, as if from mighty impacts. Undamaged sections of the wall present holographic murals of swamps filled with dense trees, thick vines, and towering ferns. All this fauna is red as a result of the deeply indigo lighting from intermittent wall sconces, shaped like torches. A roughly textured floor, also red, is visible beneath the debris.

Gig Razorbyte |

Mysticism: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (5) + 27 = 32
Gig follows along behind Booker. He tries to move quietly just like him.
Stealth: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (12) + 27 = 39

Game Master S |

Despite the bad feeling, neither Booker nor Gig see anything that is genuinely dangerous.

Booker Broadshaw |

Booker advances cautiously and quietly, seeking a vantage from which he can peer into the next room.
Stealth: 1d20 + 31 ⇒ (14) + 31 = 45
Perception: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (14) + 22 = 36

Torin Janzi |

Janzi looks about, seeing if anything appears recognizable to him.
Life Science: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (6) + 24 = 30 (reduce the DCs of Life Science checks by 5 when recalling knowledge about xenobiology)

Game Master S |

Janzi recognizes absolutely nothing in this room.
Unfortunately, stealth isn't enough to prevent what comes next. At the midpoint of the room, a brilliant flash of red streaks across the room’s center and splits to reveal a horizontal vortex of light that swirls like a yawning black hole! It's beginning to suck you in! WILL saves from everyone.

Torin Janzi |

Will save: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (4) + 18 = 22
More like won't save.

Game Master S |

Gig and Janzi... the black whole begins to suck you in! The plasma of the event horizon strikes you both! E&F DMG: 16d12 ⇒ (4, 10, 7, 2, 5, 7, 11, 3, 5, 1, 7, 4, 8, 4, 6, 11) = 95!
Drawing Gig in: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (11) + 39 = 50 for Bludgeoning: 12d12 ⇒ (9, 1, 1, 10, 5, 1, 4, 12, 2, 3, 10, 3) = 61
Drawing Janzi in: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (11) + 39 = 50 for Bludgeoning: 12d12 ⇒ (8, 4, 2, 10, 1, 10, 5, 8, 11, 4, 9, 5) = 77
The whole then vanishes...
It was an illusion, an assault on the mind, but real enough to harm your comrades.
Gig: (SP: 42/198)
Janzi: (HP: 77/112)

Booker Broadshaw |

Hearing nothing from Gig or Janzi...
Booker only frowns and grunts before moving to scout the next room.
Stealth: 1d20 + 31 ⇒ (2) + 31 = 33
Perception: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (13) + 22 = 35

Game Master S |

The aqua-colored ceiling of this square room emits an intense ambient light. Metal operating tables, contoured examination tables, and chairs in a variety of sizes and heights clutter the room, most of them crammed haphazardly against each other. Among this jumble are small tables and wheeled poles containing computers and other medical paraphernalia. Cabinets with vibrant blue doors and no apparent handles line the walls. Several large crates partially block one opening, while the opening across from it is clear.

Gig Razorbyte |

Gig scurries up to the computer terminal and checks to see if he can turn it on. If possible he tries to break into they system.
Computers: 1d20 + 37 ⇒ (5) + 37 = 42

Game Master S |

Gig cracks his knuckles and sets to work. Now that you're in here, it looks like the blockage wouldn't stop anyone your size from moving through to the other room, but someone giant sized would be stymied.
The computer fires up, but Gig accidentally turns EVERYTHING on. All the cabinets swing wide open, dumping their contents. Most of it looks like expended medical supplies, though Janzi notices that there are a few unused things; specifically three life fluid hypopens.
No one else spots anyhting of note.

Booker Broadshaw |

"Someone didn't want the giants wreckin' their ball," Booker comments, looking around at the crates. He nods to the hypopens. "Best take these for 'mergencies, blood tech or not."
He scoops up the hypopens but GIVES JANZI (OR GIG) AMPLE OPPORTUNITY TO CLAIM THEM SINCE HE IS VERY VERY WOUNDED.

Booker Broadshaw |

Booker looks at the crates across the way. "Who knows. We've been at this a while... no telling how long we were out, neither. You need a minute, take it."
I am fine with a 10 minute rest.

Gig Razorbyte |

"Thanks, Booker."
Gig sets himself up in the computer chair where he puts his feet up on the table and leans back like he's in a lounge chair. He takes out a stick of gum and starts chewing to help with the relaxation process.
Use one resolve to regain stamina.

Game Master S |

Janzi, however, is quite wounded. A ten minute rest won't heal his wounds.

Torin Janzi |

"You numbskulls! It was just an illusion!"
Tell that to my internal hemorrhages, Janzi says, picking himself up off the floor.
No, no, really, I'm fine, Janzi says, tucking his spleen back in. Just a flesh wound. He takes a few seconds to patch himself up using his healing touch. Fine with a 10 min breather too.

Booker Broadshaw |

After ten minutes, Booker stamps out a cigarette butt. "Right, let's get moving." He stalks to the next set of crates across the hallway.
Stealth: 1d20 + 31 ⇒ (16) + 31 = 47
Perception: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (15) + 22 = 37

Gig Razorbyte |

Gig wakes from his restful slumber. "Oh man! I was just in the middle of a great dream! I was surrounded by platters of scrumptious cheese! Alright. Back to work. Where to now?"
Gig resumes following Booker by creeping along using his stealth.
Stealth: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (3) + 27 = 30

Hack-It |

After the obvious error by Gig, Hack-It takes his own turn at the terminal.
Computers: 1d20 + 36 ⇒ (4) + 36 = 40
He does really do any better though, and leaves them be.

Game Master S |

The party surreptitiously approaches. This area is also barracaded, but it's clearly designed to keep giants out, not vesk-sized (and smaller) intruders. Astronomical symbols and grooves representing celestial paths have been carved into the walls, floor, and ceiling of this large room. An alcove to one side contains several enormous hammocks strung atop each other from floor to ceiling. Within there are four moon giants sitting and snacking on bland looking caked bars.

Gig Razorbyte |

Gig tries to recall what he knows about Moon giants. He wonders if they are all evil beings that would eat ysoki for breakfast.
Culture: 1d20 + 26 ⇒ (15) + 26 = 41

Gig Razorbyte |

"From what I can tell," Gig whispers. "These creature would eat ysoki for breakfast. Let's cook them first!"
Gig eagerly awaits Booker signal to launch an explosive blast into the Moon giants room.

Booker Broadshaw |

Booker waves the others forward.
Booker carefully lines up a headshot.
Prepared Shot: 1d20 + 27 + 2 - 2 + 2 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 27 + 2 - 2 + 2 + 9 + 1 = 52 if HIT, target is staggered 1 round
Piercing Damage: 7d10 + 23 + 9 + 9 ⇒ (8, 4, 3, 10, 10, 4, 7) + 23 + 9 + 9 = 87 (reduce DR by up to 15)
Clip: 96/100 rounds.

Torin Janzi |

Janzi holds a hand up to Booker and moves to the breach, speaking in an odd monotone voice. Good evening, all, my name is Torin. I come from a rough area. I used to be addicted to crack but now I am off it and trying to stay clean. That is why I am selling magazine subscriptions.
Bluff: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (15) + 20 = 35

Game Master S |

"AH! PLEASE PLEASE WE MEAN YOU NO HARM! PLEASE!"
One giant drops his bar and whimpers, two of them duck for cover, and the speaking one stands and holds his hands up.

Torin Janzi |

Janzi cocks an eyebrow and conveys the reply telepathically. Well, that was unexpected.
To the moon giants, he continues. We need to commandeer these quarters temporarily. No harm will come to you if you vacate at once.

Gig Razorbyte |

Sense Motive (Untrained): 1d20 ⇒ 15
"Oh yes. They seem very sincere. I had no idea that moon giants were so sensitive. If they prove to be cooperative, I get first dibs on hiring them for my security staff."