tt's The Elsebo Way

Game Master therealthom

Dot in here.

.

.

"Not now, Tidbit!" Never spat through gritted teeth. The tiny robot continued to chirp biometrics at her in spite of her protest.

Heart rate 181, systolic blood pressure 245, oxygen 89%...

Dammit, Never, breathe, she scolded herself, quietly thankful for her little friend's ceaseless concern.

The fatigue in her arm was real, but the strain on the rest of her body was just as serious, and if the exertion did not end in the next few seconds she would probably pass out. That's if her arm didn't break first.

The hulking Vesk sitting across the narrow table from her seemed to be enjoying the situation, showing none of the signs of trauma that rippled across Never's face, flushed crimson. Biceps bulged and veins stood taut, hands clenched together wrapped in microcord to prevent either contestant from slipping the grip. She could smell its breath, stinking of numeat or whatever organic protein cocktails Vesk were into these days.

And she was losing. Her arm tipped past forty-five degrees, hovering precariously, knuckles down, on her side of the table. She tasted bile. Tidbit chirped at her with maximum urgency.

Through the waves of pain attacking her central nervous system, Never starred unflinching at her massive opponent. "No. I've got this."

The real damage to her body sparked a fusion inside her: a quantum of pure chaos. Something she had learned to harness long ago, the thing that made her different and allowed her to survive in the Absalom slums between the Mercantile Districts and the Shipyards.

She harnessed it now, channeling it through her core and into her failing right arm. Instantly her wrist cocked upward, and with the change in leverage she started to turn the Vesk around. The giant reptilian looked alarmed, then panicked, and when their arms returned to starting position it seemed desperate. The small gathered crowd of drunken gamblers broke into excited roars, the majority screaming obscenities at the Vesk, their wagers about to be forfeit.

Her body burned with power, and she accelerated her arm through the pin, cracking her opponent's knuckles and the table beneath. She burst upright, triumphant, the agony of her torn muscles temporarily muted by the thrill of victory.

When the microcord was cut she helped her opponent to its feet. It hadn't been a fair fight, but no one needed to know it. She would survive another day, and screw the rest of them.

The bartender gave her an ice pack and added Never's share of the winning wagers to her cred chip - a fraction of the take, but it wasn't the credits she wanted. She gathered Tidbit in her pocket and stepped out back, where a small sledge spilled over with salvage.

Never kicked through it, looking for the hi-tech stuff she knew would yield the most UPBs, when she felt someone approach. Her hands instinctively gripped the singing disk and taclash and she spun on the new threat.

"Easy!" An older human woman held her hands out and affected a calming demeanor. She wore a uniform of some kind, and she looked smart in it.

"Alright," Never responded, "Your move."

"I watched you in there. They way you took over that match; that was more than raw strength."

Never remained tense. "What do you think you know about it?"

"My name is Raci Tenmore. I find people with certain--skills. Carefully, the gray-haired woman produced a signature card and handed it to Never. "When you get tired of arm wrestling scavengers for scrap, look me up. There's more to life than this for someone like you, if you want it." Raci turned and retreated through the bar, leaving Never alone once more.

Never looked at the electric signature on the card. She huffed. "Starfinders. Go figure."

Tidbit poked its little cone-shaped head out of her pocket and chirped.

"And leave all this?" She sat heavily against the wall and rubbed her sore arm. "Ah, what the hell..."

Wow! I wanna do one!

Full. ErsAtz. Conversion.

The process of transforming someone who was born a biological person, and replacing the meat until they resemble more machine than man.

Mostly they just call it FEAR.

Alison was born a human. She was the opposite of special. Just another gutterpunk on Absalom scatching out what she called a life. A little kitbash here, a little wetwork there, it put synthMEAT on the table, with four different flavors on tap.

Somewhere, somehow, things went sideways. She doesn't talk about it. Much. There was a boy named Derrick. And a bottle. And someone...else.

She does remember waking up. She saw...him. HighFather. The Leader. High Father Joakim.

He had saved her. He and his Order of the White Angel. Yes, they were Starfinders. Sort of.

And yes, she owed them. She wanted to, of course, but that didn't change much.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked, ready to cash whatever check they wanted written.

"You will be told what to do, but not how to do it." His voice was soft and cool, yet firm. Like a high-caliber sniper round made of silk.

"You guys don't sound like Starfinders."

...what is necessary."

dot

It is the worst of times for the Starfinder Society, but maybe the best of times to be a new Starfinder Agent.

The Society is rebuilding after the Scoured Stars disaster. Kasathan First Seeker Jadnura has enacted a massive coordinated exploration of the remote region of the galaxy called the Scoured Stars, a small cluster of star systems known for housing worlds filled with vicious fauna, not to mention an abundance of malicious outsiders and other strange entities. For more than a century, expeditions to the Scoured Stars were prohibited because of the deadly inhabitants and because findings from the few successfully explored worlds showed little of research value.

Jadnura’s quest was motivated by a mysterious artifact known only as the Tear. The item was little more than a jagged hunk of magical stone etched with indecipherable markings. The magical artifact defied most mystical and technological investigation, relenting only after years of intense scrutiny. It took the most powerful divination magic available, but veteran Starfinders uncovered a link between the Tear and the Scoured Stars. When Jadnura ascended to the rank of First Seeker, he rallied the Society to travel to the Scoured Stars to at last answer the Tear’s secrets.

The mission was one of the greatest single undertakings by the Starfinder Society. A task force of almost 80% of the Society’s assets and agents joined the First Seeker on his mission into the Scoured Stars. Everything went well at first, with reports returning of Jadnura and the bulk of the Starfinder teams landing on the surface of the world to which the Tear directed them.

And then, nothing.

When the remaining Starfinders attempted to make contact, they discovered a terrifying reality: the Scoured Stars were now cut off from the rest of the galaxy. A vast shield of aurum energy surrounded the region of space, preventing communication and travel into the systems. Drift travel was rendered ineffective, and even visual scans failed to pierce the shifting veil, which was soon after dubbed “The Godshield” for its incomprehensible power.

With the bulk of the Starfinder Society lost in the aftermath of the Scoured Stars incident, the Society is on the brink of ruin. Only the actions of a particularly outspoken Starfinder, Luwazi Elsebo, has held the Starfinder Society together in the ensuing months. A dedicated assembly of surviving senior Starfinders has assisted Elsebo in stabilizing the Society, as well as in rebuilding the Forum. Many of these agents specialized in managing specific aspects of Society operations, each becoming de-facto leaders for Society factions.

Even with the dedication of Luwazi and her allies, the Starfinder Society suffered further losses, as discouraged surviving agents opted to leave the Society. The loss of further field agents, especially those few veterans who left, made holding onto the Society’s vast portfolio of claimed planetoids, stellar regions, and other archaeological sites almost impossible.

The necessity of maintaining the Society’s claims on these regions was too much for the remaining agents to handle, and Luwazi turned to outside assistance from reputable mercenary organizations. Many of those mercenaries have joined the Starfinders full-time as part of the newly formed Acquisitives Faction led by the vesk, Radaszam.

At the same time, Luwazi solicited additional support from several external organizations, from Eoxian business moguls to the Knights of Golarion, garnering resources in the form of credits, equipment, and even starships. Most of these offers came in the form of investments, with returns to be paid in the future, while some had exact conditions on what the donors would receive for their support.

Through such imperfect arrangements, Luwazi Elsebo and her allies successfully held the Starfinder Society together long enough for a new cadre of Starfinders to complete their training.

For the past year or so, those agents had unusual opportunities for rookie agents, filling the shoes of the Agents lost in the Scoured Stars, and tackling missions well above their pay grade.

One team of new agents finds itself freshly returned from a mission on the very day that the First Seeker has declared a celebratory gala on the grounds of the Lorespire Complex, Starfinder Headquarters, to commemorate those who aided the Society in its time of need, to showcase the new generation of Starfinders, and to announce a new direction moving forward.

The thrusters on your ship are barely cool when a message from the First Seeker summons you to her office.

The Lorespire Complex... who cares? Never remembered thinking the first time she saw the ivory tower in the distance on Absalom Station. It seemed impossibly remote to her adolescent mind; it might as well have been in another galaxy from where she stood in the filthy underbelly of the slums.

"Don't ever let me forget where I came from," she said to Tidbit, who chirped dutifully and then hid in her pocket.

The first few missions with the Starfinders had been routine - more training exercises than anything serious, but that was expected. Being summoned to the First Seeker's office was not.

When she marched through the door into the spacious office in one of the upper floors, she wasn't sure what to do; the manual was lacking protocols for such engagements, and she hadn't read it anyway.

"First Seeker! Never Stormfox reporting, ma'am."

Looking out into realspace as they approached the station, Zephyr expertly piloted their ship into the landing bay. Still trying to get used to the sight, he was already longing for the hypnotic beauty of the drift surrounding his homeworld of Alluvion. The mission had been somewhat boring, really, but at least he got to fly. His companions were interesting as well; new-ish Starfinders one and all, from different races and backgrounds. They worked together well enough this time, though...

Looking forward to some downtime to (figuratively) recharge his batteries, Zephyr was about to invite his companions to the nearest tapcafe when the message came in. Wincing, he says, "No rest for the weary, then--who screwed up and how badly for us to get called into the Speaker's office before we've even gotten our Station feet under us?"

Sighing and slinging his Artillery Laser on his back (where it transforms into a very realistic-looking backpack), the android stands up, his servos whining faintly after having been in the pilot's seat for so long. "Nothing for it, then. Let's get moving," he adds, striding out into the bay easily in his heavy Iridshell armor, heading towards the Lorespire complex with the ever-eager Never.

"Well . . .. Nah. If it was salvaging that bit o' gear, they woulda complained while we were outbound. Needed the part ta get that extra performance outta the sensors. Don't waste nuthin' if you can help it." The dwarf sighs as he goes through the process of a hard shut-down for the ship. "Back ta sleep, little girl. We'll be out'n' about again soon enough, I hope."

Only once the ship is taken care of will Lorne follow the instructions to walk away from his responsibility.

When he reaches the office, and is told to go in, he strides in, nods to the First Seeker, and says simply "Ma'am."

Jaeric spent a few minutes scrutinizing the message from the First Seeker, almost like he was searching for a deeper meaning in the communication. Like Zephyr, he was wondering what would warrant a direct meeting with the new leader of the whole Society. He'd actually hoped to check in with his father first, but he knew that would have to wait now. Before heading out with his companions, he tapped a brief text for delivery to his father, explaining he'd have to postpone the drinks they'd planned on having when he returned. Gathering his things, he then headed down the rampway, nodding at Lorne. The dwarf was responsibly securing the ship, and Jaeric respected that kind of dedication.

"Good job on that run," he commented, speaking to Lorne as well as Zephyr. They'd made a good team when things got hot, improvising where necessary and not always doing things by the book. That seemed like a trait in high demand for Starfinders these days, and it probably kept them alive. Jaeric planned on writing a commendation for them in his report.

As they strolled together towards the Lorespire Complex, the half-elf's eyes took in the passersby along the streets of Absalom Station, gauging the diverse mannerisms of the populace. It still felt odd for him being in an artificial environment as massive as this one. Ships were one thing, but a space-station as large as a sprawling metropolis seemed out of place without there also being an extension of suburbs and a planet's natural environments beyond it. Of course, Absalom Station had public parks. He'd visited them before, but they paled in comparison to the lush jungles of Castrovel.

Of course, his elven mother would call that homesickness and suggest he return to Sovyrian to address it. Jaeric had to admit that since coming to Absalom Station there was a seed of such emotion weighing on him at times. But, there was also an eagerness. Getting to finally meet his father was reason enough for leaving home. And then, finding out they had so much in common...their shared passion for xenoarchaeology, seeing the stars, exploring new worlds...it all added up to a desire to follow in his footsteps by joining the Society and making his mark in the universe. Maybe it was wishful thinking...or just an unrealized dream as yet...but his faith in Desna taught him such things could be made real if you worked at them.

He'd discussed as much with his father before. And, luckily, he was still around to do so. After all, if his dad had accompanied the Starfinders Jadnura led on the ill-fated Scoured Stars quest, they'd have never met. And Starfinding was a young man's game now. His father was well past his prime and ready to pass on the mantle of field assignments. They'd talked about all that before Jaeric joined up. Perhaps more concerning, his human father was already getting on in years. Jaeric knew that both he and his mother would outlive him. Thus, that was even more reason to spend as much time with him as he could during the next few years. Maybe after the meeting the First Seeker, he'd still be able to catch up with him at their favorite bar so he could share the story of the team's latest adventure. Jaeric's mind drifted as he walked, imagining how best to frame it for maximum entertainment value.

Finally, he had to put those thoughts aside as the group entered the Lorespire and made it thru security before heading up to the Seeker's office. Jaeric checked his datapad in the hallway for a response to the message he'd sent from their ship. Nothing yet. Might as well focus on the here and now. He let the others file into the meeting room ahead of him, making sure everyone was accounted for before following behind.

"Luwazi..." he greeted the Seeker upon recognition, "It was a pleasant surprise to receive your invitation. The team's a bit worn down from our last run, but we're all interested to know what brings us here. How can we help?"

Alie spent a last moment running a diagnostic on the ship. Ever since her FEAR she felt an un-natural affinity for technological machines, and took something akin to an emotional pride in their well-being. She optimized an algorithm for the multidimentional holomodules with the synaptic infusers, and called it a day.

She smiles at Z4 as he glamors his artillery, knowing that her own backpack held a secret along the same lines.

"Seemed like shellshock, O me chummers," she answers to the speculation of the silence of their cargo on the way back. "Might be like troops coming out of a hard zone, were I to speculate. But I'm not so I won't. I just hope it wasn't _us_ what fragged up to get called into the office. Sort of," she says, consciously ironic.

She wasn't really one to hold her tongue when she was meat--that much she knows, even if the transition from meat to chr0m3 is a goodly bit fuzzy--and an immortal body with upgraded sensors didn't give her reason now to do so.

Handshaking with the station's 'net, she logs in to her Eat or DIE! app and in moments a small flyborg drone deposits a large SlurpIT in her waiting hand. She sucks on the straw contentedly letting the protein, caffeine, and some double-digit amount of alcohol grease her inner workings unto shininess.

"Hoi Mrs. Johnson," she says to First Seeker Luwazi Elsebo by way of a familiar honorific. She never did figure out if her intrinsic irreverence came from her own hard-coding, or the Order of the White Angel's back-handed sneering at the 'Star Scouts', but she'd let the historians figure that one out.

"We gots t' fix something or break something, this run?"

"Dammit," Never grumbles to herself. She'd come off too strong, or too formal, or too something. She marvels at the casualness of her teammates, especially Alison, who must know the First Seeker really well, or not at all. Never fits into this outfit like a gorilla in a tuxedo, whatever that means, but she took Raci's deal, and for better or worse she'd do her best to make it work. She drifts back to give the others more room to speak freely with Luwazi.

Luwazi Elsebo, a shorter, solidly-built dark-skinned woman, stands up from behind her desk. She looks past you at her gate-keeper secretary, who shrugs an apology.

"Pennyloaf, next time rope and throw the visitors before they break through the corral." Her tone is light. Nevertheless the secretary wilts a little before backing into her antechamber.

Elsebo looks over the party for a few seconds. Her eyes settle on Alison, "Hoi, chummers. Relax. You're not in any trouble. Yet. "

She smiles, before adding, "Pennyloaf needs a little more confidence if she's going to wrangle Starfinders. Do what you can to help her out."

"If you'll give me just a second, I want to finish this before I forget. " She sits back down and addresses her terminal.

Meaning I don't have a copy of the scenario at work.

You have a moment to look around. The First Seeker’s meeting room is a lavish space, with several lush couches and armchairs surrounding a wide, low table.

Elsebo is arrayed uncharacteristically extravagantly. She's exchanged her typical stationwear for a sleek, fashionable suit in a shade of copper that matches the Starfinder Society logo emblazoned on the table.

Luwazi smiles and gestures to the seats. “A pleasure to see you all. I trust you’ve heard about tonight’s gala? I have a rather important announcement to make, so we’ve decided to use the opportunity to entertain and impress representatives of the various interests who have helped the Starfinder Society through our setbacks with the Scoured Stars Incident.
“That’s where you come in. As some of the shining stars of the newest Starfinder Society agents, I’d like to have you mingle with the guests so they can see for themselves what we’ve been able to accomplish. It’s nothing too fancy; I’d just like you all to be polite and talk about some of your experiences with the Society so far. We’re expecting some government dignitaries, investors, corporate interests, and the like, so be sure to stay on your best behavior. Also, don’t be afraid to brag a bit—it’s our goal to impress them.”

“But don’t be stupid,” another voice hisses. Behind you stands the towering vesk leader of the Acquisitives faction, wearing a suit of ceremonial armor.

Luwazi Elsebo glances over your shoulders and grins. “Have you all met Radaszam? He’s certainly someone else you should be trying to impress.”

Radaszam scowls. “Events like this never go as planned. Luwazi’s contracted one of my merc outfits, the Obsidian Spiders, to provide security for the night. I want to make sure that if anything goes down, you’re working with my agents, rather than us all tripping over one another. So stay alert, but if anything happens, make sure you’re talking to me about it rather than jumping in blindly.”

The First Seeker nods and picks up the datapad. “I’ve singled out five guests who I would really like to make a good impression with. These folks should be your priority tonight, so I’ve compiled basic information about each of them here. Things will start up in three hours in the Skyreach Room. Any questions before we go?”

Luwazi taps the datapad a few times and transmits the list of key guests to your comm units.

Never didn't immediately associate the word "gala" with anything important, foreign as it was to her vocabulary. But once the list of fancy-pants VIPs scrolled across her comm unit she parsed its meaning, and yes, she had overheard some other Starfinders in the Complex talking about a big event with an open bar tonight.

A question formed on her lips, but she stopped herself; better to ask forgiveness than permission. Dead gods help the bastard who screws up the promise of an open bar.

"The only one I know is the one everyone knows," says Never, thinking aloud.

"Oh wait. There's not going to be dancing, is there?" It would take a lot more than free drinks to get her onto a dance floor.

Luwazi Elsebo, a shorter, solidly-built dark-skinned woman, stands up from behind her desk. She looks past you at her gate-keeper secretary, who shrugs an apology.

"Pennyloaf, next time rope and throw the visitors before they break through the corral." Her tone is light. Nevertheless the secretary wilts a little before backing into her antechamber.

Elsebo looks over the party for a few seconds. Her eyes settle on Alison, "Hoi, chummers. Relax. You're not in any trouble. Yet. "

Alie giggles at her comparison to a horse. Her laugh is light with a musical undertone, a sound that can be compared to chime ringing in time with a synth version of Ode To Joy.

"Gala?" she says when the night's festivities are laid out. She pronounces the word with distaste, like someone suggesting she eat broccoli. "That's neither fixin' nor breakin'.

Hey, will there at least be booze? What? I need alcohol to function at optimum efficiency."

She taps her chin cutely.

"Three hours? You want me to go like this or you wanna chip in so I can buy something nice? Possibly with some slink.

Ya get what ya pay for, chummer."

She turns to Never and asks, in a stage-whisper, "Like, who's the one we're all supposed to know?"

"The dead one. Or undead. Or whatever. Zo! Seriously? Zo! is like, the biggest name in the entertainment industry. I hardly watch the tube but whenever I'm at a bar, some stupid show of his is on. It's mostly fluff but occasionally someone dies, so kinda interesting, in the sense that you're rooting for people to get killed."

When am I not at a bar? Never wondered. Her mouth was dry.

"We should get started early," she whispers back to Alison.

"So we make nice with the guests, then be ready to coordinate with you or Radaszam if it all goes sideways somehow. Got it," says Zephyr matter-of-factly, not totally sure what passes for polite behavior in high society, but ready with a handful of piloting stories that will get your servos whirring, if nothing else.

The dwarf's head drops. "Impress 'em? At a formal bash? Anything they might be interested in that's not their primary gig? This undead producer guy like to assemble model ships or something?"

"We'll do our best, Luwazi..." Jaeric assures the First Seeker, attempting to adopt a tone of mature reliability for the team even as he glances somewhat disapprovingly at Alison. She seemed a far cry from Zephyr's practicality, and he greatly preferred the other android's approach if they were being asked to impress various dignitaries at the upcoming event. Besides, this could be an opportunity to show their worth to the leadership of the Society at the same time.

"We'll also do our best not to be stupid..." he adds for Radaszam's benefit, acknowledging the vesk's admonition. "I'll keep a comm handy in case we need to contact you or alert anyone if something seems out of the ordinary." He looks around at the rest of the team, all still dragging a bit after their recent return to the station. "If the event is still three hours away, maybe we could take some time to make ourselves more presentable. But before we do that, can you tell us more about these five guests? Do we know anything about their relevant interests or recent activities? Something we can use as a conversation starter, perhaps?"

...

"The only one I know is the one everyone knows," says Never, thinking aloud.

"Oh wait. There's not going to be dancing, is there?" It would take a lot more than free drinks to get her onto a dance floor.

Luwazi smiles, "Knew this mission would be a challenge for Starfinders. I'm not planning on dancing myself. Canned music will be available in case any of the guests want a dance."

...

"Gala?" she says when the night's festivities are laid out. She pronounces the word with distaste, like someone suggesting she eat broccoli. "That's neither fixin' nor breakin'.

Hey, will there at least be booze? What? I need alcohol to function at optimum efficiency."[/b]

She taps her chin cutely.

"Three hours? You want me to go like this or you wanna chip in so I can buy something nice? Possibly with some slink.

Ya get what ya pay for, chummer."

"There will be alcohol. Just remember your mission is to favorably impress the guests. Suit yourself on clothing. There's a glamor that comes with the armor and gear. That might play well with some of the guests."

"So we make nice with the guests, then be ready to coordinate with you or Radaszam if it all goes sideways somehow. Got it," says Zephyr matter-of-factly, not totally sure what passes for polite behavior in high society, but ready with a handful of piloting stories that will get your servos whirring, if nothing else.

Luwazi nods.

The dwarf's head drops. "Impress 'em? At a formal bash? Anything they might be interested in that's not their primary gig? This undead producer guy like to assemble model ships or something?"

"We'll do our best, Luwazi..." ...

"We'll also do our best not to be stupid..." he adds for Radaszam's benefit, acknowledging the vesk's admonition. "I'll keep a comm handy in case we need to contact you or alert anyone if something seems out of the ordinary." He looks around at the rest of the team, all still dragging a bit after their recent return to the station. "If the event is still three hours away, maybe we could take some time to make ourselves more presentable. But before we do that, can you tell us more about these five guests? Do we know anything about their relevant interests or recent activities? Something we can use as a conversation starter, perhaps?"

Still behind you, Radaszam replies flatly, "A little research might help you there. And VC Naiaj might also have some suggestions for you. The gnome should be there already making sure preparations are complete and to greet any guests who come early."

Everyone can make a culture check, trained or not. DC 10 to get some info on a guest of your choice. You get an additional guest for every additional 5 on your check. (15 gets 2 guests, 20 gets 3 etc) Flavor it as you will.

Whipping out his datapad, Zephyr starts looking up the social profiles of the named guests, starting with the android, who he is most likely to have something in common with.

Culture: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Still somewhat unfamiliar with Absalom Station’s infosphere, Zephyr finds little more that what the First Speaker already told them.

"There's a glamor that comes with the armor and gear. That might play well with some of the guests."

Wait, so they are giving us a free glamor?

"Research? In three hours? Oh boy I guess this means I need to do some SCIENCE!."

Wraith wastes no time in quickly commandeering an entire couch. She sets up a data pad, and two other computers, using all three simultaneously. The screens flicker too fast to casually follow, but they all seem to have a background of large, white, feathery wings.

After a bit she shuts everything down and grins.

Culture!: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

"I think I may have something."

Since Never already has an interest in Zo, and it sounds like Naiaj is already a friendly, I'll take ITERATION-177, YKRIS, and ROYO.

Research, oh hell. When everyone else whips out their datapads Never follows suit, but instead of connecting to some dumb library, she opens her NeTV app and scrolls through a list of shows by Zo!, passing on dozens of other game shows before settling on Who Wants to Be a Borai?.

Culture: 1d20 ⇒ 6

There are a few funny moments, like when the Lashunta's antennae fall off after the transformation, but it is otherwise a pretty dull twenty-two minutes, and she learns nothing interesting except that Borai don't fit in anywhere.

"Alright, I'm ready," announces Never, feeling as prepared as possible for such a thing.

"I'll make a few calls then and see what I can learn... Jaeric offers. He leaves the First Seeker's office to conduct his conversations privately in the exterior hall. First up, he makes a call to his father. As a long-time member of the Starfinder Society, perhaps he'll have a few thoughts and pointers on how best to make an impression on the guests...hopefully with a few tidbits of more recent data on them.

Culture check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

While he doesn't gain much insight into the other guests, he does find that his father knows Naiaj due to their shared time in the Society together. Jaeric wonders if his time interacting with gnomes on Castrovel before coming to Absalom Station might also hone is etiquette a bit.

Lorne watches the others starting to spread out in the boss's office, and his mouth falls open. "Uh, guys? Maybe we oughta do this somewhere less in the boss's way? I mean, doing what we're told is great and all, but sometimes a little relocation first is a better start?"

For his part, once he finds a corner to work from, Lorne will scan the media rags looking for anything on the possible model builder to see what he might actually care about.

Culture: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

He convinces himself he's found a few tidbits about ZO!

"We only have three hours, omae," Wraith quips as she fires up her rig again to see if she missed anything. "AND I have to get cleaned, get dressed, have a few pre-dance drinks, and probably put on make-up. We ain't got time to hunt for a secluded and free hacker den.

Also, I ain't heard nothing about remuneration. Blah blah get, something something pay for."

"You will be paid standard mission rates, WhiteAngel." Luwazi's tone is frosty. "And I'd rather you talk to me directly instead of sidewinding into the issue like a snake."

She nods to Lorne. "Thank you, for your courtesy anyway. Now perhaps you'd all like to join Kem outside. I have a few private matters to discuss to Radaszam and then we'll be heading out."

As you pick up and leave, Radaszam doesn't make any effort to lower his voice while talking to Luwazi. "I don't understand why you suffer insubordination that like. " The First Seeker kind of giggles before replying softly.

If I missed anyone, please remind me. You've two hours in game to prep now.

Knowing a dismissal when he hears one, Zephyr bows and leaves, making no attempt to overhear her conversation. Once he is outside her office, he continues his mostly fruitless search of the infosphere, having no real need to “clean up” like the organics.

”I am not the best at social interactions, but if there is trouble, I am sure my *backpack* will come in quite useful,” he offers to his companions who join him.

Jaeric nods as he leaves his private corner in the hallway outside the Seeker's office. He puts away his comm-unit and rejoins Zephyr at the android's comment. "Luwazi mentioned our armor and gear might make a good impression with some of the guests just as easily as our words," he says, "So, maybe check it now and then to show the ingenuity of the glamer you've got on it. And that way, if anyone does try to make trouble, they'll think twice about it knowing there might be other weapons hidden among the crowd."

"I don't know about you," he adds, "But I didn't find out too terribly much about anyone other than Naiaj...and she's already one of us, so the bar to impress her might be a little lower than some of the newcomers. In any event, I've got some experience talking with gnomes back on Castrovel, and my father was serving as a Starfinder back when she was still a Venture-Captain, so I plan on seeking her out first. Luwazi said Naiaj could have some more ideas for us on how to impress the others. So, if I learn anything, I'll pass it along to the team."

Once everyone else exits the First Seeker's office and joins them in the hall, Jaeric pulls the team together to share the same plan with them, and also to listen in if they've unearthed any useful information on the others. "We've got about two hours before the event," he closes, "I'm going to clean up a bit, and I suggest the rest of you do the same. Not just the regular hygiene, though. Polish up your armor and gear, if you can. Make things as presentable as possible. Also, keep your comm-units handy so we can stay in contact with one another as we mingle. And, if you've got intentions of striking up conversations with any of the specific guests we're trying to impress, let everyone know so we can back you up. Other than that, keep a sharp eye out for trouble. Report anything thru me and I'll alert Radaszam. Any questions or additional thoughts?"

As Wraith is assured that there will be payment for the night's festivities, she bows her head in gratitude and smilingly says, "Tanstaafl."

She makes no effort to explain the alien sounding word. As the leader of a highly successful and occasionally quasi-legal organization, she's quite sure the First Seeker understands There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.

Dropping the eaves!: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 1 = 10

Of -course- she tries to catch the conversation she was specifically told not to listen to, but with so much rational planning going on she doesn't really hear anything.

She dutifully recounts what she found out feel free to read the spoiler and says, "I don't think Royo will like me, but I can probably talk shop with Iteration and Ykris."

Never suddenly feels less confident - she doesn't know much about Consortiums or Labs or venture-captains or data nerds.

"Wait, what's so important about impressing these big shots? Is there a danger that they won't support the Starfinders? What if we screw up and say the wrong thing; maybe we'll do more harm than good."

"I don't think Royo will like me, but I can probably talk shop with Iteration and Ykris."

"Yeah. You're probably right. If Royo is averse to tech, but still likes analog scholarly learning, I might have more luck approaching him. Once I get any pointers from Naiaj, I'll head his way next."

"Wait, what's so important about impressing these big shots? Is there a danger that they won't support the Starfinders? What if we screw up and say the wrong thing; maybe we'll do more harm than good."

"Well, the First Seeker herself seems to think we're the right people for the job. I guess this gala is both meant to thank these guests for their support as the Society tries to recover from the ill-fated Scoured Stars mission and to give them a bit of insight and confidence that their support wasn't misplaced. Luwazi probably wants to show us off a bit. Give them the idea that we're competent and capable, and that if we can make any grand discoveries like our predecessors, their investment could pay off down the road."

Jaeric gives Never an encouraging smile. "Don't sweat it too much," he tells her, "Just be yourself. Let them get a sense of how your goals and passions align with the Starfinders...why you joined the Society...and tell them a story or two about your experiences so far. If you get nervous or feel like the conversation is taking a nose-dive, excuse yourself for a bit and use your comm to let one of us know you need some support. I'll wander over as soon as I can extract myself from any other conversations."

Never gives Jaeric a nod. The pep talk helps.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

"Hunh. Well, I might do okay with It-177 'r Ykris, but this Zo! thing is WAY outside my comfort zone. All he wants is spectacle; somebody to give him more advertising space to sell, I guess. We know anybody like that?" The sarcasm is only reinforced by his gaze focusing on WhiteAngel.

”I suppose my armor could use a good cleaning and polishing,” says Zephyr. ”I’ll meet the rest of you at the gala,” he adds, bidding all goodbye and heading off to a convenient refresher for a good rinse and buff.

Feeling that everything in the MindRealm has been done that could be done, Allie retires to her livspace to see to the physical realm.

Not really one for fancy parties, she goes through some suggested uses of the Glamor. Finding one she likes, she modifies it to black because of course she does, and strapless, because of course she does.

Lorne takes the time to clean up properly, and pulls some images form the 'net of current male formal attire, to have his glamour set to copy.

He briefly considers downloading some information about religions or religious artifacts to his exocortex, but thinks better of it, since the delay caused by retrieving the information should kill any gains he might get from having it.

Jaeric does his best to make himself more presentable for the gala, but still plans on wearing his typical Starfinder gear rather than set it aside or try to mask it in any way. 'Best to show off what we're about...' he thinks to himself. He then makes sure his comm-unit is set for easy access, but as discreetly placed as possible so he can avoid giving the impression that he's keeping an open line ready for Radaszam in the event any concerns emerge during the event. Once he's ready, he alerts the others that he's heading to the venue and he'll see everyone there.

Allie, already on her way, sweeps next to Jaeric, her overfull glamor trailing along in the way that only the truly poofy can.

"Shall we?" she simply asks, offering up her scientifically enhanced arm.

The lift doors open into the Skyreach Room, a classy space made breathtaking by large windows set into the vaulted ceiling, providing a shining view of the Armada orbiting Absalom Station and the galaxy beyond. A low stage with black skirting and a sleek podium overlooks the room from the far end of the hall. A dozen or so guests, representing a surprising array of races, mingle in twos and threes, while servers in sharp vests bring around a variety of bizarre snacks and drinks. A curly-haired AV technician arranges the wiring along one side of the stage, and Luwazi stands at the other side speaking with a damaya lashunta man.

Zo! is not far from the stage. His elongated head indicates his heritage as an inhabitant of Eox, an elebrian. His sunken eyes and skin drawn so tightly that his teeth are permanently bared provide a skeletal appearance that reminds you he is also undead.

Near the center of the room Iteration-177 wears their sleek dark hair pulled back, in a sharp contrast to their silvery skin and the android’s signature circuitry pattern shining nearly white. They wear Absalom Station’s latest fashions in shades of black, white, and gray. They converse with a small group of people, who all occasionally look at the floor.

In a back corner of the room, handily close to the bar, the tawn ysoki Royo wears immaculate formalwear about 20 years out of date. He wears elegant spectacles. Tucked beneath one arm is a small folio of paper. He stands among a circle of similarly tweedy scholars engaged in an exuberant discussion of esoteric topics.

Another know of people surrounds a tall half-elf. Black haired, ears neatly pointed, dressed in station formal not quite as crisp as Iterations.

Where do we find Handout #1?

Never got in a shower and did her level best to look presentable, short of applying make-up. She did manage to tie her hair up smartly with a couple stray locks framing her face. She decided she looked good. Sexy, even.

By the time she arrived with the team at the Skyreach Room she was all business. Her first target was Zo!, and she had been rehearsing the plan in her mind from the moment she left Luwazi's office.

The undead mogul was not difficult to locate, surrounded by fanboys and cynical money-grabbers from the Society and elsewhere. Never locked in on him and began her routine.

The moment her window opened, when she had a clear path between herself and Zo!, she hit the floor running, then halfway there she planted her left foot and redirected her momentum upward, twisting into a pair of back flips before launching high into the air, somersaulting and spinning (0:20), and then sticking the landing, her arms skyward in triumph.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

She pivots to face Zo!, her hand outstretched in greeting. "Never Stormfox, Stafinder. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Allie, already on her way, sweeps next to Jaeric, her overfull glamor trailing along in the way that only the truly poofy can. "Shall we?" she simply asks, offering up her scientifically enhanced arm.

Jaeric smiles pleasantly as takes the android's arm. "You cleaned up well," he remarks, still wearing his freebooter armor and feeling somewhat out of place next to her glamor. Nevertheless, it might make a good impression if he arrives in her company before splitting off to mix with the guests at the gala. "I plan on finding Naiaj and probably Royo after that," he shares, "If you get a chance, see if you can impress Zo! with whatever entertaining spectacle you think you can..."

His words fall short as he sees a sudden blur of movement and Never starts running straight at the undead mogul. "Is that...?" Jaeric's eyes widen as she suddenly starts an elaborate acrobatics tumbling maneuver across the venue. "Never...?" he finishes just as she arrives next to Zo! "Well, maybe she's already got the spectacle covered..." he dryly comments. "I'll see if I can find Naiaj. Reach me by comm if you need anything."

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9

Jaeric moves out along the main floor, slowly weaving his way past various groups engaged in conversation. He notes Royo's position, but continues looking for the halfling Venture-Captain. Sadly, he realizes that might be a lot more difficult given Naiaj's difference in stature compared to everyone else. "Well...Royo, it is..." he mutters, steering back towards the ysoki instead. As he arrives next to the various scholars, he politely listens in on their conversation to determine the topic and Royo's interest in it.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

As he enters the party, Lorne makes the social faux-paus of stopping in the doorway (see a pattern here?) to look around before moving in any further. Over the comm, he asks "Anybody seen this Ykris character? I'll try talking to It-77, but I'm guessing a symbiote's gonna be harder to spot than the 'droid."

The dwarf wanders over to Iteration-77's gaggle, stopping for some party favors (canapes) on the way, instinctively eating them in one bite not because he's supposed to, but because they're too small NOT to. He reaches the group as everyone's looking down. After giving them all a quick glance, he looks down trying to see what's got their attention. Something wrong with the gravity? he wonders silently.

Where do we find Handout #1?

Spoilered in my Apr 28 post. Reproduced here for your convenience. I'll get a google doc up soon.

...

By the time she arrived with the team at the Skyreach Room she was all business. Her first target was Zo!, and she had been rehearsing the plan in her mind from the moment she left Luwazi's office.

The undead mogul was not difficult to locate, surrounded by fanboys and cynical money-grabbers from the Society and elsewhere. Never locked in on him and began her routine.

The moment her window opened, when she had a clear path between herself and Zo!, she hit the floor running, then halfway there she planted her left foot and redirected her momentum upward, twisting into a pair of back flips before launching high into the air, somersaulting and spinning (0:20), and then sticking the landing, her arms skyward in triumph.

She pivots to face Zo!, her hand outstretched in greeting. "Never Stormfox, Starfinder. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The face of the undead elebrian doesn't change, barely a twitch, but somehow ZO! exudes enthusiasm through his raspy, husk-like voice. "Now THAT'S STAR POWER!" He gestures with a short baton. "Never Stormfox you say? Wherever has Luwazi been hiding you, Never?"

By the stage, Elsebo looks around sees the source of the hubbub, and smiles. She looks away to exchange a significant glance with Radaszam.

Looks like the party is off to a good start.

...

His words fall short as he sees a sudden blur of movement and Never starts running straight at the undead mogul. "Is that...?" Jaeric's eyes widen as she suddenly starts an elaborate acrobatics tumbling maneuver across the venue. "Never...?" he finishes just as she arrives next to Zo! "Well, maybe she's already got the spectacle covered..." he dryly comments. "I'll see if I can find Naiaj. Reach me by comm if you need anything."

Jaeric moves out along the main floor, slowly weaving his way past various groups engaged in conversation. He notes Royo's position, but continues looking for the halfling Venture-Captain. Sadly, he realizes that might be a lot more difficult given Naiaj's difference in stature compared to everyone else. "Well...Royo, it is..." he mutters, steering back towards the ysoki instead. As he arrives next to the various scholars, he politely listens in on their conversation to determine the topic and Royo's interest in it.

The conversation in this group is fractured; it slips from between a pair or trio picks up a listener, slides into the next group, where someone is reminded of something else and splinters the conversation again. Circulating topics seem to orbit Lost Golarion , specifically whether a recently discovered cache of Pre-Gap volumes is authentic. The Memoirs of Baroness Stroon-Drelev and Condensed Prophecies of the Palantine Eye. Literary criticism, historical authenticity, the value of prophecy, whether the hyper-diverse ecology described by Stroon-Drelev would be viable in reality, whether the primitive political system described by ibid would be viable in reality, the bio-chemical ecology of dragons, .....

As he enters the party, Lorne makes the social faux-paus of stopping in the doorway (see a pattern here?) to look around before moving in any further. Over the comm, he asks "Anybody seen this Ykris character? I'll try talking to It-77, but I'm guessing a symbiote's gonna be harder to spot than the 'droid."

The dwarf wanders over to Iteration-77's gaggle, stopping for some party favors (canapes) on the way, instinctively eating them in one bite not because he's supposed to, but because they're too small NOT to. He reaches the group as everyone's looking down. After giving them all a quick glance, he looks down trying to see what's got their attention. Something wrong with the gravity? he wonders silently.

Status, Social Round 1
Never acted -- impressed Zo!
Lorne -- yet to go
Jaeric -- yet to go
Alison -- yet to go
Zephyr -- yet to go