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Harlan watches the bluethorns weave as they roll in. He notes how they negotiate ridges and hazards, and predicts that they'll converge 'right about there'. He heaves a magically charges spent battery at that position. It goes off between them in a smoky burst of branches twigs and limbs. They swerve apart, but keep coming.
Round1 initiative: Everyone is up.
BT blue: 53 damage
BT green : 15 damage
BT red : 31 damage
Zephyr: 62 damage
Navasi: 50 damage (50 hp left)
Never: 8 damage
Harlan: 50 damage
Refugees
Zephyr concentrates fire on the blue bluethorn, sensing a pair of laser beams at it!
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Navasi uses her pistol to indicate a target. "That one! It's already injured." It might have been only a tracer shot, but it seems to do some damage.
Encouraged by the envoy's guidance, Zephyr lands two shots on the bluethorn.
Never takes flight and moves to engage the plant's flank.
... E & F; critical burn 1d8; 20 ft. line, unwieldy
AoO slam v Nvasi: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (10) + 17 = 27 ... damage: 2d6 + 12 ⇒ (3, 2) + 12 = 17 B & P)
2d3 ⇒ (2, 1) = 3
slam v Nvasi: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (14) + 17 = 31 ... damage: 2d6 + 12 ⇒ (4, 1) + 12 = 17 B & P)
slam v Z: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (12) + 17 = 29 ... damage: 2d6 + 12 ⇒ (6, 5) + 12 = 23 B & P)
Harlan attempts to pick off the seriously injured blue blurthorn with a volley of magical bolts!
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Harlan whistles some magic missiles through the injured bluethorn. While they live up to their reputation for infallibly hitting their target, its only some old dry canes.
Behind you all, the first group of Starfinder refugees moves out of the ruins. It's hard to imagine a more pathetic looking bunch. Where exposed, their faces and hands are gaunt and bony; armor sags off them like it's two sizes too big. They shuffle at a pitifully slow, stumbling pace. Many hang on to each other for mutual support. It's clear they'll only be a liability in this fight.
Jadnura bounds a little farther away, sweeping the horizon for signs of more. "I've got two incoming from the north. I'll try to hold them off. You newcomers, keep yours away from my crew."
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The bluethorns roll in. The closest to Zephyr balks at the lava filled-crevice and turns away, but another vent blocks its path and it stops. The one coming up behind it swerves to avoid the crevice near Never, and crashes into the leader. Weakened by damage the lead bluethorn lurches forward onto vent and bursts into flame.
The last one rolls between Harlan and Zephyr. Harlan's protected by his high position. Zephyr by another lava-filled crevice. As it rounds the crevice it pauses for a moment, then swerves toward Navasi.
Whether its because the bluethorn is closest to the refugees or closest to her, Navasi makes an executive decision, she fires at green. "We've got to block their way!" Following up on her words, she runs to try to get in front of the new lead bluethorn, rolling to dodge a thorn-studded limb while she moves.
Round2 status: Harlan is up.
BT blue: dead
BT green : 25 damage (get'em)
BT red : 31 damage
Zephyr: 62 damage
Navasi: 50 damage (50 hp left)
Never: 8 damage
Harlan: 50 damage
Refugees
... E & F; critical burn 1d8; 20 ft. line, unwieldy
... B & P)
With Blue down and burning, Zephyr sends two more shots of coherent light into the ?back? Of the green bluethorn Navasi is concerned about. ”She’s right! Someone block the other bluethorn too!”
plus on fire (d6 burn)
Harlan bombards the more injured looking bluethorn with another barrage of missiles, laughing as he does. "Heh! This is more like it."
"I don't think anyone's blockin' any bluethorns with how big they are. We just got to shred 'em before they shred the Starfinders."
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Never casually strips some foliage off the giant 'weed with her lash. From her angle and high vantage point she can see Jadnura engaging 3 of the giant tumbleweeds.
The refugees struggle across the landscape.
The lead bluethorn stops and two limb-cane pseudopods try to pound her into a one inch square. She's knocked brutally to the ground and rolls away, into the path of the second bluethorn. It doesn't even seem to notice her any more than a bump in the ground as it rolls over her on the way toward the refugees.
Navasi lies broken and motionless on the ground.
... B & P)
... B & P)
B & P, DC 15)
With no clear line to green, Zephyr concentrates on red, saying, ”Take them down before they can reach the refugees!”
He fires twice at the red bluethorn!
Harlan shakes his head at Navasi falling prey to the jumble of bloodthirsty sticks. He'd never make such a rookie mistake. With the group of injured Starfinders moments away from being crushed, he unleashes another explosive blast to catch both of the remaining bluethorns.
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Harlan lobs another battery into the path of the two bluethorns. It explodes to devastating effect.
Seeing the 'weed rolling up the slope, the refugees stop. Confused motions, the group expands, threatening to break into two dozen splinters, then coalesces into retreat. The second group of refugees can more logically assess the situation. They also turn and run for the questionable safety of the old ruin's low walls.
Explosions from some very high-powered grenades sound from behind the ruin. Jadnura is still busy with his own fight.
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Running on the open field after the herky-jerkily rolling 'weed, Never can't properly time her strike and her lash snaps short of the target.
The bluethorn forms a limb and strikes casually at Never while it rolls away. She personally experiences the reason for the its name.
The other bluethorn rocks toward Zephyr, then rolls in the wake of it's fellow, right over Never.
Harlan grimaces at the continued survival of the creatures. He sends another wave of unerring projectiles down at green, hoping to end it's life in short order.
Zephyr shoots his artillery laser at the red bluethorn, then he moves over towards the fallen Navasi while pulling a healing serum from his vest.
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One last big flash of light from behind the ruins and Jadnura comes loping back toward you. He stops to survey the scene.
"Good work. We've got to get these people back to your ship. There's more bluethorn's coming in behind me. They're a long way off, but moving in fast. I'm almost out of ammunition. So let's dash."
The kasatha starts re-organizing his squads of refugee survivors and you begin a hurried trudge back to the ship.
Harlan smirks "Let's dash? Ye mean "let's roll out", right?" He gestures to one group of survivors "Stick close to me, yeah? If you lag behind I'll personally light you on fire 'fore the tumbleweeds even get here." He says the same to Navasi once she's back on her feet, with a grin.
----
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The fleet greets the rescue of Jadnura and his team with excitement. Pleased animated chatter on the intership comms shows that it's been a big boost to morale.
On the way back to your mother ship, Jadnura thanks you for your intervention. "We were in bad shape, and I was almost out of ammunition. It would have been the end of us if you'd been a few hours, or even a few dozen minutes later."
Starfinder ships are criss-crossing the systems on a variety of missions. You only have an hour or two after unloading Jadnura's survivors before you're summoned to a briefing room. Historia-7, leader of the Dataphiles, waits for you there. “Greetings, Starfinders. You found dozens of our colleagues held in stasis on Agillae-5. We've investigated while you rested and rescued Jadnura.
You did the right thing leaving the Starfinders. Forcibly removing their bodies from the stasis pods would leave their minds are trapped in a virtual world. We can only get them out from the inside which means we’re sending you in to release them. Our specialists have put together a digital tether that allows you to enter the virtual world without getting trapped like your colleagues did. Still, you must careful. Even though nothing that happens in there is real, dying in the simulation might kill you.”
A team of Starfinder computer specialists waits at the facility. The specialists tell you everything is ready for you; all you have to do is plug in.
Zephyr takes the changing situation in stride, using the regain resolve point to regain stamina as he grabs a few minutes of rest in between missions (Spending 1 RP to go to full stamina).
He also checks on Navasi to make sure she gets the healing needed before they start the next mission.
Harlan waves away Jadnura's thanks, saying "It's nothing. Anyone coulda come by and blown those weeds up for ya."
---
Later with Historia-7, Harlan scowls at the mention of dying in a simulation being so utterly dire "That's about as virtual as this ship, the way you describe it." He clomps a boot down for emphasis "Dyin' in a sim means you die in real life? Who's ever heard of somethin' so stupid." After griping a bit more he gets himself ready for this mission, but not before he confirms all his gear will travel with him.
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Never finds herself missing Jaeric in this moment. He'd know just how to respond to Jadnura - say the right thing to summarize the importance of what happened.
In his absence, she simple says, "You're welcome."
To Harlan later she responds, "We die where we die. What's the difference?"
She gives Tidbit a pat on the head and says quietly so only it can hear, "Anyone tries to grab me up, wake me so I can kill 'em."
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...
Later with Historia-7, Harlan scowls at the mention of dying in a simulation being so utterly dire "That's about as virtual as this ship, the way you describe it." He clomps a boot down for emphasis "Dyin' in a sim means you die in real life? Who's ever heard of somethin' so stupid." After griping a bit more he gets himself ready for this mission, but not before he confirms all his gear will travel with him.
[dice=Healing Serum Mk1]d8
"We die where we die. What's the difference?"
Historia replies, "It's alien tech. We are not sure of its purpose, or protocols. It seems reasonable to warn you of potential real injury or fatality. If any of you die and others return, we will have acquired an important data point."
After the medics finish with her, Navasi returns to the party, grinning ruefully at her painfully foolish maneuver, but simultaneously buoyant over the success of the mission, and ready to roll again.
Zephyr has rested and recovered a bit, so he is ready to plug in. As an android, he sees using his body as his consciousness piloting its physical form. He strives to pilot starships the same way, so he is excited to try this simulation!
Harlan manages to moan a little more about brain-computer interfaces with ridiculous designs, but eventually submits himself to being plugged into the alien simulation.
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The technical crew seats you in four comfortable padded couches and attaches a few leads to your head and down your spine. Then you lean back. At a common signal you close your eyes, there's a moment of darkness, and when you open your eyes again, ...
You're just inside the doorway of a cantina. Wooden tables are surrounded by wooden chairs and benches upon which various familiar species of aliens are seated. A long bar backed by a long mirror is fronted by tall wooden stools. The bartender beckons you in.
"New here? Come in, relax, have a drink, or eat something and don't worry about anything. I'm Jodain. What can I get you?"
Bubbly green glass windows in the wall behind the door let in light. You can see shadowy figures walking by outside. Despite the distortion of the glass, the figures' shapes are comfortingly familiar.
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Something in the bartender's face changes in the subtle way they indicate approval of an order. His hands dip beneath the bar and come up with a
triple size shot jigger of the same rough bubbly glass as the windows. He hooks a low stepstool with his foot and kicks it along the bar so that he can reach up unto the shelf topping that long mirror. He pulls down a bottle, it must be hand blown by the way it's slightly misshapen, and he doesn't blow, but wipes off the dust with a moistened rag. Then he pours a barely umber-tinged glass full.
He pushes it across the bar to her side by side with a small plate of rough salt and lime wedges. "The best we have," he nods, "to my taste anyway."
Looking around carefully, Zephyr asks, ”Have you seen any lost Starfinders, barkeep?”
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[dice=Culture]1d20+3
[dice=Perception]1d20+10Looking around carefully, Zephyr asks, ”Have you seen any lost Starfinders, barkeep?”
The bartender swivels his head and stares at Zephyr. "Starfinders? Unlikely. Why don't you go and meet all the friendly folks who live here. Just remember, we’re all happy here, so don’t say or do anything that might upset them.”
There are two groups at different tables in the cantina. The first is a human, two lashuntas, an ysoki, and a vesk. All wear leather jackets and protective clothing. They are talking loudly about their enercycles, and the plan for their next ride.
At another table five scholarly garbed sentients, an android, a damaya lashunta, a kasatha, and two shirrens, engage in a heated debate about Golarion's history over the last hundred years. Apparently for them, Golarion never disappeared!
Harlan takes a whiskey from the bartender but doesn't take a seat at the bar, spying some likely "trapped Starfinder" candidates further in. Of the two tables, the enercycle riders are more his speed, so he saunters on over there and interrupts the group. He pulls up a seat and claps his whiskey glass down on the table "So what's the news?"
Zephyr tries to recall if the Starfinders in stasis match the description of the ones they are seeing here.
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Navasi motions for a drink with Never also. The bartender pours two and pushes them across the bar. Navasi licks the back of her hand, sprinkles a pinch of salt on the wetted area and picks up a slice of lime with her salted hand. Her opposite hand takes up the oversized shot.
"Lick the salt, drink , bite the lime." The envoy demonstrates with concise fluid movements.
Zephyr, that's a tall order, there's a lot of Starfinders in stasis, maybe the bulk of Jadnura's force. No one here is kitted out as a Starfinder, or even an adventurer, but the people here are all species common in the Pact Worlds and well-represented in the Starfinders. Give me a culture or perception check.
Harlan: Up close, the bikers leather jackets look like the real thing. There's something about how the dyed surface fades and wears and how the edges of the fabric frays that tell's you it's not synth. The ysoki and one of the lashuntas scoot apart to make room for you on the bench with polite nods of recognition and welcome. The vesk becomes the temporary spokesman, "Hi, friend! Haven't seen you around. Do you ride?" The lashunta across from you says, "We're here every week, reliving our last ride, and planning the next." The human chimes in, "Come see our bikes. Ridin's the best thing about living here. You could give it a try. " Carrying their drinks, they rise and flow toward the door. Their bikes are lined up under the windows.
The cantina is on a corner. Across a broad deck-like street, a wall of apartments and offices rise above a ground layer of retail and restaurants. Singly and in pairs people walk down the street. Diagonally across the narrower cross street is a greensward open area. Another group of people, a dwarf, two kasathas, two humans, and a shirren, picnics happily on the lush looking lawn. The sky above is a reasonable facsimile of blue sky.
Wondering how well the tech is replicated in this simulation. Zephyr tries to use his personal datapad to connect to the ship’s records of the rescued Starfinders.
Harlan shrugs "I don't ride, but I can appreciate a nicely tuned machine. Let's see these bikes a yers." He looks up and down the street as he leans outside "Where do you people ride these? Middle of the city an' all, there's no place to let loose. Unless you're tellin' me that you just start tearin' up any pedestrians in your way."
He also checks out the bikes.
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Never mimics Navasi's actions. "An improvement," she acknowledges. She motions for the bartender. "Give me a tray full of these."
Drinks in hand she heads to the table of nerds and sits down, offering the drinks to the assembled eggheads debating Golarion. "Hello friends. What is you say about Golarion?"
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Zephyr looks for an info sphere within the virtual world. There is one, but there's no hint of the Starfinder Society to be found at all.
Harlan and the bikers gather around their highly stylized rides. The bikes have out-sized engines and tires, and brightly colored flared and finned fairings. The half-orc's keen eye notices that the power converters are impossibly small, and the transformers are much larger than their real counterparts would be. Silask the vesk's suspension looks really cool, but kinematically it would just lock up instead of flexing as a bike rolled over bumps. The bikers extol the performance of the enercycles.
Never tries to make new friends. She suspects their welcome would have been equally enthusiastic even if she hadn't brought the drinks. Their version of Golarion is peopled by last year's celebrities and public figures from Absalom Station. The conversation sprawls. There's analysis of current events based on historical currents stretching back centuries through the Gap. Observations that the orbital dynamics of the Pact World System are inconsistent with physics as observed in the rest of the galaxy, although no two of the conversationalists can agree weather its magic, divine influence, or some local aberrations in universal physical laws that are behind it.
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Maybe it's the expensive virtual liquor, maybe it's the lime, but it's probably the obnoxious eggheads debating the physics of a thing that does not exist. Never has had quite enough of this stupid conversation.
She slams another drink, grips a lime in her fist, and as the juice explodes between her clenched fingers she takes a swing at the nearest jerk next to her.
"Golarion is gone, you bozos!"
Harlan snorts at the fake bikes "What, you lot just get smashed before you stopped at your nearest matter printer to make these toys? Look, these hunks-a-junk are about as likely to drive as I am to do a charity concert. Whoever ye think yer fooling with these, they're gonna laugh you back to yer mothers."
”Wait, these people don’t know they are physically in suspension pods and their consciousnesses are entwined in this simulation matrix? I thought maybe they were just pretending—you organics are difficult to read,” says Zephyr.
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Harlan's greeted by a squabble of protest by everyone except Silask. The vesk gets right up in Harlan's personal space, and the vesk is taller and out-masses the half-orc by 50 pounds. he glances over at the bike, and looks momentarily confused before starting again, "I don't need some snot-nosed, drooling puke of a recruit with no rep and half my mission count, telling me --" He looks back at the bike again, then at the other riders, then at Harlan.kind of shrinks away from the half-orc.
"You're a Starfinder! But I don't recognize you. You're only going to have a few minutes before this gets really bad..."
Zephyr digests all the data and comes to the logical conclusion.
Never tires of the academic debate about something that just doesn't exist and ends it in her own particular idiom. She floors one of the shirren. The other lunges for her while the one on the floor gets up. Something crashes across the room behind Never.