[SF] Fly Free or Die AP - GM Ewok

Game Master EwokBanshee

Please dot and delete.

I'm building up the Slides for this book now, linked at the top of the Campaign. Feel free to look through them, but don't click through the grey boxes I've placed on certain slides to hide content.

It's dinner on third shift, the one time of day when you see the rest of your crewmates all in one place. Aboard the EJ craft, BD514 - or BeeDee as you affectionately call her - there's almost always someone flying and someone sleeping but you all make an effort to clear your schedules for a meal together once every Standard. It's the little things that keep you sane when you're flying through the Drift for days, or weeks, on end. You pass a mirror on the way into the Galley, stopping to get a good look at yourself. Please include a physical description in your first post!

You grab the food produced by the autochef5000 and sit down. With a greeting you look around the table, over the meager rations provided by "The Company", at your five crewmates. Some you've flown with for years, while others you've only been with for a few jobs. Doesn't matter, you're just trying to keep your head down and make your paycheck. A bonus would be nice every now and then, like the pamphlet promised when you hired on, but you've yet to see one. Schedule and habits are critical to productivity and long-term success when doing Drift freight, or so the Company training says, and today is the 30th of the month (Pact Standard) so it's Ship Day. Every Ship Day you need to discuss the current Pilot Watch and Sleep schedules, to make sure everyone is on the same page. Four six hour shifts a day and a Drift danger can pop up during any of them so somebody has to be in the bridge. The schedules rarely change, but you've gotta do what you gotta do when it comes to EJ policies. You don't want another disciplinary note sinking your chances of a quarterly performance bonus. Alrighty, this AP gives a little more emphasis on travelling between planets. We'll be talking Downtime usage at a later point. But for these events it will matter who is asleep (and super unprepared) and who is at the helm to steer if necessary. So we need four people to be Pilots and to know when people want to sleep (Shifts 1, 2, or 4. The number matters less than how you schedule it. Don't want your front liners asleep at the same time probably...).

Tarika, the otter-like brenneri dispatcher for the EJ corp and longtime friend of your crew, called you yesterday with your next job. You're off to Castrovel to pick up your next shipment, details to-be-determined.

Alrighty! In most adventures I've been a part of, Drift travel was just a roll of the 1d6 die and a cut scene. Not so in this AP! We are heavily encouraged to have events, Downtime Activity (from Character Operations Manual), and roleplaying during travel. I think we'll facilitate these moments through the Shift 3 dinner meal (this keeps giving me Firefly and Alien vibes.) Our adventure doesn't officially start till the 16th but we can use this meal as a backdrop for the next week for character introductions and roleplaying posts to get folks acquainted. I'll facilitate as necessary.

Del Reisora ducks past a bulkhead to get into the galley, squatting down to get a peek at herself in the mirror as she enters. She's tall, even for a sarcesian, at nearly 15 feet, which meant she spent most of her time abroad little BeeDee doubled over. It was a good little ship, but nothing made her miss her old starships than the twinges of back pain she felt after a day spent scrunching up.

She rubs her gray eyes, bright and aware but still a little crusty from sleep, and rubs a hand across her bald head, then cricks her neck back and forth. Her skin was a pale purple, and her cheeks were surprisingly round for a sarcesian. She was less gaunt than most of her people, no doubt due to her penchant for fine food and too many fresh-baked sweets. She adjusted her earrings—simple silver hoops decorated with brightly coloured feathers collected on her travels—and smiled. Ready for the day she crawled a little further into the galley and sat on the floor, back against the wall and legs sprawled across the smuggler's compartment toward the couch. She reaches over to grab a bowl of "food" from the galley's counter and scrunches up her nose in distaste.

"Shapeless goop again, eh Chefy?" she exclaims. "Not today." She focuses on the bowl of goop, imaging a delicious, fresh baked cinnamon roll. Warm and fluffy... Dripping in delicious cream cheese icing... Her eyes glow white as she sifts through other times and overlapping realities for her breakfast of choice. There's a burst of light and Del and half the galley become covered in thick white icing. "Eek!" Del shrieks. She quickly shovels a few delicious mouthfuls into her mouth, before the icing vanishes, just as suddenly as it arrived. "Sorry, everyone! I just can't seem to make it work... I swear I pulled a whole cupcake in once. It stayed and everything." She pumps a fist into the air and gives her head a nod. "I'll get it next time!"

(She never does).

Del waggles a finger at the autochef5000 on the counter. "You win this round, Chefy. But know this! When we get our quarterly bonus the first thing I'm buying is an oven!"

She returns her goop to the counter and stands—sort of—heading into the galley. She rifles through the cupboards, looking for some spices to make her probably oatmeal more palatable. There's not much, as she had long since run out of credits and the meager supply of spices she picked up on Akiton after their last job was down to the residue on the inside of jars. She uses what she can to spice it up.

Profession Chef: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

She scrunches up her nose and returns back to her space on the floor. "Well, that didn't help." she shrugs. "At least it's healthy!"

Del digs into her breakfast, eating in under a few minutes despite her complaints. "Thanks, Chefy!" she says aloud, reaching over to put her bowl on the counter. Then she adjusts her coveralls, tightens the laces on her boots and pulls a knee up to her chest, placing her chin on it to watch her family enjoy their meal.

"What do you think Tarika's got for us on Castrovel?" she wonders. "I'm thinking shipments of... papaya! Oh! Or maybe garberries! Cane wine? No! It's definitely pickled cay-root! Yup, that's it. Final answer. Pickled cay-root. Guesses?"

(Del always guesses food).

Del wants to sleep during shift 4, wake up for our meal together, then hop right into her beloved pilot's chair for shift 1.

As Strek rounds the corner and sees Odellia bending over to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror, he plays the same old prank he's done ever since she arrived on board: he STRETCHES his legs to be almost as tall as the Sarcesian, mimics the way she contorts herself, peeks his head into the reflective view from just behind her, and then giggles.

He always had an odd sense of humor.

Ninety-five percent of the time, Strek wears the same EJ company hardsuit. Although it was designed for humanoids, the reinforcements around the joints were what Strek appreciated. For a species without any bones, the suit did a great job of holding things together when he needed to concentrate on fixing something. But, for dinner, it's usually something casual. Tonight, it's sweatpants, paired with the "I AM the Warranty" t-shirt that he was gifted at a party after his first year with EJ.

He grabs his food and sits down without much complaint. "I keep tellin' 'em, Del, I could fix it up right. Make it spit out pizzas, if'n ya want. I wouldn't even charge 'em! I just need some parts. Or UPBs. But I just keep gettin' that darn auto-reply. Ain't nobody up top cares about it 'nuff."

Del smiles at her friend, "Caring's the first step in changing the world. EJCorp may not care enough about us, but we'll show 'em one day. They can't keep a good dog down!" She points dramatically at Chefy. "You hear that?! You're on your last legs, Chefy! Strek and I are gonna drown this ship in pizza whether you like it or not."

She smiles gently, then mutters a phrase she heard in a dream once; a snippet of song from another reality. "For the times they are a-changin'..." Del looks lost in thought for a few moments, but then she shakes her head and smiles. "Pizza. That's it. That's what I'm making tomorrow. It's gonna work this time for sure."

"Do ya put 'k-root' on pizza?"

The way he mispronounces 'cay-root' likely indicating that he has no idea what it is.

Guess?, checks the time and realizes the rest of the crew will soon be converging for dinner. He stands up in front of a nearby mirror and says to himself, ”What do I feel like today? Let’s go with mini-muscle-gob-dwarf!”

And with a bit of concentration, Guess? activates his morphic skin to lower his height as much while broadening himself out to a stocky, dwarf-like stature. Then he modifies his body’s musculature to bulging proportions while appearing to have just one or maybe two percent body fat. As a finishing touch, he pulls out his disguise kit and whips up a long, beard braided dwarven-style and puts it on.
Disguise: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

Without bothering to modify his facial features, head shape, skin tone, and so on, the end result isn’t so much like Guess? appearing to be a goblin-ized muscle dwarf. But rather, he’s looking like a very short, squat, comically muscle-bound goblin sporting a somewhat genuine-looking dwarven beard that looks completely out of place attached to his goblin head.

Looking at the end result in the mirror, he takes a few muscle competition poses and remarks, ”Nice!” Some days, this little game results in a bit of genuine fun that breaks the monotony a tad. Other days it gets old. Never hurts to try…

Guess? bounds into the galley and before even looking around to see who has already arrived, he asks loudly with enthusiasm, ”Who or what am I today?!?!?”

And that's when he sees the mess all over the galley. Looking over at Del seated on the floor, Guess? blurts out with a chuckle, ”Del? Again? You probably threatened the inanimate, non-sentient machine again as well, amirite?? kekeke!”

Due to his current body shape, Guess? doesn’t so much as walk but rather waddles over to the autochef, dispenses his meal, and sits down to eat - he, like many other goblins, enjoy tasty meals but isn't particularly put off by bland, texture-less food. It fills him up and that’s that!

While eating, Guess? looks at Strek and Del expectantly, gesturing to himself, ”So! What’s your Guess??”

"Uhh," Strek pauses. "You are?"

"Guess?"

Glittering in the corner of the room opposite the autochef is a massive, golden statue of an ancient sovereign dragon. It looms over the space, head touching the ceiling even as its body coils tightly together. Its eyes are fist-sized obsidian spheres and its long wiggling mustache has been painted a bright red.

With a slow creak the 'statue' lowers his head and metal eyelids droop over his eyeballs. "If you keep bullying the autochef Del... I think we might have a mutiny." Akh's voice is a low, hollow rumble, as if he's speaking out of a deep cave. "For all we know, she's already plotting against us. The autochef, that is. Hmmm..."

Akh partly uncoils, extending a shimmering golden claw towards a bowl of greasy-looking porridge that's been cooling on the counter. As he slides the porridge, bowl and all, down his perpetually open gullet, he side-eyes the autochef. He makes a show of rubbing his belly after ingesting the meal "This is. D E L I C I O U S. Thank you."

He looks back at the group "I hope that placates her for a while. It won't. But I hope it does. Because we'd be in serious trouble if it doesn't." His mustache droops as he contemplates how easily the autochef could kill them all.
-------

When Guess? enters he waves a claw in greeting. "Unusually high muscle content, braided hair, plodding gait, and unpicky about your choice of meal. My Guess? is a bovine from ancient Golarion. Am I right? I can see no other option that makes any sense." Akh nods solemnly "It is a very good portrayal."

"He's gotta give us clues. Could be one a them actors from tha Scary Goblin vids. Or that there dwarf asteroid miner we done ticked off. I dunno."

Guess? simultaneously facepalms and laughs at Akh Xi's response.

Responding to Strek, "Yes! Yes! Dwarf! And and a dwarf who does what...?"

Guess? stops eating, hops off the chair onto the ground and begins posing. It's a sight that is both equally amusing and disturbing...

Lars wanders from his bunk and stops by the mirror to check his hair, he sees his typical face. Medium sized for a human and fairly thin, he keeps his baby face clean shaven and his black hair carefully combed, even on ship in the drift. His basic EJ coverall takes place of a corporate suit on ship, but his second skin always goes underneath, regardless, if just for the advantage of the infared vision it constantly offers, leads from the suit snaking up his neck and across his eyebrows in an odd, quasi, glasses look.

Tattoos in strange languages and possibly computer code follow the leads up his neck and down his exposed forearms, snaking into the strange wrist device/watch thing that houses some of his technomantic magic.

As he walks into the room he notices the tableau of a musclebound goblin-dwarf ... flexing? and he sighs, "Typical third shift meal I see? Good guess Akh." he mutters as he makes his way to the autochef and dispenses his morning gruel.

After sniffing it for a moment, he idly waggles his fingers over the shapeless mass, and instantly the smell of bacon, eggs and coffee permeates the room. He nods and sits down to eat.

"Guessing nothing new and exciting has happened while I was asleep?"

Strek finishes his meal quietly, but rather than get up to put his plate in the receptacle, he simply STRETCHES his arm to reach instead.

On its return journey to normal size, he emulates a couple of the goblin's flexing poses, snickering under his breath.

"Guessing nothing new and exciting has happened while I was asleep?"

"Del's tryin' ta guess what our next delivery is. Cap'n's tryin' ta guess what he can smuggle in with it. I'm tryin' ta figure out how ta get tha last of those dust weevils outta tha air filtration."

Another day goes by in the Drift, and Del lets you know that you're about two days out given her current navigational estimates. Sometime around the beginning of third shift, as Guess? passes off the bridge to the newly awakened Jaraduk, a gentle ping chimes to let you know that a holo-message has come in. Here in the Drift, among the pink and purple clouds, instant communication is impossible but you do get delayed messages. The pair calls in the other four crew members, who happen to be awake at this time of day to listen to the message.

Your closest contact within The Corp fills the screen. Picture on Slide 2! Also pictured are your ship and the EJ logo. The brenneri is clothed in her usual olive-green Evgeniya-Jaimisson flight suit, cradling an old wrench. She jumps up, wide smile splitting her furry face. "Hello, friends! I've got more info on your next job! This one's gonna make you big bucks, probably! Well, maybe the usual. But maybe more!" She shrugs, a knowing smile on her lips. "You're going to pick up a shipment of Yaro berries! Del, I know that's going to be your jam!" She smirks. "hehe, jam. Yaro berry jam." She winks and continues. "It's a tangy fruit that grows only on the banks of the Yaro River on Castrovel. This big ol' purple berry is relatively commonplace in the markets of Qabarat, but it’s considered a delicacy on other worlds! You know what that means?" She pauses for your answer, that she cannot hear. "That's right! Monayyyyyyyyy!" She throws her wrench up in the air as if it was a bundle of cash. She winks at a random corner of the room. "Told you, Jaraduk! This crew is where it is at! Anywho, the big bosses want you to pick up 50 tons of Yaro berries from a local establishment called Prat’s Produce and transport them to Hivemarket on Akiton." She raises her hand to her lips as if sharing a secret. "Where such a delicacy can go for 10 credits a bowl. BUT! You have to deliver the fruit before it spoils, in 6 days. If you manage to shave a day or two off the trip, you'll likely earn a bonus! Probably! At least I think that's what the contract says." She fumbles through a bundle of papers in front of her. "I think! Don't worry, this won't be like the last time! You'll definitely get it done on time! No worries, no worries, this should be a routine job!" She smiles bigly, her excitement for you showing through the screen. She waves her little paw goodbye. "See ya real soon! Don't forget, take it to the Edge!" She punches her wrench into the sky before cutting the com.

Strek finds a personal message in his inbox when he checks it later. Tarika pops up, smiley as ever. "Strek! My baby girl, Shan, wanted me pass on her greetings! She just called me for my birthday, said Entha is wet as ever!" The brenneri laughs in her hiccupping way. She pulls out a brimmed hat with a phrase on it in cursive lettering. "Look at what she sent me! The Shadow Sea, it says! A piece of her, with me. Pretty cool, eh Stretchy? Anywho, gotta go! Make sure to write to her, I know she misses her lunchtime pal!"

Earlier:
Akh doesn't skip a beat when his guess is shot down. "Ah, a dwarf. Yes. Then all that muscle means that you're a doping dwarf?"

Akh rubs his scaly body against the wall "Good morning Lars. Hypothetically, if we needed to eject a malevolent culinary system, do you have a plan? Just, you know, in case?"
-------
Nowish:
Akh rumbles in place as the message plays, mouth hanging open as it always does. When the recording of Tarika 'what that means', Akh obliges with "What does it mean?" in time to get her choreographed response.

He flexes his mustache as the message wraps up "Yes, I hope it will not be like last time. Those cans of rare tomato puree were both extremely dangerous and not worth nearly as many credits as Tarika claimed. I am starting to think that Tarika sometimes exaggerates our opportunities for her own amusement."

He lies down upon the floor, resting his head on his folded claws as the rest of the party discuss the news.

"...50 tons of Yaro berries..."

Strek pulls up a schematic of BD514's cargo bays.

"I'll give it to them higher ups. They sure know what we can fit. Have to split it up: twenty-five tons in each bay. Still leaves us Cap'n's hidey hole. Any'ya know what temp they keep best at?"

Strek spends a couple days formulating a follow-up letter to Shan. The delay could always be explained by the Drift. He never was good at this sort of stuff, though. He preferred in-person interactions. Letters felt so... impersonal.

Akh rumbles in place as the message plays, mouth hanging open as it always does. When the recording of Tarika 'what that means', Akh obliges with "What does it mean?" in time to get her choreographed response.

Guess? reaches out to clap Akh on the back but cannot reach that high, so instead pats Akh's toe knuckle, saying "It means potential profit, my friend! We purchase a bit on the side and find a buyer on Akiton... Del shows off her AMAZING drift nav skillz, cutting our trip down to TWO days... then cha-CHING!!"

He flexes his mustache as the message wraps up "Yes, I hope it will not be like last time. Those cans of rare tomato puree were both extremely dangerous and not worth nearly as many credits as Tarika claimed. I am starting to think that Tarika sometimes exaggerates our opportunities for her own amusement."

"Nah, Tarika wouldn't string us along for giggles. I've known her for years and while I would do that (I ain't gunna lie), Tarika wouldn't. She's just always thinking and acting positive - even in the worst of times - trying to keep everyone's spirits up. Work with her long enough and you'll see what I mean."

"Still leaves us Cap'n's hidey hole. Any'ya know what temp they keep best at?"

"Now wait a minute! That hole is only for hiding only certain small, non-perishable... OHHH! Y'mean the ship's hidey hole! Right you are!

"And it don't matter what temp they keep at... because whatever it is, you ARE our warranty that the berries will be kept at the right temp and humidity to stay fresh!"

Earlier

Lars thinks for a moment, rubbing the non existent whiskers on his clean shaven chin. "Eject? No, that's more in Strek's purview. I could reprogram it or ... Just blast it to bits." he finishes with malevolent grin, holding a hand up and using a minor magic trick to make the fingers glow in a positively menacing manner.

--

current

Lars frowns at the message and discussion, already running numbers in his head.

"Akiton market forces, and their recent general depression, plus cost at Castrovel, plus the rush job and operating costs and inherent risk if we get a delay in the drift .... yes, I think she's exaggerating our chances for profit."

Still, he shrugs, "but a job is a job and I've seen some neat new items in Augments R Us last time I checked."

"And it don't matter what temp they keep at... because whatever it is, you ARE our warranty that the berries will be kept at the right temp and humidity to stay fresh!"

Strek contorts his face to the side, the way a humanoid with a jawbone might smirk, "I dun think that's how warranties work.."

Anyone have Life Science to know more about these berries? And maybe about what sorts of pests might inhabit such a large payload.

good thoughts

Life Sci: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Earlier...

The large naur lumbers from the sleeping quarters towards the galley, bending his knees ever-so-slightly to avoid scraping the ceiling with his horns. Stopping by the mirror, he notes that it doesn't even display the full length of his body.

Who do they build these ships for anyway, dwarves?

A puff of air forces out of his bovine nostrils as he snorts at the thought. Then he remembers...

Oh right... Del. She must really hate these confines.

He procures a carved, wooden bowl from within a poncho. Sighing at the auto-chef he accepts his glob of goopy food-like-substance without any of the negotiation or self-comforting reasoning that his previous teammates applied. He turns to enter the Smuggler compartment.

Before you stands a rather tall (but not compared to Del) nuar - a space minotaur! His dark-grey body hair is accented by deep black eyes and two wide, ivory horns protruding from his head. He wears a comfortable wool poncho that, for the time being, conceals his EJ coveralls. His overall look seems that of a very serious individual but his teammates know better by now.

He looks at his teammates, down at his bowl, then back up. Yup, more glop. I don't appreciate that it's basically already cud...

Striding over to the other side of Del, he plops down on the floor as if finishing the "big and tall" section of the crew. He's able to stretch one leg out fully past the couch, its hoof open to the middle of the room. Muttering to her, he asks How do you manage? Your knees must be killing you.

Just then it seems as though he's caught the middle of one of Guess?'s games.

Oh, uh... must be a garden gnome! But a bigger one! He chuckles and snorts, letting the team proceed to the real answer but hoping for a bit of a rise out of Guess? along the way.

His ears perk up specifically at Del's musing at their next cargo.

Ah! Yes, I give it two-to-one odds that it's some manner of berries. Anybody want in on that action? Hey Lars, do you think you can program a bookmaker function into auto-chef? I'd feel much better in these wagers if I wasn't tracking it all myself and we had an independent agent to mediate.

-----------------------------

As the otter describes their next job, Jaraduk generally snorts and rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm.

It's obvious why they have her make the calls to us. They've got her stringing us along whether or not she knows it. But yes... a job is a job.

The nuar stands there with his wooden bowl in hand, having just polished off the last of his glop. Taking a thirty-second reprieve to rinse-out and stow it, he returns to the bridge to take his shift as pilot. It's always very uneventful though, and the ship mostly drives itself. He jut helps keep it "on the rails."

While keeping one eye on the various monitors and instruments, he reaches a large hand into his poncho and dumps a pile of mechanical and electrical parts onto a nearby table. He begins fiddling with wires and composing... something.

Creating a salvage grenade if he has 10 spare minutes while flying.

Looking over the Downtime rules, a decent chunk of them would be impossible in this ship. Not a terrible thing for Level 1, but something to be aware of.

Two more days pass fairly uneventfully in the Drift. This is a good thing, seeing how the standard EJ freighter doesn't come with any weapons. Thankfully, the ship is too small for most pirates to bother with and nimble enough to dodge the occasional Drift terror. You all have plenty of personal time, filling it with both individual and group activities. After all, as the EJ corporate video reminds you at the start of each shift, "Idle Hands Can't Reach For Bonuses!" With both cargo holds empty, at least you have space for the occasional game of Veskarium handball. During the third shift you enjoy Guess? filling you in on all the possible goods you could pick up on Castrovel that might help line you pockets - if only you could afford them. The little goblin likes to dream, and it's better than nothing.

Finally you pull into Castrovel airspace. The lashunta traffic controller lets you through easily after checking your papers, though not without a snide comment. "You're the forty second Edge ship today. They need to up the tariffs on y'all." Del slips into the navigation lane and you enter the planet atmosphere, where it is mid-morning. Rain pours down on the small freighter, BD514, over dark ocean toward the city of Qabarat, which grows rapidly on the horizon. Though known as the Jewel of the Western Sea, little of the city sparkles in this weather. Qabarat lines the mouth of the Yaro River, which stretches past the city, into the foothills of the Stormshield Mountains beyond. Navigation beacons and the city’s traffic control AI direct BD514 to a landing pad at Ship’s End, the city’s bustling starport. Del, give me a Piloting check to see how your landing goes!

As you descend towards the planet, other crew members look up the best route to this Prat's Produce. Other folks can give me a Culture or a Computers check to locate the pick up point! The remainder of the crew look out the viewport at the hazy view or prepare the huge truck-like Cargo Rig for use. (Last time you used it, the expandable hover trailer was acting up and cost you 6 precious hours unfolding it by hand.) EJ Corp manufactures these vehicles for freighter crews to transport cargo to and from their ships. Of course, the company spared every expense in their manufacture. The cab seats four medium humanoids, resulting in your crew tending to sit on top of the cab or in the hover trailer. But hey, at least they decorated it with the EJ Corp logo and slogan: “Take it to the EJ!”

Guess? looks up details regarding the pickup location...
Culture: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23

Looking at the cramped cargo rig, then at Del and Akh Xi, Guess? remarks, "Well, there are SOME advantages to being small!"

Guess?'s appearance today is generic and nondescript. While on standard, run-of-the-mill tasks in public, he'll look as forgettable as is possible for a goblin and avoid drawing attention to himself. No identifying marks, no scars, average sized, average build, etc.

"Idle Hands Can't Reach For Bonuses!"

"Wanna bet?"

"You're the forty second Edge ship today."

"Luckiest number in the universe right there."

Other folks can give me a Culture or a Computers check to locate the pick up point!

Computers to Aid Lars: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20 (+1 if we were allowed to Coordinate)

"Any of ya been here before? I heard there's some high-caffeine pop brand. 'Mind Meld', or somethin'. Gotta pick me up a six pack before we're out."

Arriving on planet, Lars swaps out his shipboard coveralls for a slick corporate suit, if oft washed and a little worn, and piles into the cargo rig.

As soon as he's seated he's pulling up navigation data to help plot a route to the seller.

Computers: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
plus aid

Once the comms cut off Jaraduk releases his indignation.

Tariffs?! We can barely make money off of these jobs to begin with! What a load of bull...

This is a low priority check so...
Del Piloting: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

Del works some magic at the controls and sets the lumbering freighter down on the landing pad with just a whisper. As soon as the ship gets within local comm range, Guess?, Lars, and Strek begin their usual game of who can find it first. Guess? calls up his local contacts while Lars and Strek work away searching through the infosphere. Lars and Strek team up and claim success first, finding the directions to Prat’s Produce - found a few miles from the starport, on Sprik Street. You break out a bunch of folding hovercarts and throw them into the back of the cargo rig. Del folds herself into the cab with the other smaller humanoids while Jaraduk and Akh relax on top.

After a few minutes of driving you pull up to a grocery and distibution center. Below the Prat's Produce sign is a a smaller one that says FAMILY OWNED FOR 4 GENERATIONS. You park the rig and head inside. The inside of the grocery exudes a cleanliness that is minimalistic, but not sterile. Rows of shelves and friendly aisle displays present a wide variety of well-organized foodstuffs for purchase. Dozens of people — mostly lashuntas — go about their daily errands, selecting food and making (sometimes telepathic) conversation. Small, bright screens scattered about the store use flashy ads to announce the day’s best deals and upcoming specials. To the right of the entrance, automated check-out lines supervised by a middle-aged lashunta woman, tally up customer purchases.

With the hover trailer being as small as it is, Akh takes up his usual position beside it, taking big leaps through the air and letting his anti-grav nodules float him gradually back toward the ground. The rig is not exactly a speedy vehicle in the first place, but he still falls behind at times and has to catch up at the frequent stoplights. Still, this is a chance he never skips. He doesn't get to feel the freedom of the air often while aboard the freighter, so he relishes every opportunity he can get to stretch out.

Once at Prat's Produce, Akh settles back down onto the ground. He seems to be in good spirits, but that doesn't stop him from commenting "It seems too nice, this Prat Produce. Nice, family owned places down usually sell to EJ. Maybe we found the wrong Prat? Maybe we've already taken too long and our bonus is vanishing before our eyes." His hollow voice echoes as he looks behind the grocery "Can that distribution center even hold 50 tons of yaro berries?"

Strek marvels at things that only Strek can marvel about. "Gotta envy 'em, here. If all it takes is a waggle of your head bobbers to let someone know you done wrong, then they probly ain't got much road rage. Or boogers hangin' out their noses."

He tries thinking really hard about finding their contact, in some vain hope that a Lashunta can hear him.

"Who're we s'posed to meet here again?"

Nothing special going on here, thinks Guess? but Guess? will look around and see if anything noteworthy or unusual sticks out.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
Culture: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Assuming nothing does, Guess? walks up to the lashunta woman and says as politely as possible, "Hi there, Ms. Prat I presume? Nice place you have here! Four generations is quite something to be proud of! Anyways, we're from EJ Corp here to pick up a delivery. 55 tons of yaro berries, I believe? If you can direct us to where it's stored, we'll get right to work ma'am!"

Bluff because Guess? is lying about the amount of yaro berries and sense motive to see if he can sense what is her reaction.
Bluff: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

Jaraduk hops off of the top of their trailer, replying to Akh's remark as he scratches his chin.

No, this is the place all right. Lashuntas named "Prat"? That can't be too common...

-------------------

Inside...

The nuar knows he isn't the best liar, so when Guess? misstates the quantity of the pickup order he simply scans the aisles of the store as if he's looking for some particular item.

Say, you carry horn-wax? He asks, thumbing the end of the bony protrusions on his head.

Strek whispers to Lars, "Cap'ns doin' his improvising again. Think you can change our quantity in their database?"

Not sure if that's something Strek can Aid on, but if it is, 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

Del laughs at the antics of her crewmates, spending more time chuckling than participating.

Profession (Chef): Caring for Yaro berries: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

---

Del stands and stretches, raises her arms to the sky and rolling her head around now that she can finally straighten out. After a few glorious minutes she follows the others into Prat's Produce, ducking to get through the door and then stretching back up to her full height inside.

It was a cute shop, but at Akh's queries about their distribution centre, Del smirks. "Good question. I doubt they've much of a 'back room' here at all. ...Interesting. I wonder how this place got mixed up with EJ Corp. We're not exactly a 'fight for the little guys' kind of company." She shrugs. "The lure of credits, I suppose. I hope it works out for them."

Del wanders the aisles, desperately looking for some herbs or spices that were within her budget of... she double checks her credstick. 2 credits!

Hmmm... Best wander the clearance aisle.

"Lovely shop you have here," Del remarks to the woman, as she heads deeper into the store.

"Can that distribution center even hold 50 tons of yaro berries?"

In the GM thread, somebody did the math and found out that 50 tons of berries fills up about a quarter of your ship's cargo hold. Turns out berries can be packed pretty tightly!

The lashunta woman turns at your approach, as if she sensed you walking closer. She breaks out into a large smile at the sight of you. "Ah, you must be the Eee-Jay workers! Welcome, welcome, Runo wouldn't stop talking about you this week, he was so excited about it." She shrugs. "Took him forever to set up this deal with the company, they just don't respect us little guys! Thankfully we had such a special product!" She points to a few small crates of yaro berries on the shelves behind her. "Gotta go deep into the dangerous jungles to get these! Easy enough for the locals, tough for everybody else." At Guess's misstatement her eyes widen. "Uh... I hope it wasn't 55! I don't think we ordered that much..." She wrings her hands. "But, uh, I suppose Runo would know more about that. I'm front of house, mostly. Head back to the office, tell him Needa sent you." As you walk away she points Jaraduk to the Non-Lashunta healthcare section. Their selection is meager, just having the Abadarcorp brand.

You head to the back, pulling Del past a shelf with expensive local spices. In the back room, surrounded by towers of boxes, an older, stocky lashunta wearing blue coveralls sits behind a wooden desk covered in papers. He taps furiously on a datapad while grumbling to himself. Picture on slide 2! His most notable feature is a missing left antenna and a thin scar that begins at his forehead and zigzags back along his scalp. He looks up, tosses the tablet aside, and asks in a polite but agitated voice, “This darn pad, never works right. Name's Runo. What can I do for you?”

When Guess? introduces you and mentions the "55" tons of berries, the lashunta purses his lips. "It’s good you’re here,” the old man says, “but I have bad news on that amount. I'm certain the amount was 50. I remember it well, the endeavor nearly bankrupted me. I bought a few boxes for my own store and a few thousand for your employer. Darn berries are expensive." He shakes his head sadly. "Doesn't fill me with confidence that they told you 55, but what choice do we have at this point. No matter, I'm sure 50 will be good enough, even if EJ was expecting more." He lets out a tired sigh then shakes himself back to the situation at hand. "Now, you’d better hurry. There’s a lot to move, and those Yaro berries will spoil before too long. You’ve no idea how much this shipment means to me. I’m retiring after this. Thirty years running this place. Now it’s Needa’s turn. This shipment is my retirement plan, so please, be careful, okay?” He looks at each of you earnestly, the numbers forgotten. “As soon as I can get this darn thing up and running again I can file the change of ownership paperwork and you can be on your way. It was working fine for inventory last night, but now it’s a mess.” He gestures helplessly at the tablet on the desk.

You all look to Del to confirm Runo's concern about the Yaro berries. She nods knowingly. These jungle berries are temperature sensitive and have a short shelf life. She's seen a recipe before that called for Yaro berries that were between 6 and 7 days off the vine, no more, no less.

Akh weaves his way between the shelves, almost knocking one over with each step, until he joins the rest of the group in the back room. He waves a claw in greeting to Runo "Maybe we can help you with the data pad too? I mean, I can't. But Lars could, right Lars?"

"While Lars probably breaks your datapad and ruins this whole endeavor, I'll start loading. I probably won't drop any berries on the way. That would be quite ruinous for all of us, ha ha." Akh nods reassuringly as the laugh echoes out from inside him, in contrast to his words "It's quite the risk you decided to take to buy so many berries in hopes of a single big profit for retirement. I sure hope it works out for you."

"Is it, like, a software glitch? Or it's been dropped a few too many times?"

Basically trying to suss out whether it's a Computers or Engineering check.

Your whole retirement? On this one shipment?

Jaraduk balks, scratching his chin.

Did you, uh, insure it? Chuckling, he barely waits for an answer before turning to follow Akh out to begin the loading.

Yeah, we'll take care of the merch. I'm pretty sure we can do it without dropping even one crate. He gives Akh a stern look.

Methnks we need a Goblin to smooth this over *real* quick, Lol.

Can't say we're not RPing our Charisma scores!

"Only fifty tons? Well, you can't give us what you don't have... HQ may not see it that way though... Hmmm.... I'll tell you what. My colleagues and I are gonna help you out!

"Fortunately for you and your retirement plans, you get all this for a small, one-time up-front fee of 6000 credits! What a bargain to secure you and your family's future!!! And this ain't no bull!!!" Guess? throws a quick, sideways glance at Jaraduk.

Then in a lower tone and a lower volume, Guess? quickly follows with, "Fee amount negotiable..."

"Whaddaya say???? Once in a lifetime deal! Which should be all you need since you'll (ideally) retire only once!"

I assume all of the above will be a bluff check - I'm starting to think bluff may be the most common skill rolled by this character...
Bluff: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18

If the above roll fails, Guess? will use Desna's divine blessing to reroll:
Bluff: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27

Lars chuckles internally as the goblin does his thing and takes a closer look at that tablet.

"I might be able to help you get this thing running smoothly, probably just malware eating up your memory, if it's running slow."

Computers: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Del smiles brightly. "Hi, Runo! It's a pleasure to meet you! I'm Del. What a lovely place you've got here."

At hearing his worry over the shipment, Del nods. "I'll fly as fast and as true as I can, Runo. You've got my word on that."

At Akh's words over Runo's gamble, Del nods with worry. She's seen plenty of fortunes crash and burn since signing on with EJCorp. She hoped Runo wouldn't be one of them. At her companions jokes about dropping the berries, Del gasps. "Don't you dare!" She looks at Runo, "They're only kidding. The berries are in good hands." She looks back at her companions, giving them a stern look of warning. "Aren't they?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

As Guess? dives into his regular spiel, Del tunes him out for a moment, looking around at the office.

55? Didn't Tarika say 50?

Insurance? Thats a good plan for ——

"Wait, what?" Del stammers. She turns, putting her hands on her hips as she goes back to paying attention to Guess? The more he talks, the more Del shakes her head in disappointment and clicks her tongue.

I guess it's good for Guess? that my Diplomacy before was so horrible. Haha. He seems way more convincing than Del does.

Bluff Aid: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

As he looks over the tablet, Lars agrees with Guess? "Wow, that's a generous deal Guess?!"

*cough cough* Lars, do you have a hacking kit?

Lars and Strek get to work on the datapad while Guess? gives his spiel. Runo interrupts to point to Akh and Jaraduk where the boxes are stored. The lashunta starts sweating noticably as Guess? continues. "Yeah, yeah, if you could help out I'd appreciate it. Took years to line up this deal with EJ, hate to blow it for little Needa." He swallows hard. "There's... insurance? I thought... I thought... the company would take care of it? I mean, I think..." He looks back at the locked up datapad nervously. "Maybe I should have read that contract closer..." Looking at his frantic eyes, it's obvious he's totally falling for He picks up his phone and starts dialing, muttering to you, "Needa will know, she has a copy. Maybe we can work something out."

Meanwhile, Lars and Strek have broken through the datapad's security. It appears some outside entity attempted to brute force hack the datapad by guessing the password. But, once they hack through the pad's basic security they find an implanted firewall! DC 19 Computers check to beat this one! The code is wild, switching languages every few lines. The comments appear to be completely unrelated to the program, instead mentioning items like Remember to purchase meatloaf. Butt is itchy, see doctor. Sell meatloaf to see doctor.

Outside, the pair of muscle stand with wide eyes. Turns out 50 tons of berries is... a LOT of berries. There's at least a thousand crates here! Maybe more! Even if you back your cargo rig up against the distribution center, the two hovercarts the Company assigned you just aren't going to do it. This is going to take you 8 hours! 16 if one of the carts breaks down on you again. Tarika's voice echoes in your mind. "You have to deliver the fruit before it spoils, in 6 days." Give me an Engineering check to keep those carts running. And if someone has a spell that could mimic a third hover cart, you could save more time.

This time as Jaraduk get's Guess?s sideways glance his face lets a little expression of surprise slip out before straightening up again.

Oh my. That is most definitely some bull. But... the goblin is a smooth operator. Let's see how this goes...

Heading outside, the nuar jumps in surprise at the sheer amount of crates.

Bring the ship around! We don't have time to shuffle this many crates a long distance! All hands on deck!

Jaraduk puts his all into the task, grunting and snorting constantly as he lifts two, three crates at a time.

:grimacing: Ladies and germs, the first missing skill check of the campaign! No engineering for Jaraduk :P

cough cough* Lars, do you have a hacking kit

Sigh, no. Forgot those were a thing on account of Zulu never needing to buy one. I guess I'll aid Strek and his rig

As they plunge deeper into the system, Lars continues assisting Strek in hacking through the malware.

Aid Computers: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Once they get through all that and start getting the carts loaded and moved, Lars continues to get his hands dirty, assisting Strek again keeping the carts moving during the grueling day.

Engineering Aid: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

GM killed my mojo. I see nothing, aid nothing, do not pass Go and do not collect $200

Seeing Runo get nervous, Guess? says as reassuringly as possible, "No problem!! We can certainly work something out - don't you worry! At the end of the day (but no more than six... kekeke), we all want the same thing, which is to get these berries delivered safe and sound so that everyone is appropriately compensated!

"If the fee amount is not financially viable, let's talk! It's certainly not in anyone's interest to put Prat's Produce in a bad spot!"

Guess? smiles reassuringly, trying to avoid the typical feeling of unease people get when a goblin smiles...
Diplomacy to try and put Runo at ease: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

-----

Maybe we can buy a hacking kit for Lars somewhere close by? We're in a major city and they cost only 20 credits. Guess? has 8 credits he can throw into the pot for a kit if needed. Perhaps Runo can point us to the local version of The Good Guys, Best Buy or dare I say Radio Shack?

Akh floats into the cargo rig's cabin and takes a hold of its steering wheel. After a couple of minutes spent adjusting the chair, he backs it up right through the open door of the distribution center. Upon seeing the sheer number of crates, he offers "Oh. Yes, that is a lot of berries. This is going to take us precisely sixteen hours." He doesn't elaborate, but the recollections of broken hovercarts are likely fresh in everyone's mind. They certainly are in his.

He starts loading.

I've got 7 whole credits to spare for the hacking kit fund :)

Though I was hoping Akh could afford a small snack from the grocery before leaving...

Strek delves into the datapad's firmware.

"Not my specialty, but shouldn't be no different than hackin' Azlanti communiques..."

Computers: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

"...uhh, what's meatloaf?"

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

"Oh! Heh. That figures."

Strek waits until Runo is too occupied supervising the loading of the berries before STRETCHING his arm behind the Lashunta so he can hand the datapad to Guess?.

And then later that day...

Engineering: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28 (DC –5 to Repair, if that applies here)

"Ain't no prob. Done this a hunnerd times."

Zero credits here =(