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Two days later, Tarika and Shan arrive. Their ship lands a kilometer away and they spacewalk over to you. As they are on their way, you hear screams on the comms! The exterior cameras show laser fire, so you run to the airlock. By the time you cycle out, you see the two brenneri walking your way with enormous laser rifles over there shoulders. The artillery laser cannon and excavation laser have blackened tips. The two drag the corpse of a veshred between them. Tarika drops the load, giving you a wave. "Dinner?"
You shove portions of the wild game into Cheffy and meet in the galley after Tarika has wandered off to find Dr. Gulm while Shan stays with you. "Strek sends his best wishes. I didn't think it was wise to bring him back into your mess, no offense, so I have him managing the medicine situation with Oline." When Tarika returns, she inquires "Alright, well he's alive and out of bars. I appreciate you doing that for him, with how things went down. Now, what's happened since we last spoke?"
"We have what might end up being a plan after we work out some details. Getting Sinjin out somewhere we can shank him seems like it'll be complicated, but maybe we can rope together a whole bunch of people that don't like him on Smuggler's Moon and make it happen. The first step in that will be getting ourselves accepted, with a gift for the king of the Moon." Akh squints at Tarika "Actually, how do you feel like putting on a disguise and pretending to be an exotic alien gift?"
"If not we could try to find some exploding defrexes, or talk to the super-eels we saved on Entha, or, I guess, we could try talking to the Voxhan rebels for some rare goodies from there either."
Separately... there's a jilted cousin that we could use looking into without the weight of our presence. He gestures vaguely at the party.
We're pretty confident he wouldn't stick his neck out to make a move against Sinjin, but he's got to have some crucial inside info.
Scratches chin, thinks more.
This seems like a longshot, but 20 years ago, the legendary tattoo artist Shaieth Evadross left the Golden League. Shaieth’s last known location was Smuggler’s Moon. Sinjin was personally dispatched by his superiors to find Shaieth, but he returned empty-handed; this is the only blemish on Sinjin’s otherwise impressive Golden League career. Shaieth’s trail ends at Smuggler’s Moon. Stirring up rumors of his only failure may be just right to draw Sinjin out.
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"Hmmmm... staying out of trouble, disguises, and danger has worked pretty well for me so far..." She shoots some finger guns at the oversized gun leaning against the wall. "And when it doesn't, that's why I've got my baby girl over there." Shan just shakes her head, embarrassed, before raising her hand. "I still have friends on Entha. Those eels would be happy to help you out, I'm sure." Tarika nods, appreciatively. "Alright! So first you lure Sinjin out of Rendalairn. Then you have to separate him from his bad new starship and his troops. Maybe the same way? Then you take him down!" She punches the air over-energetically. "It does seem like there are a lot of leads on that moon. The cousin? The tattoo artist? Both? I like the idea of starting by getting in with the king. Too many times we've tried to go in quiet and had to run when things got loud. Perhaps the law can be on our side... for once?" She smirks, fully aware she put you in many of those situations. "We can go get you any supplies you need. The gift, any gear, whatever. Don't want another shopping trip to lead into a fire fight. Not when you're on the cusp of a plan!"
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Akh adds morosely "I wouldn't say the law's on our side here either. I'm sure the King will stab us in the back as well and then we'll have all sorts of people to punch."
"Says the person who disguised themselves as three different crew members a week to avoid picking up a mop the last time....."
"And it worked, didn't it?!?!?"
"But I agree. Right now, we don't have a solid plan. We just have concepts of a plan. But once we meet the cousin and tattoo guy, we should get a better idea of what is and isn't do-able!"
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Shan sends the message to Entha and a couple Drift-hours later you have confirmation. Conscious-Eel feeding lightning seaweed is on its way! Tarika and Shan say their goodbyes, grabbing Doctor G on the way out. He gives you a good "HARUUMPH" before brushing off some nonexistent dust from his shoulder as he leaves. As if there could ever be dust on his immaculate form.
You set sail for Smuggler's Moon and get ready. A bit of research tells you that Smuggler’s Moon orbits the planetoid known as Atherm in Near Space. Atherm is an uninhabited wasteland so inhospitable it wouldn't even have an official name if it weren't for the trade channels that pass through it. In a brush with irony, Smuggler's Moon does not in fact have an official name. It's size and unimportant associated planetoid doesn't demand a name for every moon. Even interested astronomers debate if Smuggler's Moon should officially be designated Atherm-1 or Atherm-2. Regardless of name, visitors find a location that is lush and verdant. The name, being unofficial, is shared between the green moon and the only building of note upon it. 'Smuggler’s Moon', the capital, is an octahedral megacomplex that towers over the surrounding forest, of Smuggler's Moon - the moon, while lying half-submerged below the earth. Thousands of windows and two massive gardens dot its sloping exterior, and hundreds of landing pads protrude from the building like balconies that can each host a single starship. Its interior is split into four sections: Concourse (the largest social space in the complex), other public areas, employee areas, and the palace. In addition, farms and wilderness surround its walls.
While researching, you find a review on Reviews4Views. Smuggler’s Moon? Yeah, it’s a cozy place–like a resort, I guess. Gardens, shops, shows, nice digs, plenty of space. Good place to lay low. But under all those flowers and food, the place is filled with smugglers, thieves, killers, and worse. And the worst crook of all? King Dregor! He grants people wishes in exchange for their service. Makes ‘em think their dreams are coming true, then works ‘em to the bone. Years bargained away, just like that! And desperate people keep falling for it. But Dregor won’t get the best of me. I’ve got a plan, see? I’ll be in and out in no time–and richer for it! – “Slick” Norrie You note that Slick made no further posts after this one.
Why do people always fall for this king's lies? What does he have over his people to induce this desperation?
Akh surveys Slick's review with grave seriousness "I sounds like we'll fit in very well. Maybe the King will try to get us tied down with some serious work in exchange for his help. If he does, maybe we can just take him out and not worry about the diplomatic approach. Guess? could make a fine new king."
Akh tries to find on the infosphere if either the king or his retinue are particularly dangerous in a fight in relation to the party.
"Either way, lets hail them and get our audience with the help of our special seaweed."
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Plemel - definitely not Jaraduk - just finds a few forum postings from people who claim to have their wishes granted by King Dregor; their posts all originate from Smuggler's Moon IP addresses. Akh is beginning to think that even the gods themselves would be no match for your not-so-humble space trucker crew. With a cursory glance, it seems like King Dregor might be a near-deific figure himself. All assassins who have entered his throne room have left in pieces. His epic stature and fur-bound muscles speak for themselves. Plus, it is rumored that the King has a relic-level forcefield that surrounds his throne during times of crisis. With a bit of help from the rest of the crew, Akh is able to connect the dots. It seems that King Dregor has actually never been seen to fight himself! His augmented maraquoi royal guard seem to deflect most trouble, though they wouldn't pose a challenge to yourselves. His battleflower personal guards - twin mystics - might be a bit more difficult but nothing you haven't seen before. Especially since you've learned so much in your journey to the Moon...
"If it comes to it, we can try fighting. I don't think anyone's ever seen King Dregor throw his weight around in that particular way, and his bodyguards will be tough but we should be able to handle them." Akh concludes his searches "Either way, we start with being all tricky and diplomatic and then see what happens."
He looks to the more diplomatic members of the party to open comms with Smuggler's Moon and start negotiations. He figures leading with the gift and maybe mentioning a special offer might work to get the group in the door.
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You pop out of the Drift and you stretch, a satisfying pop in your weary joints, as the familiar hum of the Drift finally fades into the purr of standard engines. Days spent in the rainbow cloud currents between star systems always leaves you feeling like your molecules were still swimming. That pop may never get used to. Below, the wasted planetoid spins, a mottled sphere of scarred rock and dust, a testament to some ancient catastrophe. Your goblin captain-slash-pilot, shouts over the comms "Strap in, we're punching through." Guess? pulls the lever. A brief, jarring jolt later, and you're through a narrow band of serene black space, passing into the vibrant emerald expanse of the moon's atmosphere. Guess? banks the ship, sending a shiver through its frame, and you glide over the canopy of an impossibly tall forest. These aren't the spindly trees of the Station; these are sky-piercing giants, their massive, gnarled trunks like ancient, armored columns.
Suddenly, punching through the emerald sea of the forest, the city of Smuggler's Moon emerges. It's a breathtaking sight, rising from the surrounding vegetation like a massive, chiseled pyramid of dark stone. Its angled facades are not smooth, but rather speckled with countless landing pads, each one precisely sized to cradle a single starship, a silent testament to the moon's bustling, clandestine traffic. Two colossal, open-air terraces are carved into the city's exterior. The wider, lower terrace encircles the complex at its broadest point, a verdant belt of alien flora, while the upper terrace, perched at the city's highest peak, is a magnificent sky-garden, equally lush with exotic vegetation. This upper haven is crowned by a fanciful palace, its spires and domes catching the distant sunlight like polished gems, hinting at a power structure — or perhaps just a very eccentric resident. At ground level, four enormous, arching doors mark the city's entrance points, where they meet dirt roads that wind off into the endless woodlands. A few isolated farms, tiny specks of cultivation amidst the wild green, are the only other signs of settlement on this otherwise pristine moon, a stark contrast to the desolate planetoid it orbits.
As you approach the city's uppermost landing pads, a sharp chime cuts through the cockpit's ambient hum. A face pops onto the comms screen. It's a raxilite, one of the diminutive plant-based beings, its miniature form barely filling the display. The camera struggles to zoom in enough, resulting in a slightly pixelated image of the small, leaf-like features. "Unidentified vessel, you are entering controlled airspace," a voice rumbles, surprisingly deep and resonant for such a tiny creature. "State your intentions and designation."
Jaraduk whispers to the others.
So, I guess in this case it would probably not be great to speak of our favorite salads...
"Or, it could impress this one with how hardcore we are." Akh considers, then errs for the more conventional introduction. He speaks up to the raxilite "This is the Second Chance, home of the famous (?) Trouble Shooting, shipping, logistics, smuggling, and mercenary team - Bullseye Solutions. We're here with a gift and uh, opportunity, for King Dregor."
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The raxilite, leafy hair rustling, moves their sapling-like hands in the air to manipulate some unseen terminal. After a minute of work, the officer smiles softly. "Ah, Bullseye Solutions. You, like so many who come to this Moon, have quite the history. Famous indeed. Welcome, make your way to landing bay 119C. A greeter will be there to welcome you." You fly down to the colossal stone pyramid poking out of the forest and find the correct landing pad poking out of it's exterior. You head out the cargo bay door to find a gray-skinned man waiting for you. Guess? and Melissa recognize him as one of the reclusive Damai race from a long-ago shattered planet. “Welcome to Smuggler’s Moon, I am Rianri,” the man says with a chipper smile, gesturing at the complex interior, “the realm of Dregor, our proud and fearless king! These ramps lead to other guest wings and their accompanying landing pads—please stay out unless invited! You can also take the ramps down to Concourse, which is where you’ll find all the amenities Smuggler’s Moon has to offer! Stop for a meal at the restaurant, drink at the bar, take in a performance, mingle with fellow visitors, or buy, sell, and trade. Surrounding Concourse is an outdoor Conservatory that’s open to visitors free of charge. Please note that theft or harm of the Conservatory’s flora and fauna is strictly prohibited.” He pauses to breathe.
“King Dregor resides in his palace; I’m sure you saw it on the way in. Supplicants seeking an audience with His Highness must schedule an appointment and come prepared with an offering." He checks his screen. "Now, Bullseye Solutions. I see customs marked you down as a Supplicant.” He eyes your starship dubiously. "And they also marked you as a high priority visitor." He forces a smile and does some half-hearted jazz hands. "Of course, that's why you got yourself a greeter! In that case, I can schedule you a slot with the King within the hour." He points to your large barrel of foreign seaweed. "A gift, I see! Would you like me to have that delivered upstairs? I am here to assist. I can also arrange for the rental of personal quarters, repairs to your ship, or call a doctor." His smile stretches as wide as his arms. "Everything's for sale on Smuggler's Moon!"
Akh voices an aside to the ysoki "Second Chance Melissa. If I've got my chances lined up right, the Last Chance was that pile of junk we scavenged from Absalom Station before we managed to get our ship back."
He eyes everything from the landing pad onward with extreme suspicion, especially after the fairly magnanimous introduction. Akh expects a trap here as much as anywhere else. When the damai greeter describes all the amenities for sale, he shakes his head "Maybe later. We'll hold onto our gift until we can deliver it directly. I'd hate for it to get lost somewhere on the way to the King. Which it probably would."
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"I think we're going to want to present the gift to the king himself. Our Captain is a bit of a showg..person. He probably has something dramatic in mind involving a tarp. And possibly sprinklers. You can have your guys go over it if you want, its about the lowest amp battery I've seen. Safest wires to chew on, ever. "
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Your Damai host's smile never wavers. "Of course, of course! A gift so grand as a rare foreign seaweed must be protected and kept close." The alien host smiles ingratiatingly and bows again. "Such wealthy and acclaimed guests as yourselves, you must come to King Dregor for quite the boon." As he speaks, he ushers your group forward, his voice faint against the wind of the corridor towards the pyramid proper and the guarded entrance. "Please allow my impertinence, but the very armor you walk around in must be more than my humble two bedroom mortgage! It seems all we need is a Second Chance." He laughs, a high-pitched reedy sound, at his own joke, his gaze lingering on your gear before directing you to show the barrel to the local guards.
The maraquoi at the reinforced checkpoint stand at attention, their postures rigid despite the loose-fitting, patched uniforms they wear. They are armed with imposing, nonlethal riot gear: one cradles a humming shock stave, its tip crackling with contained energy, while the other holds a heavy bludgeon-baton that looks capable of knocking even a nuar unconscious. What truly catches your attention, however, are the burn scars encircling their necks—deep, angry welts where slave collars once chafed. There are no shackles on them now, though, only a quiet, almost defiant dignity in their bearing.
They check over your gift thoroughly. Their inspection is meticulous, yet peculiar. They run their hands over every seam of the barrel, tap its sides, and even sniff at its contents with definitely-stolen equipment from multiple planetary defense forces. You notice no actual search for contraband however—after all, what could truly be considered illicit in a lawless haven like Smuggler's Moon? No search for contraband, they're almost taking the fun out of being a Space Trucker. Instead, their focus is entirely on security protocols. They seem to be ensuring that your gift, while seemingly innocuous, isn't a Trojan horse for an assassination attempt, a data-siphon, or a disruptive bioweapon disguised as marine flora.
Finally, the Maraquoi with the shock stave nods, its face muscles relaxing. "Cleared," he rasps, voice a low rumble. "Enjoy your time on the Moon." The other guard gestures you through, their burn scar catching the flickering light, a silent testament to the moon and King Dregor's complex history.
Jaraduk looks down at the weapons still at their waists.
Surely they're going to disarm us before we head into the throne room... He doesn't say anything about it for now.
Yes, very lovely moon you have here. We think he'll make the most regal sushi from this seaweed!
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"It is not for us to guess what his kingliness shall do with such a gift." The maraquoi shakes his head as you walk away. Led by the Damai, you make your way to a wide ramp that winds around the hollow interior of Smuggler’s Moon, ascending to the left. You walk around, looking over the railing at the descending portion of the ramp, slowly winding down to the public Concourse far below. Plasteel skywalks break off from the ramp at set points, off to other wings and landing pads, but their clear structure lets you take in the Concourse in all it's glory. Visitors congregate to eat, carouse, socialize, and trade in that - the widest floor of the pyramid-like structure. The wide outdoor balcony of the Conservatory, filled with exotic flora and fauna, encircles the area.
A few hundred yards ahead you turn onto a skywalk that leads to a central glass elevator with a golden inscription above the large door. You pass beneath The Palace. Above you, through the glass ceiling the elevator disappears through the ceiling thousands of feet above to reach Dregor’s palace. Its single hovering chamber is large enough to fit another starship crew easily. For now, it only holds another pair of maraquoi guards that maintain vigil in the elevator. "Appointment?" The first holds the electro-staff to bar your way while the other checks your credentials. Once confirming your appointment, they move to the wall and punch the top button of the many hundreds that lead to other guest wings. With a soft movement, you hover upwards and enter Dregor’s personal domain.
Out of the elevator, you enter a large garden. The glass roof, hundreds of feet above you, brings in heat and light to create a humid atmosphere. Your host Rianri gestures to the surroundings with pride. "King Dregor’s vast personal gardens house many animals that wander freely. In this region of the garden, captive animals are raised and placed on display. At night, the King tours it frequently." Looking at the signs, you see that this zoo contains local wildlife, creatures imported from Dregor’s home world Bassanio, and any exotic animals that catch his eye. After nearly a mile of charming pathways, you come to the forty foot high door set in the center of the enormous gilded palace. Far too big for a single person, the palace includes multiple wings, dining halls, ballrooms, indoor gardens, and dozens of bedrooms. But for you, only the entryway is accessible. You are led through the palatial room and past a dozen more guards. The entry room itself is a vast, echoing space, designed to impress and perhaps intimidate. The forty-foot-high golden doors you just passed through feel dwarfed by the sheer scale of the hall beyond. The ceiling, lost in the ambient glow of embedded plasteel luminaries, is impossibly high, making even the tallest among your group feel small. The air here is cool and dry, a stark contrast to the humid warmth of the gardens, and carries a faint, clean scent of polished metals and something subtly synthetic, perhaps a purification system. There is no sign of life here; no plants or fauna. The guards show no concern at your gear and weapons. Perhaps the famed King's strength makes such items moot? You head through another, even larger, set of golden doors.
King Dregor’s throne room is more garden than palace. Four tall trees in the corners rise up to a thirty-foot-high ceiling, plants and exotic flowers ring the room’s perimeter, and holograms of an idyllic forest vista play across the walls, broken only by the presence of six maraquoi guards and various hallways that lead deeper into the palace. Decorative tiles pave the way forward, where a pahtra in dark robes stands holding a datapad. Behind her, a stairway leads up to a stone platform fifteen feet in the air. Atop this dais, on an elaborately carved wooden throne, reclines the infamous King Dregor. Brown-furred, with a jagged scar across his snout, the formidable uplifted bear wears armor crafted from the hide of a mighty Daimalko colossus. Leaning against his throne are his weapons–an enormous frost maul and a xenolash. Atop his head rests a crown of vibrant flowers. Flanking him are a pair of winterborn rhyphorians dressed in revealing silks–the infamous battleflowers of Triaxus. The king grumbles, looking aggressive and bored. “More beggars? Come, then! Kneel before Dregor, and don’t waste my time. I'm told your barrel is a gift worthy of one such as myself. You have my attention, so speak!” His voice is so low as to be barely registered by a biological ear, but loud enough to be easily heard and understood.
Akh isn't surprised by the lack of contraband inspection - the place is called Smuggler's Moon after all. And he approves of the overly paranoid examination of the gift for any peculiarities. He'd do the same. Probably. Of course, the way all his weapons stay on his person makes him think they're focusing on the wrong threat.
Akh floats high up in the air as the group winds its way through the showy acres of the King's palatial estate. He surveys the gardens and areas designed to hold exotic animals with not a whole lot of interest, but with a little concern for what that means for the owner of all this pointless luxury. He dives down through the final doorway and then flies up to hover above the level of the stone platform, clearly not about to kneel - if he even had knees with which to do so. "Fancy place. Nice to meet you King Dregor. I'm afraid we're here to make things a lot more interesting for Smuggler's Moon. And you could be part of it."
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Melissa uses the trip through the zoo to try to collect some intel from the local fauna, seeing if they've been treated well, or if they're only like let out for an hour and the cages are way in the back when you can't see...
Look, belly rubbing strange animals makes more sense in a world where you can regrow your arm for a hundred credits...
Melissa has no qualms about kneeling down except wondering how ysoki knees work..
"Supplicants your Majesty, we only need a few moments of time to talk with two of your subjects over dinner, and We'd be happy to pay for the dinner. We're hoping they have some advice on how to deal with a small problem, hardly worth your notice."
For this she'll definitely spend the resolve point
= 41
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The king's eyes flicker up to Akh, then he pointedly ignores the android and looks down to Melissa. "Hark, furry kin! Ye do bear yourselves more as noble pleaders than as common beggars." Curiously, King Dregor has suddenly affected a fanciful accent. Gone is the powerful dictator, replaced by... you can't quite say. His large ursine brows furrow. "Is it so? That ye have climbed to my humble palace's highest reach, merely to beg leave to converse with two of my subjects, now freed from their woes? There is more here to be seen. For I, Dregor, a most giving king, deem every subject's sorrow worthy of my ear... provided the price be just. " He places his paw down on the thick wooden throne edge. "Unburden your woes, then, and let Dregor, the beneficent, soothe your pain."
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"We had a business deal with Sinjin...SOMEONES ..not me. Took a deal with him to ship some weapons to some hobgoblins. Well, no one bothered to mention the other end of the delivery was in a war zone, some brave debonaire rebels "accidentally" made off with the weaponry, there was a tiny explosion and sinjin got stiffed on the payment"
To help make up for his loss we agreed to uhm.. acquire a ship. We got the ship, but instead of a public place like a mall or a police station he wanted to meet in the middle of his own private asteroid. Akh WAS built last night, but even he knew something was up there. he wouldn't switch places, had his best assassin try to knife knife knife murder us over some noodles, and when he ran out of girlfriends just posted an add on Legs List for people who's legs or necks you'd like broken. That's been our main source of income for a while.. people try to rob us and we get loose change and their gear."
"But this isn't working anymore. We tried to deliver some meds to a plague ridden planet and two yahoos blew it up. Our otter got them out of storage wqith the other stuff right? We need Sinkin off our backs, and there's two people we know who've managed that this side of the great river and they're both here. "
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Akh swoops down to hover just above Melissa's level "You don't have to give him our life story Melissa. And I'm not *that* new." He looks over at Dregor "What she's trying to say is that we've heard a lot of people here don't like Sinjin. And we don't like Sinjin. And we're hoping we can band together to take him out before he brings the whole galaxy down on us." He considers for a moment before adding "Though Melissa's right, looting poorly considered assassins has been a nice little side hustle for a while now. I bet you know all about that one."
"In any case, that's one particular woe that we're hoping to rectify. Of course, if you'd like to hear some more woes I have, I'd be happy to tell you about them. I've saved quite the list."
And if you have the right contacts on Apostae... we might know even more folks who don't like him. They might need convincing though... we haven't asked.
He scratches his chin thoughtfully at the last part. But mostly it's time to see how Dregor reacts after they've thrown all of this at him.
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"... there was a tiny explosion and ..."
King Dregor's eyes widen, not in surprise, but in a self-satisfied glee as Melissa's story unfolds. "HA! Speak of assassins? You address me, King Dregor! I know more than a 'thing or two' about turning away such craven dogs. One does not become the unyielding protector of this magnificent keep, nor the undisputed High Marshal of this thriving realm of... disenfranchised business... without crushing countless enemies beneath their heel!" He shakes his massive, bear-like head, a deep rumble resonating from his chest. "But these ambushes! Always with the collateral damage, eh? And why, pray tell, do you imagine I grace this glorious, bejeweled penthouse with my presence, soaring far above my adoring subjects? To shield them, of course! To stand as their benevolent, all-powerful father!" He takes a prodigious gulp from an oversized goblet, the rich liquid sloshing over as he sets it back down. "So, tell me, why should I allow you to even breathe the same air as my people, when it might bring another petty lord's wrath—or worse, their incompetence—crashing down upon my domain, disturbing my peace? Why shouldn't I exile you to Apostae, to deal with this Sinjin?" As soon as you addressed him as an equal, he drops his noble speech and returns to the loud and brash bully he was initially. You feel that he will be difficult to convince through intimidation, but a diplomatic and appealing word might be enough to gain his support.
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"Because its the right thing to do. Does your majesty need another reason? The Universe sucks chitter because evil people are willing to push good people around for money and power, that they use to push people around for more money and power to push people around. If you keep working the system you get the same results. If you tell the system to go chitter itself, it tries to kill you as a warning to others. "
"Because its afraid. Because it doesn't have the power people think it has. Sinjin or E Jay or Abadar corps or whatever face it's wearing today can kill or ruin anyone that stands up to them but they can't kill Everyone standing up to them. Every breath we draw is one more person thinking life doesn't have to suck bearings. Every dead and looted assassin says the good guys.. ok the better guys can win so maybe I should be the better guy. What did you make this place for if it isn't that? To let life suck less and be better for people? " [b]
[b]"Anyone doing that already HAS their animosity. The only question is are we going to face it together or get picked off one by one?"
If we don't have the 41 from before
spending a resolve
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"Hmm... yes." He purses his lips and nods in approval. "I see your passion, and your motivation. But..." his eyes flicker from the guards and back to you, then to your weapons. "Well..." He swallows deeply then stands, claps his hands with a grin and says, “Request granted.” Just then, the large doors behind you open and a kasatha guard walks through. His simple robes are accented by a swirling purple mist of otherworldly energy. He looks at you with suspicion. ”Everything alright, my lord?” The king nods sagely. ”Yes, in fact, they could use your help. Please make sure they find those they seek. If they encounter any difficulty, assist them.” The kasatha nods and guides you out the door. As the doors shut behind you, a pahtra woman approaches half-bowed. ”Captain Iru, surely the King would prefer you be by his side. Those battleflowers could never replace you.” She continues, practically simpering. ”He tells me of this, yes, yes he does. Allow me to escort them. This menial task is more of my station.” Iru looks down from his great height, then nods. ”Thank you, chamberlain.” He slips back into the throne room, leaving you alone with the woman. ”Allow me to introduce myself, my lords. I am Chamberlain Telpi.” She looks up with a desperate countenance. ”I’m afraid I am here for more than just a tour… My brother and I are indentured servants consigned to a 10-year work term in the palace. This seemed a small price to pay in exchange for Dregor saving Frennik’s life. But that was only two years ago, and we chafe for freedom.” She shakes her head in shame. ”I would like to offer you my intimate knowledge of the Moon in exchange for passage from Smuggler’s Moon. Deal? Shall we begin with a guided tour of the station?” She smiles, hopeful.
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"You should not only let us do this, but help us to the fullest extent you can, because by already harboring a bunch of people who have gotten on Sinjin's bad side, you're probably already on his list of 'I'll get around to eliminating these guys eventually'. However you feel about it, we're already on the same side. The side of not dying to a Drow with a big pockets and a bigger ego." Akh speaks with a creaking groan at the thought of Sinjin's ego, which has only gotten worse and worse.
When Dregor agrees to let the party do it's thing here on the moon, he nods. "Of course, Sinjin might accelerate his plans once we provoke him. So you'll want to think about how you'll defend this place and help us help you help everyone here not die horribly when Sinjin arrives."
He barely gets to address the rather cool looking kasatha before the party's in the hands of the Chamberlain. Her sob story earns absolutely zero sympathy from him, but he figures the info is worth another ill advised obligation. "We can help. We'll be leaving here eventually anyway. Assuming we don't all die, along with the rest of the Moon. Then you won't have to worry about your brother's freedom."
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"hmmm... indeed, he seems to be one for order. Not one for the metropolitan freedom I have fostered. This Sinjin... perhaps he is a bigger threat than I had anticipated." The king nods, ready to defend his city. "We have survived thus far by staying off the intergalactic stage. Let us hope this Lord's military might is similarly scaled." He eyes his battle flowers. "See to it that we are not surprised."
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The pahtra breaks out in tears at Akh's acceptance. "Thank you, thank you! I'll help you however I can. Anything to escape this 'paradise'."
"Not much of a paradise then? With the king living as nice as this, I suppose it can't be too great for everyone else. What's the worst of it? 10 years is a lot of time for short lived people, but you did sign up for it of your own free will I hope." Akh inquires. The various attendants and personnel the team has met here so far have all been a little odd, which he'd assumed was because their king was rubbing off on them. Now he starts thinking that there might be a little taking advantage of people with nowhere to turn going on. Maybe that very theatrical Yolp review wasn't quite as theatrical as he assumed.
Jaraduk decides maybe it's time to change the subject from how much free will is involved in being here...
Okay, how about that intimate moon knowledge? What can you tell us?
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"If anyone asks, you didn't tell us you weren't allowed to leave. you asked for a ride off, we said sure. If we can think of some way to buy off your eight years after uhm.. we DON"T wind up in debt ourselves we'll try to help you out ok? Trust us ticking off people that can call themselves lord or king or hell even an edgelord marquis is more trouble than its worth.probably a smaller cult of zon k y there. "
She nods at "Plemel" and Akh "Yeah seems everywhere we go that seems nice is run by an evil computer or powered by a forsaken child or a forsaken child evil computer NO guess we are NOT going into the forsaken child battery market to fullfill whats obviously in high demand."
"Whats the behind the curtain surprise here?"
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"Our own free will, yes, by most definitions. But what choice did I have? He was dying and we couldn't afford the cure. The King is known for granting wishes, and he did that for us. But the price... I would do anything to escape it now." She nods at Melissa's stipulation eagerly. "Follow me!" She shows you out of the luxurious palace, then progresses down through the rest of Smuggler’s Moon’s public and employee areas. "This tattoo artist you seek, Shaieth Evadross, works in the conservatory as a gardener. I'll take you there and show you the sights along the way." The elevator drops into Antherm's Bounty in the center of the Concourse Commons.
As you exit the elevator, your senses are immediately assaulted by the vibrant, almost chaotic energy of Atherm’s Bounty. This sprawling bar and restaurant wraps itself around the massive central elevator shaft, a riot of chrome, neon, and the rich scent of cooking that's equal parts savory and... distinctly chitinous. Holographic menus shimmer in the air above every table, showcasing an array of dishes that prominently feature insectoid ingredients. A cheerful, if somewhat jarring, banner flashes above the main counter: 'Unique flavors of nature, brought to you by Head Chef Queble!'.
The air is thick with competing sounds. From the open kitchen, the unmistakable clamor of a heated argument spills out. Two figures, likely the aforementioned chef and sous, are bellowing at each other in a language you don't quite catch, but the rising inflection and frustrated gestures are universal. One moment, a crash of pots and pans punctuates their tirade, the next, a string of rapid-fire expletives. Meanwhile, a Lashunta waiter, identifiable by their prominent antennae twitching with exasperation, weaves through the crowded tables, shouting over the din. "Excuse me! Anyone for the fried hive-grubs with nebula nectar glaze? Or perhaps the crispy sky-roach skewers?" their voice strains, clearly struggling to be heard above the general revelry and the kitchen's ongoing drama.
The clientele is as varied as the menu, a mix of species from across the galaxy: grizzled spacers nursing slurm-based cocktails, boisterous merchants haggling over prices, and a few sleek corporate types, oddly out of place amidst the organized chaos, picking delicately at their insect-laden appetizers. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of conversations, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter all blend with the frantic kitchen opera, creating a unique ambiance. The class and lack of apparent danger are a welcome distinction from the last asteroid-based bar you frequented.
A bored looking pahtra man nurses a drink at the bar. He perks up as you pass, sidling up to you. "My brother, Frennik." The feline purrs with so much charm that it almost makes Guess? jealous. He gives both Plemel and Melissa long slow full-body assessments followed up by a flirtatious wink. "Well, a group of rich and influential off-worlders no doubt! And my sister, tasked with giving a tour!" He gives her a knowing look, flickering between reproach and curiosity as he attempts to judge the situation. "Yes, brother, they've agreed to my deal. I'll let you in on it later, away from the..." She eyes a passing set of maraqoi guards with intention. The pahtra brightens. "Ah, well that changes things, doesn't it! I was going to offer you my services for an outrageous fee but now... you get it for free! I will speak to the staff on your behalf. Never hurts to have some friends in low places, eh?" At 'low' he eyes your nether regions rather insinuatingly. "My charms are a formidable weapon indeed. You must be here wanting something - everyone is - and having more friends always helps grease the wheels. Who are you and why are you here? Or rather... what would you like the commoners to think about who you are and why you're here?" He winks again, even slower and more obnoxiously.
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Jaraduk looks down at the same region on himself... on his holoskin disguise. Now that he thinks about it, he's not quite sure what an alien mutant frog is packing. He shrugs.
We're here for tattoos. All of us. Of our company logo. We thought it'd be fun.
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[ b]I would like the commoners to think we re here to form an alliance against a universe hell bent on wringing every credit of value out of you with a upb grinder if necessary. We are here for any imfo you may have on sinjin so we can either tak him out or more realistically get him to go awa….you got something in your eye?[/b] she looks behind her at a random ficus and shrugs.
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Akh is immediately and totally distracted by snacks. By the time you see him again, he has his claws full and his hollow cheeks stuffed with spicy sky-roaches and ink bead bursters. "Wof?" He looks over at the party getting assaulted by a slimeball and draws the wrong conclusion "Now's nof the time to hit on locals Meliffa. We've got work."
Akh catches up on the discussion as he gulps down some snacks "What job do you have here anyway Frennik? Your sister said you were hoping for a long vacation. Seems like this place is already like a vacation." He swirls through the air and then floats protectively over the party "Anyway, you can tell people what you like. We're here to make friends, especially if those friends don't like drow named Sinjin. You don't happen to know anyone like that?"
"Tattoos for Plemel though. He's into those."
To Melissa he adds "The way it looked from far away, I thought you'd caught another one." He points to the pahtra. "I hope he knows that you're... soft hearted." He rolls the last part out with great coughing sigh.
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"Why? Is there a cute one around?" She stands on tippy paws and looks past Akh.
Frennick's jaw drops at the audacity. "Well, a guy knows when he's not wanted." He gives Jaraduk a final wink. "And when I might be. Sure, sure, tattoos, that's what you want around here. ANYWAYS..." He turns to Akh with a hard eye. "Of course I want a vacation. This place is BORING. Tiny, limited population. Now, Absalom Station, that's more my cup of tea. Variety and the spice of life, everywhere you go. Always a new score, a new lover, a new gamble. I've been trying to convince my layabout of a sister to work her way up the food chain," He points upwards, along the elevator. "until she could get her hands on some of Dregor's shiny little things so we can buy our way out of here. But, her shiny little heart wouldn't allow her. Glad to hear she got to you anyway." He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. "These hands weren't meant for shining floors! They were meant for greatness!" He claps them above his head and begins to walk away. "I'll spread the word! Two very attractive newcomers and two very awkward friends in town for tattoos, ambushes, and an economic rebellion!"
Telpi shrugs sadly. "Well... that's family for you. Moving right along!" She turns from her prior direction, taking you across a stretch of the Commons. "If you're looking to take out Sinjin, then there's someone else we should run into before you get your tattoos." You come across the security office. The large neon sign glows above the doors. Inside the walls and desks are covered in monitors, each showing a live shot of part of Smuggler's Moon. You think back to the many surveillance cameras throughout the facility, one of the only technological security measures. She leads you to a raxilite sitting on an extra tall stool. She is busy monitoring security feeds and airspace, assigning landing pads to approaching starships. The tiny plant-creature is sprouting small daisy flowers, in the 'seeding' portion of the raxilite reproduction cycle. "Caprea, my darling! Allow me to introduce you to some friends. They're going to be around the place looking to get revenge against the capitalist hellscape that is this Moon." Caprea's woody brows rise. "Well... this place killed my darling and the King's price was too high to pay. You know me well, my furry friend." She looks at you with judgey eyes. "But I don't know you. Why should I do you any favors?"
Jaraduk glances at Melissa and Guess. Yes... awkward friends! Let's be off to get our matching tattoos! This family has good taste in alien frogs!
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All this talk of economic rebellion is spark the old scoundrel in Jaraduk.
Of course, of course. They always take those closest to you. You've got to strike back! That's why you should work with us, so that the tyranny and fear can be in the past!
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Spend the resolve point
= 33
"Look, we're toppling one really evil empire, by using the apparently not as bad empire, we'll topple the empires in order of badness ok? But I think that means we're not getting around to Bruhunor this side of heat death of the universe. But if I know sinjin and his mooks he'll have more than enough loot to shovel at our Bruin buddy so he doesn't see you taking a ride out of here ok? Everybody comes out ahead. Sinjin possibly in a different way than the rest of us"
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"We're looking to take down sinjin, or at least get him off our backs. If you won't do it for spite, With sinjin off our backs we'll be in a pretty good position to get back in the cargo business. Haul people, haul stuff, defend the innocent, make a lot of credits... so. The problem is I don't know you well enough to know what you want that we might be able to get. You don't know us well enough to know we're worth knowing. So why don't we fix both of those over coffee and PRAY we can get through ONE meal without someone trying to kill us.... "