As the party leaves, Akh nudges Telpi with his tail "I see you have to work enough to cover both you and your brother. That's a shame. No one would blame you if you ditched him here, I think."
With the raxalite he listens in, not really sure what kind of "capitalist hellscape" they're talking about. Unless the king is a lot less isolated than they'd heard about, this seems like some good old fashioned feudalism. The kind you hear about in backwaters out in the Vast. Except this one is much more convenient. Not really one he cares about toppling. At least not yet.
"If you want coffee I'll bring some nice snacks. At least one of the things I bought earlier are probably edible for a raxalite."
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Telpi pats Akh on the tail somberly. "Ah, you are insightful. I have been thinking that perhaps when we get off this moon we might find... separate landing places. It can be difficult to... live separately when he is around doing his... dalliances."
Caprea eyes Melissa, then over at Telpi. "So less revenge against the Moon, and more revenge against... yet another petty lord." She shakes her bark-covered head. "I suppose we can get a refreshment. KIM! I'M GOING ON BREAK!" She pops up and heads out with you. A nearby corridor leads to what can only be described as a hedge maze. A few turns in and you reach a soft wooden sign. Founder's Grove is dominated by a 40-foot-tall statue of King Dregor that centers the otherwise subtle coffee bar. Or at least, subtle aside from the dozens of depictions of Dregor displayed on portable stands around the clearing. These plaques and carvings seem to chronicle Dregor’s heroic conquest of Atherm.
You don't remember anything about a conquest being involved in the history of the Moon or it's ruler. Sounds like a fictionalized founder's story to you.
After a coffee date, Melissa and Jaraduk have the raxilite nodding along with your story. "You know, I hate my job anyway. Sure, I'll help if anything comes up." She jerks her head over to the pahtra. "Her brother's been blowing up my feed about y'all. You seem like the good sort. Here's my number. Let's take down a Lord. It'll make me feel better, if nothing else."
That's a lot of pictures of Dregor...
Shrugging he listens intently to their coffee companion.
Wow! Just for the feels. Impressive! We're going for credits.
Akh can't roll his eyes but the way he turns his head gives off a similar impression. "Someone sure does love making themselves look good. Must have done a lot of very impressive conquering to be so excited to leave behind monuments like that." He coughs pointedly.
"Anyway, thank you for the help. Or I guess, being willing to help. You wouldn't happen to know these two people...?" He names or flashes the names of the tattoo artist and lost cousin from his datapad. "We think they might be key in doing this... Lord-down-taking."
Uncharacteristically quiet, Guess? can no longer contain himself and bursts out, "Sooo... From what I'm hearing, you're harboring no love for Dregor. And yep, we can certainly be your ticket off of his moon when the time is right.
"Buuuuuut... life after ditching a petty lord can be quite pricey. What with all the looking over your shoulder, paying off informants, setting up fake identities to throw off assassins, etc. Trust me, I know!
"Which leads me to my point. The bear king must have a backup treasure horde somewhere, amirite?!? And with your job, you're the eyes and ears of the place! Now, I'm not saying we should... or should not take any specific action here.
"Buuuuuut.... If you happen to feel as though there might be a need to.. uh...fund your retirement, then we can perhaps arrange a litte jaunt into said horde. We keep ninety, you take ten.
"Just something to chew over. No pressure." Guess? winks.
Guess? telepathically speaks to the crew, "What? This guy's in charge of all the security! He sees and knows all! What can possibly go wrong with a little minor, harmless burglary???"
Akh swirls around the goblin "Guess!? I thought we'd lost you to a permanent reverie of all the things you'll buy when we take Sinjin's fortune for ourselves! Good thing you're still here with us. We'll need your help."
"Plus, I'm starting to think this whole asteroid is Dregor's 'hoard'. He certainly seems to think he owns the place."
Sends guess back an image of the rather large bear holding guess in a headlock for which his anatomy, much like edgar alan poes, is ill suited to escape
"Meh, I betcha he won't get off his throne. He'll just send a couple dozen guards after us and lock down our ship.... But that won't happen because when I've got a plan, nothing ever goes wrong! Amirite???"
"No. Never. We always complete all our tasks without fuss." Akh injects as much gloom as his hollow voice can muster.
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The security guard eyes the names that Akh shows her. "Ah... that one I recognize. Did a neon flash tattoo for my pal." She looks to Telpi. "Day job in the Conservatory, right?" Telpi rolls her eyes and waves to the maze. "We're on the way there, don't give away my secrets girl! I've got a bag to make here."
Caprea shakes her head in a very exaggerated way to Guess?. "No sir, I would never give away such sensitive information as an officer of the law..." She hastily scratches into a cafe napkin then slips it to Guess? before running away at an inappropriately fast speed. The note says... Your friend is right, the King's true treasure is the Moon. But he keeps a small hoard of golden valuables in a secret room behind his throne. Bioscanner locks, so good luck getting into it while he's still alive... wink, wink. It literally has 'wink, wink' written out!
Telpi waves you onwards. "Well, Cap spoiled where we're going next. One tattoo artist, coming up." You make your way out of the hedge and into the Conservatory. Soon you come upon a bent and aged lashunta woman with elaborate tattoos creeping out from under her sleeves and collar. She looks up at a called "Eska!" That's a bit confusing, since you're looking for a Shaieth. You ask a few questions, which she denies wholeheartedly. "Golden League? Sinjin? Shaieth? Why, no, never done heard tell o' them folk. Bless your heart, I'm just a simple gardener, I am. Been right here, tendin' to these greens as an indentured servant my whole life. Well, ever since I was a wee lass of a teen and first came 'round, that is. Ain't left this here Moon in all that time, I swear on our good King's furry behind! A right Moonie, I am. You must be a-mistakin' me for someone else entirely, bless your heart."
She's lying through her fake-country-accented teeth. This is surely the legendary tattoo artist Shaieth Evadross that ran away from the Golden League - Sinjin's 'one that got away'. You expect that you could Intimidate her into telling you the truth. Perhaps you could socially pull the information out of her another way, but that might be a little more difficult.
Jaraduk scratches his head and squints at deflective innocence. He's not sure, but he knows he'd lose the game of poker to them.
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dice= sense motive]1d20+15+1d6+2 [/dice]
Melissa tap tap taps her foot " Lady, your accent is good but you are WAY overdoing it. I grew up in the stickiest sticks in the galaxy and that accent is straight out of "Gone with the solar winds". So why don't we get ANOTHER cup of tea or coffee till we shake, and see if we can't help each other out. Tell me you're NOT freaking out every time someone drops a tool. I know I am, and I am SICK of living like this because of that tiny eared aluminum pot dictator thinks he can just murder everyone he doesn't like. "
Spend a resolve point for the diplomacy
Diplomacy= 44
Akh trusts Melissa's read of the woman and adds "Unless you've got peculiar taste, you probably don't love this place any more than anyone else we've talked to. Don't be shy. We're here because we're planning a way to tighten the noose around Sinjin, and it would be a real shame for you to miss out on that."
"Also, if our plan doesn't work because you wanted to play pretend and we all die, that would be a shame. Because you'd probably get caught in the cross-fire either way."
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'Eska', drops her smile as Melissa calls her out on her lie. The country accent slips, then drops entirely. "Bless you - ah, hell. I was about to tell you about my lost pet too..." She squints her eyes and you hear her voice in your minds. “Not here. Not aloud.” She telepathically provides you with directions to her employee quarters and tells you to meet her there in an hour. Then her smile comes back and she says - focusing on Telpi - "“Hmph! Bossy know-it-alls think just because I’m old I’ve forgotten my name! I guess I'm done for the day.” She sets her tools down and storms off.
Telpi puts her hands on her hips. "Huh! Not that many tattoo artists on the moon. Sorry, y'all, to lead you astray! Guess that rumor was incorrect. Or I just don't know my tattoo artists!" She cackles. "Well, guess we better look for that drow. What'd you say his name was? Zeldirn?" She begins typing on her datapad. "I'll reach out to my contacts, there aren't that many drow on the Moon. In the meantime, do you want to keep touring the Moon, or head off to do your own thing until I hear back?"
"No worries, not your fault. If it ain't who we're lookin for, then it ain't. I'd be more than happy to continue touring!"
Akh waves to Eska "Maybe we'll see you again to get tattoos! I hope you also have cool removable decals."
He turns back to Telpi "Zeldirn, I think. How much more of the tour is there? It would be good to meet more of your friends I think. Can't hurt to know more people before everyone is put into terrible, life threatening danger."
Jaraduk scratches his wispy chin-beard.
Yeah, why don't you keep the tour going (maybe take us through a local zoo?) and steer it towards Zeldirn or clues about them.
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"Perfect! Keep your eyes peeled for a suspicious looking Drow. I mean, aren't they all suspicious-looking?" She walks off, talking to herself with a definitely-racist rant that would definitely get her cancelled on the infosphere. You walk back through the Concourse and into the elevator. Telpi pokes the Employee Area button on the elevator. It drops down a floor and opens out onto a poorly lit concrete corridor. Walking through it, a door opens onto a - somehow - even more poorly lit stairwell. Three levels down, Telpi leads you down a long hallway with a series of closed doors. "Our living area! I don't live around here, but once you've seen one, you've seen them all." The doors have magnetic stickers on them, providing a bit more identity than the long address numbers to the left of each. A couple minutes later, you pass by an open door surrounded by a few local denizens. "Alellel's quarters, she might as well be the great grandmother of the Moon. May have been the King's first indentured servant, if rumors hold." The pahtra's eyebrows raise insinuatingly. "I've even heard she keeps going back to him for more wishes when her terms are up. I'm suspicious there's more going on there, but who's to say." She pokes a head between the shoulders of the crowd and yells into the room, "Oye, Alellel! Seen a sketchy drow around here, you blind bat?" The group of fellowshipping Smugglers laugh kindly, while a string of curse words follow you down the hallway from the room.
Eventually you come across a large set of double doors. The Arena, the sign declares. As you step through the reinforced doorway, the first thing that hits you is the controlled chaos. The air thrums with the bass beat of heavy exercise equipment, the rhythmic clang of weights, and the sharp hiss of pneumatic pistons. Overhead, a network of steel gantries and climbing frames forms a complex obstacle course, weaving through the open space. Holographic projections shimmer across the floor and walls, simulating everything from cramped starship corridors to the jungle outside, challenging participants to navigate shifting terrain. You see a Human swinging hand-over-hand across monkey bars, while a Vesk effortlessly scales a sheer climbing wall, their scales gripping the artificial rock.
Beyond the main gym, a series of transparent sparring rings are recessed into the floor. Energy fields shimmer at their perimeters, containing the crackle of arc-staves and the dull thud of training batons. Here, almost entirely maraqoui engage in combat drills. The sounds of grunts, shouts, and the crackle of energy weapons are a constant backdrop, demonstrating the raw power and discipline honed within these walls. This is definitely the most densely populated hot spot for maraqoui, full of guards in their uniforms or regular garb.
Separated by a reinforced plasteel barrier, but still very much a part of The Arena's ecosystem, is the armory. This isn't just a place for storage; it's a meticulously organized workshop. Rows of weapon racks display everything from standard-issue laser pistols to heavy auto-rifles, all gleaming and ready for immediate deployment. Workbenches are littered with disassembled components, toolkits, and diagnostic screens, where both maraqoui and hobgoblins can be seen to clean, repair, and upgrade their gear. Their focused attention is a stark contrast to the boisterous activity nearby. The air here carries the faint tang of lubricant and ozone.
The Arena is a combination gym, obstacle course, sparring ring, and armory. The majority of the space is filled with guards, but there is a heavy hobgoblin presence as well. Outside of these racial majorities - at least here - are a number of mildly frightening looking citizens of the Moon. They are distinct when compared to the rather cowed indentured servants you passed in the hallways. It seems that only those residents who have kept their edge - or perhaps not yet signed a deal with the King - come to the Arena. Telpi gestures towards the armory section with a flourish, "And over here, folks, is where we keep the big guns! And the biggest gun of all, if you catch my drift, is our very own Garvagam!"
The pahtra nudges you forward, guiding your gaze towards a figure standing near a workbench, meticulously oiling a heavy laser rifle. Garvagam is a male hobgoblin, his skin a leathery, scarred green. He's built like a tank, broad-shouldered and compact, with a permanent scowl etched onto his features. His military background is evident in his posture, you can tell that the crisp, well-maintained combat fatigues he wears are no stolen valor. One of his ears is notched, and a trio of thin, jagged scars runs from his temple down to his jawline, a testament to a past run in with a wild animal. Telpi clears her throat, attempting to project over the din of the Arena. "Garvagam, sir! I've brought some... distinguished guests! Just touring the facilities, seeing how Smuggler's Moon operates! They’re the ones who brought the King that rare seaweed gift!"
Garvagam stops wiping his rifle, his movements precise and unhurried. He slowly lifts his head, his green eyes fixing on your group with an unreadable, indifferent gaze. "You think I have time to care about the nonsense that tourists bring to our dear leader? Or that I have time to entertain them? Waste of my time. Unless they've got a problem only a real hunter can fix. Or perhaps... a challenge to offer?" He raises a thick, scarred eyebrow, his gaze lingering on your gear, a flicker of something akin to assessment, or perhaps mild curiosity, in his otherwise stern expression. "Well, they are looking for some people. And maybe going to do something a little more, if you catch my drift!" The hobgoblin's face doesn't move an inch. Telpi looks to you for help. "Uh... right?"
Would he tell us if he knows our drow if we impressed him?
If we gave you a name could you help us briefly? We don't mean to waste your time. Does the name Zeldirn mean anything to you?
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Garvagam barely spares a glance your way, his attention already back on the heavy laser rifle in his hands. He picks up his wipe and resumes cleaning. "Zeldirn?" he grunts. His eyes remain fixed on the rifle, meticulously buffing out an unseen smudge. "No, sorry, no clue. Not one for names, especially not those that don't come with a bounty attached." He pauses, twisting a component on the rifle with a practiced hand.
"The King keeps our shop well stocked," he continues, his voice a low rumble, "so long as we keep the malcontents down and meat on the table. It's a simple deal, and it works. Now..." He finally looks up, his gaze sharp and direct, fixing on the four of you with an intensity that cuts. "I'm all for a wild plan, or a challenge that puts real teeth to work. But what I'm not for is a waste of my time. So, speak your piece, or get out of my way." Garvagam's impatience is clear, even to Jaraduk. Melissa and Guess? see a bit deeper into his intentions and can tell that he would be a valuable ally in your later endeavors but changing his demeanor will be difficult - but not out of either of their skillsets. You also can tell that success in The Arena's gym, obstacle course, sparring ring, or armory would also help change his mind about you.
Approaching the Arena, Akh perks up "For fighting a bunch of drow, this sure looks promising."
Once in front of Garvagam, Akh realizes he particularly likes the cut of this hobgoblin's jib. He decides he might as well put the group's needs on the table and see if the hobgoblin is interested "Pretty simple. We're in the business of luring a powerful drow crime boss and a whole pile of his goons here to this moon. I know him well enough that I know he won't be a pushover. Plus if anything goes wrong - and it will - there'll probably be one or more warships shooting holes in this nice settlement. We're looking for people that are going make this whole plan come together the way we want. People who like a challenge and probably a fight too. Zeldirn is one of them. You seem like someone who likes a challenge and shooting problems. Want in?"
If Garvagam seems reticent to believe the group's skills are up to the task, Akh shows off a little of what he can do by flying through the gym and vaporizing a particularly drow-shaped obstacle in the obstacle course with his entropic claw.
Jaraduk smiles and approaches the Arena with Akh. He cracks his knuckles.
I could fly through the air and tumble and... whatever. How about an actual wrestling match? Let's experience each other's power directly!
He first gives Garvagam the right of first refusal. If refused moves onto another contestant, satisfied to show off his strength in front of Garvagam.
Seeing Garvagam being all business, no pleasure, Guess? straightens up and mimicks Garvagam's no nonsense, militaristic demeanor.
Speaking in goblin, "Mr. Garvagam, I'm not going to waste your time and get straight to the point. You're a sentient who obviously seeks a challenge.
"Well, we have a fight coming up against a tough, well-armed opponent and his army. You want to prove your strength and your abilities in battle? We're offering you exactly that. There is honor to be won and glory to be had.
"Interested?"
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Guess seems to have the social route covered, and that machine shop looks fun to play in. Melissa dives into the used parts box like its the ball pit at Ysoki cheeses , starts throwing parts out and duct taping them together.
"This is a perfectly good half a stock and here's another half and this half point power converter can't usually connect to the magnetic power rail unless you " She turns the weapon over and slams it onto the sturdiest work station around, turns and aims the gun at the target.
The top right corner of the target is blown off. Pulls a little left and up....
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Garvagam's eyes gleam with genuine interest, a predatory grin touching his scarred lips as he sets his rifle down. "Luring a drow crime boss and warships? Ha! That sounds like a proper hunt, something with teeth. This isn't a waste of my time; this is what my hunters live for." He fixes you with a sharp gaze. "However, my days of hunting men are over. My priority now is keeping our people and this moon safe and fed. When the fireworks begin, I'll ensure the surrounding areas are cleared. We'll move non-combatants into the secure cave systems and forest sectors. They'll be out of the way for you." He gestures with a scarred hand. "You bring the boss and his goons. We'll handle the clean-up and minimize your 'collateral damage.' A fight, a challenge, and protecting Smuggler's Moon. Sounds like a good day at the office. Tell me when to unleash the hounds to bring in the herd." He nods appreciatively at your feats of skills throughout the Arena, thinking.
Garvagam's hardened gaze softens almost imperceptibly as Guess? speaks in their shared tongue. He gives a curt, almost imperceptible nod. "Little Kin, you speak plainly, and I appreciate it," Garvagam rumbles, his voice losing some of its earlier gruffness, though still undeniably stern. "Honor and glory, you say? Against a well-armed opponent? That's the kind of song a true hunter sings." He turns fully to face the group, then gestures subtly towards the large doorway you entered through. "Listen close. When you're ready to lure this Lord Sinjin to his doom, you'll need a place to hide that starship of yours. There's a clearing, roughly three klicks northwest of the main landing pad, tucked deep in the forest. It's got natural cover, dense foliage, and a slight depression that'll conceal your freighter from casual scans. "
He fixes the goblin, then the rest of the group, with a steely gaze. "I see your skills, your strength. We'll prove ours. Just make sure your part of the plan is solid. I've got this king handled, I'm not going to trade him out for a new one."
You look at your datapads and see that nearly an hour has passed! Time to meet with Eska, AKA Shaieth.
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You make plans to meet back with your guide at Antherm's Bounty, the main bar and restaurant up on the Concourse. Then you find the dark stairwell and go down a floor, following the directions Eska gave you. Located off a winding, utilitarian inner hallway two floors beneath the bustling Concourse, Eska's home is a discreet, windowless sanctuary—or perhaps, a perfect trap. Both Jaraduk and Akh realize that its single, reinforced door blends seamlessly into the dull plasteel wall, making it an ideal spot for an ambush, especially for someone as cautious as Lord Sinjin. A crossed pair of tattoo guns are the only sign of life on the door.
Inside, the space is surprisingly well-furnished, defying the austere exterior. It’s a cozy, almost cluttered living space, cleverly divided by ornate folding screens into distinct areas: a compact, but functional, kitchen; a small, inviting bedroom; and a comfortable sitting area. The air is warm, faintly scented with exotic herbs and something metallic, like a lingering whisper of ink. You find Shaieth Evadross, now known as Eska, in her personal quarters. She's bent over a small, ceramic basin, diligently washing mud from her hands. Her age is evident in the slight tremor of her movements and the deep lines etched around her mouth, but her eyes, when she lifts them, are sharp and alert. Elaborate, spiraling tattoos, a testament to her former life, creep out from under the sleeves of her simple tunic and up her weathered neck, hinting at a hidden artistry. As a Korasha lashunta, her antennae twitch almost imperceptibly, taking in your presence. "You're here," the elder lashunta states curtly, her voice gravelly with age and perhaps a touch of weariness. She doesn't invite you in, but rather issues a command. "I'd say you're welcome to take a seat, but you're not. Still, best come inside. Can't have you lingering in my doorway." Her gaze sweeps over each of you with undisguised disdain.
She dries her hands slowly on a nearby cloth, her movements deliberate. "Mind if I make some tea before you abduct me?" A dry, humorless chuckle escapes her lips. "I warn you; I haven't got many years left in me. I plan to keel over during transport out of spite." Her eyes meet yours, challenging you to deny her cynical prediction.
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Guess? listens to Shaieth then bursts out in loud, raucous, goblin laughter! Guess? laughs so much he sways a bit, catches his foot on a floor bump and falls over. This causes him to laugh even more. Even louder!
"You think we're Golden League?!? Are you kidding me? This lot? I mean look at us!"
Pointing at Melissa, "C'mon! Look at her! A criminal? I need to get into a half hour debate just to get her permission to swat a mosquito!"
Guess? stands up and bows, "It's obvious that I can be some kind of badass gangster, that's obvious! Haha!"
Guess? looks over at Akh and Jaraduk and his laughter immediately ends. "Oh. Yah. We do look a bit gangsta, don't we? Well trust me, with some of our past crew, we didn't used to look so intimidating...."
Guess? talks seriously to Shaieth, "Nah, we're not here to kidnap you. We're here to get your help. Sinjin is going down!"
Guess? pauses for dramatic effect and before Shaieth can get a word out, Guess? adds, "dun. DUN! DUN!!!"
Akh points at his golden body and stage whispers "No, that's pretty fair Guess. I was even built by the Golden League, even if I ended up getting thrown away. If I was Shaieth I would definitely be assuming people would show up to kidnap me in my retirement years." He gives the lashunta a pleased cough at seeing what he perceives as a kindred spirit.
"Guess is right though. No kidnapping this time. Even though I guess kidnappers probably would say that too to get you to lower your guard. Hmmm..."
"Want to look us up on the infosphere? I'm sure our anti-Sinjin exploits and anti-EJ exploits are pretty well known at this point. You can see who we are and then decide whether Guess' story about what we're trying to do makes any sense. In the meantime I think I'll help myself to some tea. Have any sugar cubes?"
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Shaieth snatches her datapad from a nearby surface and begins typing rapidly, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her head antennae twitch, rising slightly as she scans the information retrieved from the infosphere. "Well… a lot of powerful people don’t like you!" she mutters, scanning the headlines. A cynical smirk touches her lips. "But I do see a few positive blogs here… Vohxan Farmers Association? Veskarium Loyalists United? Uh… Miners Anonymous?" Her skepticism is evident, but the fact that you have enemies outside the Golden League seems to genuinely intrigue her.
Akh and Guess?’s erratic but honest display has convinced her that you are not, in fact, Golden League agents—or at least, not currently acting as such. Her Hostile demeanor shifts, settling into a more guarded, yet Indifferent, attitude. She turns off the datapad and looks up, her gaze hardening. "So? What do you want?" she demands, her voice flat. She interrupts herself, pointing a finger at Akh’s golden chest. "I told you, I’m not Shaieth Evadross. Shaieth’s dead. The Golden League killed her and her family has mourned her loss. I’m Eska. You’ll respect that or you’ll leave." She sighs, shaking her head, the motion seeming to release some tension. She moves deeper into her apartment, away from the entryway.
”Tea?”
She busies herself at the small kitchen counter, the methodical process of preparing the drink seeming to center her. As steam rises from the pot, she loses herself in the vapors and begins to speak, her voice a low, haunted whisper. “When I was young, I was a gifted tattoo artist. You might even say I was famous. I had a reputation for finding beauty in the skin of even the most hardened mercenaries. But I was also naive. I made the mistake of accepting employment with the Golden League. I didn’t heed the rumors. I didn’t want to.”
Eska scoffs, shaking her head at the memory of her younger self. “At first, all went well. Lots of work, lots of money, and access to the best training and supplies. I learned the secret of magical tattoos and surpassed my mentors. They said I was gifted, an innovator! Such a fool.” Her movements become sharp and precise as she pours the tea. “Soon, that was all the Golden League wanted: magical tattoos to hide weapons, empower the body, vanish from sight, fly. They sold some of them on the market, like a new gun or knife, and turned my art into tools for murder. All that blood is on my hands. All that death.”
She falls silent, staring into the swirling tea. The air in the room grows heavy with her confession. “But you can’t just quit. They won’t let you.” She sets the cups down, her expression a mix of gratitude and resentment. “So I fled instead. Eventually, I came here and threw myself on King Dregor’s mercy. I asked for asylum—a safe place to hide and powerful people to say I wasn’t here. He gave me that and more. Shelter, food, work. He hid me from Sinjin and the Xun they sent after me.” The lashunta smiles faintly, a brief moment of fond recollection, then scowls deeply, her earlier disdain returning. “And now you’re here to ruin it!”
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Akh downs the tea offered in a flash, after which he rolls the teacup around on his prehensile tongue with all the dexterity his defective necrograft can muster. He periodically pauses to comment on Eska's story "The Golden League was my home and owners for a long time before I woke. They're quite picky with their tools. You must have been as good as they said if they weren't willing to give you up. For me I started thinking for myself and then fell into a vat of marshmallow and that was enough for them to deem I was too defective to serve any use. Maybe you should have gradually made your tattoos more and more mediocre so you got out of the limelight."
He flips the cup off his tongue and seizes it with a precise click of his claw "But making cool tattoos is something you should be proud of. Whether they were used for murder or not, it sounds like they were amazing."
He floats over and gets a handful of sugar cubes that he starts popping one by one into his maw "Anyway. You got away and you're alive. How would you like to also stop worrying about Sinjin coming at some unknown time in the future? That's kind of what we'd also like. And we have a plan to make it happen."
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“ yeah. Maybe we are. But if we don t how many peoples lives are going to wind up like yours.. or worse? You and us are the LUCKIEST of the people who ve crossed his path in the entire verse , in four systems. Do you know how bad your day has to go that its WORSE than being shot every time you try to sit down for noodles? How many people does he screw over in a week? Are you really going to cling to.. this….that you re not willing to try and stop him, and make life better for everyone.. including you!….thats not the tea that kills you in transport is it?
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Eska watches Akh consume her sugar cubes with a mix of bewildered fascination and weary resignation. His logical dissection of her trauma and cutting compliments leave her bare. Then Melissa's sharp words cut through the air, hitting a nerve. The lashunta's eyes narrow. She sets the teapot down with a soft clang, the sound surprisingly loud in the sudden quiet that follows Melissa's outburst. Eska walks slowly, deliberately, towards Melissa, her gaze unwavering, not quite hostile, but certainly scrutinizing. "You speak of 'worse'?" Eska's voice is low, gravelly, but without the earlier weariness. There's an edge to it now, a memory of a force she once was. "I've seen 'worse,' little Ysoki. I've seen friends flayed for less than a misspoken word to the League. I've watched as my own art, beautiful and alive, was twisted into the very instruments of that 'worse.'"
She glances at Akh, who is still systematically crunching sugar, the bowl nearly empty. "And you, living soul in a mechanical body, you talk of mediocre tattoos. Do you know what happens to 'mediocre' in the League? You must, since you survived. They're used as target practice. Or worse, as a living canvas for someone else's sick experiments. I survived because I was invaluable. I escaped because I was a ghost. Shaieth Evadross died so Eska could live in this 'this' you so easily dismiss." She gestures around her small, safe apartment, her voice thick with a complex mix of defiance and self-pity.
Then, her eyes fall back on you, a hint of steel entering their depths. "But you're right about one thing. Sinjin. That bastard still breathes. He still hunts. And he’ll never forget. This 'this' will always be temporary so long as he draws breath. Always looking over my shoulder, always wondering when his Xuns will come knocking." She takes a deep, ragged breath, then lets it out slowly, her antennae drooping just a fraction. Her shoulders slump in a heavy acceptance of an inevitable truth. "So, you want to put a permanent end to my worrying? You want me to be the bait for a predator I've spent years running from, risking this meager peace for… a fight?"
Eska walks back to the counter, her movements stiff. She picks up one of the fresh cups of tea, her hand steady. "It’s foolish. A death wish. But if it means he stops breathing... maybe I can have my Second Chance. My Last Chance, if you will. If it means Shaieth Evadross can truly die, and Eska can truly be free… Then perhaps even a fool's bargain has its merits." She takes a long, slow sip of her tea, her gaze distant, already calculating the odds.
"Alright, tell me the plan."
Not just "a fight"... one that will change your life. That seems worth it. Jaraduk asserts, pointing pointedly.
Then his ears perk up.
Oh... no. Second Chance... err Last Chance. That's our ship.
Say, tea is great but do you have any milk?
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Melissa mostly resists the urge to stand on tippy paw. Mostly.
" Yes we'd like to use you as bait. Or at least your likeness. So far as we have a plan, I'd like to smuggle you to a friend of ours who can probably protect you better than the king. We make him think you're still here, he comes in and if he wins I'll drink some of the VERY special tea on the way out. If we win, you can decide if you want to come back working here, go back to tattooing, or stay with our friend changing VERY large diapers and dodging fiery burps. "
" I mean sure if we're dead you can have the second chance, the last chance, and the rust bucket sure. "
"Alrighty Eska! Aside from playing bait, we'll need some info. What can you tell us about Sinjin's tatoos? And aside from the power the tatoos provide him, does it also result in any kind of weakness? Makes him vulnerable in some way?
"But yah. Broadly, the plan is we'll lure Sinjin here, get the local army to take him head on. He'll slip through and find his way to you. And then we spring a trap on him!
"There's another contact we need to speak with first though before we finalize the plan."
Jaraduk draws two hologrenades.
We can make multiple likenesses of you as bait!
Akh nods "As for the luring of Sinjin to this moon, we need a way for him to bring less of his retinue and warships along. We've got some ideas for that, but if you have your own thanks to your time working with him, please share."
"Otherwise it'll just be about leaking the right information to him so he comes personally to find you."
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She reaches past the off-brand radioactive soda to grab some milk. "Sorry, no cows on station... er, um, ah... so hope you're ok with lab-grown." She turns, listening to Melissa. She hands Jaraduk the glass, no longer looking at him. Eska's eyes hold a mix of resignation and dangerous hope. "Smuggle me out? You'll handle Sinjin? Make him believe I'm here, then put him down for good?" A short, sharp breath escapes her. "A lifetime I've spent running. This 'retirement' is a cage." Her gaze sharpens. "Fine. If you can truly rid me of Sinjin's ghost, I'll go. Arrange the escape. When his goons knock, they'll find nothing but echoes. But fail, and I end up changing those 'VERY large diapers' for naught... there will be a reckoning." She laughs, then Eska's gaze sharpens at the mention of Sinjin's tattoos, a dark memory flickering in her eyes. The idea of her own creations being a weakness for him seems to ignite a spark of grim satisfaction. "Some of my finest work. Beautiful, effective. Powerful, serene. Art, one and all." She begins muttering to herself, lost in the recollection, her antennae twitching. Her mind drifts back to the hum of the needle then she snaps back to the moment at hand, her eyes focusing on your group. "A rattle-cat and a tashtari." She gestures to her own biceps, describing some watercolor-style tattoos. "Imagine them: vibrant, flowing hues, capturing the essence of these deadly beasts. The rattle-cat, all coiled muscle and predatory grace, with its segmented tail poised to strike. The tashtari, a blur of iridescent fur and razor claws, its multiple eyes gleaming with ancient cunning. They would draw anyone’s eye across the room at a party, true masterpieces of living art." Her expression turns grim. "But go toe-to-toe with him, and those pretty pictures? They’ll pop right off his skin to rip your face off. Magical tattoo guardians, the both of them."
She points to her own pelvis with a wry, uncomfortable grimace on her face. "There’s the pistol right here, pointed to his…" Eska coughs awkwardly, shaking her head. "Corny, I know. Neotraditional. Master linework, if I say so myself. But… tacky." She rolls her eyes slightly, a flicker of artistic judgment warring with pragmatic admiration. "It’s a classic, stylized heavy pistol, the kind with exaggerated lines and bold color. Simple, direct. Regardless, when he needs it, the gun still pops." Her hand moves, tracing invisible lines across her own back, mimicking the vast canvas of Sinjin's spine. "Then there’s the backpiece. Two wings." She describes them as a study in stark contrasts, executed with incredible detail in a realism style. "One, a glorious angelic wing, with every feather meticulously rendered, glowing with an almost divine light. The other, a chillingly detailed skeletal wing, stark bone and shadowy membrane, hinting at decay and death. BIG, but all done in one session. The man eats pain, I tell you. He sat through that entire ordeal without a twitch." Her gaze narrows, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she describes the final, most dangerous piece. "Finally, the phoenix." She palms the side of her own neck, a dark sense of unease entering her voice. She then turns to Akh. "Remember this one? Or was it after your service? It was the last one I gave him, quite experimental."
Eska shakes her hand, suddenly nervous, as if recalling the potent magic infused into that final piece. "It does… a lot. In theory. We never tested it. One and done. It’ll burn off when activated, a surge of raw energy that consumes the ink. Probably painful as hell, but you know… guy eats pain." Her eyes are distant, lost in the arcane details. "The ink is mostly blood, drawn under a full moon and tattooed during a solar eclipse. Transformation, healing, growth, flame, who knows what else."[/b] She cringes, a shudder running through her. "I suppose the phoenix nature would make him vulnerable to cold? But… that would be about it. It’s a power-up. My tattoos don’t come with the inherent vulnerabilities that knock-off flashes do." She nods. "Yes, I can help you leak the information. I still have my old social media accounts, archived. I could 'accidentally' make a post with my geo-location. Would that work?"
Before you can respond, your datapads all ding with a message from Telpi, your guide and the Moon chamberlain. Hey! Suspicious drow alert! My brother just saw a drow man drinking at Atherm’s Bounty up on the Concourse!"
"Oh, I remember the pistol. There were jokes about it that went over my head for a long time. Something about gunning people down. I will spare you the details. I'm not too worried about the wings. They sound wasteful and they're going to make him stand out like a sore thumb." Akh coughs "The phoenix though? That's new. What kind of power up are we talking about? Just something that's going to heal him? Or will it bring him back from the dead like in the vids?"
Akh has no good sense for how to subtly craft a post from Eska that will draw just the right amount and kind of attention and leaves that to Guess and Melissa. He instead runs through some more details with Eska to understand exactly the capabilities of the tattoos and how they might be disrupted.
He sends a message back to Telpi "We will go take a look shortly. Thank you."
Guess? listens to the tattoo descriptions.
"Hmmm. Well, that is certainly intimidating. I don't like the sound of taking Sinjin head on if he's got these powers. We're gunna have to come up with some kind of trap to give us the upper hand. A fair fight against him doesn't sound like it'll go well..."
Maybe we can recruit a rent-a-mage who can dispel his tattoos... Jaraduk wonders.
"Oh, a fair fight would be great. I'd be more worried about Sinjin making it unfair in his favor."
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Eska listens to Akh's rapid-fire questions, a weary sigh escaping her lips at the mention of dispelling magic. She shakes her head, a familiar frustration clouding her features. "Though hard to identify at first glance, once seen a magical tattoo is little more than a spell in physical form. All that work, undone by a simple Dispel." She mutters under her breath, "Freaking wizards." A cunning, almost defiant, look passes over her eyes as she leans forward. "They won’t be able to beat my Phoenix though. That one’s more than arcane, it’s occult. A raw, primal surge of energy tied to life and rebirth, designed to consume itself in its activation. It's a one-shot burst of power that defies simple unweaving." Her gaze drifts, her voice tinged with conflict. "I’m not proud of who it’s working for, but I am proud of the work. The artistry."
An artist skilled in making magical tattoos can design a tattoo that, when permanently applied to a computer, personal item, or technological item of light or negligible bulk, makes the chosen item capable of being hidden on your body in the form of a tattoo.
Detect magic and similar spells don’t reveal the magical nature of the item in its tattoo form, though true seeing does, and with a close examination, a successful DC 18 Mysticism check reveals the tattoo is magical. A successful dispel magic spell targeting the tattoo causes the item to appear and fall at your feet. The item’s bulk doesn’t impair you while in tattoo form, and you can hide or retrieve the item as a swift action. While in tattoo form, the item can’t be used or damaged.
"The tattoo guardians are beautiful, made of pure ink! Unlike the pistol, the animals aren't a true object hidden in the ink. They ARE the ink. They peel themselves directly from Sinjin’s skin, taking form from the very pigment." A smile of pure glee fills her face as she revels in her creation. "Powerful. Probably stronger than anyone on this Moon." She looks you up and down. "Well, till you all came around. Anyway. They're intelligent, though bonded. But at the same time... simple creatures. Rippling muscles bound in ink. One trick ponies, and that trick is claws that can rip through armor." She shrugs, then lights back up. "And they can fly! How cool is that?!"
Magical tattoos capable of leaping off their wearer’s flesh and coming alive, tattoo guardians are unwavering warriors attuned to their wearer’s life force. First developed by tattoo artists eager only to improve their art, tattoo guardians were swiftly copied by less scrupulous individuals. As long as the wearer lives, a tattoo guardian can’t be stolen or permanently destroyed. Most tattoo guardians are created in the image of animals, celestials, dragons, fiends, magical beasts, or meaningful symbols, but they use the same statistics regardless of appearance.
Eska offers a grim, humorless laugh. "A 'fair fight' with Sinjin? He's right, there's no such thing. He cheats. Always. That's how he wins, how he survives." She gestures with frustration. "He has my tattoos, my most potent creations, ready to tear you apart. But that's not all. He'll bring the numbers, the firepower, the betrayal. He always does." She fixes you with a steely gaze. "A trap isn't just an advantage; it's the only way you survive this. You want to kill him? You have to break his game, not play it." She begins ticking off her fingers. "A lure is just the start of a hunt. How do you separate him from his ship? From his soldiers? He's a slippery one, how do you prevent him from escaping? On my wings, on his ship?" She shakes her head. "Too much for me. Hopefully.. not to much for you?"
"Hmmm..." Akh considers the phoenix tattoo with curiosity and a little bit of envy.
"They can fly too?" Akh thinks to some of the ground-bound members of the party and how much trouble they might get into fighting giant flying ink-cats "Then we should pick an ambush location, if we can find one, where they won't be able to fly well or fly far. Shame there isn't a big magic eraser we can use on them."
"Well, lets get our other allies in line and then we can work out how to try to lure Sinjin into the right place at the right time. It'll probably end up with his people running amok on the station, but that's the King's problem, so long as we can split Sinjin off." He looks to the others to see if they have more questions.
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"Those legions of maraqoui guards better be good for something at this point..."
You respond to Telpi and rush up to Antherm's Bounty to catch the drow before he leaves. Once you slip out of the elevator, you're immediately swallowed by the vibrant, cacophonous energy of Atherm's Bounty. The expansive customer area roars with conversations, clinking glasses, and the frantic rhythm of the kitchen; just the same chaos as your last pass-through. You scan the crowded tables but your quarry remains elusive amidst the din.
It isn't until your least favorite Pahtra, Frennik, sidles up to your group that you get a lead. His fur, impeccably groomed, brushes against Jaraduk's froggy side as he drapes an arm around him. "That way, my lords and ladies," he croons, his voice slick in a way that makes your skin crawl, as he points a curved finger towards the dimly lit bar section. Telpi, having just met up with you, slaps her brothers arm and follows your lead. Following Frennik's unwanted guidance, you finally spot him. At a secluded corner of the bar, amidst a scattering of empty highball glasses, sits a morose drow. He's a stark figure against the bar's neon glow: wide around the middle, with the characteristic purple skin and stark white hair of his kind, though his is somewhat disheveled. Despite the sunglasses obscuring his eyes, the subtle tension in his jawline and the way he cradles his drink hint at a deep weariness. From your research on Sinjin, the pieces click into place. You recognize him from old, grainy photos—it's Zeldirn, Sinjin’s cousin and a disgraced Golden League dropout. Akh's memory banks pull up a memory: Zeldirn was in the back of a shameful family photo that Sinjin once shared on a particularly drunken night of revelry, back in the bad ol' days.
Zeldirn looks up as your group approaches, a slow, boozy smile spreading across his face as he clumsily attempts a cordial greeting. His voice is slurred, but pleasant. "Well, well, well... look what the cat dragged in! A fine collection of faces, if I do say so myself. Pull up a stool, strangers! The drinks are flowing, and the company... well, the company's about to get a whole lot more interesting, eh?" He waves a hand vaguely towards an empty stool, clearly in a jovial, inebriated mood. He takes a large gulp from his glass, a few drops dribbling down his chin.
Then when you explain why you're truly here, mentioning "Sinjin", the joviality drains from him. His smile vanishes, replaced by a deep furrow of exasperation. He slumps forward, burying his head on the cold, sticky tabletop with a groan that seems to emanate from the very depths of his soul. As his head slams into the table, a soft mote of dark light pops out of him and begins to lazily circle around his body. It seems Sinjin's cousin is - or was - a solarian. "Uggghhh... What do you want?" His voice is muffled by his arms, the previous warmth replaced by abject indifference and a profound weariness.
Akh buys the disheveled drow a proper drink before delivering the mention of Sinjin. A proper drink of course being turbolime flavored Slurm with six extra shots of syrup. "Well Zeldirn, we're not the bearers of good news, but at least we're the bearers of Exciting news. You look like someone that enjoys a good time. And we're about to create one. Probably." Akh pokes at the fellow's floating graviton mote with the end of an entropy-tipped claw. "So Sinjin has been trying to get us killed or at least seriously inconvenience us for a while now. We heard its pretty similar for you. Is that the case?"
Akh rests his coils along a trio of stools as well as the table and starts popping fluorescent erasers (or something that looks like them) into his mouth.