Strek double moves into the cargo hold with his digital dartboard partner, Lars, initiates Combat Tracking on the green-tinged mote, and lets loose a single shot...
...for very minimal effect.
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Guess? yells at orange, "Your chances of survival against us are re-MOTE!" and he follows up with a shot!
or below is flat-footed
and -2 to saves if Stunt and Strike succeeded
"And so are the chances of me hitting anything with this weapon..." mutters Guess? under his breath.
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Strek fires on the mote, knocking away a small part of it's spirit. Lars follows up and sends bits of magical code at the mote, ripping it apart. In the center room, Guess? makes a mental note to spend less time practicing facial expressions and more time practicing his aim! Akh continues to attack the mote, clawing away at it until it is just a whisper of purple haze. Del pokes her head through the doorway and eyes the melee. "Looks like they need some EJ-approved gruel!" She thinks of the time when the cookbot's heat capacitor broke and the group was stuck eating barely-defrosted protein-paste for several days until Strek was able to get a part in the next port. Her summoned gruel appears over the mote's head and drops with an icy CRUNCH. When the gruel disappears back into Del's imagination, the mote is gone too!
In the dorm room, Jaraduk continues his duel with the Drift Mote. His bullet clips the thing's energy boundary, ripping a small bit away. The Mote follows him, floating through the room faster than ever. It rounds the corner and shoots a small bit of lightning! The electricity penetrates Jaraduk's armor, shocking his horn!
Jaraduk SP 0/7 HP 11/13
Akh SP 0/9 HP 6/11
Lars SP 5/5 HP 9/9
Strek SP 7/7 HP 12/12
Guess? SP 3/6 HP 7/7
Del SP: 0/5 HP: 5/9
Aqua Blue Drift Mote 15 Damage
Red Drift Mote 12 Damage
Pink Drift Mote 12 Damage
Green Drift Mote 14 Damage
Orange Drift Mote 13 Damage
Yellow Drift Mote 6 Damage
With Jaraduk struggling against the last mote, Akh sinuously floats over to just behind him. "Duck." is all he says as he swipes at the strange creature with his taclash.
Strek shudders at the reminder of the "week of gruel". He didn't mind the bland taste. He'd roughed it on less before. But cold food always gave him headaches.
"Ya really s-MOTE that one, Del! Sounds like we only got one left."
He then double moves into the main hallway behind Akh.
Lars groans at all the puns but chases after the final mote with Strek.
"Good one Strek!"
Turning to yellow, Guess? yells, "Your friends are gone and like them, you too will soon be unable to e-MOTE! Not that any of you expressed much emotion in the first place..."
or below is flat-footed
and -2 to saves if Stunt and Strike succeeded
"No wait... did I hit it? Quick! Let's go buy a lottery ticket!!"
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Akh's taclash whips out, nearly cutting the mote in half. Then, fueled by the magical energy of puns, Guess?'s bullet comes out of nowhere and pierces the place where the mote's face should be. It POP's and disappears.
You take some time, searching the rest of the ship for any more motes. Once you're sure it's clean, you work to fix up the BD514. You get together, patching open power conduits and filling in bullet holes. As you work, a ding chimes as a message comes in. With the rarity of inter-Drift messaging actually working, this is a big deal! You open it, expecting a message from Tarika with your next assignment. Instead, it's from Runo@PratsProduce.com .
Hey, team! The payment just came in, I'm so glad EJ corp sent such a competent team of delivery folks. Thank you for delivering those yaro berries on time, it sure would have been terrible to see such a shipment go to waste. I was finally able to get the hover-camper I've always wanted; Needa and I are retiring next week to go travel through the jungles on a celebration tour. We're even bringing the grandkids! Thanks again for your hard work on this, I've mentioned it to the local small merchant's union. Hopefully they'll throw some more jobs your way! Us little guys have to watch out for each other. Sincerely, Runo Prat.
Jaraduk SP 0/7 HP 11/13
Akh SP 0/9 HP 6/11
Lars SP 5/5 HP 9/9
Strek SP 7/7 HP 12/12
Guess? SP 3/6 HP 7/7
Del SP: 0/5 HP: 5/9
Aqua Blue Drift Mote 15 Damage
Red Drift Mote 12 Damage
Pink Drift Mote 12 Damage
Green Drift Mote 14 Damage
Orange Drift Mote 13 Damage
Yellow Drift Mote 16 Damage
Lars relaxes as the last mote pops under their android's taclash. "Well, that was fun." he comments dryly before looking to Strek, "Engines are ok now I take it?'
Looking around at the mess he sighs and mumbles, "Guess its time to break out the tools." as he mentally opens the breakeven tables and makes some adjustments to their ever shrinking possibility of making a living on this tub.
Once they receive the message his ledger gets even more dire, but with a small glimmer of hope.
"Well, another opportunity for work certainly doesn't hurt. Guess that's a bright side."
"Well, guess we've got a few favors on Castrovel we can call in if things get rough in the future..."
Guess? dispenses some bland gruel from the pantry and munches while looking around at the scars of recent combat present on the ship walls - burn marks, bullet holes, dents, sparking wires, etc.
"Y'know... I like our new decor." *munch* *munch* *slurp* "It adds character!"
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After a few more days in the drift, you pop back out into real space. Absalom Station floats in front of you, peaceful from this distance. Now that you've arrived, you can hail Tarika. The brenneri dispatcher answers the call, her video showing up at the station. She appears from a Company workstation in an office cubicle buried somewhere deep in Bluerise Tower, a background you are well familiar with from previous calls. Tarika smiles and greets you loudly. "Welcome home, couriers!" She pauses, softly tapping her wrench on her head. "If anywhere can be said to be your home, I suppose!" She chuckles a bit. "Alright, I saw a uh... note, in your file. But, you know, these files don't tell the full story, you know? Like, they're wrong, probably, maybe." She nibbles on the wrench nervously then continues in a slightly chagrined voice. "So... How did the Yaro berry job go?"
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"Well, at least... we have something! Something that'll probably be taken away from us soon. Maybe by EJ once they find out where we sent the money." Akh settles in to rest and recover from the intense fight against the motes.
--------
"It went very well, considering the people we were supposed to sell the berries to had been taken out by a Golden League family." Akh leans over the shoulders of the rest of the group to loom near the top of the video's frame. "But at least we sold them before the berries went bad. And the lady didn't even double cross us and leave us out in the Akiton deserts somewhere!" Akh nods "Of course, we couldn't leave the client unpaid, so EJ had to engage in some mild charity work. I am certain they mind. And that we're extremely and definitely ruined."
Yeah... it seems like at some point we're going to have to choose between the hand that (barely) feeds and the little guy if we keep sticking up for them. Jaraduk observes as he looks over his heavy canon for damage. His lips still have a slight searing sensation from the electrical motes.
Jaraduk laughs nervously as Akh's rundown of the job concludes.
Yeah, Tarika, I've got to be honest... He pauses, rubbing his chin. When you recommended this job I kind of thought it would be more... straightforward? Look, I know they aren't handing us the Glengarry leads, but... we need jobs with buyers that exist.
He almost lets the desperation sneak into his voice but he stops abruptly, thinking he doesn't want to burden his friend. He smiles warmly into the comms.
Next one will be better. I'm sure of it.
Lars nods along with the other two who have spoken up, "No sugar coating it I'm afraid, we had to make the best of a whole lot of bad choices and the bosses ain't happy."
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"Hi Tarika!!! Like my crewmates said, things went GREAT!!! (all things considered...)
"We picked up the berries from the seller - no problem! We then got assaulted by some goblin gangbangers who wanted to steal the berries but we protected the shipment and drove them off - no problem! Then we made it over to Akiton in RECORD time avoiding berry spoilage - no problem! So, y'know, we were pulling off our usual SUPERSTAR job performance, y'know what I mean?"
Guess? winks at Tarika.
"But once we located the buyer's address, it turned out the buyer was out of business and no longer accepting shipments. Disaster!! And considering the berries are perishable, they couldn't be returned back to the seller on Castrovel, now could they? So I'm afraid The Company will just have to go ahead and file the insurance claim for this one. I mean, this is exactly the reason why large corps like EJ take out insurance policies against all shipments as a part of their standard operating procedure, amirite?
"BUT in keeping with with our trademark SUPERSTAR job performance, we pulled off the IMPOSSIBLE which the insurance company, and perhaps EJ themselves, will appreciate! Instead of the berries going completely rotten due to EJ entering into a deal with an insolvent buyer and dooming themselves to a one hundred percent loss... We instead managed to liquidate the shipment, recovering half of what would have otherwise been a complete loss!!! A-MAZE-ZING!!! AMIRITE?!?!
"So the insurance company, instead of having to reimburse EJ for the full shipment price, will have to reimburse EJ for only half of the shipment price. We've saved everyone some money and even contributed our small part to creating a sustainable galactic environment by preventing perfectly good food from going to waste!
"I'll get started ASAP on the paperwork and reports needed by The Company to file the insurance claim, yah? But tell us, whaddaya think is gonna be our bonus this time considering the crazy good results we delivered on this job???"
Guess? turns from the viewscreen towards the rest of the crew, winks and mouths the words, 'I got this.' then turns back to Tarika with a wide, warm smile.
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Tarika pays attention to Akh's story, nodding in earnest, then stares intently at Jaraduk - her eyes full of concern. Then, the otter leans back in her chair, a knowing smile, as Guess? explains how everything totally for sure went right. By the end of his explanation, the brenneri is completely bought in. "Yeah, for sure! That totally makes sense! Probably a HUGE bonus!" She turns to the side and types for a minute before returning to the screen, her face crestfallen. "So... bad news on that one. I guess the company didn't see things the same way." She bites down on the wrench and puts her hands together to make a big circle. "Thero bonuth."
She grabs the wrench back out and speaks normally again. “Corporations are expandin’ so fast,” Tarika says with a weary sigh. “By the time y’all went from Castrovel to Akiton, your local buyer had already been wiped out?! Guess there’s no room for family businesses anymore. Not in the Pact Worlds, at least. At least you took care of one of them. And wasted no berries in the mean time!” She shakes her head and taps a few buttons on her datapad. “But let’s focus on what matters: gettin’ y’all a high-payin’ gig to put ya back in the Company’s good graces. I got just the thing. Came in not long ago, in fact, and it’s..." She looks over at Jaraduk with hesitation for a moment before continuing. "it's well, not perfect, but it’ll do the trick. A drow callin’ himself Lord Sinjin is shippin’ guns from Apostae to a planet in Near Space. I guess the Gideron Authority is tryin’ to settle a world called Vohxa, and the local miners are turnin’ into more of a problem than anyone figured they’d be." She taps a bit more and squints at the screen.
“So the job is simple: go to Apostae and meet with Sinjin’s agent, Tause Jarzeed, at a place called Lamashtu’s Lair, where you’ll pick up the cargo. Take it to a Gideron military outpost on Vohxa and collect payment. Oh, and no questions asked. You know the type.” Tarika rolls her eyes as she sends over the last of the job details. As she waits for any possible questions, she smirks. "At least it's simple! Point A to Point B, nice and easy. And hey, these sketchy types are normally there when they supposed to be! Gotta pick up the merch." She twists her face into a scowl, trying to look like a scary outlaw but it just ends up silly.
Jaraduk winces at the positioning of the miners in this job.
What if the miners turn out to be the good guys again...? Guns usually aren't brought in to hang on the wall.
The nuar rubs one of his horns to calm his nerves, and with the other hand appears to be fidgeting with something in his pocket.
Lars frowns at Jarduk’s worries.
”We’ve never worried about what our cargo is before. Never worried what that one shipment of electronics and scrap was REALLY building, might have been a bomb, or doomsday device. Guns are just tools like mining picks or spanners, maybe there’s real aggressive fauna over there they need to defend themselves from. Either way, not our monkeys, not our circus. Our job is to deliver and get paid and we really need to get this done or a roof over our heads and food in our bellies will start getting difficult.” he says, clapping the large Naur on the shoulder.
Once they’ve moved away from their employers rep he adds in a low voice ”at least while our employer can hear us, ya? We can debate the rest without so many ears listening.”
Akh beckons to Lars "Yes, there is no telling really - maybe the yaro berries are even now being used to create an orphan killing nerve agent in some hidden Akitonian lab. In fact, that seems quite likely." He lets out a hollow groan. "And we can't be too picky now."
Akh shifts rather suddenly "Tarika, did you say Lord Sinjin? Is that THE Sinjin, maybe? Or is it someone just borrowing his name and making it less amazing in the process." He nods "If it is THE Sinjin, he is a good friend of mine. Though I don't know Tause, I don't think Sinjin would work with them if they were not also a trustworthy person."
"Well, that was fun." he comments dryly before looking to Strek, "Engines are ok now I take it?'
"Meh, they were never really okay ta begin with. But they'll get us where we need ta go. After I do some rewirin'."
Strek grumbles and facepalms, "Tarika, ya don't gotta tell us what every shipment is for..."
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"Oh Tarika!" laughs Guess? "Using that wrench-in-mouth trick to soften the blow of bad news again... Works every time!"
"So! The job is pick up some guns from an Apostae drow, deliver them to some authority on another planet, then collect payment and get off-planet before that authority begins using the guns to forcefully enslaave miners who are probably just seeking fair, equitable and humane working conditions. Got it! My only question is....
"Sinjin? Really? Was that name given to him by his mother or did he make it up himself because I wanna know who was the one with awful taste!" laughs Guess?.
Guess? continues, "What a silly name!" says Guess?. "I mean, why stop at Sinjin? Why not go with Wrongdong? Or Lustbust? Crimetime? Violationstation? Corruptioneruption? Evilknievel? No wait, that last one is actually kinda okay..."
Guess? goes on for another minute making up ridiculous names, blissfully oblivious to the irrationality of his own self-chosen moniker.
Then hearing that Akh knows Sinjin, Guess? says, "Oh you know the seller? How close were you? Anything we can use to possibly squeeze him for a lower price? Y'know...like crimes he's hiding? Mistresses or misteresses he has on the side? Really odd looking birthmarks in really inappropriate places? If ya got a hot tip, lemme know!"
Turning back to Tarika on the viewscreen, Guess? says, "So what do you know about Sinjin and why he has guns to sell? And who is our Gideron Authority buyer contact?"
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Tarika shrugs her shoulders. "If it makes you feel better, it's all above board. Pretty much everything’s legal somewhere, these days. Apostae’s economy is built on the weapons trade — makin’ and sellin’ weapons is what drow houses do. So, the short answer is... yep. I mean, maybe they will hang on a wall! Never met a hobgoblin myself, maybe they have odd interior decorating styles.” She lets loose her trademark large smile. "And I assume it's the same Lord Sinjin! I don't know a lot about him, not much info on the purchase order here. Only women can rise to positions of authority in a drow house, so whatever Sinjin is..." she raises her paw and makes air quotes "... ‘lord’ of, it must be somethin’ else. Anyways, he’s not on Apostae. Not sure where he is, actually; that’s why you’re meetin’ with Tause Jarzeed instead.”
She checks the paperwork some more. "Funny thing, that. No contact listed, that input line just says 'information to be provided on pickup.' Ooh, a mystery! Exciting stuff y'all get to do." She shrugs again. "The nice thing about these no-questions jobs is they usually have a bigger bonus! Won't that be nice!" She sighs, having a hard time keeping up her normal positive demeaner. “I mean, every job stinks, don’t it? But this one’s got a fat paycheck, and that’s what we need to get y’all off the Company’s hit list." She laughs to herself, her spirit coming back. "Uh, figuratively speakin’. I mean, they haven’t hired assassins to kill you yet. I mean, as far as I know. Ha ha!” She spins in a circle in her office chair, absolutely cracking up at the thought of the company hiring assassins. As you are about to sign off the call, she closes with "Be careful around those hob-ies, y'all! Those hobgoblins don’t mess around. I’m surprised they need a weapons shipment at all. You’d think they’d have brought guns for, y’know, their planetary invasion. Just do the job, and stay safe! Later!” She cuts the com with a little wave.
You drop into the Station to do some shopping, waving your corporate insignia to waive the docking fees. At least this job comes with some perks. Of course, you do end up waiting for an hour behind a EJ freighter that's unloading a few hundred tons of equipment. Eventually you make it to the Docking Bay 94, a quiet public port where other small shuttles are disgorging adventurers and civilians alike. You leave the Bay and split up for a day of shopping - to meet back at the ship the next morning.
The next morning, Del navigates the ship out of the busy lanes surrounding Absalom Station and into the Drift! "Apostae, here we come!"
After a few days of uneventful drift travel, with a few more to go, you find yourself at the 3rd shift meal time once again.
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Jaraduk's subtle facial journey chronicles his reception of Tarika's news as she goes along. First he makes a face like he's stepped in bull.. something as she ponders what Shinjin could be lord of. He then shifts to resign as she specifies they will be meeting up with... nobody. Somebody.
Mystery my a$$!
Then horrified shock at he mention of "hit list" and "assassins." It's at this point that he cuts in.
Um, haha, they never do that, right?
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"Why not? Assassins are surprisingly affordable!" Akh pipes up from the back. "And people go missing in the Drift all the time."
-------
Later on the ship, Akh stretches out his coils and floats up near the ceiling. "This is very interesting. I didn't know Sinjin had become a lord. I wonder if it's just a cover for another job? Hmmm..." He flexes his claws and his mouth yawns open "It would be very good to see him. But maybe another time, when we aren't about to lose what meager employment we have."
"Funny thing, that. No contact listed, that input line just says 'information to be provided on pickup.' Ooh, a mystery!"
Strek detaches his arm and leaves his facepalm in place until Tarika cuts out communication.
Strek searches through Absalom Station's Freemarkets District for the local branch of Magnari Pieceworks to purchase a new Starship Repair Kit.
"I seen their ads last time we was on the Station. Polygrips an' magnetic adherers aren't anything special, but they sell primarily to Kasatha, an' sometimes a job calls for more than two arms, so figur'd they'd have tools I might not find elsewhere."
Strek unboxes his new Datapad and Pocket Linguist and synchs them up, about as giddy as a Brakim in a candy store. "Was thinkin' on studying how ta speak Shobhad, in case we ever meet up wit' those friendly guards again, but I reckon it might pay better to learn Drow instead."
Once the devices synch up, he alternates bites of gruel and slurps of soda with common Drow phrases such as "You're fired", "You idiots", and "Where is the bathroom? I have someone to assassinate."
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"Nah, I wouldn't worry about assassins. Even if they're affordable, it'll cost The Company more to have us killed than just simply firing us. And believe you me, The Company will just cheap out wherever it can! If they were to hire assassins to take us out, that'd actually be a compliment!
"Now don't get me wrong. If somone else puts a price on our head, then all bets are off! The Company will then probably immediately hire some cheapo hitman and lure us into an ambush with a fake delivery job and pocket the difference between the hitman price and the bounty reward.
"So no worries! Right?"
---------------
Prior to the meal, Guess? uses his morphic skin to adjust his body shape to be as spherical as it can possibly be, then says, "Okay, for today's guess what am I, follow me!"
He leads the rest of the party to the airlock, grabs a tether, locks himself in and begins the airlock sequence - without wearing a spacesuit!! Before anyone can stop him, the outer door opens and Guess? becomes fully exposed to the harsh vacuum of space!!! Holding on to the tether, he floats out into space - a spheroid goblin at the end of a tether line attached to the ship.
Over comms, he says, "AHHHH!!!! THE PAIN!! OH MY GAWDS! The things I do to keep you all entertained!!!! Hurry up and guess before I die from the lack of atmosphere?? What am I??? AHHH!!! PAIN!!!"
Simultaneously, Guess? makes a big show of writhing around in pain.
A second later over comms, "Teee heee heee!!! Sorry guys, just kidding! I'm fine. Newly installed pressurized lungs you see...!! I can stay out here for an hour! But seriously, any guesses what I am?
"And hey, can someone hit that button to reel me back in?? Y'all wouldn't leave me out here hangin by a thread, right? Uhhh... right?? Guys???"
"Y'all wouldn't leave me out here hangin by a thread, right?"
Strek feeds Guess?'s words into his pocket linguist.
"Appeso a un filo."
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A few days after Guess?'s show with his new gear, you pop back into real space within view of the planet. From space, Apostae looks more like an abandoned moon than an inhabited planet. With no natural atmosphere, water, or greenery — and no light emanating from its few settlements — the planet’s surface remains wreathed in a cloak of darkness. But as soon as BD514 emerges from the Drift, the ship is hailed by a Nightarch traffic-control AI. "INCOMING VESSEL, STATE YOUR BUSINESS ON THE ROYAL PLANET OF APOSTAE OR BE IMPOUNDED. 18...17...16..." You hurry to respond, explaining your purpose and showing the EJ job issuance as support. The AI responds curtly. "BUSINESS REASON ACCEPTABLE. PROCEED TO LANDING BAY 306 FOR SECURITY INSPECTION." An incoming message appears, including planetary coordinates for the landing bay as well as a document for you to declare any imports. As Del brings the ship through the atmosphere, the nightshade towers of Nightarch jut into view, surrounded by great halls, smaller domes, and other enclosed buildings. Soon after you land, a group of four drow enforcers approach your ship. All men, they sneer at your group and small ship. "Inspection time! Open up, we're looking for smugglers."
Smugglers are a constant problem on a world that depends on the arms trade; if the group cooperates with the inspection and aren’t trying to sneak cargo onto Apostae, the drow will leave you in peace. Bribes are not customary on Apostae and would be insulting. And an insult to the wrong drow on Apostae can mean a death sentence. The enforcers are uninterested in any otherwise-illegal possessions you might have or display, such as drugs or poisons; there’s not much that’s illegal on Apostae.
As soon as you open up BD514's door for the inspectors, you each receive an automated transmission from Nightarch Air and Water, a utility company run by House Zeizerer.
You have now become customers of NAW, and are accumulating a bill for all air, water, and other materials necessary for life support. To reject the terms and conditions, please leave the planet or choose unlife immediately. Thank you, enjoy Apostae. This bill is displayed in the lower corner of your personal comm or helmet display, slowly ticking up in fractions of a credit. If left to accumulate, the life- support bill for living in Nightarch amounts to approximately 1 credit per day, per individual. You can avoid this bill by living off the environmental protections of your armor, which you can recharge from BD514’s power supply. It seems everyone in Nightarch is forced to pay a corporation for the right to breath, drink, and live. Lovely.
Strek whispers to Guess?, "Ixnay on tha bribes, ay?"
Strek will sign the agreement in case he needs to flush a toilet during their visit, but activates his environmental protections to save as much money as possible.
"Yer in luck. We're too poor to be smugglers."
Jaraduk activates his environmental protections.
Wow. They mean business around here! No, no smuggling indeed! the nuar snorts.
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Akh responds morosely to the inspectors a moment after Strek does "Our cargo compartments contain nothing but dust and broken dreams." He floats up and rests his head on his claws. "We are not even smuggling additional smugglers into the city, which, I expect, would both be extremely profitable and carry a double penalty."
He turns to the rest of the party "We should jot that down for next time. Not here on Apostae of course, but when we go somewhere else. Maybe we can offer rides to people when our hold is empty."
If no one guesses what Guess? is, he'll say:
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Prior to landing, Guess? will again use his morphic skin to average out his appearance to the most generic, bland, non-descript-looking goblin possible.
Guess? whispers back to Strek, "Don't you worry! We NEVER bribe! That would be illegal and we're fine, upstanding galactic citizen role-models who would never do such a thing, amirite? And as such, all we do is pay the occassional locally required consultation and/or facilitation fees and/or baksheesh. It's all good!!! Who's got this? Guess?!!"
Guess? comments to Akh, "Careful there. Broken dreams ARE illegal on some planets - mostly authoritarian ones where everyone is required to always be naturally happy and content!"
Realizing the inspectors probably overheard this comment, Guess? quickly addresses them with, "Hello inspectors! Welcome aboard! No contraband today... errr.. or ever! Just a crew of six very happy and content cargo haulers! We love our job and we love this planet and we love its government and we love mandatory customs inspections! Eye-eee we love YOU!" Guess? stands at attention and salutes the inspectors.
Seeing the message from NAW, Guess? first thinks to himself that he's perhaps working for the wrong corp. It seems working for NAW is where the real money's at! Second, he'll look over at the rack of ragged EJ spacesuits and think to himself, 'hmmmm.....' He then clicks the button to accept the NAW charges.
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The enforcers pick through your ship, their keen eyes and sensors picking out the smugglers compartment. One eyes the bullet holes in the walls and chuckles. "Yeah, boarding parties get messy. The old owners didn't use drow-tech, obviously." Another is looking through the empty cargo hold and winks at Akh. "Broken dreams are the only thing on Apostae that are free." The group of four guards stare down Guess? with blank stares. After the goblin confesses his love for inspectors, one of them dryly states "We'll see how long that attitude lasts on the surface." They leave after a few minutes, content that you aren't smuggling any illicit funds, cargo, or weapons without paying tariffs.
You're able to look up Lamashtu’s Lair in the city infosphere; it’s a cheap bar in one of the commercial domes nestled between the city’s purple towers. It’s 10 miles from the landing bay, and you can hire a robo-taxi to get there. There’s no listing for Tause Jarzeed in the 'sphere, however.
You pile out of the robo-car into what your mother might call "a rough neighborhood". Multiple species walk the streets, a higher concentration of orcs and half-orcs than you've seen elsewhere, quickly with downturned eyes. Drones occasionally fly overhead, their large cameras focused on the street below. In fact, you've seen lots of cameras along your journey from the port to here, monitoring the traffic and passerby. From the flashing neon signs, it seems Lamashtu’s Lair is a seedy dive bar with a VIP Lounge popular among individuals seeking privacy from House Zeizerer’s omnipresent surveillance network.
You enter the door quickly, eager to get off the street. Muted conversation and the stench of spilled alcohol permeate this place, and the light is quite low. Travelers of all species — though mostly the local majority drow, orcs, and half-orcs — sit at tables of thoroughly stained aluminum, nursing their drinks and keeping to themselves. The purple bucket chairs they're using may have once been clean and comfortable, but that would have been years ago. The northeast wall of this room is a single large window made of one-way transparent aluminum. Across the room, a pitted bar counter and black aluminum stools beckon those eager to drink their sorrows away. Behind the bar is a brusque-looking half-orc woman who eyes you curiously.
You go up to the bartender to ask about Tause Jarzeed but are interrupted before you can speak. The doors to the bar clatter open and a drow enters, dragging a protesting gnome along behind him. The drow wears the distinctive armor of House Zeizerer and bears a long sword of pure black energy — motes of crackling power flow off it and pop in the dark air. The gnome, in contrast, has their wrists pinned together with binders. “I’m telling you,” wails the gnome, “this is all a big mistake! A huge mistake!” Without sparing a glance to his prey, the drow heaves the gnome up and deposits them on top of the bar. “Here’s your bounty, Kaden, as promised,” he says. The half-orc behind the bar gives the gnome a glance and takes out her personal comm unit. While the bartender pulls up the file for this bounty, the gnome appeals to everyone around the bar - including you.
“I’m not... whoever he’s looking for,” the gnome says in a wheedling plea. “I'm Cicil! I just lost my comm unit! Please, you look like reasonable — not to mention well-armed—individuals. Give a gnome a hand?” They gesture toward the group with their bound wrists. The bounty hunting drow glances at you quickly and is unconcerned, assuming the bar patrons will keep to their own business.
The bartender, Kaden, looks up from her comm and shows the image displayed there — a gnome similar in appearance to "Cicil" — to the drow. “Horizon, I'm getting tired of your stab first ask questions later attitude. This isn’t the mark,” she says with a sigh.
You spot a few differences between the photo on the comm and Cicil; Kaden is right, this is the wrong gnome. If you wish to help Cicil escape, you can sever their bonds with any weapon that inflicts slashing damage; to do so without being noticed,
The half-orc and the drow immediately fall into an argument, the bounty hunter insisting on being paid while the bartender stubbornly refuses. "I can't pay you for bringing me the wrong mark!" - "It's the right one! Look at his hair!" - "Does this look like a serial killer who leaves riddles on the bodies of his victims?" - "YES!"
Jaraduk casually sidles up along side the bounty hunter.
Say friend, what's the burden of proof of identifying marks for jobs like this? Say I wanted to get into the business; in different territory, of course!
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The drow gives Jaraduk a withering stare. The drow begins to open his mouth but is interrupted by the bartender. "The BURDEN is on the fixer, who accepts the target based off the proof and the reputation of the hunter." She picks up a glass and begins to clean it as she continues. "Don't be like Horizon here, I'm always having to catch and release his targets when they don't fingerprint proper." The drow grunts. "I make you lots of money, Kaden, and you know it. Quantity over quality, that's the motto." Kaden sets the glass down and sighs again. "Well I'm not sure on this one, Hor." She squints at the gnome carefully. "Think he got his nose done? Looks a little smaller than the photo."
Akh, who as usual looks like he's made out of solid gold and is therefore very out of place in this kind of establishment, sinuously weaves his way between tables and patrons. The place feels vaguely familiar. He reasons he might've visited it well in the past before he awakened. Or maybe more recently. The time shortly after awakening was already kind of a blur. Maybe because of the marshmallow-based bender that he'd gone on.
Akh rumbles, then speaks in a low voice to the gnome "Do you have some proof of who you are? Because you might just be in trouble otherwise. I don't think these fellows will mind if you look a little different than they were expecting."
Guess? says to the rest of the party, "As far as I can tell, that gnome in the picture looks like the gnome captive. I guess, we politely wait for our turn after Kaden and Horizon sort this out. How long can these two possibly take? After that, we ask Kaden about Tause, yah?"
Guess? hops on a stool to watch how this situation plays out.
Jaraduk flashes a space-minotaur grimace. Money is on the line. They will take as long as it takes. Sometimes it's best to observe and learn, and not get entangled in ongoing affairs. He hopes nobody asks him what experience this might come from.
After picking up some computer related tools at the station, Lars is unusually quiet for the few days of the trip, not partaking in the usual banter and keeping to himself when not on duty.
Perhaps he was feeling a little down.
But as the group moves out to the bar he is his usual put together self, smart -if a bit battered - suit and long coat over his armor.
At the bar he largely lets the rest of the group handle the situation with the gnome, keeping an eye on the doors and their backs as he does so, gun hand free... just in case.
Del sidles up to the bar and waits alongside the others. At the sight of the poor little gnome being dragged into the bar by some ruffian, she gasps in shock. "Oh, dear!"
As the gnome begs for their aid she looks distressed. "Wrongfully captured? Really? Oh, dear! How do we...."
Del pauses as she catches a glimpse of the criminal's photo, then compares it carefully to the captive gnome. "Ahhhh, you're pulling my leg! You look just like this criminal! Wanted.... serial killer.... riddles... what?!"
Del's eyes widen and she pales, looking a little sick. She gets up, moves to the seat furthest away from the gnome, and sits down again. "How terrible..."
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The group watches the situation unfold, unsure or unwilling to act. Lars keeps an eye out on the bar, noticing that none of the patrons seem remotely interested in the interaction at the bar. In fact, some of them seem pointedly avoiding having any interest in it. Del isn't sure if Cicil or Horizon is lying, they both seem to be telling the truth.
As the conversation between the Bounty Hunter and the Bartender continues to get more heated, there is a blur of movement below the drow's waist. It seems the gnome has slipped out of their bonds and pulled their hands free! Cicil flashes a wicked grin and shouts “Thank you, strangers, for that timely rescue!” The drow, Horizon, whirls around - mistakenly believing you have freed his captive! "It's a jail break! They're in cahoots!" He raises his mystical sword, ready to strike at you! Meanwhile, the gnome takes a few steps back into the crowd and casts a spell.
Suddenly, the gnome disappears and a drow woman stands in his place! The woman quickly fades into the crowd of startled bar patrons.
The gnome just cast Disguise Self. They may be disguised as a Drow woman, but they would be an incredibly short one (4.5 feet tall instead of 5.5.). Unfortunately, you need to directly interact with the gnome to recognize their appearance as an illusion.
It's him! He's the northwest smiley face at the table closest to Horizon.
Jaraduk SP 7/7 HP 13/13
Akh SP 9/9 HP 11/11
Strek SP 7/7 HP 12/12
Guess? SP 6/6 HP 7/7
Del SP: 5/5 HP: 9/9
Bounty Hunter, "Horizon" 0 Damage
Lars SP 5/5 HP 9/9
Bounty, "Cicil" 0 Damage
"Uhh, I ain't interested in fightin' no drow. We're here to earn coin, not lose our heads."
Strek strides twice towards the exit.
Akh loudly harrumphs as the gnome-drow slips away. Rather than let this turn into a total brawl, he swiftly reaches out with a vibrating claw and snags Horizon's weapon from his grasp.
He catches it and stows it in his pack, then looms over Horizon. "You won't need that. I think your tricky gnome is playing us both. If we're not fighting, we can find him together, yes?"
Hey, hey! We did nothing! Don't go blaming your lack of bounty-hunter follow-through on us! Jaraduk snorts, truly indignant at the accusation.
He begins spinning in place, looking for signs of the gnome.
He then looks stunned when Akh knocks the weapon out of the drow's hand. He waits to see how he reacts...
"Dang that gnome is slick! Hey, whoever you are, can ya find me later? We need to exchange notes on how you did that!" yells Guess? into the crowd - voice tinged with a bit of admiration.
Guess? then draws his rifle but keps it pointed down and while remaining squarely behind Akh, Guess? snarls in his meanest, nastiest goblin voice, "I dunno how you're in this business - unable to ID your bounty NOR keep him under control! But we had nothing to do with this so put down your sword or we'll put down!"
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Del's eyes widen. "The killer! He's magically disguise himself as a drow woman, but he'll still be short. It should be easy to.... THERE!" Del points at a 4 1/2 foot tall smiling drow woman at the table closest to Horizon. "He's there!"
Del recalls the first time she tried to roast those little puffy sugar balls called 'marshmallows,' causing four glowing marshmallows to appear in the air and spiral around the gnome-in-disguise.
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Akh swings out with trained claws, completely sure he'll be able to grab the drow's weapon and turn it on the bounty hunter. But the android's hand slips right through the pure black energy of the sword, without slowing or hurting! The drow smirks, saying "You play with forces you do not understand." He spins the energy blade slowly and adopts a defensive stance. But the drow's cool is disrupted by Guess?'s words, his eyes flickering off Akh for a key second. As if the drama wasn't high enough, Del points out a drow woman sitting at the table beside you! Once you look closer, it seems like she is a little shorter than your average drow...
The bounty hunter takes a deep breath in. "You cannot take my weapon nor my bounty, robot, for I am a blade in the night." He spins in a circle, bringing the blade down onto Akh twice! The dragon manages to dodge one of the swings but the second digs deep into his side. Blood spots the android's armor for a moment before the hole seals itself. After the heat of the fight dies down, Akh would later notice that his NAW bill ticked up .000002 credits during that fraction of a second of environmental exposure.
At the table, the 'drow woman' panics as lights dance around her head. Just then, the vidscreen behind the bar switches from the vesk bloodball semi-finals to a news report that shows multiple police cruisers bearing down on Lamashtu’s Lair at high speed, their lights flashing. The running text below says LOCAL POLICE IDENTIFY DANGEROUS DRUG DEN. CRUISERS HEADING THERE NOW TO APPREHEND CULPRITS. You look back and the drow woman is running around the inside of the room towards the bartop! The bartender is nowhere to be seen, having ducked into the safety of the kitchen.
The gnome just cast Holographic Image. Somewhere around here there is a purely visual hologram he created. The image has no sound, smell, texture, or temperature.
Jaraduk SP 7/7 HP 13/13
Akh SP 0/9 HP 8/11
Strek SP 7/7 HP 12/12
Guess? SP 6/6 HP 7/7
Del SP: 5/5 HP: 9/9
Lars SP 5/5 HP 9/9
Bounty Hunter, "Horizon" 0 Damage, Shaken 2 Rounds
Bounty, "Cicil" 0 Damage
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”That’s a fake notice! Cops ain’t coming yet.”
Lars growls to the group as he watches the dangerous drow with the energy sword. Even as he talks he reaches deep into the universal source code and pulls at probabilities shifting the system to disrupt the bounty hunter’s luck.