GM S's "Race for the Dustwarren Cup" [Tier 7-10]

Game Master Chris Marsh

Entre Nous

You find yourselves aboard a low-flying atmospheric transport shuttle over Akiton, ferrying you from Daza, the closest settlement to the Dustwarren silt sea, to the starting line for the Dustwarren Cup.

You return to the comms message from Venture Captain Naiaj. The mission seems pretty straight forward, but then again, don't they always?

You look over the supplies you picked up in Daza, and you look at your teammates. Feel free to shop, and introduce yourselves. It's Sunday here, and I'm grading papers. If everyone checks in today, I'll get underway, otherwise I'll get us going tomorrow morning.

Trylara looks out the window at the desert scenery. The half-orc bears many scars, but still seems to smile more often than not. She prominently wears a symbol of Iomedae.

"A race! This should be fun after the turmoil of our last several missions."

"Yeah, no kidding" another half-orc replies. Less muscle-bound than his compatriot, and wearing lighter armor, he still has his own share of scars that add character to his disarming smile. "That last one was a doozy."

Lady Shrike nods towards her allies and smiles. Her angled, hawkish features are framed by heavy black armor that features decorations of scripture, avian motifs, and flecks of wax from what may have been sacred candles. But just as noticeable are the pair of avian wings protruding from her back. "A race? It's been a long time since I've been to one of those. My old mercenary outfit used to run races as part of their combat drills, though. I'm sure we'll do them proud."

She glances warmly towards Trylara and places a hand over the religious symbol on the breastplate of her own armor. "I am Sister Chaplain Lanius Shrike. Or Lady Shrike, if you prefer. It will be a great honor to serve with a fellow member of the faith on this day."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Shrike. Ohmarc Lightwalker at your service. I too, look forward to this race. A little healthy competition may be just what we need to inspire us to do great things."

"I do find it interesting that we are to RSVP with regrets only. They must have great expectations for us."

You may already know a bit about Mimli Nurkop, the famous Nurkop clanand their reputation on Akiton.

I'll take any of the following (and please do speak up about Theme Knowledge): Culture or applicable Profession checks include journalist, racer, or influencer.

Endre tries to recall if he's come across any of the Nurkop clan in his development networking for the Orc Freedom Foundation...

Culture: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (14) + 14 = 28
-5 to the DC if Mimli is a corporate executive.

Rolling on the unlikely chance that mercenary work might relate to the general state of things on Akiton

Profession (Mercenary): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

The Lady doesn't know muchc, but Endre fills the party with enough detail that you think he writes Wikisphere entries...

The Nurkops are one of Akiton’s most famous rags-to-riches stories. Before the Gap, they were nobodies, one of the hundreds of downtrodden ysoki families trying to scrape together a living on the dusty planet. After the Gap, they found themselves fabulously wealthy, and nobody knows how. Smart investments and a series of savvy business decisions have kept them riding high ever since.

Mimli Nurkop is an influential member of the family, the unmarried eldest of five who occasionally dotes on her niblings but otherwise seems to have only true passion: racing. Despite being in her mid-50s, which is rather old for an ysoki, she hasn’t yet given up on her lifelong dream to compete in the Absalom Run. She’s almost never seen in public without the company of her butler, and there are some wild rumors in the press about her reportedly “tempestuous” relationship with a fellow well-off racing enthusiast, the sarcesian technomancer Zwarna Linsholm.

A long-standing rumor holds that, during the Gap, the Nurkops discovered a vast treasure in one of the many wrecks that dot Akiton’s surface. Rumormongers dub this secret treasure site the “Nurkop Richpick,” and insist that the family still knows the location, but is keeping it a secret among themselves to protect their wealth and good fortune.

Will post later today, busy teacher workshop

Your shuttle touches down on the edge of the Dustwarren.

The faded iron sign over the entrance to the Warrenbound Pulrina is just barely visible as the colorful banner stretched across it flutters in the wind, welcoming participants to the promised, double-underlined, “First Annual Dustwarren Cup!” Beyond the arch, a modest boardwalk eventually gives way to a small harbor, at which a half-dozen identical-looking crafts resembling large sailboats are moored and waiting. Instead of water, the boats sit partially immersed in soft, fine, pale red silt, which stretches as far as the eye can see. Solid ground ends only a few feet past the welcoming sign.

A modest crowd of all shapes, sizes, and species occupies the boardwalk, mostly clustered into groups talking among themselves in low voices.

As you approach the boardwalk, you’re met under the sign by a sprightly, older ysoki dressed in goggles and a waistcoat like a vintage race car driver, trailed by an elderly male ysoki in a full black suit. The woman introduces herself as Mimli, it's it's quite obvious how excited she is to see you. "Oh and this is my butler, Wat Ryshel!"

Mimli makes polite but genuine small talk, asking after your past adventures and taking a particular interest in stories of other races or vehicle chases you've taken part in. Wat stands by with a polite smile.

Good time for introductions and an in character summary of your experience with the vehicle rules.

Ohmarc is clearly out of his element with respect to vehicles and racing, but he tries to make up for it with his charm. That being said, he completely forgets to mention that he is a highly qualified medic who can help with injuries sustained during the race.

"Well met, Mimli. I am Ohmarc Lightwalker at your service. I am so excited to be a part of this race. I have never driven a vehicle and to be completely honest, I have no idea how any of these machines work, but I am just so pleased to be caught up in the excitement of such an event."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (1) + 17 = 18

She stares a bit at Ohmarc, who doesn't actually seem all that excited, still, he's practiced at this. In the end she still gives him an enthusiastic second handshake.

Trylara smiles pleasantly.

"It is very nice to meet you, Mimli. This is something new for me. I have never competed in a race, though I have watched a junkrace back on Absalom Station!"

Endre smiles and gladly makes chit chat. He's just about to recount the tale of the time he took part in an Absalom Station junkrace when his comm unit rings. Glancing at the display, a look of worry comes onto his face. "I'm so sorry to be rude, but I have to take this." He answers the phone, walking a few feet away as his conversation becomes more animated. Hanging up, he says "I'm sorry, but something really urgent has come up with the foundation. I need to catch the next shuttle out of Maro." With that, he jogs off in search of transport.

Sorry, I just looked through my chronicles and realized that I hadn't marked my tracker correctly. Endre has my GM credit for this scenario, so I can't play it with him.

Endre has barely left your sight, however, when a big nuar in a polo shirt bearing a logo of a steering wheel in front of bull horns arrives, somewhat out of breath. "Sorry...I'm...late..." he pants. "My last piloting student took us to the wrong drift beacon. Hi everyone, I'm Rogers!"

Rogers is my other character at 8th level. He's a melee soldier with Ace Pilot dedication, flavored as a driving instructor.

"Mimli, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Sister Chaplain Lanius Shrike. You may call me Lady Lanius. I have little experiences in races, but I've recently gone through an extensive training in starship and vehicle piloting. As it turns out, some of the skills translate quite well into the use of jump pack maneuvers, which is closer to where my true specialty lies."

She smiles. "In other words, I'd say I've got far more practice than talent."

"Yes! This is going to be so much fun! You know? Let's go for a walk. You should meet the other racers!"

Aside from a small handful of reporters and curious spectators, almost everyone on the boardwalk is from one of the five other teams.

Some of you recognize, Zwarna Linsholm, Mimli’s fellow racing enthusiast and a top designer of luxury hybrid sporting goods. Mimli and Zwarna have competed against each other dozens of times across the last two decades, and the press is fiercely divided over whether they’re bitter rivals or casual frenemies. Mimli waves, but Zwarna just stares. Looks like the pair can't agree either.

Close by is a cluster of five hylki humans and two shobhad-neh, all in simple work clothes. They've settled onto some crates near the back of the boardwalk and are trading lively conversation over a cooler of non-alcoholic drinks. The apparent leader sees you noticing them. He hails you to come over. "Hey there! Come! Grab a drink and a seat, and introduce yourselves."

"This crew", he proudly explains, "are all local dockworkers and sandsailors who I've personally recruited from the settlements surrounding the Dustwarren. They’re folks who’ve made their honest living doing salvage work and shipping cargo over the ol’ silt. They figured they’d sign up for a shot at the prize money, since nobody knows the silt sea better than they do."

"Hey there! Come! Grab a drink and a seat, and introduce yourselves."

"Well met. I'm Ohmarc Lightwalker. I am a life coach and a medic with the Starfinder Society. It is nice to meet you. I don't think I realized how exciting it is to be a part of something big like this race. I am honored to meet you and all of these fine folk. Thanks to you and all that you do. I'm sure all of the settlements around Dustwarren appreciate your work."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (17) + 17 = 34

"Life coach? Is that.... Is that an actual JOB?" The crew laughs. Ohmarc's delivery though keeps them from laughing TOO hard though. "At least you're a medic, that's helpful." Others can jump in.

"Oh, hi. Uh, I'm Rogers. I'm a pilot and a piloting instructor. Nice to meet you."

Just above the crowd, a hologram of the winged-badge symbol of the Stewards floats and seems to be moving towards you. A few moments later, the cause becomes clear: a skittermander officer in full uniform, with a holographic sashimono of the Stewards' symbol, is maneuvering through the crowd. When she at last reaches you, she has a determined look on her face. "Apologies for my lateness, everyone. Had to make an arrest on the way in--export violation of some illicit Eoxian necro-grafts. I'm Officer Swizzers of the Stewards, on secondment to the Starfinder Society. I'm here to help with the race, and keep an eye out for trouble."

Sorry for the late start, everyone.

@GM: I still need to level Officer Swizzers up to Level 9. By the way, awesome work with the slides!

@GM: I still need to level Officer Swizzers up to Level 9. By the way, awesome work with the slides!

My pleasure! I keep a template for each season so it matches. I can't really go all out like I do at the table, so this is the next best thing. Glad you like!

"Officer Swizzers? Well met! Well met! Now there's someone who works for a living!"

-----------------
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

If the heavy thump of bodies against the boardwalk hadn’t drawn the crowd’s attention, Mimli’s indignant shriek does the job. Wat Ryshel has been knocked to the floor, tangled in the limbs of a scrawny copper-scaled kobold only a little shorter than he is. After a few seconds of furious scuffling, the kobold manages to untangle themself, scrambles on all fours, and bolts for the pulrina entrance, shouting, “Sorry—sorry—sooooorryyyyy!”

]“Oh, honestly!” Mimli huffs, puffing her cheeks out angrily. “Who brings a kid all the way out here? Wat, are you okay?”

“Quite all right,” says Wat with a patient smile as he brushes himself off. “Goodness knows I’ve taken heavier falls following you around.”

Trylara chats with the sailors. "I've done quite a bit of manual labor myself. I'm sure it will serve you well for the race. Good luck!"

She addresses the kobold. "Are your parents here? Do you need help finding them?"

Lanius nods respectfully to the officer. "It's comforting to see that we have one of the Stewards among our ranks. All the safer for us and the participants."

After the young kobold bumps into Wat, she offers each of them a hand. "Careful, now. The race hasn't started yet, so there's no need to be in such a hurry." She does her best to lighten the mood with that little joke.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (6) + 0 = 6

The kid's running off pretty quickly, and doesn't respond to the conversation. You could try to catch her. I'd take an Athletics or Acrobatics check.

"Whoa there, kid, hold on!" Rogers says, trying to grab the kid's arm before she can dash off.

Athletics: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (13) + 17 = 30

Lady Shrike will try to get closer to the rapidly moving scamp, using her wings if the crowds aren't too thick and the ceiling isn't too low.
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

Seeing others chase after the child, Officer Swizzers secures the scene. "Everyone, make sure your possessions are secure and that nothing's missing. I've seen an 'accidental' collision in a crowd cover up for a pickpocketing attempt on more than one occasion."

Lady Linius and Rogers both cut off egress. The kobold stops, "It was an accident! I'm sorry! For real!"

Following Officer Swizzers advice, everyone checks their belongings. No one finds anything missing.

"Why are you in such a rush? Is something wrong?" Swizzers is barely taller than the young kobold, mollifying the otherwise-intimidating presence of a law enforcement officer.

"Okay, okay, you got me. I'm an adult and..... well, a thief, but I messed up the attempt and failed to steal anything from the old man”. She gives a face that portrays both defeat and obsintance.

Before the in situ interrogation can continue, Mimli clambers upon a crate at the end of the boardwalk and gets everyone’s attention by blaring an airhorn. She greets the gathered crowd enthusiastically and announces that it’s time to assign the competing teams their racing vehicles.

Each team is assigned a base model lightsail sandracing yacht developed by a collaboration between the Nurkop Engineering Group and Zwarna Racing, Zwarna Linsholm’s sporting goods brand. Mimli calls out this partnership in genuine appreciation, which Zwarna coldly refuses to acknowledge. These ships are aesthetically similar to low-tech archaic racing sailboats, such as racing catamarans, but their glowing solar sails actually power advanced hybrid engines that allow the ships to continue moving with or without the support of the wind. "You've got two hours to modify your yacht the way you'd like!"

The race uses a fair bit of niche concepts. Each yacht comes stocked with enough rations and fresh water to last its crew up to five days; two basic emergency rafts and three emergency beacons; and a small store of spare parts for improvements and repairs, including a few hundred feet of titanium alloy cable line. The onboard navigation systems can detect and track the emergency beacons, but the yachts otherwise have no comm systems.

You get 6 Build Points to spend on improvements. Each upgrade listed provides a circumstance bonus or other benefit, but some come with penalties. These bonuses and penalties apply to all checks made while crewing the chosen ship, but not to any checks made independent of the ship.

The race works a bit like a chase. There will be specific skill checks to overcome obstacles, but it's safe to assume that piloting is going to be a constant ned (as or in addition to other checks.

This type of scene can be a lot of fun, but if we're not careful, it can also drag PbP inertia down. So let's set ourselves a soft goal of not spending more than December 16 on modifying your ship. There's just one more thing...

"Also, competitors, you MUST name your ships!" Mimli proudly announces her own ship as the Flyting Jenny,. It appears on the holographic scoreboards placed all over.