"We ain't bloody exterminators laddie! Thes is a garbage tour! Ah got singed, Donkey is reit furious ann yer ship nearly unloaded ord'nance at random! Ann now what... ye be wantin us to sign somethin' to the tune of us not talking 'bout it?" He begins flipping pages on the datapad looking for the wholly expected proverbial poison pill, then gets a better idea. He pulls his own comm out and begins snapping pictures of each page of the contract to send to Celita.
Several days later after returning to Absalom station, you receive a message.
Djakar provides moral support for I-apvii, giving him the mental fortitude to push through the flurry of blasts. With a trio of swift strikes, Ikmanji quickly tears a small opening in one of the turrets that shot at I-apvii, then disassembles the laser that dared acquire a target lock on him. I-apvii shreds the nearest one further with a swarm strike. He considers the possibilities for maximum effectiveness but his knowledge of automated turrets boils down to the following: shoot it until it dies. Round 1/2:
"Happy trails lassie. Enjoy your travels, and if ye still want tae come back her afterwards ah for one would be glad tae work with you. Although ah think Donkey is a mite miffed at the holograms... prob'ly should let er go roll in some grass."
Back at Lorespire, Grognard shows at least some respect and walks Donkey in rather than riding her into the elevators again. Face to face with Ixthia and Celita Grognard looks more disappointed than anything. "Guess what? Another o' Historia-Primes little slivers was lurkin' there. Took over a poor lassie who was makin' training holos. We got put through th' ringer, passed, and ripped Historia oot o' the lassie. Goes by Ruby-17. Ye may see her wanderin' aroond soon... Gonna use her newfound freedom to do some travelin. Dinnae seem tae hold a grudge though... Might wanna reach out tae her once she's got her feet on the groond. From the sound of it, she prob'ly wouldn't mind stayin' on the Starfinder payroll." Donkey grunts.
Grognard seems to be hardly paying attention the entire time up until the lab. You catch him looking at his datapad with the script, going over it again... and again... and again... carefully shaping his mouth as he attempts to pronounce the words reasonable clearly. Finally he ushers the new starfinders into the Laboratory and clears his throat.
"Th' Starfinder Society aint jus an exploration agency-we're also on th cuttin edge o new adventurin gear! Aur agents always be kept well-kitted out wit the latest gear from both aur corporate partners as well as our rite braw scientists here in th laboratories! They be constantly tinkerin away at new ideas; as fer mahself, ahm hopin tae see a bit o th auld mixed in wit the new.
"Donkey here's got an amazin sense o smell, but it takes lotsa practice to ken what she's sayin. Ahve heard the same said 'bout me." He chuckles and continues, "Ah think basic animal husbandry ought tae be part o basic trainin... and it aint as hard as it used tae be. So many gadgets now tae help..."
Grognard appears furious. "Thes is how ye treat yer pets? Donkey! Get 'im. Ahll calm thes poor Klikharps."
He hops off as Donkey climbs up toward the gremlin.
He keeps his gaze averted as he moves towards them at a casual pace. "Hush hush lassies..."
"Don't worry friends... the hardest part of this will be making sure at least one is still breathing enough to answer questions."
The 's' at the end of questions comes with a sleight buzz... as a stream of inky black hornets jet forth from Marcus's mouth and engulfs the mob.
"Soonds loch an ego th' size ay a Sky Citadel. What a wee jobby. eh'd bit they're nae jist behin' thes mess but th' whole ruckus ootwith ay haur tay." He turns and glares at the translator as it begins to echo, <AUDIBLE CONTENT SIMILAR TO SENSE OF SELF SIZE OF AIR CASTLE. WHAT A LITTLE [EXPLETIVE DELETED]. WAGER TH-> Grognard begins banging on the side of the translator which begins waverng n pitch. <-THEY'RE NOT ONLY BEHIND THIS MESS, BUT THE ENTIRE MESS OUTSIDE OF THIS PLACE.> Grognard gives a satisfied nod, and goes back to his previous goal of seeing if any of the damaged statues are repairable via conventional means.
"I dinnae ken what the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] yer talkin aboot... but they warent sae bad nae. Ah ken we can go another roound." He looks over at Donkey for confirmation, and after her grunt he turns back and nods. He checks his simulated pockets for any surprises, then Donkey's saddle bags. "Nah like ah had nay other plans taday." The interpreter finally catches up. <Unknown what the mating ritual you speak. They were not entirely bad. Can venture towards another circle. No additional items contained on itinerary for present day.> He groans and motions with his thumb toward the translator. "I dinnae ken what the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] is talkin aboot either..."
"Ah guff. Ah ken these creatures... ran intae a body oan mah first assignment. almost killed us aw." <EXCREMENT. I KNOW THESE CREATURES. MOVED TOWARDS THESE ON INITIAL ASSIGNMENT. ALMOST TERMINATED VITALS.> Grognard cranks the translator to max volume, hoping beyond hope that he makes at least some sense. "Gie behin' us laddie! We'll tak' caur ay these baddies." <MOVE TO REAR. WE WILL PROVIDE CARE FOR THESE UNKNOWNTRANSLATIONERROR> Donkey does not look pleased at all but accompanies Grognard forward. Grognard pulls out some device that looks like some stuck a rifle stock and trigger on a bullhorn, aims it and yells a string of profanities which thankfully, the translator fails to successfully translate. The rifle amplifies them and projects them at the swarm.
If somehow I can aim a cone to avoid our prone friend...:
Grognard seems a bit confused regarding the events of the Data Scourge. Apparently he's been spending his free time in the middle of a swamp playing catch with Donkey and his other pets. When he arrives however, he has a new piece of equipment hooked to the side of Donkey's saddle. He pulls it off and sets up the tripod in the middle of his compatriots. "Whit th' heel is gonnae oan? Got called in fur thes mission an' foond a line ay starfinders waitin' fur an auld bus. Ah jist road donkey ower haur, but what's up wi' aw ay th' traffic lights? did Ah miss somethin'?" The device begins spouting out snippets. <Explain this. Summoned for mission. Encountered numerous unknown designation. Travelled by donkey. Explain issue with traffic lights. Query, what was missed? Grognard raises his eyebrow at the device. He walks up to it and tries a few test words. "Come haur. Gang thaur. What's up?" It responds with <Come here. Go there. What fart?> He opens and closes his mouth a few times and then just shrugs. "Gonna need mair trainin'." A close inspection reveals the device to be a Tetred Certified Translator which has apparently been configured between Grognard-ese and Common.
Marcus takes a few sips of his ale and nods at Rhizzuk and Berry in turn as they introduce themselves. He steeples his fingers and looks at each of his newfound companions, as though attempting to commit their visage to memory. After a moment, he strokes what little patch of hair passes for a goatee and clears his throat. "Pleased to meet you Risen Star Rhizzuk and Berry. I am Marcus Vultulus Fantailler, formerly a lord of a shire just outside of Cassomir. You can call me Marcus... Marc... or really anything you so desire so long as the desired sobriquet is not chosen out of ill intent." He pulls a small fretted dulcimer out from his pack and begins to pluck out a pleasant tune as he continues. "I dabble in esoteric magicks and trivia, however predominantly I have practice in negotiation and leadership. And please, do not take that as a perceived elevation of status... leadership simply means that I will do my best to learn the strengths and weaknesses of each of you in order to encourage courses of action most likely to succeed. A leader is simply a job within a group, no more or less important than each other, and one I intend to perform to the best of my abilities. In fact, given what I have to work with is strength and experience that far exceeds my own, I suspect my role will likely be of the least importance."
Grognard spends most of the trip reading the manual on his new firearm, and muttering curses about the lack of quality crossbows, and various complaints that 'Harsk wouldn't approve.' He drowns his sorrows in tea, but continues to complain that Poshkettle tea still hasn't replicated Harsk's brew of choice. He continues to pamper Donkey on the way, promising that she'll actually be able to step foot on the planet this time. When the message comes in from the All-Code Emissary he goes off. "Is aw weel? ur ye kiddin' me? it's bin TEN days since Ah hud an ale, th' tea haur is mediocre, Donkey hate's bein' stuck in these tin cans, an' th' only a body I've talked tae in th' lest month 'at gits it is a unicorn wi' a rockit launcher oan 'er heed! it [EXPLETIVE DELETED] ainae aw weel!" Translation:
"Weel Ah guess i'll be workin' wi' fitch. seems mair mah speed. hopefully i'll see th' lot ay ye again suin! fur th' meanwhile, Ah gotta gie donkey haur a guid scran. she's bin a wee grumpy bein' cooped up oan those flyin' cans. hopefully she'll stick wi' me fur th' next mission..." Translation:
With that, he saddles up and rides off into the
Grognard nods. "Yup. From auld Golarion! Ann lassie 'ere is named..." He makes a gutteral growl which Donkey echoes back. "... that. Though ah call 'er Donkey. More ay a title than a name." He's clearly straining to use a more understandable tone. His eyes flash a shade of violet as he creates a link between his mind and Donkeys and sends some calming emotions towards her. "Arite lassie... less show 'em what ye can dae." He whistles for Donkey to leap forward and roll over in view of the cameras... but she lands a bit too close and knocks the mic boom over... <REWIND> He whistles for Donkey to leap forward and roll over in view of the cameras... but she lands a bit short and takes out the main camera. <REWIND> He whistles for Donkey to leap forward and roll over in view of the cameras, making a spectacular and adorable display... especially as she comes back and nuzzles Grognard. "Tha'll do Donkey... tha'll do."
When asked about things he's learned he gets excited and completely drops any attempt to make any sense. Which may be for the better.... "Anyhaw I've learned lots in mah cuttie time as a Starfinder. Learned abit th' branchin' ay time. Mah life afair ah was foond is a jumble an' workin' wi' these braw agents has lit me kin much mair ay it. Sae mony ay us bide oan uir ain wee timelines an' we ne'er ken it. Yoo'll ne'er ken it until ye ken hoo tae swatch..."
"Fur example, if Ah ask a boorichie ay starfinders abit their commencement yoo'll gie th' sam story but wi' different compatriots! an they ur aw tellin' th' truth... coz we aw exist oan these wee slivers ay th' timeline, an' uir minds weae it together." Translation, if Gus is brave enough to tell them:
Somehow he finds the right timeline where Gus omits any details that make it too awkward.
"Th' Quest Fer Sky ay coorse! Torag said when th' grond shakes beneath yer feet, ye main press upward tae th' surface... an' ah foond a surface... an' 'en was shown yit another surface by th' Starfinders 'oo foond me an' mah kin. they cam wi' stories ay places far awa' an' animals ay aw kinds... They aw cam frae different places an' different times, sae ah figured wa nae gie it a try? See th' galaxy... See if thaur is another surface beyond th' black ay th' vest. Mebbe ah can hear mah prayers tae Torag be answered. If nae, weel... th' real quest will hae bin th' friends ah made alang th' way." With the last line he gives Donkey a side hug and some pets. Translation:
Grognard contemplates his life choices that lead to him going from wandering the wilderness to being on a ship with a Yasakaja... and somehow still having no real idea what's going on. He peers through a few alternative time-lines for one that might make him a bit more useful here.
Finally he drafts an message to send to Celita, summarizing what his compatriots have discovered. The old ways were Explore, Report, Cooperate after all. He does his best to let his disdain for Astral Extractions show through in the report, going so far as to make sure that the company name is always written in Comic Sans for added effect. Surprisingly enough, his writing is quite clear and concise... how it goes from that to incomprehensible simply by way of mouth is a mystery. ~~~~~ At Songbird Station, Grognard is completely out of place. When prompted for names he stammers for a moment. "Grognard." He points at Donkey and makes a strange grunt, and looks at her. She makes a somewhat similar sounding grunt in return. "'at. That's 'er name. Or ye can put 'Donkey' onnit. Though that's more 'o a title than a name." Inside he seems nervous about the whole environment and opts to spoil Donkey with treats to make himself feel better. "Whar are th' soddin' birds?"
"Ah bring Donkey everywhaur ann ah carry a boom-stick when ah tak a jobby..." Grognard shrugs before adding, "Hard tae go legal..." He starts looking angrier and angrier as he goes through the facility. "Ship androids as freight? Micht as weel ask if ye can ship dwarves as minin' tools... Bunch ay [EXPLETIVE DELETED] runnin' thes shop." He reaches back to pet Donkey, then looks glum as he realizes she's still on the Pegasus. Gritting his teeth, he gets to work, poking through the rooms carefully, looking for signs of recent activity, figuring the last one out may have left a clue worth following up on.
Grognard guffaws at the morlamaw's stories all the way. ~~~ "Ah! The Diaspora! A strangely peaceful place. Th' openness of th' vest, but a view tae remin' ye 'at thaur more than jist nothingness." Donkey growls. "Lassie's not so keen on it." He's clearly out of his depth when the subject of data management comes up. Grognard strikes you as the kind that probably has a paper diary.
Marcus sighs and shakes his head. "Now now Sola..." He hands over the barest minimum contractually allowed, which he most certainly tallied up on the ride... down to the copper piece. "As agreed to. Oh, and you may be receiving a bill at some point from a one Mr. Seddothrum whom was deputized as a Pathfinder and utilized as a form of insurance for protecting your clientele." He knows full well there is no way that will actually happen, but he enjoys watching Guaril squirm... and he winks to Valais while he's at it. He then hands the rest of the collected, but not contractually reserved cash and/or valuable items collected over to Sheila. "Presuming he decides to remain affiliated with the Pathfinders, you may need to see if we have any Wayfinders in giant size."
Spoiler: Hi fi!
"Hrmmm.... myesss... We do have many option indeed. Let us do our best to play to our strengths. Perhaps we'll need differing strategies depending on whom is the subject of their scrutiny..." He considers the options and suggests the following: "Sola... perhaps you should be the first through with some papers. As we come through you can pass them back as Garrla suggested... if people are overly scrutinized then you can hold off for a moment and one of us with legitimate papers can go through. Inevitably they will get suspicious that 3 of us are all named..." He looks closely. "McLovin?" He raises an eyebrow and continues. "I'll hang near the back and approach the guards if things get dicey I can probably pull off the role of a guard if needed to calm things down. The rest of you will just need a few obfuscating features to keep your identities clear on a first look. With any luck they won't have time for a second."
Grognard grumbles about sensors being useless when you can't see them with your own two eyes. "Sensor scans ay a planet ur a waste ay time! Ye need tae gie tae ken th' feel o' a planet... see th' flora an' fauna... like Donkey here!" When the klaxon goes off Grognard leaps into action and flips to an open comm channel.
All focus on burying his accent goes to the wayside as he retorts, "Well Uie Petaltails... Ye want tae threaten mah ship? weel I'll hae ye ken 'at when ye strike a servant ay Torag yoo'd best be prepared tae drag yoorselves it coz ye willnae be walkin'. An' mah crew is mah fowk fur thes mission... an' ye threated mah fowk an' ye can expect tae carry it yer guts in a sack! An' waur yit... ye threaten mah Donkey an' I'll mince em doon yer throats!" Something tells you that you are better off not understanding him... if you did you might need to report to the Venture Crew threats unbecoming of a Starfinder in the line of duty.
"Pathfinders? There another faction since ah been dead? I know Fitch gots the Wayfinders and we all be Starfinders..." He pauses then looks back at Teka. "Waitaminnit! Dinnit Fitch name the Wayfinders after the thing the super ancient starfinders useta carry? Ann weren't they called pathfinders cuz they dinnit have starships yet?" He looks back at the ghosts. "Uh yeah! We're like... Pathfinders but..." He pauses for dramatic effect before adding in a booming voice.
Zarg shuffles over to Teka. "uh?" He cringes for a moment as he can feel the guardian's burning a hole in the back of his head with their glares. "Uh... ah can translate if'n that'll help." He waggles his fingers and recites as quietly as he can, "Bibbity boo bibbity bay what the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] does this all say?"
He begins to jot down as best a translation as he can for Teka to work with.
Zarg was too busy tying his shoes to attend the briefing with Naiaj. He gets the cliff-notes version on the way. Upon seeing the strange creatures attempt to communicate with sign he prepares to cast comprehend languages again until he realizes that Teka seems to have it covered. "Umm... Teka? If'n they ask if yer a god... say yes."
"D'awww Kneepuncher... ahm a glad ya feel that way too." Zargothrax gives him a big hug. Or as big of a hug as he can given the power armor issue. "So uh... proudest moment... uh... yer honor uh... can I approach the bench?" He whispers a tale to the Emissary and draws a little diagram of an electrical system he was forced to deal with.
"So uh... would you've done it differently?"
"So uh... was rumors that these ruins might be haunted." he says with an unusually strong pronunciation of the 'u' in 'haunted.' "We're here ta check it out! Beeeeeg ruins so got a beeeeg team taday! Anywho... we been studyin' all 'o the writin' on the walls, solvin' puzzles, gettin' ambushed by ice monsters... hopefully less 'o that part and more 'o the readin and puzzlin... Been a bit tough. Ahm a used ta findin' broken stuff that needs fixin... but the stuff we find broken dun have much 'lectronics innit. Ahm a lectrition by trade... or was... but ahm also a magician, and ah can read all 'o the stuff with a little waggle 'o mah fingers! But we prolly gonna set up sensors and cameras and stuff and take readins and crunch data and try not ta get blow'd up."
He gives a toothy grin. "Oh and uh... we also do the whole... explore... report... and get along. Ah think Fitch'd be mad if'n ah left that part out... and ah like Fitch. Dun really have much tranquility back home! Veskarium big into the army thing. Got more buddies here, ann uh... I kinda like learnin stuff. So I just wanna hang with mah buddies here ann make shore they're safe and learn new things and not die a horrible painful death a long way from home with little to no chance of return..." A thousand-yard stare crosses his face... but he quickly snaps out of it. "...by waggling mah fingers!" He waggles his fingers and makes rainbow sparks.
"Summon th'color of ver-dant spring? Ain't that like... green on most planets? Ya sure ya dun see a green glass thingy too Maxy?
Very slowly the gears begin to turn. "Way back when I was just a little bitty vesk livin in a box under the stairs in the corner of the basement of the house half a block down the street from Jerry's ammo shack... you know the place... Well anyway, back then we was doin fun art projects and mixing colors of the blood of fallen enemies! So like... red blood and blue blood made purple... and blue blood and yellow blood made green blood!" He thinks long and hard about that then adds, "... ok... that was kinda creepy now that ah think of it." He jets up to try his theory.
"Zargothrax McDonald... but you may know me by..." He fumbles around in his pack and pulls out a towel and paper party hat adorned with stars and moons. He uses a pair of binder clips to attach the towel to protrusions on the shoulders of his armor, then uses a cantrip to levitate the hat onto his head.
He strikes a ridiculous pose while waggling his fingers for a solid 5 seconds beyond 'silly' and into 'awkward.' "So uh... yeah... was gone for a year. Came back to somethin' bout some rat causin' trouble. Came and kicked her offa her ship hopin' it'd get me back inta the whole starfind'rin thing. After that took a mission back ta the Veskarium... get a little taste 'o home. Been readin' a few mishun r'ports ta try ta get back inta the swing 'o things."
Marcus pulls the arrow out of his armor and inspects the tip. "Excuse me... I do believe this is yours." Marcus's eyes turn inky black as he considers several flight paths before finally releasing the arrow, causing it to fly just over Sola's shoulder, and straight into the thug in front.
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