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As you turn to leave, he does an odd thing. He makes a circle with two fingers, holds them up to his eye, and says, "Be seeing you." F~$* he's weird. You step over a hall strewn with motionless security guards and find yourself at Thirsty's Bar.
"Negative!" the 'bot responds definitively to inquiries if Borak is there. "His personnel are located at this space and do maneuver containers of items and things for purchase at times during the wake-cycle, but they are not currently located here. However, as he is a dealer in pharmaceuticals that are not legalized for any purpose and therefore are not dealt with here, I believe that he has been known to occupy the location-space known as Thirsty's Bar.
Thirsty's Bar is a pretty popular watering hole, and it's location is known to all of you. Drakul, Trask, Red Shirt Guy, and anyone else observing the cargo dock, everyone that you can see has been carrying on as they were before your arrival. Due to the lack of clever ambushes or obvious assassination attempts on your person, it's pretty doubtful that Lord Borak, who probably has a sizable quantity of guards, would be holed up here. "Affirmative, fellow life-form" the bot says as he's clandestinely asked about weapons. "If you are pursuing that particular no-good personage, then some things could be made available...but not for free." In his odd gait, he takes you to a private-ish cove of crates and opens one. For any who can pay, he'll outfit you with Clint-class blaster pistols. They're good for a few decent shots, but all that power means they take a lot to charge.
Sounds good to me! Dude man, just a word: Please do try and keep the encounters somewhat in our orbit. We don't know from the description "A troll is coming" whether it's a normal troll, and maybe something we can handle, or if it's somehow CR9 and something we should run from. If every monster can have PC levels, then every combat is something we'll have to run from. (Like, we have no way of knowing if one of the gnolls is a 10th level fighter.)
I'm not trying to be a killjoy, I'm just saying my perspective as a player. =) Does this make sense?
James notices that Jimara has dropped herrifle, and assumes that she seems to prefer to get up close. "Jimara, if Zander and I can keep them off you, do you think between yourself, and...that thing, you guys could pull the lady out of there?" James emphasizes his words by sending two shots into the pack of gnolls.
James runs away as fast as he can. He is amazed to see Copperbottom, with many rents and angry gears protesting, keeping pace with him as an astounded Zander hangs on for dear life. When the party is safely away from the angry ur-mutant, James re-dons his cloak and assumes a sense of normality. "Well," he says, his voice still low and even, "that was pretty wild. Zander, take some time and get Copperbottom stitched up, then we'll start North-West again. Hey, I just got here, do any of you guys know anything about this town?"
James shows as much panic as an emotionless biomech can, and calls out to his companions, "Breakaway!" He moves directly perpendicular from the axis that the mutant and the golem were on, trying to get the thing's attention away from the golem. "Hey Ugly! I bet the only dates you get are on a calender!" In case his witting barb doesn't get his attention, he also shoots him.
"Jimara, Zander, and think we've got company," James says, his even, hoarse voice filled with more power than usual. "Spread out, give us a good firing line. If it goes after one of us, run while the others maintain fire. I'll take left. And you," James says to Emile. "We get to see what it is you do." James drops all pretense of normalcy and holds up his right forearm. A large assault rifle unfolds from it and he keeps it trained on the coming noise as he sidesteps to the left of the group. 'ATA-C online. Analyzing detected threat. Please wait....'
'Insufficient data. Unable to comply.'
'Target acquired. Firing solution calculated.' James visually tracks the fleeing figure, but when he sees the Drow also has a lock but doesn't fire, he figures there's no need to go hot when she hasn't.
'For maximum transport load, take the max press load, add a zero, and cut in half.' "If he can lift 175, he can drag half of 1750, or 875. That should be good for a dessicated tree." That done, he moves his feet NorthWest, somehow feeling that he is now someone else's shadow, whether he wants it or not. He keeps his eyes peeled for any other trackers.
'Scanning error. Please contact your system administrator--' James sighs. He knew should've gotten that patch before leaving.
As he leaves the tree for the giant golem to carry, James calls down a detailed HUD on the next two finds. Ironbloom mushrooms would be located in one of the few, deep, damp grottos left in the wastes. I do know of these grottos other then that they exist. Rat's tail is something that the Sand Stalker, a mutant who lurks ten miles west and north of here might know of. Be careful she isn't known for being nice or friendly and she will ask for something in return for her knowledge... Finding her may take some time, she is nomadic but generally moves around a ten-20 mile radius.
"Let's keep going another five miles to the NorthWest. Hopefully we'll come across this 'Sand Stalker'. On the way keep an eye out for damp grottos. Let's go."
James sees the pit reveal itself, but, sensing no change to the tactical situation, makes no move, keeping his vigil. His ATA-C starts running calulations on how hard it would be to cut the tree down and haul the whole thing back, or it the lady would be content with just a few branches. He remembers asking how much she wanted, but can't recall her answer.
Movement at the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he looks over just as Emile is fully revealing herself. He stumbles a bit as his feet skip a beat, and though his mirrored eyes can't reflect shock, his mouth gapes open an inch and his paces slows. "Lady," he says, his voice still even, though sounding a bit more hoarse, "what the hell are you?"
James stands a ways apart from Jimara, still scanning the area, but not picking up anything. Still, he respects her as a warrior. "What? Is it a trap or something?"
James' ATA-C forms a plan, complete with priorities. Businesslike, James informs the others of the steps with the highest efficiency rating. "Guys, since we only have one definite location, how about we start heading north to the Silt Pond? Along the way we may see some grottos. And the Pond will probably put us closer to the Sand Stalker. Sound good?"
"Yeah, just marched in, you could say. I'm supposed to help stabilize the region, but," he makes a show of looking around, "but I don't see much here worth stabilizing. How long have you lived here? And what exactly do you do, Ms. Fuente?" His stance is casual, but he's never really still. Almost as if he's uncomfortable in his own skin.
'Welcome, Legionnaire. Advanced TargAing Cystem now acti--' James minimized the ATA-C Display but kept the wireframe overlay of the newcomers. None of them showed hostile or criminal tendencies, but you could never be sure. "Good to meet you, Mr. Cogvalt," James replied in his same voice: Low, breathy, monotone. "I'm James. Did you make that yourself or did it follow you home one day?" It might be a joke. Or it might not. James nods in the direction of Emile. "It's a little early for me, but I won't keep you from imbibing, Ms...?" He follows the girl inside, and motions for the gnome to join him.
Disguise to appear human= take 10 + 2 - 2 = 10. A big man in a longcoat walks noiselessly into town. He's not from here, but he is from a place much like this. He ran hard and long to get away from there. And now he's back. He walks quietly up to the sign, where a heavy-armored Drow and a...young girl?...are already gathered. 'This is as good a place to start as any', he thinks. He catches the eye of the Drow and the girl. "Hi there," he says in a breathy, deep, monotone. "I'm new here, but that sign looks bonafide. Wanna check it out?" If they seem to concur he strides toward the middle of town, his pace accompanied by the faint hum of a motor.
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