John U. Rawlins's page

John chuckles. "We do seem to have trouble making friends lately. But I'm not sure that's our fault. Greys, reptoids, and nut jobs are making life -- difficult. But, I'm glad you're here with us. At least you can't take off with the ship." John emits another small chuckle.

"Nut job or not, this guy may have real information. We need to talk to him. The books could be a lever to get him to want to talk to us."

"Doc, they could be a crazy person who picked us at random, but I rather think they were tipped off somehow, probably through conspiracy theories dot infosphere. I'd rather not think that they know anything substantial. That would mean they're a grey or a reptoid, or an accomplice."

Perception, Are the photos from the perspective of the guy we chased? And what about other computers, datapads, or comm units?: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24

"Cid, why shouldn't we take his books? They're probably his most important possessions, and would give us leverage."

"Conspiracy theory garbage most of it," JOhn says, but his voice doesn't carry the conviction it would have a short time ago. Afterall we're all living a conspiracy theory right now.

"We should slag all his electronics to limit his surveillance and take the books. Maybe we can hold them for a ransom of information."

John looks for a comm unit or computer, or any kind of surveillance equipment.

John slides out his tool kit and gives the door a once over.

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 30
Engineering for what ever: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22

Then I'll wish I still had some grenades.

Are there windows or alternate exits from the apartment complex?

John's ready to put his comm down in frustration, when Doc signals that she's traced the signal. He nods and stands immediately to follow the halfling.

At the secluded spot.

Agreed. But this could also be a trap. I should reconnoiter before we all go in.

John draws out his comm and to the casual onlooker idly browses it.

computers: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (10) + 13 = 23

John reaches over and takes Cid's proffered comm, then he gestures for T'sorkel to give him his comm. He compares the messages. Looking at the shirren, he taps his head and circles a finger to include the group.

Same message on both comms. Someone is messing with us. There's no logic to this game unless they are just trying to raise the pressure on us. Feels like another grey or reptoid power play. We may receive some kind of demand later.

Other than that, we play the hand dealt us.

John considers how to make his contribution. If the local chapel of Abadarcorp provides resources and opportunities that he knows how to take advantage of, it also represents a terrible risk. If they are aware that he is wanted by the Stewards, they will feel duty bound to turn him in. And repugnance fills him at the prospect of lying to corporation officials.

On the other hand, the various skills that the corporation has trained him in would be of most value to a criminal enterprise -- or a local theatrical company. Deliberately choosing criminal activity is also repugnant, and theatrical companies notoriously don't pay well.

He sighs and shakes his head.

Computers check to see how public our wanted status is, and estimate the odds the local chapel is aware: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28 Gonna wish I'd kept that to use for my real roll.

Diplomacy, communal reroll: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (20) + 12 = 32

Teamwork for the win!

John turns his back to the barathu and bends slightly to wink at Doc Flintbridge, "Very good, madame." He nods, spins, and glides smoothly toward the desk, the complete unctuous servitor.

At the desk he addresses the barathu. "We are looking for a permit to go to Roselight. Can you assist us?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

John misses the landing on his handspring and veers into a rack of textiles. He quickly untangles himself and resumes pursuit, but at the next intersection, there is no sign of the stranger, not even a ripple in the flow of foot traffic.

"We should move quickly to get our visa and be gone. "

John hurdles the first of the fallen packages, lands with a roll and cartwheels through the midst of them and finishes with a handspring over the last few.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21

If it matters, John has a land speed of 40'.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24
Athletics: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (16) + 13 = 29

He's good, but I've spent a lot of time on stations. It's still about reading the traffic. John tries to glide through the interstices in the flow of pedestrians. He wants to move as quickly and as smoothly as possible.

Is he looking back? Does he know we're pursuing?

John's torn. Let him go and just try to hurry through the permit process, or chase him to find out what he might say about the party. The impulse to pursue quickly wins out.

John dashes after the man, leaving this message floating behind him on comms. "I'll see what he has to say, and catch up with you later. "

Of course you can all come along if you want.

John looks back at the trox. "Never seen you looking so good, Rar'gul. What's the occasion?"

Perception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (17) + 13 = 30

No real customs control. Interesting. And you'd think they'd put the visa office near the docks. That would make it easy for greys or reptoids to infiltrate. Of course dock security at Absalom Station isn't much better.

Visa first. If we have to wait. I'll look him up then.

John intends to search for Enrique when there's a little spare time. He's interested to see if Enrique really exists -- which would support the clone theory, or if he is an online front , which would support the memory implant theory.

A few questions to help the search, Enrique's last name, and when he left for Absalom.

T'sorkel is ahead of John's request. He begins a psychic conversation with the party. This is the grays again, isn't it? They made copies of us and have their people living lives here. Maybe it's training for further missions.

Now it was beginning to feel right. The familiar panic settles on the Shirren.

No spoiler since it's to all of us, just not the NPCs

"Could be the greys. Clones were my first thought. They took those tissue samples. But they could have planted memories in her. If we get a spare second we could look up Enrique."

"I was with Enrique for well over a year. He grew up on Absalom Station, and I'm pretty sure that's where he is now."

The woman gives John a strange look. "Was he a thinker? What a strange question, but I think the answer is no. He's sort of a DUMBASS,actually. He works at a souvenir shop near Jatembe Park on Absalom, at least last I saw on Spacebook.

" IF you like ma'am, we could dig a little deeper than Spacebook. GIve me your contact information and if we find anything, we'll let you knpw."

"I am sorry for your troubles, ma'am. How long have you known, Enrique? Where was he from? Was he a great thinker?" He looks at T'sorkel on 'thinker'.

[diplomacy, gather knowledge] 1d20+ 12 [/dice]
trying to get a sense whether Enrique could be a clone.

BLuff, secret message: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (4) + 16 = 20
You can use Bluff to pass a secret message to an ally without others understanding the message’s true meaning. Doing so in combat is part of combat banter. The DC of this check is 15 for simple messages and 20 for more complex messages, as determined by the GM. Those overhearing the message can attempt an opposed Sense Motive check to learn the gist of the message. You cannot take 20 on a Bluff check to pass a secret message.

This has got to be a grey ploy. Is it more dangerous to engage, or keep her close? John sighs.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I am not Enrique. My name is John. You seem upset. Why don't you tell me your story?"

Am I on my own for this or with the party?

John steps back out of reach, and looks around quickly. Just the kind of thing that greys would do.

sense motive: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
Perception : 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (9) + 13 = 22

"You're confused and upset. I only just arrived on station. If you calm down, maybe I can help."

diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19

For himself, John picks up a selection of clothes and tools. The tools are easy, basic hacking and engineering kits that were smaller lighter, and more complete than the ones he'd cobbled together during their odyssey. So is a very efficient slim grey backpack to replace the beat up back sack that he'd salvaged.

It took a while to find a decent clothing store. Once inside, he moved through it in business-like fashion, making his selctions swiftly. His first purchase was underwear. Next was the suit of grey business wear to make him feel like a proper Abadaran again. Third, was two sets of loose robes, sash, and wide-legged trousers for comfortable use aboard ship. He picked up a small collection of items from the cosmetics section.

He'd planned on wearing the business suit out of the store, but putting it on in the dressing room, he suddenly realizes how vulnerable he would be without the armor. They could be out there anywhere. Who knows when they might attack again? Besides, corporate attire, even if it was three steps down from Abadaran Armani, wasn't right for dockside transactions.

He changed back into his armor to peruse the store once more. He settled on a lightweight black canvas jacket and dark cargo pants to wear over his armor. They should blend well on the docks. He strapped his gunbelt over the pants, and kept the good sword cane in hand. Everything else went into the pack. He cinched the compression straps down and slid his second cane under them.

I make that 1 normal, 2 athletic, and 1 formal outfits. 16 credits
Disguise, hacking, and engineering tool kits . 60 credits
Industrial back pack. 25 credits.
.
That will leave John with 2969 credits. If anyone is short he is happy to lend them some cash.

...

"New clothes?" he asks. "There should be some spare flight suits in the ship if you don't mind Pike's Perytons' branded gear. Do you have a preferred clothes retailer? If I am lacking funds, I'll just go to a 'lost-and-found' at a security station and borrow a jacket or cap. Then just leave it behind before departing the station. Works in many cities too."

John shudders briefly. "I'm not going to wear things from the dead reptoids. Makes my skin crawl to think about it. And I want something that broadcasts respectability. "

Lilly picks up a new flight suit in a pleasing pastel purple.

“I need a break from the sharp colors.”

She slides her hand over the arm of the flight suit.

“There’s something something about wisteria that always helps relax.”

"Looks good, Doc. And dressed in that, they'll never look for the needles."

John drops his gaze to his armor, skintight, scarred, and patched. His weapons and the armor. They were all he'd worn since the Chimera. He hadn't been able to bring himself to wear any of the reptoids' clothes left in the Voidcrier. That thought was too creepy. It was better to air bathe when he washed his undergarments and they dried while he slept. He was dressed like a security guard with action hero delusions, or, a desperately poor pirate.

He casts a quick gaze over his companions. Clad as they all were, and bristling with paranoia fueled awareness, the androids should have steered clear of them. They didn't look like easy marks. They looked like the team that whoever was running the androids should have sent to intercept us.

No wonder his tired attempt at proselytization had failed. He had been lacking two essential tools, conviction and image.

"If we're going to try doing business in a civilized manner, we need some new clothes, a mask."

Personally John wants to buy a suit of business wear, a pair of sets of loose robes, sash, and wide-legged trousers. He'd like to pick up a slim backpack, a hacking, an engineering, and a disguise kit.

You left out “paranoid”… we’re now paranoid murder hoboes.

An unintentional oversight. You are quite right, paranoid murder hoboes.

Cidribvoot stands with his two lower eyes closed, while his third eye observes. Arms crossed, he appears to be thinking. After a few moments he says ,"John, we could try an investigative journalist. Change our tactics if OCI denies our application."

"I don't think we would want the publicity, but it's good you're thinking of alternatives."

Cidribvoot herds the androids towards the exit. "Yes, yes. I suggest if you see us in the future, you change course."

Once the androids are gone, he asks, "Are we all going, or should someone guard the ship?"

"It would be bad to lose the ship. It's possible we'll run into more trouble. Why don't you stay with us? At least we'll be stranded together."

Well. It seems this adventure path has transformed us from solid citizens to murder-hoboes. Isn't that special?

It seems John's companions have set another price for the thugs. He shrugs. He doesn't really care. With very little enthusiasm he says, "Look into Abadarcorp. It could change your life."

"Even some loser marks from off-station know that. What if OCI denies our application? Who else could we go to?"

This is mostly John just being a little cruel. And developing a backup plan to official channels. We can skip over it.

Just pour the serum Rar'gul's offered down the android's throat.

John looks after the two fleeing androids, then back to the slowly retreating one. "Nice friends you had there. Are you planning to leave your friend here?" He pauses a beat. "As for letting you go, that would be a gift of considerable value, and Abadar doesn't give gifts, but bargains and payments. Tell us about the station. Who can get us visas and and passes to the various moons? Are your two other friends going to stir up trouble for us?"

I guess this is a gather information try. I'll take 10 if I can, and roll if I can't.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30

John kneels beside Cidribvoot and the dying(?) thug. "They were brazen. Maybe this kind of thing happens frequently on the docks here." He first wipes the blood off his blade on the thug's clothes, sheathes the sword, then stands by to help the dirindi.

Aid, Medicine: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Street thugs trying extortion? I don't think there's anything to be gained by more killing. Might be worth it to try to save blue (is bleeding out dead?) and hang on to red for whatever passes for police here. I'll let T'sorkel make a move before John chimes in IC.

Yay, I love the news team battle!

John gives Cidribvoot a quick glance and nod. He uses the shot's impact to clear his second sword from its cane-sheath.

Just some flavor. It's coming out next turn.

Was interrupted while posting this morning. I'd like to trick attack too. Blue's my target so no AoO from him. Although if his bike has a melee weapon I'll face an attack from it.

Trick Attack, succeeds v CR: 1d20 + 16 - 20 ⇒ (5) + 16 - 20 = 1
If successful opponent is flat-footed or off-target until my next turn. Well that won't work.

Seeing yellow turn to run and Doc Flint-Bridge's shot hit home, John says, "New plan. Left to right." He runs to flank the enemy, sliding his sowrd clear on the way.

Melee sword cane, advanced v KAC blue: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23 ... damage: 1d4 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10 critical Bleed 1d4; Analog.operative)

"Rar'gul, let's roll them up from right to left."

Wasn't planning anything much with the bluff, GMQ. Just to get the sword loose in its sheath without them noticing. I do want to fast talk green, however.

Bluff: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (4) + 16 = 20 Well that probably won't work.

"Accursed one! The golden avatar comes for you!" John points behind green.

Which one's been doing the talking?

"Doc, stay behind Rar'gul."

"It was an offer of instruction, not an attempt to proselytize." John sighs and places his hand on his chest. "As a good Abadaran, I pledge to return here and give you what you deserve. Or you can come with us. Let's go. "

Bluff, misdirection with sincere hand on chest placement: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (13) + 16 = 29
He drops his left to the hilt of his new sword, and thumbs it forward slightly out of the sheath. He turns and starts to walk slowly toward the station hub.

Through T'sorkel net: "I've no intention of letting them steal from us. Maybe one or more of us can slip away to alert the authorities while I stall."

That's what I figured, but it didn't hurt to ask. And on equipment again. Are they wearing armor? What else can you tell us?

Through T'sorkel net:
"Fraudsters or thugs. Does anyone see a constable, or call box? If it comes to fight don't kill them if possible. It might invite investigation."

John mentally grits his teeth while continuing to smile and says, "A drastic discount indeed! Are you associated with Abadarcorp by any chance? They offer classes on the art of bargaining among other tenets of commerce.
I'll give you one of the most broadly known tenets for free. Fair price for fair value. For a mere 100 credits, I'll tell you the first flaw in your bargaining strategy."

are they wearing uniforms, or do they have any kind of official badge? I'm presuming not. How are they equipped?

"You know where our ship is and could easily prevent us from undocking or even getting back on board. That seems security enough. If it's not, perhaps I could remain behind. " He looks hard at T'sorkel. "Captain, what are your thoughts on this matter?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20
Bluff, secret message v DC 15 or 20 at GMQs determination: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (3) + 16 = 19

John smiles back at the androids. If Upwell allows this on the docks, we might do very well here.

"I am sorry, Gentlebeings, but we have insufficient funds on us at this moment. We need to draw upon our account at BancAbadar. I promise that we will return and deliver the docking fee to you as soon as possible."

BLuff: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (13) + 16 = 29

Culture, Roselight: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Culture, Stewards: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Mercenary, Stewards: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Just seeing what John knew for himself.

"You're well-informed, T'sorkel." John makes a mental note about Evosco, and the Constabulary's branch office. The director may be their primary hunter, or a possible asset if presented with a well-timed and convincing communication. Further research is called for.

"Once the right person gets Narla's message, they'll make us their business. They're going to think we blew up Tyralkis. We'll only be able to hide out at Upwell for a few days at most."

...He indicates a monitor to the left. "That's the planned course."

He reads the files when they become available. "My family won't believe this about me at least. Well maybe some might after what happened at Skydock..." his voice fades off as he becomes lost in thought.

...

Pretty sure GMQ said Cidribvoot was not included in the reptoid frameup. Presumably because when Narla (or whoever) put it together, they still thought Cid was a reptoid.

GMQ, can you confirm I remembered that correctly?

John looks over the dirindi's course. He saves off a copy of the file and when Cidribvoot is resting John researches ship navigation and checks the course against his own neophytic calculations.

When everyone's oout to get you paranoia is just good thinking.

Divine Revelation?

"Not the Drift. And on a slow course besides, something a tramp freighter plot to conserve fuel."

Do we have stats for Voidcrier? I remember one combat with the greys.

"Upwell sounds as good as any other port. Let's take a round-about route to get there. We can have a good look at Narla's frame in the meantime."

Would like to really go through the false trail Narla gave the Steward's, and see how completely we are boxed in. Also the meta-data of her files, to see if there's a flaw that we can use to discredit the frame.
GMQ, is the frame airtight? Are there any holes in it we could investigate? Was it addressed to anyone in particular?

COmputers: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24

"Hiding near Liavarra? I wouldn't have thought of that. I was thinking to boost for the Diaspora. Liavarra might be clever enough that the Stewards don't think of it either.
If I can contact Abadar Corp we can be assured of proper due process of law. Depending on how good the frame is we may be vindicated.
I don't think we can assess the rot in the Stewards, but we can take a closer look at what they've been sent."