Prof. Spec Silvervanes's page

Surprise Round
Finding himself in the front line of burgeoning hostilities (definitely not one of his favorite places to be) Spec reflexively lashes out at Ludilius
Claw: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Regular Round
He then reminds himself why this was all a horrible idea, carefully steps back while drawing his pistol, and flashes distracting lights into the Azlanti's eyes.
Bluff for Clever Feint: 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 8 + 2 + (3) = 27 If successful, (DC=10+SM bonus or 15+1.5*CR) opponent is flat footed to everyone until the end of Spec's next turn

Spec bumbles out into the middle of the conflict, three feet of tweed, fluff, and massive spectacles ... essentially whatever the opposite of intimidating is.
"Officer Ludilinius sir!" he puffs out
"A thousand apologies for the tardiness of this one's presentation of the papers. The sheer impassiveness of the location has quite scrambled what little wit this one had to begin with." Spec is continuously bowing and scraping as he rambles.
"If your illustriousness would just peruse these files here, it is sure that one such as yourself could immediately divine any sort of discrepancy!"
At this point the little xaursi is actually glowing a bit from what looks like sheer anxiety.

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (17) + 8 + (4) = 29

He attempts to present the datapad with the appropriate information displayed

Computers: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

but apparently just pitches the pad onto the floor.
Then mutters"Oh dear"

Over the mental link "Minos....help??"

In between gasping breaths and multitudinous slips and falls the frail bird struggles to push even the lightest of skittermander-bearing crates (much to the amusement of any watching Azlanti, he's sure). Somewhere amongst all the labor, he finally notices Prosper's lack of communication and contact's him telepathically

"Oh dear, oh my ... are you quite alright in there? No one coded your comms over did they ... drat! Uhm, well if you have anything to say, I'll keep checking in with you and then relay it to the group! .... Would that help?"

The professor wracks his brain (and his library chip, assuming an opportunity presents itself) to see what he can remember about cargo transfer protocols and typical liberty limitations on Azlanti governmental installations. (He hopes to get some idea of how far they can push the Relic crew identity.)
Culture: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26 +4 more if the chip can be accessed

The professor scurries down the gangway, datapad in-talon, after "Captain Rafflexis", the spitting image of yet-another nearly-invisible administrative flunky.
"Many apologies Captain... here are your cargo manifests as demanded by our primary objective , sir! Everything should be in order for these elite Guards of Gulta."
Spec cringes in a rather obviously servile manner, muttering inane details in an effort to help the Captain sell the story, while surreptitiously scoping out the guard.

Bluff to aid: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 8 + (4) = 26
Sense Motive to aid: 1d20 + 10 + 1d6 ⇒ (16) + 10 + (4) = 30

Spec shuffles busily into the frame, with a datapad nearly attached to his flat owl-face, calling out in a distracted tone:
"Captain Rafflexis sir? Terribly sorry to bother you on the bridge sir, but there seems to be one more space on the ASN-2204 Temporary Relinquishment of Command form that needs to be filled in."
He stumbles over to the command chair, seeming oblivious to everything else.
"See sir, you need to sign here right next to Captain Tildanec's....". At this point, the xaursi finally looks up and realized the scowling Azlanti in front of him was on an important call.

*gulps audibly*" oh no Um, sorry sir, this can definitely wait til we get back to Zed, Captain Tildanic won't need it till then ....

With a resigned look, he mutters "don't worry sir, I'll go flog myself now ... I know where the tools are" and scurries quickly off scene again.

Bluff: 1d20 + 6 + 1d6 ⇒ (18) + 6 + (3) = 27

I've been assuming that the xaursi serve the Empire in much the same fashion as the screedreep ... administrators, errand persons, and all-around comic relief (at least comical to overbearing race-supremacists )
I'd imagine most Azlanti would ignore him like a piece of furniture as long as someone kicked him every so often.
Maybe go with an extension of the previous ruse .... commandeered the vessel to get some prisoners and/or supplies to the moon?
Captain Tildanec would've totally been here, but you know sometimes visiting that one asteroid colony .... ya know ... a nasty case of Xendexuma's Revenge
Just trying to help a fellow captain out after all .... noone wants to lose a cargo over such a small thing

Spec is somewhat taken aback by the success of his gambit...
"Umm, well yes indeed... such a mutually beneficial tactic for all. Please Captain, return to the festivities and enjoy yourself."

With that, the professor beats a hasty retreat to the Relic, (flapping a harried wave to Half-Red and Hassachir on the way past), half-convinced that something will explode if he waits around too long.

Spec swoops down next to the Azlanti leader
"Yes of course milady, but before we get too far into things, might it be most prudent if your Ladyship might have the good Captain first sign the NDA under the briefing materials there? I'm sure codifying the rewards and penalties would be most beneficial someone collecting this sort of open favor."

The xaursi's somewhat predatory grin was of course a sad side effect of evolution past, and not at all a result of loading a negotiation with psychological apprehension via the universally feared specter of legal paperwork.

Once that is completed:
"Now Captain, I'm sure you saw the Interdictor out there, and noticed the state he was in. I know I don't have to remind you how powerful that kind of old family is .... and how dangerous their enemies are. We had thought this accursed backwater was secure enough for his recovery, but alas his enemies are doggedly persistent."

He leans closer to the man and lowers his voice
"Your fortuitous arrival has provided an amazing opportunity for all of us though. You can can garner blank-slate favors from two well-situated imperial noble families, by essentially doing nothing!
You know that old bylaw, the one that states an agent of the Throne may commandeer any and all equipment needed to accomplish a Throne-Directive? Well, that is going to draw more attention than we want, unless we can count on you being a loyal servant of the Empire.
Just let your crew take a bit of shore leave here, and her ladyship's crewmen can use The Relic to deliver the Interdictor to a secure location so he may recover enough to complete his priority mission."
"Your ship will be returned to you completely unharmed (and potentially with a little bonus onboard) and you will have two favors to call upon at your discretion."

Spec grabs the datastick and presses it into Tilldanec's hand.
"All of the contact and redemption details you need are on this device. As long as the terms of the NDA are met, it shall remain viable and penalty-free. What do you say Captain? You rarely get an opportunity to simultaneously get compensated for taking a vacation as well as prove your loyalty to the Empire (and your crew will love you for giving them the time off!)"

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 8 + (3) = 26

The fussy little owl spends the meal scurrying about, attempting to make sure that her Ladyship, the Captain, and the Interdictor are not seen to be lacking for anything .... and otherwise becoming incredibly ignorable to any cultured Azlanti.

Spec blinks his acknowledgement to the signal and busily bustles out the door to "prepare" the antechamber for a briefing.

He sets a few pages onto the small table, with a datastick on top of them, and turns on the small-but-tasteful lamp to provide a small pool of illumination over the desk-of-obvious-interest.

The professor perches near the ceiling of the room, as near to the door as possible, thinking "No one ever looks up right away" as he prepares to cast his DC 15 charming spell as soon as the shot is clear.
Probably as her Ladyship leads the Captain across the room towards the table.

To Prosper (and anyone else listening)
"What if you , in your high-and-mighty-Azlanti-noble guise, can convince the Captain to meet privately with you for a moment while his crew is being served, so that he may be briefed on the service you require?
I can be concealed nearby and cast a charming spell on him (repeatedly until it sticks), and we can convince him that his vessel is urgently needed to return the Interdictor to Azlant space for a critical task. The captain and crew would be "compensated" for their invaluable assistance to the Empire, but would have to remain here in this location as to not betray the mission by being sighted by those darned rebels. And I'm sure teh chef would be mortified if he wasn't able to leave them with enough fine cuisine to last them their stay."

Spec nods in a satisfied way

"The best part is that when the spell wears off, the captain will remember giving the order to stay put and assist but not why he did so. We can likely rely on his sense of self preservation to delay the thought of breaking the confidence of such powerful Azlanti until we are long done with the Relic .... and who would he report to that wouldn't kill him for his failure?"

"What do you think?"

Spec responds to the crewmen
"Thank you for your concern sirs, but I assure you that even an injured Interdictor is more than sufficient to dissuade the riffraff on this station. On that note however, my mistress dearly wishes his return so I must comply. Please take your time going about your business so that you may enjoy the dinner later"
in a stage whisper
"If you have never sampled the fare from a noble family's singing chef, I assure you it is like no other"
With another florid bow "Ahem. Good day sirs." And he attempts to usher Aldrox out of the docking bay.

-------------

Once out of sight, he quickly consults his culture chip for Azlanti trends.
Culture: 1d20 + 7 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 7 + 4 = 20
And finds what he thinks is a reference to the popularity of industrial-chic restaurants among young Azlant nobles "slumming" away from their core planets

Telepathic to the group
"Does anyone remember any relatively clean mechanical spaces that Wint, the majordomo, and the chef can convincingly present as a catered industrial-chic dining hall? Ideally one with a small space where the Lady could invite the captain for a brief moment of "higher" discussion?"

The pudgy professor comes up behind Pon at a huffing owl-sprint ... Azlanti"Oh no, Interdictor Aldrox, you simply have not recovered enough to be out and about like this... oh dear, the mistress shall have my pinfeathers for this"

He fusses about around Pon before giving a noticable start upon apparently noticing the Azlanti crew
Drawing himself up with equal parts obsequiousness and servility, the little owl speaks officially to the crew

"Greetings honored crew of the Relic. My mistress sends greetings to the captain of this august vessel, and wishes to attend a formal invitation to such a distinguished individual to attend a civilized dinner this night, and to discuss matters of import"

He bows to the crew members.
"My lady also offers greetings to all true servants of the empire and would entreat them to attend as well if their duties permit. Obviously the tables of the highborn shall remain separated as is proper, but you are all welcome to suitable accommodation."

He steps forward and initiates a data transfer request
"Would one of you citizens be so kind as to convey the invitation to your captain?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 8 + 1d6 ⇒ (20) + 8 + (4) = 32
Sense Motive to see if they are buying it: 1d20 + 10 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 10 + (6) = 20
Computers to generate an invitation: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

Telepathic link
Prosper, time for another noble impersonation. Wint, go find us some part favors after all. Dal, can you find us a "house?"

Spec glances around at his comrades quickly before blurting out. "But wouldn't it be better if we could get the captain to voluntarily disembark his men?"

At the no-doubt incredulous looks he receives:
"No, seriously! If we can get the captain alone for a minute, he might be succeptible to some magical persuasion .... Such that he could be convinced that the entire crew would be happier and more loyal to him if they gotta bit of shore leave... Together..
And of course his new friends would be more than happy to secure the ship... It's not like anyone would dare to take it right?
and as an added bonus, when the spell wears off, he'll remember ordering the time off and leaving the ship... But not why he did so .... And if I were him, I'd not be eager to report that sort of weakness to any authority"

"and if it doesn't work, Dalinar's boarding is still viable"

Spec hurries back over to Half-Red (with RushLING in tow) just in time to hear her express her fears to Minos. Thankfully the mental voice he projects to the stelliferan shows none of the huffing and puffing he is otherwise visibly engaging in.
"Hello again dear one! Unfortunately my large bovine friend here is entirely correct as to our predicament. On the other side, we have absolutely no desire to put you at risk in any way. Would it be possible for there to be a legitimate reason to call the Relic here and you actually trade them something, and then perhaps in a completely unrelated location, I can "convince" Here Spec grins and flashes his feathers in a hypnotic pattern for a brief moment the captain that his crew has been sorely overworked lately and is in need of some R&R immediately?"

He looks over at Rush and Minos "Perhaps my overly technically gifted comrades here could find a way to implant a code in the Relic by the time we come back that indicates it was momentarily and legitimately appropriated by higher authority, all for the greater good of course!"

Spec pipes up. "Umm, not to rain on the party parade, but doesn't that seem a rather premature solution at this juncture? Might it not prove more prudent to investigate who the captain of any passing vessel might be and what motivations might entice them most effectively?

Also, if we can ascertain the presence of an ally/acquaintance to a captain on this station, might we not simply "ask" them to kindly prevail upon the captain for a visit of some importance?"

After Pon whacks his head
"Oh dearie me!" Spec exclaims as he rushes off to see what horrific calamity has befallen the normally agile Pon.
Medicine: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
[b]"I knew being tall came with risks, but this is just awful! Thank the Shadow that you are so hard headed... otherwise this could've been awful!" he mutters as he teams up with Rush to get Pon patched up as much as possible.

After the immediate crisis has been dealt with, the little professor's scholarly bent reasserts itself as he remembers the strange alien name Talmrin mentions, and he turns to Prosper to see if a bit of discussion can shake loose any information about these slivaras.
Life Science: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

-------------------

Replying to Lingston's message
Spec sends
"Wow Lingston, that is truly an honor coming from a Skyfire Centurion! I'd be happy to go over these tactics with you and 'Rush' as soon as we get a spare hour."

-------------------

to the group
"Umm .... I know I'm not the craftiest one here, but ... couldn't we fake a message from the marketplace manager or trading consortium that would maybe get one of those ships to "lawfully divert" to Zed?
Maybe the pirates have already planned something of the like?"

Back at the Xaarb
Spec gets the message to drop everything and hurry off to Pon, and so assists Prosper in offloading their cargo to the Xaarb in as expeditious a manner as possible (yet without offering the creature enough insult to rouse it from it's "vesk"-cowed state)

-----------------------

----------------------

Upon reaching Talmrin, Spec steps up beside Dalinar (but just a half-step back), and bows, "Good day Ms. Talmrin, let me add my heartfelt greetings to those of my crewmates here. Please, let us know what it is you are looking for, and as Dalinar here said, we probably have someone who can do something about it ... meybe even several someones ... or is it several somethings ..?"

As he is chatting, the professor tries to get a read on Talmrin's answers and nonverbal cues.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (16) + 9 + (2) = 27

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (5) + 9 + (1) = 15
Spec cracks a beaky grin at Hassachir's nerves and then slowly blinks one giant orange eye at her.
Well, why else would we be here than to make a withdrawal from the bank. It has come to our attention that there have been certain assets retained by the bank that it simply does not have the authority to possess. We are factors of the asset's custodianship and intend to repossess said asset. Whether or not penalties are to be applied to the bank remains to be determined.
Bluff(secret message): 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + 7 + (2) = 12
One would hope that imperial loyalty would be at a low ebb this far out, at least here anyway.
He looks over to see Wint trading with the Xaarb and winces ...
Umm, I had probably get over there before Wint gives away too much, chat later? Bye!

-------------

The professor hurries over to the Xaarb-fest with Wint and Prosper. He then tries to mentally link up with the predator... and the Xaarb and Prosper too.
Greetings Hunter, the fearsome ones wish to trade with you, many accouterments of battle have they ...

Finding himself alone with Half-Red after Pon rushes off and Minos wanders away, Spec looks around a bit awkwardly now that he has no more conversation to relay..."Umm, thank you for the information Miss Half-Red, it was most kind of you to provide. I apologize for my "Azlanti" companion, he sometimes has .... trouble ... relating well to others, but I'm sure it had absolutely nothing to do with your gracious service, or your wonderful little shop."

He looks around again and appears to become slightly distressed at being left behind.

"I really had better get going before we all fall apart, but you were an absolute joy to talk to. Maybe if I get a chance to come back here I can come back and learn some more about that fascinating color-shifting language you have?"

He begins backing away before he bows jerkily and offers the traditional xaursi faerie feather farewell display before hurrying away to see what is going on with the terrifying fuzzy mouth-creature.

-------------

On his way past he telepathically contacts Hassachir and mind-whispers "Umm, so those two "merchants" seem a little bit communication-challenged .... and terrifyingly large! Do either the Xaarb or the Paralith have any specific languages they understand well that I could use mind-speech to accelerate our commerce and make sure that noone is too terribly upset later?"

In his newly destitute state, Spec doesn't even bother perusing Half-Red's wares...... Which is a good thing because he becomes hideously distracted by the linguistic morass occurring. He pops up next to Minos and begins attempting to mirror Half-Red's color shifts with his faerie feathers
Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
He also tries to reach out and mentally say hello to the apparently psychically-gifted creature.

To Hassachir:"Rush, heh ... Yes he is indeed one of the bravest individuals I've ever had the pleasure to know... And he's always like that.

Now, as to the matter of help ...hold on a second you're still oozing!

Spec aquints at her quizzically from behind his spectacles, then seems to come to some sort of conclusion
Medicine to evaluate condition: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
then his feathers glow gently as he reaches out a talon towards her wounds
Casts Mystic Cure 1d8 ⇒ 4HP

"Eww!"
Spec gingerly psychikinetic hands the filthy mods into a bag for later sanitation.
On his way out he notices the clumps of reddish fur..
"I wonder what left those here. And was apparently unmolested be the bugs, yet still left in a hurry...."
Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

--------

"Oh no, that's quite enough out of you lot!" and he begins frantically (and ineffectively) stomping at them
ClawStomp!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Spec steps a bit closer and hurls another grenade next to Yellow (this time between it and its Green friend)
"Nope, nope, nope! ... more FIRE!!"

Bombs Away: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
FIRE!!: 1d6 ⇒ 3 within 5'
Burn?: 1d4 ⇒ 3 DC12 Reflex for half and burn-negate

Spec stumble-steps away from that horrifying tongue, squeaks out "Aack! Kill it with FIRE!!
and pitches an incengiary grenade between Blue-of-the-Stabby-Tongue, and its Yellow friend
Bombs Away!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
FIRE!!: 1d6 ⇒ 1 within 5'
BURN?: 1d4 ⇒ 4 DC12 Reflex for half and burn-negate

Taking his cue from Wint (in the possibly mistaken assumption that he knows what he is doing) Spec also tries to localize their position and inform the group.
Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Whispered over comms: "Hey guys? Umm, Wint found a room with one of those odheos ... aaand now hes going in. I'm gonna try and sneak in with him. If you hear screaming, please help ......except you Rush ... shrimps don't need crabby infestations....going now!"

Spec shifts his feathers to try and pull any remaining darkness around himself and follows Wint in (Assuming Wint goes in)
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 2 = 19

Spec looks up just in time to see a flash of skitterfur vanish into the pipe
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14
and when he returns his gaze to Hasshachir to see that he had been applying mammalian poultices to her chitinous shell..
Medicine: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
"Oh crumpets! I am dreadfully sorry my dear, but this does not appear to be working at all the way I had imagined it would... maybe something different ... Ummm.....I'll return shortly!"
and he pudgy-owl-speed-trots after Wint
Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15
"Wait for me Wint! ...where are we going?"

Spec arrives at the cantina, puffing slightly, and grumbling something about round not being the right shape for this...

He stumbles to a stop near Wint and gesturing at the (presumably) only ill-looking wrikreechee around "Hey Wint, glad you're safe ..oh my, is this who you were talking about?" and without waiting for an answer, distractedly rushes off to attend to them.

Lacking the requisite mouthparts to properly speak the wrikreechee tongue, the professor instead projects a calm voice into the afflicted creature's mind.
"Greeting sufferer. My name is Spectrum Silvervanes, although friends call me Spec, or professor. What is your name?
Assuming she responds
"Hello Hasshachir, it is a pleasure to meet you. My friend Wint there says that you seem to be quite ill, so I'd like to take a minute and see what I can find out about what's going on here. Is that ok with you?"

Again assuming consent, Spec casts Detect Affliction
DC20 Intelligence: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
DC20 Wisdom: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
DC20 Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
DC20 Medicine: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

"Oh dearie me, where did you manage to pick up such a dreadful affliction?

Did we ever finalize the Sayonsi purchases?
I know she offered 6000 in credit, and most of that (or all?) was from the named weapons.
Prosper wanted the Ring of Resistance, Spec was eyeing the staff and spellgems, but that's a bit of a heavy lift.... What did anyone else want?

Spec looks down on the little reality drama unfolding almost literally at his feet and is torn between concern for his teammates well-being and cohesiveness, and attempting not to giggle at the incongruity of the claims made .. especially with the locational context.

Thankfully he is quite literally saved from the awful decision "by the bell" as it were, by nearly simultaneous communicator messages.

Seeing the "Private" flag on Lingston's, he returns in similar fashion

He then replies to both Wint and Rush.
"Oh hullo Wint, so that's where you are! Minos was just now asking where you went. We just found the un-welcoming committee, but they changed their minds now.
Umm, a sick Wrikreechee, well that sounds pretty awful. Why don't I head right over and have a looksie.

And Rush, maybe you should hold on a sec, just in case it is Death-Shrimp contagious.."

As the professor owl-lines his way to Wint's position, he rapidly blurts out to the group "Wint's over at the dispensers with a sick Shrimp but it's not our sick Shrimp but I don't think our sick Shrimp should get any sicker so I'm going over there first ok-see-you-there-bye!!"

Spec flaps up to a slightly better vantage-perch (if available), ensures his static arc pistol is blue-side-towards-enemy, and fires at the Yellow pickle-man

Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 2 + 1 = 16
Electric Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5 non-lethal

Spec deliberately does not glance at the draeliks Prosper points out and begins telepathically communicating with her and the nudged members.
"Oh dear, that certainly didn't take long at all did it? Should we perhaps lead them somewhere a bit ... less conspicuous... for Dalinar and Stag Render to have their little chat?

We can even make unwilling temporary friends with the leftovers if things go typically south?"

The professor is momentarily distracted by the staff of mystic healing..."Ooooh... so shiny.... and maybe I could keep people alive more ..."
He breaks free from his reverie with a relatively violent head shake ..
"Ahem ... yes Minos, some of those spell gems could come in handy ... you never know when you might need a few more temporary friends!"

He turns to address the witchwyrd directly (and at a 45-degree upward angle!)
"Honored Trademistress Sayonsi, it has been an indescribable pleasure hosting one as cultured and knowledgeable as you upon our humble tea-themed vessel.
As to the question of our rescue mission, I am here simply because I couldn't not be. The first (of very few) persons to simultaneously show kindness and to take seriously such a ridiculous creature as myself.... well, isn't that the kind of person worth chasing off the edge of the map?"

Shaking his head a final time "Anyway, for business .. I will try and figure finances out for that wonderful staff, but failing that the charming spell gems look ... well... charming." Spec jerks abruptly and begins rapidly rifling through the many pockets in his tweed coat. He eventually pulls out a small dusty media player Aha! One of my students "donated" this by playing it in my last class before I left on this trip. It is full of groups I've never heard of... Mutilatrix, Abysshead, Clang-Clang You're Dead, and RazorSoul Tourniquet to name a few. Maybe you can find some enjoyment ... or at least amusement from it." He hands it over.

Spec pipes up again
"Tradesmistress Sayonsi, if you did just come from the infamous Outpost Zed, then might it be possible that you could provide a recommendation for a reliable(ish) information broker or trade factor there who would be worth the price of business?"

After a short and nearly-clueless pause, he hurridly adds

"Of course, only if such a recommendation would not unduly harm your own interests... Of course!"

Spec spends a few minutes frantically searching through his library chip looking for appropriate witchwyrdian social customs and ceremonies.
Culture: 1d20 + 7 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 7 + 4 = 17
He then trundles into the room and greets Sayonsi with his best approximation of a formal witchwyrd welcoming gesture (substituting his wings in light-shifting mode for the missing arms)
"Humble greetings honored traveller, may your wares always find market. Your esteemed presence brings me great joy and I bid you most welcome."
He repeats the gesture again.

"It has been many of my years since last I saw these stars, and being greeted by one such as yourself must be an omen of the highest order.
Let us converse... And then let us commerce!
I await your news and your wares with equally bated breath."

The professor in him is evaluating her reactions and responses to his and the others' conversational attempts.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (13) + 9 + (2) = 24

Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
on tightband local comms"Hey guys.... she's a witchwyrd and..... well let's just say that if you want to do any shopping, she is probably the friendliest face we are going to..see? ..... you know what I mean!.... in quite a while.

Oh, and be polite! So unless someone has a really good reason, we shouldn't insult her by turning down tea and stories"

Culture: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12
I know I've seen that gesture before... but what does it MEAN?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 + 1d6 ⇒ (17) + 9 + (5) = 31
Spec definitely notices the message.. then mumbles to himself
"Ha! *grumble* Stewards and their authority games... this is probably what tuned Grimm into a plate on the wall at the Hall of Remembrance ... and now I'm off doing the same thing... ... I must have more brain damage than I thought ..."

-------------------------------

Underway
Spec remembers that there was a reason that he was thinking about brain damage and immediately trundles off to find Minos and commission some sort of diagnostic lozenges to try and use to collect data about Rush's neural state, how it changes over time, and to monitor the necrotic parasite growing inside him.
Life Science: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
Medicine: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

When not poking around at his friendly neighborhood Death-Shrimp, he spends some time familiarizing himself with the mystic weaponry system, when he isn't busy worrying why in the galaxy the Great Shadow would want someone like him on a mission this important.

It might be worth noting that that Spec's "worrying" involves a great deal of muttering to himself while hurrying about to nowhere in particular ... not unlike a certain famous White Rabbit

Spec smiles benignly at the (former?) cadets as well, and begins his blend of scientific evaluation and comforting half-truths, wrapped in a cocoon of earnest encouragement.
Professor of Xenoneurology: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Bluff: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (4) + 7 + (4) = 15
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

"Ah younglings.. I remember what it was like, what feels like a lifetime ago. You've probably never had to make a decision on your own before, and certainly not one of this magnitude! My father once told me "a cog isn't a cog until it is out of the clock" Now granted that took my own abandonment to really understand it, but in essence it means you are all something new, something different than you were last week."

He looks at Panna "Of course Elend and I have to leave you dear one, because only then will YOU learn to make the choice on who YOU want to be tomorrow."

He shifts over to Korath "Yes, you did them harm, even if it was under orders. But now you have no orders but the ones YOU give yourself. Should YOU choose, you could make amends to that school teacher... or you could not."

Back to the group "The point is my little hatchlings, is that as of today, you have been promoted to masters of your own fates. It is now that each of you gets the terrifying yet awesome responsibility to decide where you want to drive your own life. You may choose to cleave to the traditions of Old Azlant as you have been taught. You may also decide to "play the hand you were dealt" as some say, and make peace with the colonists. I sense that one of these is more survivable than the other, but again that is for you to decide which is which."

He claps his talons together "Now, speaking of survival, I can gift each of you with a piece of my knowledge on the subject. Should you wish, I can teach one of you about making and maintaining fires, one about finding shelter, one to find direction, and one to find food ... so working together you can take the time you need to make your choices."
Mindlink if anyone is willing

Even though the question is directed at Prosper, Spec cannot resist adding his own telepathic commentary.
"Miss Goraya, I know they were "murderous little thugs" before, but please remember that many of these children are just as much victims of their society as the people here were to them. Imagine an impressionable young child taken from their parents before morals truly formed. The child is fed tales of glory and duty, and systematically conditioned to follow orders without question for the good of the Empire. It is so effective that many truly cannot conceive of not doing precisely what they are told. This very well might be the first time in their lives that they have been able to make a choice... any choice... without having those orders hanging over them.

Sorry for butting in..."
---------

As Prosper is spinning his tale, Spec jumps in at appropriate moments
Bluff: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (10) + 7 + (5) = 22
mixing truth and more comforting lies with classic neuroplasticity therapeutic techniques
Professor: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29
to help convince the exhausted and traumatized teenagers that there is enough hope left to listen to what Prosper and the colonists might have to say

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
Just before arriving at the teenagers' "camp", Spec turns around and waves Prosper over.
"Hey there Prosper, thanks for coming along... You are here to help right?"
He waits a second in case of negation, then bustles onward.
"Well, my plan is to get in about 30' back in the trees from the campfire (which hopefully has ruined their nightvision as they are just staring at it) and start casting Charm Person on 3 of them.

Once I have at least one of them friendly enough to convince the others not to shoot me, harmless little me will go in with a bag of goodies (there is another one here if you want it). I'll try and convince them that they are no longer required to be hostile to the colonists. Assuming they agree, we have a tent, blankets, some warm clothes, and a bit of food to offer right away."
He chuckles abruptly.
"If they seem really sincere, I'll even mindlink and give them each a crash-course in wilderness survival ... including building a less-sad fire. Would you like to go in a little earlier or at the same time? I'll need 20 seconds to get the magic on target."

-------
Charm Person x3 DC15 Will
Spec walks in as unthreateningly as only a pudgy old owl can and softly begins speaking to the in nearly-unaccented Azlanti
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
"Hello younglings. Not all is lost quite yet, but neither will it ever be the same again. There are some that care what happens to you ... these are from them...[continues].."

Assuming Spec returns from his partially-posteriored "mission", he will catch up to Rush after the party

Spec is slightly nonplussed at the reaction to his proposal for the teenage cadets. "We didn't spare those idiots so they could die from exposure out there before they learn anything useful in their brainwashed lives ..."
He gathers a care package himself and tracks down Goraya to ask her for a lift out to BTEP-3 so he can help patch up some of the remaining injuries at the mine.
Medicine: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

During the night, he sneaks off the site and begins trekking about looking for the
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 6 + 2 = 14
and begins trekking about carefully looking for the cadets.
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 2 = 16
Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

Plan is to try and get close enough to charm one or more of them (DC15) and get them to accept kindness from a completely unthreatening individual, and predispose them more towards the colony that cared about them when Olajra sent them off to die.

The professor spends the first part of the first day wandering around Madelon's Landing telling fairy tales, legends, and other impossible stories to anyone who looks like they could use a pick me up.
Bluff: 1d20 + 7 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + 7 + (3) = 24
-----------------

He ends up following a few of his former listeners over to watch Dalinar's sword demonstration with Prosper (from a nearby rooftop of course). He even pulls out his knife hobbit-style and swings it about, trying to follow along....
Copying Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
...and narrowly avoids stabbing himself in the wing. He hastily puts the knife away and looks around. "Gee, I hope nobody saw that!"

At the conclusion of the demonstration, Spec flutters down and tries to play it cool.
"Hey there Dalinar, lookin pretty sharp hehe...uhh. Ahem, I mean excellent demonstration, I hope your students benefit greatly from your impressive skills... Prosper here sure seems to have done well!"
He gestures respectfully with his wing towards Prosper.
"There is something on my mind though, and I'm hoping that at least one of you might be able to assist me. I'm concerned about the wandering cadet remnant. I would love for them to be able to turn over a new leaf, but I really think that we need to check on them before just leaving them here .... Are either of you interested in checking it out?"

Spec forcibly closes his chattering beak and hops quietly in place.

Suddenly terrified into competence, Spec enters a last second correction to his targeting that just manages to connect
-----------------

After the sudden explosion, the professor peruses the debris field to try and discern what occurred
"We didn't hit it THAT hard did we?"
Computers: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

"Aha! I didn't think so, that explosion was entirely out of proportion to the applied force.... hmmmm ...

Gentlefolk, the imperials are even crazier than I thought (which is saying something). That ship was set to conditionally self destruct before it even commenced battle..... caution seems to be warranted."

Assuming the Barazad remains in the forward arc

"Oh dear, late for class again"
Profession Professor: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

During the break
Spec worries over the battered condition of his teammates
Medicine->Dalinar: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Medicine->Wint: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
But seems unable to do anything but use his Healing Touch to grant the most injured back some vitality +5HP
"Oh no Wint... here, feel a little bit better"

-------
Hearing Minos's mission to try and save the obnoxious-yet-strangely-entertaining AI from concussive reprogramming, the professor goes over the computers to see if there is some sort of maintenance disconnect for removing malfunctioning AIs.
Computers: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

"Indeed we do need to do something about them... And I'd prefer if that something didn't allow the vengeance-fuelled remainder of an imperial invasion force access to an ancient racist AI..

But could there be value in sending someone to get the Teapot while everyone else deals with the stragglers?"

Spec searches the room and Azlanti remainders
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
... but becomes sidetracked by the amazingly precise Azlanti script on the disassembled console.

Minos's groan distracts him from his distraction, and he hurries over to see what is wrong
Mysticism: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

"Oh dearie me ... that appears to be one nasty little curse there .... Ugh, gruel for a week... we should probably not go poking that datapad willy-nilly... maybe a team effort?"

He looks at the more modern (and hopefully un-cursed) datapad
"Maybe there is something in this one about how to get into that one?"
Computers: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19