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Janzi takes Chiskisk's offhanded remark about touring the vid-lecture circuit quite seriously, almost as though he'd been preparing for just such a thing for a long time.
Which, frankly, he had.
Janzi wastes no time in settling some old debts -- perhaps not coincidentally, the newsfeed mentions a number of curious airlock accidents involving reputed black market body part racketeers over the first week back at Absalom Station -- and subsequently scheduling multiple appearances on talk shows, weaving a fanciful collection of stories that have enough nuggets of truth in them to be plausible, but still manage to center himself as the hero frequently. Janzi manages to cobble all of this into third-rate celebrity-dom -- sort of the Absalom Station version of Shadoe Stevens or maybe Ryan Seacrest.
He never neglects to mention his ragtag collection of misfit henchmen: the no-nonsense, sweet-shooting pilot Booker, the crackerjack combat veteran messhall savior Dunkelzahn, the gum-chewing power-chord-wielding computer whiz Gig, and the plucky sharpshooter drone Hum (with his ysoki pet Hack-It). He always includes a two-minute sales pitch for his latest set of motivational videos and fifteen seconds to endorse the Starfinder Society.
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"Can you believe that arrogant, lying a@!$&!~?" Hack-It mutters, swiping the image of Janzi off his wrist console vidscreen. "Twice in that interview alone he called me 'Hack-Out'. A&%@%#!."
Hum makes a few beeping noises as it hovers nearby, a hydraulic arm with a blowtorch attachment cutting a hole into a steel surface. After a few moments the drone finishes its work, providing ingress for it and Hack-It.
"I mean, how do people not see what kind of megalomaniac that lashunta is. Save the universe? Him? I mean c'mon. His aim with a pistol was terrible," he continues, talking to his drone. Raising his own pistol, he fires the sonic weapon at a uniformed man,dropping him to a twitching heap on the ground.
The room has a series of safety deposit boxes embedded along one wall, a single computer terminal, and a secured door off to the left. Hack-It descends on the terminal like a predator on its prey, hacking the system and bypassing countermeasures with ease. "Man, this job is a joke, y'know? Amateur hour, really. It's a miracle that they can keep the gravity on in this place. Here, hold still while I wire you up," he says this as he pulls out a fiber cable and attaches the drone to the computer. The drone's processing power is then used to work through decrypting security clearances. "Now, to wa-"
Shouts, followed by banging from on the other side of the door, interrupt his monologue. The ysoki swears, turning to face the door. Agitation mounts, and he walks over to a specific deposit box. "Now is a good time for you to hurry it up," he says, and gets a single beep in return.
"Fine, fine. I'll slow them down," Hack-It says, walking back to the terminal. He enters a few more commands, and turns off the gravity in the adjacent rooms. The shouts of alarm cause the ysoki to smile. "That'll do."
A few seconds later the drone finishes the decryption and executes code clean-up subroutine. A single deposit box opens. Hack-It rubs his hands together and pulls out a single, intricate orb. Grinning, he tucks it into a cheek pouch. "Alright, let's get back to Zondu and the Ravager. I said I'd use the 40,000 credits for upgrades, so let's get paid."
The hero, nay guardian, of the galaxy climbs through the hole and crawls through the ventilation shafts of this remote space station, reaching a retrofitted Kevolari ship. As he climbs aboard and is greeted warmly by the pirate crew, Hum makes a series of beeping noises. "Yeah, I know. It's no Maiden, but Booker sleeps too lightly and I wasn't going to argue with a rifle. It's still my ship though, and I'll get her back."
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Gig Razorbyte uses his year to rest for a while from adventuring and dedicates his life to practicing his keyboarding. When not practicing, he developed an instrument called the Stellar Degenerator X-705. The contraption has thousands of dials and gadgets as well as banks of keyboards stacked high upon each other. With this new instrument, he then forms a band called Gig Razorbyte and the Magic Rock Ensemble.
Gig and his band create his first recording, “On the Edge”. The recording contains many hit singles including “Just Hack It,” “Tak’n them down Dunk Style!”, and the “Rockin with Janzi”. Gig takes his band on the road and with his hit singles, and delivers a very successful tour throughout the Pact Worlds. His show includes moments of hurling magic missiles into his keyboard during intense solos followed by an explosion where Gig dimension doors away as the stage erupts in an explosion of pyrotechnics. The tour has many sold out shows and Gig makes a fair amount of profit.
With the profits Gig invests in a new chewing gum idea. He develops a chewing gum that keeps its flavor after a thousand chews and allows the chewer to make Booker Bubbles. For those that do not know what that is, they are smoke filled bubbles within other bubbles. In fact, Gig markets his new gum as “Big Booker Bubble Gum”. After a great year, he starts to reminisce about the good old days with his adventuring buddies.
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Victory is nothing without the celebration afterwards. Once back on Absalom Station, Dunklezahn cooks a feast for his brothers-in-arms to recognize everyone's contribution to their triumph. He spares no expense in procuring the best ingredients for the many dishes he prepares, many tailored to the specific tastes of each companion. The booze is also of the highest quality.
Their revelries ended, Dunklezahn looks to his next steps. Condisdering the idea of celebrity in the Pact Worlds as frivolous and meaningless, Dunklezahn files as complete and accurate a report to the Starfinder Society on the events leading to the destruction of the Stellar Degenerator and their victory over the Corpse Fleet. He takes a copy of the report with him as he departs Absolom Station for the Veskarium.
Dunklezahn settles down on the bunk in his private cabin aboard the liner, Tranquility Rising. He is both excited and anxious about his return to his homeworld. He has been gone for a long time and looks forward to seeing his family again. He will present his report to his family and the authorities, and he smiles in anticipation of the honors to be laid upon him. His grin widens at the thought of rubbing it all in the face of his older brother, Sobok.
His gaze drifts over to The Spear of Golorion and he knows that his trip home will not be a long one. There is still more glory to be had in The Pact Worlds and he can't let his crewmates have all the fun in finding it.
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"Nnnnhhhh..." Booker groans, sitting up to glare groggily at the alarm clock. His head feels like a Brethedan thunderstorm. Probably the rum. He rubs his temples and reaches blindly for a pack of cigarettes on the floor.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Okwana's chipper, silky voice somehow sounds like a klaxon in his ear. Definitely the rum. Two dusky hands slip along his skin from behind to tangle in his chest hair, Okwana's soft chin coming to rest on his shoulder. "Time to wake up."
"Mm," Booker grunts in reply, lighting his first cigarette of the day. He settles back down onto the red sheets to stare at the brick-brown ceiling of the Rusty Rivet's captain's quarters. He glances over at Okwana for a moment, taking in the smooth curves of her nude form silhouetting the stars beyond the window. Her cheerful smile makes him turn back to the ceiling. "How long?" he asks.
Okwana shrugs. "Probably another week."
"You said that a week ago."
Okwana smiles coyly and shrugs again. "I mean it this time. Our supplies are gettin' low. Especially the rum, way you've been drinkin' it, and what's piracy without rum?" she giggles. Booker had to agree: no rum would be a problem. "Besides," she adds, sitting up and searching for a shirt among the tangled bedsheets, "I can tell you're in a rut. Need some fresh wind for your sails. You wouldn't think a Free Captain would keep you forever, do you?"
No, Booker thinks to himself, and that's both a blessing and a curse. He liked Okwana, and she him. But she was a bit too early in her piracy career to bunk permanently with him, and he knew it. And as much as she liked having him around, he felt like he was overstaying his welcome.
In fact, he'd done quite a lot of overstaying his welcome in the last few months. After the Sunrise Maiden crew had split their take, he had put the old Sanjaval in for refitting at a shipyard on Absalom Station (he never did tell Hack-It which one) and bought a nice retirement condo for himself in the Eye. But he soon grew bored. He bought a motorbike, which only helped for about a week before he got tired of it. He reached out to some old Stewards COs and lined up some work at the pilots' training academy. That lasted only two months before both the recruits were weary of getting wiped out by him in dogfight training sims, and he got weary of wiping them. Ringworks hired him as a test pilot for a bit, but that didn't work out either, since he always tried to push the prototypes further than the engineers would allow.
Which was why he had come out here to the Diaspora and the Rivet, and Okwana, in the first place. A little light piracy might scratch the itch, if nothing else would, he'd thought, and Okwana's certainly easy on the eyes. And it had worked, for a time. That time was passed. "How long?" he asks again, taking another long pull on the cigarette.
"We'll hit the Drift in a day or two, I promise," she replies, giving him a peck on the cheek and pulling on her tall leather boots. "We'll be back before you know it!"
Booker listens to the cabin door close behind Okwana and puffs a smoke ring up towards the ceiling. Under the pillow he finds a flask, mostly empty but with a few drops left at least. He takes a swig, then lights another cigarette. "Nnnhh..." He stands wearily, old bones cranky and a head still splitting, and steps gingerly towards the cabin's sole window, the cigarette in one hand and the flask in the other.
I'll be home soon, he thinks towards the scattered stars. The repairs and refit oughtta be done by now.
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First post: 2 August 2017
This post: 8 January 2021
Duration: 1,255 days
Length, in posts, for this campaign: 5,306
Mean posting rate for campaign: ~4.2 posts per day.
Number of PbP campaigns on Paizo.com: 12,285
Percentile: 1.4% (174th)
It's a funny thing, playing role-playing games in a pandemic. The distance between people in "meatspace" grows to be like planets in the Pact Worlds, but here we're as close as we've always been. The first time I completed a PbP campaign was Curse of the Crimson Throne, a campaign I started 9 years ago to the day (a campaign which ended two and a half weeks before this one began.) Since then, I've made more than 39,000 posts on paizo.com. By the numbers it's "less" special. By the people, it's exactly as special.
Much like your characters though, I'm not good with Downtime. I'll see you on Absalom Station. Better pick up that call, your comm has been beeping this whole time.
AD ASTRA PER ASPERA
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First Blood: R1G5
First Spell Cast: Gig
First Enemy Kill: Gig
First One-Shot Kill: Dunklezahn
First Critical Hit: Booker
First Critical Miss: Booker
First Creature Identified: Janzi
First Trap Disarmed: Hack-It
First Trap Set Off: Hack-It
First PC Unconscious: Hack-It
First PC Death: None Honorable Mention: Sputter
Highest Skill Check: Booker (54 Piloting)
Highest Attack Roll: Booker (35)
Most Damage Dealt in One Hit (excl. AoE): Dunklezahn (80 dmg)
Most Damage Dealt in One Round (incl. AoE): Dunklezahn (113 dmg)
Most Damage Taken in One Hit: Dunklezahn (47 dmg)
Most Damage Taken in One Round: Booker (106 dmg)
Most Times Unconscious: 3-way Tie among Hack-It, Dunklezahn, Gig (once each)
Most Killing Blows: Booker (51)
Most Critical Hits: Booker (16)
Most Critical Misses: Dunklezahn (14)
Most Gum Chewed: Gig
Most Cigarettes Smoked: Booker
Most Eggs Consumed: Dunklezahn
Most Peanuts Consumed: Janzi
Most Scrap Metal Consumed: Hack-It
Total Killing Blows: 141
Total Critical Hits: 54
Total Critical Misses: 44
Total Starships Defeated: 15