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"HEY! It's not a nest. It's a bed. A dog bed technically but it was on sale... and definitely a bed! "
Guess? makes a mental note to gather some sticks and twigs the next time the party makes planetfall, then line Melissa's bed with said twigs and leaves - thereby making it a nest.
Guess? refocuses on green, "Ya better watch yourself! Jaraduk is a baaaaaaaaat mutha-!!!" then fires at green!
or below is flat-footed
flat-footed to all and -2 to saves if Stunt and Strike succeeded
Ah! They want more of this.
Jararduk twirls his doshko in the air before slamming it down on the approaching creature.
He continues battering it.
They need to get to "sleep" so we can get to later...
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Thanks to Melissa's encouragement and the webbing slowing down the creature, Akh's wild swings actually connect! The beast flinches in pain, but manages to get behind Jaraduk. Melissa follows up with a sonic blast that knocks the creature unconscious. Guess? lays into the last animal, being careful to only target unnecessary organs. The flat end of Jaraduk's axe savagely beats the creature into submission. It collapses, unconscious.
COMBAT OVER!
Akh SP 19/27 HP 25/25 RP 3/3
Strek SP 20/20 HP 24/24 RP 3/3
Jaraduk SP 21/21, HP 27/27, RP 4/4
Melissa SP 19/19 HP 21/21 | RP 4/4
Del SP: 15/15, HP: 19/19, RP: 5/5
Guess? SP 18/18 HP 17/17 | RP 5/5
Red Animal 36 Damage, UNCONSCIOUS, EATEN BY A DRAGON
Purple Animal 37 Damage, UNCONSCIOUS
Green Animal 37 Damage, UNCONSCIOUS
Yellow Animal 43 Damage, UNCONSCIOUS
You take some time to examine the inside of the broken crates...
You can surmise that all the crates are meant to hold live, sedated specimens. It seems they must have messed up the dosage on these three, as they definitely weren't sedated! Listening closely to the other crates, you don't hear anything. It seems the other creatures were properly medicated to be sleeping through the battle.
You guess that you could repair the crates with a little bit of duct tape and WD40. Looking around at the four unconscious creatures, you wonder... what now?
"It sure is good that these crates weren't wrapped in explosive sealing tape like those drow ones from a few weeks back. That would have been unpleasant." Akh reaches into his mouth and pulls out the lizard he'd been carrying, setting it on top of the pile of KO'd lizards. "So back in the crates?"
"I think we are not putting them through customs, just dropping the crates off at an empty spot in space." He rolls the pile of lizards back into the crates. "Hmmm... no medical chemicals in these. It seems it was just the lizards after all."
"Unless anyone knows how to re-sedate these bats, I say fix up the crates to be strong, re-box the bats and we'll be on our way!"
Jaraduk looks at the bodies of the creatures around him.
They look pretty "sedated" to me. Let's get them back in and use the 'ol duct tape. If you can't duct it, fu.... nevermind.
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"It sure is good that these crates weren't wrapped in explosive sealing tape like those drow ones from a few weeks back. That would have been unpleasant."
"And repetitive, given what happened last week and what I JUST got out of the air vents... "
"We were supposed to deliver untampered with crates.. or well we weren't supposed to tamper with the crates? Anyone want to check the fine print if these guys fubbared the contract? "
"If they're not sedated they can't go back in that tiny box. You don't like being crammed in anything lower than first class. Thats like, smaller than drift blue economy sized seating. Even I"M scrunched up in there. "
Medicine check to figure out if Captain Guess?s rum will do it. I mean, alchohol is a non polar molecule it should work on both left and right handed chirality speciest (and thus calden cadyen brings the universe together in drunken friendship)
"Lets try giving them some of guess's rum. What could go wrong..." with drunken.. flying.. bat monsters with sharp pointy teeth
" We could also contact the other ship. If we justlike, write on the window and look out with a telescope there's nothing to show up in the logs. Likely they're as in the dark as we are though"
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Del crosses her arms, taps her foot, and sighs heavily. "We're transporting murder-bats?! Really?! How could they think this could possibly go well? They didn't even give us any murder-bat-sedatives!" She grumbles for a bit about greed and liars, then sighs again.
"I've got to head back to the pilot's seat, but do you need a hand rebuilding the boxes before I do. I'm hopeless as building, but I am an extra set of hands."
I don't think they're too worried about it going well for us. I'm nearly used to the "just get it done" treatment in this line of work, by now... Jaraduk remarks, grunting in derision.
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"We're transporting murder-bats?! Really?!"
"They're goin' to Triaxus, right? Where there's already ample supply of flying things with teeth? They're probably just gonna be used as aerial guard critters."
Strek inspects the crates.
"How's this for an idea? I can repair the crate, but it's probly gonna look tampered with. And unsealed. How 'bout we swing by the Diaspora, since we got the extra time, pick up a load of space dust, and make it look like this crate was scoured by some orbital debris after we dropped it off? They'll probably just be relieved that their cargo survived with some scrapes and bruises."
Jaraduk chuckles at the idea.
Now that's good "scoundrel" thinking!
"Sounds like a plan to me!! I'm for it!"
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Murderbat first aid practice.
Once we get their crate situation figured out, Melissa will get the four bandgaged, with bags of frozen peas taped on their heads, and superglue closing some of the superficial wounds. And a good dose of purple spray stuff.
Murderbat 1
Murderbat 2
Murderbat 3
Murderbat 4
"They're better patients and less bitey than most of my sisters"
"Bandages, frozen peas, and superglue.. Yeah I guess the Drift has spit out weirder stuff in the past."
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Utilizing the classic one-two combo of liquor and hard punches to the head, you feel that the mini-dinos are going to be settled long enough for delivery. Del stops by a local asteroid for Strek to grab some space dust. With that and some duct tape, he gets the crates back in manageable shape. You head to the designated orbit and drop off the crates. Then, it's time to call Scarlon Gniz and report your success!
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Utilizing the classic one-two combo of liquor and hard punches to the head
The viking nap?
"How about we Get paid then tell him? If he's doing that regularly he needs to know he needs to spend a bit more on the bar tab before a crew that's NOT paranoid wakes up like, blood drained or full of murderbat babies or something.
If he hoses people over because he or his guys messed up, then we've got our creds and are only out of a contact we don't WANT to work with again. "
"They're goin' to Triaxus, right? Where there's already ample supply of flying things with teeth? They're probably just gonna be used as aerial guard critters."
"Maybe aerial snack critters, considering Triaxus. I've never been there, but I can imagine the dragons enjoy snacks as much as any other person." Akh looks at the boxes being fixed up and nods. "Looks good. No one will know. Probably. The end customer will probably even appreciate that their murder bats came pre-tenderized."
After Melissa's comments, he agrees "Yes, credits first, and paid in a way where he can't do a chargeback, preferably. Letting him know he isn't properly sedating his merchandise is a very courteous thing to do, and we can assure him that we are sworn to secrecy about the little lizards too."
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Guess? marvels at the crew's thought process.
"Rebuild the crates so it looks like nothing happened. Deception? YES!
"Don't tell Scarlon until after we're paid. Withold information? YES!
"After receiving our payout, reveal critical information to press the client for a larger payout in the future. Hardball negotiations? YES!
"I'm so proud to be a member of this crew!!"
Guess? stifles a happy tear and sniffle.
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You kick the crates out the airlock door, waving good bye to the tiny dragon-like menaces. It takes an extra heft from Akh to get the large crate out, but you manage it without trouble. The crates quickly disappear into the blackness of space at the designated orbit, even the small blinking beacon fading from eyesight before long. You drop into Triaxus' atmosphere, eager to not be around when the customer picks up the packages. You head for the nearest large town, to grab new cargo and some local delicacies. Within a few hours, each of your datapads chime.
DEPOSIT RECEIVED TO BULLSEYE_SHIPPING ACCOUNT: 1800 credits.
You check, the deposit came from the same source as the 600 credit deposit for the mission. It seems your ruse with the space dust and the refurbished crates worked! So, you prepare to call Scarlon before heading to port to pick up personal supplies and the cargo of Triaxian nuts that are headed for Vesk-2.
As the crates quickly disappear, Jaraduk remarks Well, it's clearly unlikely they'll be accidentally found or intercepted.
Akh nods "The intended recipient has likely picked them up, paid us, and then either started to enjoy their fresh snack of murderbats, or the murderbats woke up and enjoyed their fresh snack of shipping company employee." As he muses on the results, he composes his latest in a series of detailed impressions of the necrograft tongue. He's really starting to enjoy the odd writing prompts that occasionally come in from Rygan.
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We'll call Scarlon and when we have him available, Guess? breaks out into a broad, toothy smile and launches into a exposition, "Scarlon! My main man!! How are you?? We've received our payment in full so the crates were 'discovered' and 'recovered' exactly as per your exacting requirements, correct? Well, as you know, we here at Bullseye are consumate professionals who aim to please and always delivers!
"So about that last delivery of *ahem* complex chemical compounds... Well, there was certainly a hiccup. Whomever your supplier was, didn't properly sedate the so-called 'complex chemical compounds.' In fact, several crates worth of compounds which I'll refer to as 'murder bats' woke up from the sedation, broke out of their crates and attacked us while trying to break open even more crates. I'm fairly certain that the legality of these murder bats are.... well... just not. And you have to admit that your description of the cargo to us when we took the job was misleading at best.
"BUT!!! I ain't mad at ya! You're my main man!!! And like I said, we're professionals. We sedated the murder bats that got loose, ensured they were not harmed, re-packaged them and followed the delivery instructions to a T. Murer bat escape incident? What incident? No one's the wiser, amirite?!?!
"So look, given that we've been misled, had a potentiall fatal situation, but still pulled through for ya - and that we'll continue to pull through for ya on future jobs, I think there are a couple actions to take. One that is remedial. And a second that is forward looking.
"The remedial action is that I believe a small (but truly not small) bonus is in order. This will cover the costs of ship damage, injuries sustained, time and materials to repackage the murder bats, and medical charges for ensuring that the bats were properly put down and sedated without permanent harm.
"The forward looking action that I believe we're due is given that we have zero intention of revealing the true cargo transported AND that we handled what could have been a major mishap and PR blunder for your client, we should top your list of preferred shippers at premium rates! Throw us the tough jobs, pay us ridiculous money and you'll receive unparalleled service! Whaddaya say? Y'know what I say? BULLSEYE!!!"
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Melissa spends a week in the drift watching Animal Planets . Once near a planet she tries searching the infosphere with her newfound rank in life science.
Adorable space bat bzzzt.
Cuddlewing bzzzt
Flying hug bzzzt.
She sighs.
Murderbat. 11,881 results...
She looks at the reproductive cycle, flashes back to the cuddlewings saying "Mom!" while trying to tear apart the enormous crate and OHS...
"That... could have been bad. Very. Very. Very. Bad. Akh, you'll be happy to know the bats weren't accusing you of anything. But if they'd gotten that big crate open we all would have been dead. or worse, had to jettison our cargo bay. "
Facepalming a bit at Guess? Although perhaps slightly less than usual
"We wouldn't bother you with it Mister Gniz except it's a serious safety issue. We're used to that sort of thing happening not sure if that's an endorsement or condemnation... and were kinda paranoid about it and we still got really lucky. We just want to be sure the next crew doesn't get eaten, even if it's not us it's still someone. "
Strek takes interest in Triaxus's slow orbit. "Ta think that a whole generation can go on believin' it's always a freezin' hellscape. Or a desert hellscape."
He purchases a couple Library Chips to read more about it during downtime.
He also picks up a replacement Serum of Healing, an Aquanaut Elixir, another 12-pack of soda, and another week's worth of candy.
"They didn't have any saltwater taffy, but they got this stuff that's pretty good."
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"They didn't have any saltwater taffy, but they got this stuff that's pretty good."
"For patching the hull?"
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Strek arches an eyebrow. "S'pose I could. I used a 1:4 ratio of Slurm for coolant before our last maintenance check."
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Melissa uses the infosphere to look up those creatures. She identifies them as skreelings. Brutal and shrewd, Skreeling siblings hunt in packs, pooling their nascent fighting abilities, and they are much stronger when they work together. Although they lack telepathy and the physical characteristics that would allow them to speak, skreelings can emit shrill, distinctive battle cries, often to distract prey or frighten predators away from their lairs. Skreelings are typically found on rocky planetoids with thin atmospheres, and they almost always lair within 100 yards or so of a parent skreesire’s territory. Skreelings are omnivorous and even ingest ash, metal shavings, or wood when regular food is scarce. More interesting, or frightening, than that are the skreeling's parents. Skreesires are insidious horrors that lurk in the rocky reaches of the universe. They are omnivorous and consume all manner of matter. Skreesires round bodies are bulky and intimidating. Their wings are nonfunctional, and they use their tentacles for grabbing prey. They stand up to 10 feet tall and weigh up to 500 pounds. They view any intrusion from a sentient creature as a threat, and thus they often use their infamous mental abilities to twist intruders’ minds and cause those creatures to flee. If that fails, they descend on the trespasser with teeth and tentacles. Skreesires are hermaphroditic and can self-fertilize, though they usually do so only after particularly large feasts, as extra genetic material they harvest from their food helps to mitigate the effects of inbreeding. They tend to lay their clutches of eggs in the corpses of the creatures they have just fed upon. You guess that the larger container held a skreesire. If it wasn't properly sedated, it likely would have killed all of you.
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Scarlon's face turns from confusion to anger as Guess? tells the story. "Murder bats?! Smuggling invasive predators from one system to the other, that's the highest sort of felony!" He types into an offscreen terminal. "Inquest, that was the name of the medical research company who hired me to coordinate the job. I can't believe it! They thought they could pull one over on Moonlighters Ltd?" The shirren shakes in anger. "I promise you, I certainly won't be working with them again. Who knows, maybe an anonymous tip will find its way to the local Triaxian law enforcement... I mean I'M not a snitch but you know... things happen." He pats his wrinkled old suit in an attempt to smooth it out. "But, you're right! Neither of us knew you were taking on a job with hazard pay but that's not your fault! I think a 50% tip should help smooth things over." Mr. Griz continues to type at the computer. "As for preferred shippers, I think you've earned that. I tend to specialize in unique and complicated transportation. I'm sure I will need your services in the future. Tarika will let you know when our needs align again." He smiles, waves his antennae, and the video call cuts. A few minutes later, your datapads chime. DEPOSIT RECEIVED TO BULLSEYE_SHIPPING ACCOUNT: 1200 credits.
You sent Scarlon a video recording over the infosphere, as is common when communicating across planets. But he called you back with a live video call. In order to do that, he would have to either be on Triaxus or using a more expensive system-wide communicator.
You take some time in the city, wandering among the ryphorian and dragonkin locals. The winter freeze is going strong, as it has been for decades, so you rush from shop to shop. After a few days of downtime, you go to pick up your cargo load of local nuts. You hand the warehouse owner a stack of 10 BP vouchers as payment for the cargo. While most of the crew oversees the locals transferring the materials to the inside of your ship, Guess? heads out to look for extra items that could fit inside your hold.
You find a salesman in a back alley selling a few pallets of prepared wolliped hides. The beasts can have a carnivorous nature, and stories of their ferocity echo throughout the Pact Worlds. You estimate they would sell quite well in the Veskarium, for a few thousand credits. Of note, importing these items to most other worlds in the Pact would be illegal but exporting them from Triaxus is perfectly legal.
When inquiring for items in a local bodega, a dragonkin waves you into a backroom. He offers to pay you to deliver several tons of dead fish to the Veskarium. When asked why, the dragonkin says they're an insult from a dragon CEO who wishes to remain anonymous, to an offending Vesk warlord. He offers to pay 9000 credits, half now and half on delivery.
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Jaraduk shudders. If it doubles as coolant, imagine what it's doing to your innards!
A sudden look of realization.
WAIT! Is that why ur parts are always coming off? You've gotta quit that stuff!
He spends his time in the drift tinkering with new possible grenades to cobble out of his junk drawer, which is filled with assorted mechanical parts, explosive-when-combined agents, and bits of wire.
He flips through catalogs on the InfoSphere as well but just can't part with his credits yet...
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Akh is eminently pleased that not only are the murderbats far away, but that the group's employer was - for once - not in on some vast conspiracy to exploit and/or exterminate Bullseye Shipping and the thinking beings that run it. He raises fistfuls of string-shaped pink candy into the air in victory "To sweets! And not dying to murderbats! And not getting turned over to law enforcement for something that wasn't at all our fault! And also to Slurm, elixir of the heavens!"
Akh gets several bags of candy himself as well as a freshly roasted pouch of nuts, before heading out with Guess? in search of additional cargo for the next trip. He hopes that maybe, by showing up, the cargo won't be something that tries to kill them this time. Perhaps it'll be some kind of exclusive Triaxian snack, and there'll be extra to go around.
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Auto assist Guess?'s diplomacy
This is an insight bonus, so it can get eclipsed or reduced by guess' skill focus or operatives edge bonus. On the other hand on a good roll. But its one of the few ways a party can go all in on a skill together.
Thats +2 for the assist, +5 insight for the d6 - 2 insight from guess's operatives edge= +5 total to guess's roll for the assist.
(going to assume guesse can't roll a 2 5 times in a row)
"Wolliped is the new Defrex?"
WAIT! Is that why ur parts are always coming off? You've gotta quit that stuff!
Strek chuckles and motions to wave dismissively at Jaraduk's comment, but then his arm detaches and falls to the floor.
"Right. That's the new one. Forgot."
While Scarlon speaks, Guess? tries to determine if Scarlon is genuine or if there may be something else going on...
"I promise you, I certainly won't be working with them again. Who knows, maybe an anonymous tip will find its way to the local Triaxian law enforcement... I mean I'M not a snitch but you know... things happen."
Guess? slips in, "Well YOU may not be a snitch, but did I mention we provide a snitching service? Depending on level of detail and anonymity required, we have a variety of snitching services available to our platinum level customers! Fees start at a very affordable 500 creds per snitch instance! Would you like to know more?"
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Akh is eminently pleased that not only are the murderbats far away, but that the group's employer was - for once - not in on some vast conspiracy to exploit and/or exterminate Bullseye Shipping and the thinking beings that run it. He raises fistfuls of string-shaped pink candy into the air in victory "To sweets! And not dying to murderbats! And not getting turned over to law enforcement for something that wasn't at all our fault! And also to Slurm, elixir of the heavens!"
Guess? raises an eyebrow. "Huh? Akh actually seems... upbeat? I think I'mma gunna go buy myself a lottery ticket...."
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Talking to the back alley salesman, "Wolliped hides! Nice, we'll take them all good sir!!"
Having been approached by the dragonkin with the offer to deliver dead fish, Guess? replies, "Hmmmm... this is certainly an intriguing offer! But getting in the middle of a dragon CEO and vesk warlord is no walk in the park! There is more than a little danger associated with such a job - potentially fatal danger, mind you. So how about you up the fee to 12,000 credits?
"Surely the extra premium paid to us for our quality transportation services is but a mere drop in your boss' ocean of wealth! And we're so confident that we'll pull through for your boss that we'll even reduce the up front payment to 3,000 now and the remaining 9,000 upon delivery! Whaddaya say??"
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Slurm....
"I grew up on glop and went nightblind from it but even I'm not touching that stuff. "
Assist Guess? asking for more money..
"Look, given our track record the fish are going to hit a negative energy wave and zombie shuffle all over the warlords table or something. At the very least we can rig the crate to drop from a parachute and open up to the tune of "Le Poison" or something. It would make Mom proud.... "
..is just a regular assist
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You look over the wolliped hide shipment with a free trader's eye. There's five pallets, each of which is a bit of 2 tons of weight. Even with creative storage methods, you don't think you can fit the fish and the pelts in your hold.
The dragonkin is swayed by Guess and Melissa's arguments, but he throws up his hands. "Hey, I get it. Dealing with dragons is serious business. My cousin was roasted last year, just for coming in late with corporate espionage deliverable." He pats a pocket and shrugs. "But there's nothing I can do. I'm sure not going back to my boss to negotiate on your behalf. That's how a guy gets himself put on a spike at the top of a mountain. 9k, take it or leave it."
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Replying to the dragonkin, "Gotcha. Totally understand. Can't blame a goblin for askin, amirite? Okay then, 4500 now and 4500 upon delivery!
"Any specifics about the warlord herself/himself that we should be aware of? And any special instructions regarding how it is to be delivered?"
Turning to Melissa, "So hey... You didn't finish completely deodorizing the cargo hold after that defrex delivery, did ya? That might have been a wasted effort with this job coming up..."
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Turning to Melissa, "So hey... You didn't finish completely deodorizing the cargo hold after that defrex delivery, did ya? That might have been a wasted effort with this job coming up..."
Melissa sighs and plants the top of her head repeatedly into a nearby post.
Probably confusing the dragon who's leg she's headbutting.
Del sighs heavily. "I said I wanted to ship food and you bring me rotten fish? There's a name for people like that, you know." She shakes her head, bursts out laughing, and grins. "Well, the dead fish won't kill us, but the smell of them might." She suddenly crosses her arms and thinks for a second. "Wait, we're doing what with this fish?"
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The dragonkin pulls out a piece of paper that has been folded into a tight roll. He unwraps and reads the small text printed there. "Well, technically you just have to drop the crates off at the front door of his palace. Though under special requests it says..." He squints. "drop crates onto banquet table during the Annual Skittermander Fealty Celebration feast, rip open the boxes to spill the fish, and cry out 'The Dragoness sends her regards'." He looks up and blinks several times. "Uh... that part is optional."
The nuar scratches his head at the odd request.
So.... we're ruining a Skittermander party? I mean, did they do something heinous? Well... a job is a job. I guess it doesn't matter.
She suddenly crosses her arms and thinks for a second. "Wait, we're doing what with this fish?"
Guess? looks up from Melissa's engineering drawings of a parachute crate delivery system with an audio-triggered crate opening mechanism and replies to Del, "Delivery!"
Guess? giggles and refocuses back on Melissa's drawing. ""Le Poison" you say? Will the ship's external speakers be loud enough? Or do we need to also rig a speaker to be dropped via parachute together with the crates?"
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"Thats definitely doable but I don't see any reason NOT to automate that part.... What if an inflationary baloon in the middle of the fish explodes, sends they raining all over the place while we have a holographic dragon deliver the message...? "
Guess?'s eyes widen in obvious glee.
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Akh taps Melissa reassuringly with the end of his tail as she headbutts his leg. "Don't worry, when the infinite hordes of savage draconic ultrasalmon attack, at least they won't eat our brains. Zombie fish probably only want fish brains, right?"
He coils up a little and calls out to Guess? "We already have a lot of jobs that mysteriously turn extremely dangerous at the worst times. So I guess you're going for reverse psychology this time? Pick the most dangerous job possible delivering an unwanted cargo to a deadly vesk warlord who will definitely attack us for the insult. And then hope our terrible luck brings it all the way back around to something good?" He gives the goblin a thumbs up "It's worth a try. Of course, we're probably going to get ground into a paste by his private security force, but maybe he'll be looking for new slaves instead?"
Akh spends some time researching the warlord once he gets a name.