My Owner’s son Dylan paid for me to join him at a Magic: the Gathering Two-Headed Giant tournament a couple of months ago. As the crowd of card-flippers was gathering, I looked around and muttered to Dylan:
“Fuck, am I gonna be the only feminine-presenting person at this thing?”
Dylan responded, quite naturally, “Well, it IS a Magic: the Gathering tournament,” and then another feminine-presenting person entered the room. The timing was so perfect that it proved magick isn’t just a card game!
Turned out that she and the store rep leading the tournament were our third and final opponents. We got to talking afterwards, with me barely keeping up while the two of them talked Magic. I’ven’t played really for a decade or mebbe a dozen years, so I had to keep asking what certain things meant. I did get a chance to introduce Michelle (which is her name) to the old Game of Thrones CCG (I dropped out of card games well before the LCG resurrection), and we got to talking about RPGs. I mentioned that I didn’t have a group, and she offered to run Starfinder.
Then I travelled to Fairyland in Oregon for three weeks >.<
Luckily, Michelle was still into it when I returned, so I sent out a mass message to like 60 of my friends to get a group together, and we ended up with a group of Michelle, her friend Labryssa (one of my new favorite names!), Dylan, me, and my friends Tanuki, Barry, and Nameless.
We’re starting with the first adventure of the Dead Suns Adventure Path, Incident at Absalom Station. Once we finish it, we’ll decide if we want to continue with its storyline or go off to tell our own varied stories. As such, if you care about spoilers, you should know that there’s spoilers in this nebula.
***
Duravar Kreel sat up, finally, the fourth time his personal assistant told him to. His muscles cramped and complained; sitting all day is not good duty for a dwarf! No matter how comfortable the couch at this caffe was.
His ancestors had mined the mountains of lost Golarion, and cousins of his did similar still in the Diaspora, but all he had to show for the surprising strenuous job of sitting he’d done was a folder full of contacts he’d messaged. Many had been easy ~ publicly available email messages, interlocked social networking profiles, and the like ~ while some had required something much more like mining than his parents would ever believe. Sometimes the Starfinder Society had use of folk to whom an easy finding would be a danger, indeed.
Speaking of his parents, he remembered suddenly that he was to bring the beer for his sister’s celebration tonight. Snapping his computer shut, he stiffly grumbled his way to the merchant’s.
*
Waystone0 was out on the frontier of known space when it got its message.
For 27 years it had worked as an engineer in, and later the head engineer of, a fleet (if you could call it that) of space pirates that raided the systems of the Vast from its home in the Shadari Confederacy. Waystone0’s ties with a prospective new "Admiral" had ensnared the android in a surprisingly peaceful transition of power within the fleet.
Pulling its head from a panel in the ship, leftover wire ends with snips on both sides dripping from its ears and nose and the top of its head, Waystone0 scanned the dwarf’s message for a lazy 0.3 second and sighed. It had realized a couple weeks back that its Admiral friend would now be seeking to consolidate their power in the Confederacy and establish their authority and safety in the face of both their inexperience and their status as a mutineer. The days of exploring unknown regions of space for treasure or raiding the ships of the mysteriously hostile Azlanti Star Empire as they had under the old Admiral would be on hold until that process ended. Waystone0 calculated that it would take a minimum of 1.59 years, which was a good 1.427 years longer than its patience for such lack of novelty. It decided to return to the Pact Worlds for the first time in almost half a century for the promise of a free flight there and new, beautiful space to explore.
{{{Dylan is playing Waystone0, neutral agender android spacefarer operative, with an invasive jerkass AI in its head. I’m honestly not sure Waystone0 even knows how the AI got there. The 0 in Waystone0’s and Johnny Coy0te’s names indicate that their bodies are still inhabited by the first soul to ever do so.}}}
*
Usually Bexch Prliz was not one to get distracted while riding the dick of the ringleader of a intergalactic circus, but he’d been the star acrobat of the show for the last year. He’d seduced the ringleader on day one.
At first glance Bexch might have passed for an eccentric human female. He wore his purple hair large so he cold brush his short antennas back into it. Some have said it’s blue and some have said red ~ they were both wrong; it was purple! A swirl like wind under his left cheek and four parallel lines on the entirety of the right side of his face glowed unnaturally bright all the time, the child of his solarian practices resonating with his lashunta heritage. They would have been far too easy to recognize if he had left them uncovered, so he kept them covered in make-up. When he was highly emotional, or in the middle of a fight, or about to cum, they did glow brighter, bringing on oddly muted shine to his face whereupon his makeup seemed to float. They weren’t glowing any brighter than usual when he got the message.
Other than kasatha microcord, Bexch only ever wore skirts that were either mini short or loose and flowy with slits cut all the way up to the hips. Shiny shiny jewelry made up the other half of the lashunta’s wardrobe. Green eyes and pointed nose, Bexch was a beautiful androgynous specimen whose outward glitz was a disguise that only made sense to him, considering how many star systems he was wanted in and how badly the leaders of the lashunta wanted Bexch dead before his great list of crimes becamewider knowledge. Bexch was a blight on the good name lashunta had made for themselves in the galaxy. Maybe some deep loyalty was the reason Bexch was so careful to keep his marks covered? Nah!
Bexch checked the blinking message alert on his phone, which he’d placed on the table at the foot of the bed just for moments of boredom like this one; the nice thing about the reverse cowgirl position was that what’s-his-name couldn’t see Bexch’s yawn or scrolling. It had been some weeks since killing local spectators-turned-tricks had turned him on like it used to. So he read the message, considered what it said for a couple thrusts, snached his blade from where it had sat next to the phone, and in one spinning motion, slit the ringleader’s throat, and cut off his pinky. It would make such a beautiful addition to the bones in Brexch’s hair once it had decomposed enough. His most precious treasures (other than the modified comm with an adorable pink kitty on its case) were the bedazzled pinky bones Bexch had braided into four strands of hair around his face. They helped distract from his antennas.
What’s-his-name should be honored: it was only a precious few who interested Bexch for more than one night and thus got a body part added to his hair. It was time to leave anyway ~ surely the Stewards knew of at least a few of Bexch’s victims by now. This Duravar person says he’ll facilitate Bexch’s initiation into the Starfinders, too. Maybe they’d be able to help with this recurring Steward problem Bexch had? Seriously, they’re worse than head lice!
{{{My friend and ho-bro Nameless is playing Bexch Prliz (pronounced “Bitch Please”), chaotic neutral crossdressing cismale damaya lashunta outlaw solarian, an entirely accidental answer to the question “What if the Talented Mr. Ripley was a telepathic crossdressing Manic Pixie Dream Jedi?” and a true glory of a trashperson.}}}
*
Wakiin shoveled some more fried wasps into his mouth, not giving his right arm a chance to rest. His chef had just broke up with him. Bad. The gourmet-hunter wasn’t sure what use the thrown dishes were intended to have; they hadn’t hurt Wakiin any, and now the chef would just have to buy some more. Obviously, the chef cared about his knives more. Those weren’t thrown so much as brashly gesticulated with, brandished even, near the few spots on a vesk’s body where the scales didn’t quite cover the skin.
Now his money was all gone, sacrificed into a frenzy of eating his feelings. Wakiin has big feelings: he nearly caused infrastructural collapse by eating what a human platoon of infantry might consider a fortnight's worth of luxury rations. A colony on the outer rim of the Vesk system like this one probably didn’t have the economical fortitude to withstand such an assault, so he’d decided he needed a change of scenery. Wakiin had put in some job applications to places that would fly him in for free; the effort had felt uncomfortably like actual self-care, but he really did need to leave, just in case this particular colony should actually collapse. Surely, someone would hold him to account for that kind of thing.
What better place to go than the highly central Absalom Station! Surely it’s hiding some rare Golarian delicacies in its corridors that might soon be lost forever. Also, this Duravar person says the job’ll pay.
{{{Tanuki, whom I’ve known the longest in the group (all the way back to my coffeeshop hipster days at Barefoot Coffee Roasters), is playing Wakiin Leviathanbiter, lawful neutral masculine vesk icon soldier, a gourmet-hunter heavily inspired by the anime Toriko.}}}
*
Recovery meetings are supposed to be anonymous, so Neliblai’s white-clad fingers played with the inverted ankh and black butterfly charm dangling delicately from uir right wrist, while uir lips mumbled half-hearted prayers of gratitude to Nyarlathotep and Black Butterfly. “Thank you,” ui forced uir lips to say, “thank you so much for keeping my vlog obscure so far.”
Uir vlog had followers, certainly, and was syndicated to the infospheres on more than one planet, but it wasn’t yet widely known. And while one is waiting for a chance to give one’s share at a recovery meeting, that feels like a threadbare blessing. Plus, it helped distract Neliblai during the inexorable crawl of a meeting. This wasn't nail-biting entertainment, but it helped. It helped uim to get through the nights when all ui could think of was Jelusrem’s face.
Another threadbare blessing: Neliblai had remembered to put uir comm on silent this time. Finally. Hands switched places and now the circled rat dangling from uir left wrist was being fondled and sneakingly quiet Lao Shu Po was receiving thanks. As lips finally lay still against each other, ui snuck a glance at the comm screen.
The Starfinders. An Acquisitive, no less! The job didn’t sound like it would generate much useful copy, but the investigative reporter who ignores the semi-secret society they joined in order to get leads is an investigative reporter doomed to anonymity for life. A couple fingertips on the comm screen set up a software agent to make arrangements, and Neliblai leaned back against the chair again.
The former addict who lets anything take them out of a recovery meeting will not be former for long.
{{{I’m playing Neliblai, chaotic good uisha maraquoi icon empath mystic (Starfinder data jockey), a hard-boiled reporter in the noir mode with a lot of contacts, a diet composed almost entirely of cigarettes, and too many other people’s secrets. In the absence of Paizo officially declaring pronouns in Maraquoi for each of their seven genders, I am deciding that Neliblai’s pronouns are ui (subjective), uim (objective), uir (possessive), uirs (substantive possessive), and uimself (reflexive).}}}
*
Others received Duravar’s message in their own ways. Many refused, of course, for any number of reasons from the rational to the irrational. Three, however, accepted the job.
{{{Michelle’s friend Labryssa is playing the thief No, chaotic good agender android ace pilot operative. I am super curious how it got its name, I must confess! On the metagame level, she gave it that name because someone asked if she’d come up with a name yet and she said “No”. A similar thing is how Nameless got the name Nameless, actually.}}}
{{{Barry, whom I’ve known almost as long as Tanuki, is playing the superbly cyberpunkly named Johnny Coy0te, neutral androidgynous male bounty hunter operative, without much revealed backstory just yet. Johnny feels a lot like a shadowrunner, actually; that might be part of what gave me the idea to rewrite Starfinder as Shadowrun’s Eighth World, with the Gap being the entirety of the low-mana Seventh World. What happened while magic was gone?}}}
*
The shuttle Okimoro had made the rounds to pick everyone up, even travelling the Drift all the way to the Vesk system. Neliblai, ever the inquisitive, asked about their route and its reasons shortly after ui boarded at the station on Verces, and was impressed. The Starfinders had managed to make such a wide route make just enough sense as to be plausible.
Now the Okimoro was unboarding at Absalom. The few passengers who weren’t answering Duravar’s summons meandered out, eager to get to their family or their tourism attractions or their restaurants or their bathrooms. The four who had heard from Duravar let them go first.
Well, “let” wasn’t always quite the exact right word. Bexch Prliz probably just didn’t hear the docking announcements over the bouncy pop music blaring from his comm, an intoxicating blend of simple rave beats and complicated psychedelic melodies tying knots around them. Once he did notice they arrived, however, he was the first of the not-yet-a-group to leave the shuttle, dancing out of the airlock, each step a sinuous shake of his ass. Waystone0 noted his exit and its style while appearing to read the local holonews now that the infospheres have synced.
Wakiin shook himself awake, or perhaps was shaken awake by Bexch’s loudness passing as he wriggled his rhythmic way off the shuttle. Realizing that the shuttle wasn’t hurtling through the Drift anymore, he walked out with Neliblai close behind. The maraquoi raked everything around uim as ui exits with uir bulging, insectile eyes and uir tail-borne camera comm. Ui paused just before disembarking and lit a cigarette to celebrate uir arrival. Waystone0, in its insulated work gear and backpack, was the last to leave the shuttle. It strolled down the ramp with the indifferent interest of someone who has done this same thing all across the galaxy.
It seemed the divet between the end of the ramp and the space station floor was having none of Waystone0’s affectation of having seen it all. It tripped the android, who would have rolled into a mess of backpack, rifle, and nanites if it wasn’t for Wakiin’s hunt-trained reflexes. The hulking and hungry vesk snapped his hand out and grabbed Waystone0’s rifle. The android hung like floating for a brief moment before being dropped the gentle last half foot or so. Waystone0’s expressionless “Thank you” was mostly matched in its blandness by a reptilian “You’re welcome.”
Dressed for the job it wanted rather than the job it had, the android thief known as No watched the group enter. None of the other passengers looked like they had anything interesting in their pockets, not worth the picking. These last few, undoubtedly the “others” Duravar had alluded to, looked like they had even less ~ their accounts were probably measured in lint, let alone their pockets. The lashunta had a nice booming comm, tho. Specialized comms could earn a centicredit or two.
A tall dwarf (well, tall for a dwarf anyway) with a gray beard almost hiding an unusually thin body in a dockworker’s jumpsuit proudly displaying the Starfinder seal began to walk toward this gaggle of a crowd. The airlock hissed closed behind them. As he did so, six people suddenly stopped milling around and dove behind piles of crates to either side.
Neliblai looked from side to side. “Already?” With a shrug and a smoky inhale, ui began to walk ~ nay, stroll ~ towards the action. Verses from the Prophecies of Kallistrade cascaded through uir mind, tuning it to the minds of those in front of uim. If ui could just find the right frequency . . . . Wakiin fingered his hammer and Waystone0 asked, without inflection, “Are you planning on killing the dwarf?” For some reason, this seemed to convince Wakiin to move his hand to the whip at his waist.
“Does anyone else see this happening?” No asked.
Neliblai replied, “Yes, I’m working on it.”
Meanwhile, the two groups started shooting at each other, with the dwarf in the middle. Their triggers triggered the vesk, who left a thud of a backpack behind him as he sprinted to Duravar, almost impossibly fast. The reptile-colored blur, all green with orange racing stripes, swept Duravar off his feet and onto his shoulder. Stopping well past the line of fire, Wakiin looked down to see an unmoving dwarf. A quick flipover told him why ~ his back was a novella written in laser burns.
Not just Duravar, though. Neliblai took a laser to the shoulder as ui took a deep toke of tobacco, then grunted and coughed the smoke back out in a puff. The reporter creepysmiled.
Waystone0 noted the directness of the hit, the lack of any dodge in the maraquoi’s body, and calmly asked, “Is this within mission parameters?”
“Finding that out still,” Neliblai replied. “Psychic powers take time.”
“All right then.” And with that, Waystone0 sat down on the floor and began assiduously ignoring the battle while No drew and dove behind some nearby crates its own self. Johnny, meanwhile, ran at one of the people on the side that shot Neliblai. His opponent saw Johnny’s fist, and there was a knife in it. Bexch cartwheeled to cover while throwing his starknife to no effect. The spiky blade soon disappeared, showing up again in Bexch’s hand.
Waystone0 told Neliblai to “Tell me if you need medical assistance.”
Uir reply? “If you can do it without throwing off my flow.”
“What are the parameters of your flow?”
Neliblai replied by rattling off the infosphere address of uir blog while Wakiin walked all the way back to the fight, emptyhanded now, and casually hammered one of the shooters. He was paid immediately with a potshot leaving a long burn across his side. Another bolt caught Bexch’s hair, throwing a quick lick of flame into the air for a moment. Neliblai, on the other hand, gets a bit of a break as uir assailant turned his pistol on Johnny. The last of the six shooters was still fighting the original fight but didn’t hit any of them.
Johnny kept stabbing. His opponent fell to the floor. The starknife shot across the battlefield again, a metal meteor unable to land. Its owner cartwheeled toward the other group of three.
Neliblai leaned into uir enemy’s face and blew a steady stream of smoke into as ui did so. Uir spell had told uim three things: one gang was of these triads was a squad of the Downside Kings, the other represented from the Level 21 Gang, and someone was paying them. “Who’s paying you?”
Wakiin dealt more hammer to more faces. Well, the crate next to a face. Neliblai took a whack across the face from the person in front of uim. Wakiin barely noticed as laser bolt and knee made friends.
While No shot Neliblai’s attacker in the back, Johnny stabbed things, and the lashunta blew the fuck up, Waystone0 looked up from its speed-reading. “Your three-part exposé on Brethedan internal politics was quite insightful,” it told the maraquoi. Only its timing ~ ensuring that it could be heard ~ gave any indication that it had noticed the firefight or the solarian explosion in front of it.
“Thanks.”
“Also, if you want medical help, I advise walking away from the people shooting you.”
Hearing this offer, Bexch threw his hair and his face over his shoulder to call out, “I want medical attention!”
“Then I‘d give you the same advice.”
Neliblai bowed uir shoulders and head forward, slid one foot behind uim, and with another creepy smile stepped back. A tooth tucked away in the corner of that smile glinted in the dock’s cheap lights. It grew into a glowing ball that detached itself from maraquoi mouth. The ball, as bright as a flashlight, busied itself floating distractingly around the attacker’s head. Neliblai turned uir back and walked toward Waystone0.
All of the gangers ran, except the one graced by the attention of Neliblai’s wisp ally. That one ran up behind uim and clubbed uim on the head. Johnny prevented another from running by playing gun kata with them, a distraction and entanglement that allowed Bexch to stab him in the back. Licking his knife, the lashunta exclaimed, “First blood.”
“Closer . . . ,” Waystone0 told Neliblai. “Observing your near-fatal injuries, I find that I must ask: is this a combat situation we must attend to?”
An addict’s uncaring shrug accompanied uir reply. “If you want.”
Waystone stared, pulled out its rifle and shot the person pursuing the vlogger. It could see Duravar’s corpse through the hole it had blasted right through the ganger’s back. “Now, would you like me to perform medical assistance on you?”
Johnny quipped, “That’s a horrible pickup line, by the way.” To which, Bexch replied, “Eh. It would’ve gotten me.”
Neliblai walked up to Waystone0, looked at the android with a sibling respect, and said. “Your pickup line did get me.” A blast of stunning lightning flashed behind uim from uir waist, followed shortly by the blue fur of its head. The last of the gangers was out cold at uir pulsecaster’s blast.
Johnny and Waystone0 busied themselves with looting the bodies, finding 3 azimuth laser pistols, 3 clubs, and 3 credsticks with 100 credits each while Neliblai’s drug-ravaged muscles dragged them all into one spot inch by inch. Once ui had finally finished arranging the pile of bodies, Waystone0 began the work of ensuring ui wouldn’t die. Wakiin did much the same as the two androids and the maraquoi while it did so.
“I don’t have my full medkit,” Waystone0 said to Neliblai, whose tail was recording everything on uir comm, “so I wasn’t able to provide full assistance. You will probably need to visit a hospital or wait until I purchase my own medkit on station.”
Wakiin pulled out a comm and a granola bar from one of the dwarf’s pockets. Neliblai nodded at him. “I’ll take that.” The vesk threw the comm to uim and the bar into his mouth while a giggling Bexch snatched a shiny button from the dwarf’s jumpsuit and began wearing it as a monocle.
The dwarf’s recent messages reveal that his last communication had been to someone named Chiskisk saying, “I put out the word. Expecting them today. Be by this afternoon.”
“Chiskisk, Chiskisk,” Neliblai started muttering, “sounds like a shireen name.”
Johnny perked up at the mumbled name: “Chiskisk, I know of them. I never got any jobs directly but I’ve been to the office.”
“They work out of the main office?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go, then.”
“Are they now the one we will be getting our pay from?” asked Waystone0.
Neliblai shrugged. “Dunno.”
“We should at least report this,” Johnny suggested, “otherwise there’s no chance to get paid.”
The android nodded. “Good enough.”
“How about a snack on the way?” came a reptilian grumble from the vesk.
“Apologies. I didn’t know you could speak the Common language.”
A silence followed Waystone0’s comment.
Johnny broke the discomfort, bending down to reclaim his coffee cup. “The place where I got this has, like, bagels and things.”
“Hey, vesk.” called Neliblai. “Can you carry this ganger with us? He’s not dead, just pulsed.”
Wakiin shrugged. “Sure.” He snapped some restraints had in his backpack onto the human’s wrists before placing the unconscious body in said backpack.
Meanwhile, Johnny called the Starfinder main office to report the situation. Neliblai didn’t give him a chance, talking over him: “Starfinder Neliblai, number 071382, taking local ganger into custody for later questioning.”
“Bring him to the office,” came the tinny reply.
“Already on our way. Tell Chiskisk: medium-priority appointment.”
“Looks like you’re already on schedule.”
*
A walk through the power-clashing market promenades of Drifter’s End and a snack from one of those garish vendor stalls with the menus in 23 languages later, the ragtag group arrived at the Lorespire Complex. “We’ll take that.” A Starfinder was waiting for them in the lobby, and indicated the unconscious body on Wakiin’s back.
“OK,” Neliblai said. “Name and Starfinder number?”
“Look, we’ll just take him and interrogate him for you.”
“Name and Starfinder number?”
“I don’t need to ~ we’re just trying to make it easier for you, y’know!”
“I know. Name and Starfinder number?”
“What’s going on here?” interrupted Waystone0.
Neliblai responded: “Pissing contest.”
“But neither of you have your genitalia out. How will you know who wins?”
The guard throws his hands up in the air and walks out of the room, mumbling insults all the way. Waystone0 gives a smile and a wink, an expression of emotion that lasted a fraction of a second.
“Does this mean we have to feed the ganger?” asked Bexch.
“Only if they answer our questions?” was Neliblai’s reply.
A hologram flickered into existence and led the group to an office, Bexch cartwheeling the whole way down the hall. Waystone0, on the other hand, slammed a door shut as they passed it in the hall. With its face.
It turned out that Chiskisk, as the namesceen on their office told them, was a member of the Forum, which made them a bit of a bigwig in the Society. They also turned out to be a shirren in plain, understated business clothes behind a plain desk, nervously playing with their antennae. A lot of shirren do that when they’re perplexed. “Please, please, sit. Have refreshments. I wish I was welcoming you under better circumstances. Kreel’s death is a tragedy.”
“Are you our new quartermaster?” asked Waystone0.
Chiskisk ignored the interrupting android. “To those of you new here, these violent events are rare. He was a dear friend, and he will be missed.”
Johnny Coy0te this time took on the mantle of interrupting android: “How many stars did he find?”
A deep and frustrated sigh. This meeting was not going the way Chiskisk had expected. “That is not what that means.”
“I always wondered what you did here.” Neliblai restrained uimself from a chuckle and a grin at Johnny's irreverence, but not quite in time.
Chiskisk chose Waystone0 as the less mocking of the two. “I will not be acting as your commander, though I will be asking your aid in a certain matter.”
“And that will be compensated?” Wayfinder0 asked.
“Yes.”
Bexch clarified: “In money?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for that clarification.”
“The thing is, I don’t really understand the circumstances.”
“I recognize the colors,” Johnny said, “we just got caught in the crossfire.”
“Yes, but the docks are far from their respective territories. I can’t help but feel like they want more.”
“Who doesn’t in this life?” Neliblai retorted.
“I want you to find out if he was a target or just caught in the crossfire. Security will just record it as an accident. Consider this a very impromptu initiation if you will.”
Johnny grinned. “My favorite kind.”
“Do we have permission,” asked Waystone0, ‘to engage in less than legal activities such as investigating the police?”
“Officially, the Starfinder Society doesn’t condone or allow illegal activity. Which is why I won’t be asking about it.”
“So we’re getting paid more?” Bexch sounded excited.
“You will be made a member and get info the public doesn’t know.”
“So this is an internship?”
“You will still be paid for the mission.”
The lashunta wouldn’t drop it. “So is there a number?”
The screen on Chiskisk’s wall shows 200 credits in the process of getting transferred to each of the assembled ne’er-do-wells’ accounts. “Call that advanced pay. It should cover expenses, too.”
Waystone0 cocked an eyebrow. “As that is approximately 200% my total savings, you have effectively purchased my loyalty for the moment.”
“Before we get started,” Wakiin finally spoke, “where is the best place to eat? That snack kicked up an appetite.”
“The Moon of Sleep is a hotel favored by Starfinders. They will give you discount lodging as long as you are with Neliblai.”
“Discount food?” The vesk almost sounded like an eager child.
“I dunno about food . . .”
“C’mon we’re doing a favor for you!”
“I’ll pay for your food if you give me a piggyback ride,” Bexch offered.
“OK”
“And,” added Waystone0, “I’ll pay for 10% of your food expenses for the day as thanks.”
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