You replay the orientation holo-video over and over again in your head, recalling how strange and important it seemed. You remember how scared the messy gnomish scientist in the video seemed as he stares out through a window into space, his eyes tired and wide. That gnome is Professor Orryn Talfough-Gogglefogger, an inventor who claims to have a solution to the ‘verse’s biggest problem. Once more, you recall the contents of the video, its every little detail. Professor Orryn fiddles with his rolled-up sleeves, lights up a space cigarette, and begins to turn to look directly at the holo-cam. He speaks with a hint of knowing sadness in his voice. “That’s me, spacers, and I… am in a lot of trouble. It’s not your fault this is happening. Not entirely. Maybe you will save my life. I hope… no, now is not the time. Listen, you have to understand, the Talfough Matrix, my prototype, is going to change everything. We will be able to travel into Dead Magic Zones with Dark Matter ships, we will be able to colonize unexplored planets using magic! We will rewrite interstellar boundaries. Thing about it is, change is terrifying. Exciting. The possibilities in the impossible––it brings out the best and the worst in people. You’ll see what I mean, soon enough.” And then the holo-video ends, with the professor putting out his half-smoked cigarette and reaching a shaking hand to turn off the camera.

That was several weeks ago. You’ve traveled from across the ‘verse and now find yourselves in the Starswill Bar, a seedy joint in Port Nomad. At one end of the bar is a dimly lit, empty marble stage with a piano set up against its back wall. The bar is populated but not overly crowded, with a variety of individuals from many different races and cultures gathered to witness the presentation that they’ve been invited to. In front of the stage are a row of seats that have been set up specifically for the presentation. Beyond the seats are a row of dark booths, some more poorly lit and perfect for whispered conversations. Several round tables are set out between the stage area and the bar itself, where a few people are sitting and drinking, some taking the opportunity to gamble their credits away. The bar of the Starswill is a long metal top with many stools. Behind it, several human bartenders work hard to keep up with the demands of the clientele. Beside the bar is a large window looking out into the vastness of outer space.

Please describe each of your characters, as well as their location in the Starswill. Your job is to keep an eye out for any suspicious individuals that might want to assassinate the paranoid professor.

Maker stands against the wall off to the side of the stage. It is unobtrusive, preferring to stand there and almost seem to be in standby mode. The robots outer shell is a mixture of exposed mechanics and white or gold colored composite plating: https://lifeboat.com/blog.images/image-the-3d-robot-art-of-david-letondor-digital-sci-fi-artist3.jpg

Maker currently has a recon drone patrolling the darker seating areas, providing it an extra set of eyes while Maker watches the near seats. A medical drone hovers beside him at his post. Hopefully it is unnecessary, but Maker does not place much value on an emotion like hope. Preferring instead to plan and prepare for as many possibilities as its processing system will allow.

Jimmy Elden leans against the end of the bar. He looks slightly out of place, and feels slightly out of place, but he was raised to know that when a friend asks for help, you help ‘em. 

Jimmy came in fully suited up. A bronze and red painted impulse frame, all long limbs and bulky, nearly spherical shoulder pauldrons with a hardened, thick breastplate and a pale green visor in the helmet. The stock on his concussion rifle sticks out the top of his pack, while the ion cannon is strapped across the side. The laser sword rests in a bandolier across his torso. 

Underneath it all, Jimmy tucked his favorite hat into his back pocket of his jeans, which was held up with a belt buckle in the shape of a Lakshayan flag. His t-shirt was an unremarkable white, with a plaid shirt overtop.

Jimmy whistles one of his favorite bluegrass tunes, also at odds with the atmosphere. That’s okay, after all: Jimmy was pretty sure he came here to be at odds with folks.

Fezzik pauses in the doorway and sways back and forth in a non-existent breeze. His head tilts as he gives the room a once over.

Perception check for immediate danger 17

His mandibles flutter and he makes his way towards an empty space to wait. The lights reflect off his deep purple carapace, his harness and pack seem to be made from well worn lizard hide. Aside from some odd looking gloves, he appears unarmed. Fezzik politely orders some protein to munch on while he waits for something interesting to happen. You can see the nictitating membrane of his eyes flick while he observes in his imaginary wind.  

Isokratos shifts uncomfortably in the booth he had occupied. "Bloody thing's not made for an Aqua suit," he murmurs to no one in particular as he scans the room.  He had skipped his regular suit buffing, and the gray looked particularly dingy, and the copper tarnished, which suited his purposes. He had even picked what he thought was the one of the darker booths to stay...unobtrusive, but how uncomfortable he felt clearly showed, and he nearly tipped the table over as he tried to scoot over into the center of the booth.

"So much for subtle." The Nautilid grunts as he braces himself for the moment of sheer panic, of not being able to breathe. Then, quickly, he removes his helmet and downs the drink in front of him, immediately putting on the helmet back on and breathing normally once more. He could hear the spirits of his ancestors voicing their disapproval, but he tries to pushes the voices down. Hey, you came to me. I didn't ask for this.

But somehow, he did. He admired that squirrely gnome in some weird way. And just maybe his Matrix doohickey would be the thing Isokratos's people needed. Ah, and maybe I'll come down with Space Madness tomorrow. He sighs, and reminds himself he's on the job, then will scan around, looking for anything not necessarily suspicious, but rather out of place.

Perception: 18

As it stands by the stage, Maker notices a lone amoeboid sitting in an otherwise unoccupied row of seats. It seems to be waiting politely for something.

Meanwhile, Isokratos and Horus-Lux, accompanied by Maker's recon drone, find an unoccupied booth. It is located between the Professor's where he is preparing for his speech aided by two gnomish assistants, and another poorly-lit booth. In the second booth, a trio of halflings, two in similar garb and the third in a black suit, sit while a half-orc wearing high tech armor and wielding an impressive weapon stands by, watching.

At the bar, a tall avia-ra in intimidating crimson plate armor leans over the corner of the bar, keeping an eye on the room. At the far end of the bar is an elven noblewoman with large silver discs for eyes, who is wearing an elaborate and colorful gown full of sharp angles. She is drinking a brilliant blue fizzing cocktail, smiling, and watching Jimmy.

It is hard for Fezzik to find an empty space, but he does find a relatively unoccupied section of the inn by some small gaming tables. At the nearest one, a beautiful woman wearing a red dress is playing cards with an older, grumpy-faced dwarf who wears a well-stocked tool belt around his large waist. The dwarf spots Fezzik and gives him an unnerved look, but Fezzik is used to it. After all, many regard skathari as savages, and it is out of the ordinary to see one in such a public place. The woman notices him as well, but if she has any opinion of him she does not make it known.

Maker notes the amoeboid by itself. Maker has had enough experience with the humanoid races to be able to read their faces. Faces seemingly always filled with expression. Reasoning that there is no way it will be able to ascertain the intent or emotional status of the fluid individual who lacks such recognizable signs Maker decides to engage it in conversation. The construct walks over to the shifting form, leaving his medical drone behind.

"Excuse me, I am here to ensure the safety of this evening's events. I feel obligated to provide you this information in the event that it affects your intentions, whatever they may be." Maker briefly considers that this is not the most subtle way to suss out danger, but that is also part of the ploy. The magical automaton attempts to watch the amoeboid for its reaction to the comment, as well as any reaction from other individuals close enough to overhear.

Maker looks over the vaguely humanoid shaped amoeboid. Their form is blue and translucent, and their large black eyespots are framed by delicate eyelashes. They’ve dressed in a glittering grey robe with two well-worn grenade belts strapped across their midsection. In the amoeboid’s lap rests a dormant data pad. The air around them is chilled, significantly colder than elsewhere in the bar.

"Oh, I assure you my intentions are merely to watch. I am very much looking forward to whatever the Professor has to say. It's such a wonderful fluke of probability that my stop here at port Nomad just happened to coincide with his speech!"

They extend a pseudopod, which shapes itself into a form somewhat resembling a hand.

"I am Ember, pleased to meet you!"

Jimmy wanders over to the noble elf woman.

”Can’t help but notice you looking at me. Makes a fella wonder what makes a woman stare at one poor warped soul instead of another.” Jimmy gestures with his thumb at the Avia-ra down the bar. 

Isokratos makes a gesture that could be a shrug or an attempt to loosen himself from the booth. "This is less uncomfortable than me gasping for breath and flopping around on this table."  He tries to signal one of the bartenders to bring him another drink as he watches the Aria-Ra prepare his tea.

"Whatever it takes, pal. I gotta say, seeing that vid of the professor put me on edge. The old boy is scared. Almost as if he doesn't expect tonight to end in anything but..."

He speaks quietly, but trails off as she sees Horus's golden eyes move over the crowd slowly, steadily. For his part,  Isokratos, shifts himself so he can watch the halflings. The half-orc caught his attention, but it was the halfling in the suit that really interested him. A crook in a nice suit is usually the most dangerous person in any room. Isokratos learned that lesson a long time ago.

He activates the universal translator in his suit and scoots over again, disturbing the table once more, hoping to get close enough to get any snippets of conversation.

Maker grasps the hand extended by Ember. "Hello." Maker notes the change in temperature and turns back to the amoeboid. "I do not have much experience with your species but the information in my databases suggest the majority are involved in scientific or magical research. I pursue a combined field of study and wish to exchange information if at all possible after my work here is concluded."

The matronly elvish woman approaches, and Jimmy gets a better look at her unusual garb. She wears an electric pink gown accented by strange, sharp angles that matches her long hot-pink mohawk. After some thought, Jimmy recognizes it as the garb of a Diviner of house Mere'gaal, the most magically gifted of the elvish houses. She gives him a knowing smile.

"Some are more warped than others, friend."

As Isokratos approaches the large booth, a heavily armed half-orc that stands guard next to it eyes him dutifully, but without too much concern. A haze of smoke hangs over the booth, rising from an ashtray full of snubbed space cigarettes that stink of burnt herbs and liquorice. A sandy-haired halfling in a white suit takes out another cigarette from an inner jacket pocket. His hands shake nervously as he fumbles for his lighter.

“How can you have lost it already?” The female halfling sitting across from him snaps. The two look like they could be brother and sister. “It’s here, I know it is. Sorry Kiri, I think there m-must be a hole in the seat”, the nervous halfling squeaks out, then pulls up a tuft of grey gauzy foam from underneath him.

With a sharp click, a buzzing neon lighter ignites and is gently extended across the table by a third halfling, older than the other two and wearing a dark suit. He lights the nervous halfling’s cigarette, slides his lighter back into his suit pocket, then looks up at Isokratos and smiles. Despite a soft roundness to his face, there’s something a little sinister about that smile. “Care to take a seat?”, the smiling halfling offers.

Ember chuckles. "I don't think you'd be interested in my research. I'm a sociologist, mostly focused on the Warzone and the war."

"Indeed." Maker replies to Ember's statement. "I would not."

Maker unceremoniously removes itself from the interaction. Moving back to its previous position along the wall it scans the room once more.

Forgot to provide this, but NPC art!

The avia-ra, who(I forgot to say this) you recognize as Ser Helio-Horus, the chief of security in Port Nomad.

 The halfling crew

 The woman in the red dress

Jimmy isn’t sure if she’s flirting, so he goes with his gut.

”Can I buy you a drink?”