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Session 15 Log, art and XP

Log For Session 15 After returning home and resting after a fruitless effort to exact information on the Pan Gal bombing, Rodworth bring up investigating the death of Milo, the miner and Alien Archaeologist that they had recruit earlier. As the party heads to the lift, they come across a drunken Dralasite, who was just thrown through the window of a bar. As Joseph examines him a human emerges from the bar prepared to finish the fight. Joseph manages to defuse the situation. Making a stop in Fair Dome, Eusyle and Kyle attempt to hack the computer system of the organization brokering the bounty, while they are successful in getting into the camera memory they are unable to break the computer security. Continuing on to Old Dome, we encounter an elderly human gentleman traveling the line. Apparent to Rodworth the man while appearing to be unarmed carry an aura of confident that marks a true master. Rodworth gives the gentleman his number, if he should ever needs their service, which he insure Yaz that he doesn't. In End dome the the team manages to contact Milo's robot that has have its robot brain transfer to a warbot chassis. Returning back to the base the team manage to hack the robot compute which contains a log of locations and times that Milo and the Robot had stopped at. The team decides to backtrack Milo's moments. They also discover a secret compartment containing the old human chip that they had sold to human separative group, and files showing that Milo had examine the chip and confirmed that it is ancient human technology predating the know history of human star-flight on the frontier. Returning to Milo last known location in End Dome, they run into a team of UPF escorting a Diplomat from inner reach. When they arrive at End dome they discovered the ruins of a flophouse that blowup at around the time of Milo's last commands to his robot, ordering it to flee. They then run across a team of Red Police setting up a scanner to search a second tenement. The team decides to continue backtracking Milo moments, and discovers that Milo hit a series of bars, looking for a mysterious human, that we learn from his files and email that he was to meet in End Dome. After failing to uncover any further information the team decides to return to the base and continue their backtracking of Milo's moment. Returning on the monorail the team comes across an Vrush undertaker carrying the bodies of the security team and unknown opponents from a fire fight in bar at End Dome. Joseph brides the undertaker and finds a tattoo on one of the corpse, bearing the name “Vomit Bucket” a pirate ship involved in the taking passenger liner. The team return home, to discuss there next course of action, they debate on whether to sell the chip again, but Yaz and Joseph want to investigate further as the implication of what turning over the chip may be. Agreeing to wait the team proceeds the next day to Grand Isle, a dome filled with water, giving it a yachting club air. Renting an air car they follow the GPS coordinates to a heavily armed Vessel bearing the Caduceus symbol. Hailing the ship they are allow past the gun ships guarding it. They are met by a Butler and after a brief discussing are brought to the presence of Johanne white, who is said to be exhibiting the chip that they now have in their possession. After talking to Mr White it become apparent that Milo had stolen the chip, and it is likely Mr White had sent agents to retrieve it. The team drop hints that they know about the fact that Mr White is no longer in possession of the chip. And leave. On the way to base the team the team return to end dome and attempts to breach the security of the Syndicate organization again. This time they are successful and they are able to learn the identity of the ir enemy, Jeb Nurre- blue boy.  
Thank you for the log. For accuracy of names / spelling: Milo => Nilo Vomit Bucket => Vomit Comet Johanne White => Justin White (whose yacht was unarmed, but had several escort boats)
I'll grab the logging this Thursday. Also, points from last week? Lets hope that we have good "dice" luck, like we did the last session.  Yea, I know...JINX!  We're screwed.
I don't think we got the XP Breakdown but here's a story for the art log: From the Diary of Eusyl of Clan Diogenes: The day I knew the direction of my life was when I was nine years old. My father took me shooting for the first time. Yazirians mature faster than humans and I was stronger and bigger than one might expect at that age (plus, us girls are naturally bigger than the boys). We went down to Gary's Guns, which has a shooting range in the back. Father pulled out a wooden box with a metal inlay. Inside was a gyrojet pistol and three jet clips, laid out in neo-neoprine. On the inside of the cover was a brass plaque, bearing the words 'For gallant service in the Athor Militia, Rocket Brigade.' The weapon was clearly well-maintained but also well-used. He pulled it out and said, "This is a harsh world we've arrived on; it's time you learned how to defend yourself. This will be yours someday." I bit my tongue, not wanting to say that I'd already shot autopistols with the local gangs after school. He put a clip in with a smooth, practiced gesture. He eyed the target and fired off three rounds in quick succession. Glancing through a target scope, the result was clear: two in the red, one on the border.  "The difference between gryos and other slugthowers," he began, giving me a hard glance, (busted!), "is the lack of recoil. It more resembles shooting a beam weapon, like a laser. It packs more punch. Of course, I was trained in the Rocket Rangers so I admit to a slight bias." My father was usually a man of few words, so this was a new experience for me. He handed me the pistol. It was very heavy so I had to use two hands in a triangle position. I fired a round and he was right; I was anticipating a recoil and the round went wide. But not too wide, I noted with slight pride. We shot the clips and then bought some new rounds. It took a while to get a handle on the weapon. "Not bad for a first set," Father said, "you'll need to come down here regularly to get a handle on the gyro. Once you start hitting the red, we'll work on moving targets." He had me practice loading clips, with the admonition to practice that nightly until it was rote.  "I've noticed you taking apart and putting back together the sythefood processor. You've got a knack," he said after a clip slid to the ground when I missed the slide of handle. "You should pursue that; it's a good way to be useful." I looked at him in surprise. "But I wanted to be a warrior like you. It seems like only the fighters in the gangs have any freedom or power in this series of caves of a world." I regretted describing Outer Reach like that when I saw the pained look on my father's face. I still remembered the beautiful forests of Athor, the Yazirian world of my birth. I ached for the spaces to glide like our ancestors. "Let me tell you a story," he said after a few moments of silence. "The clan skirmishes were tough but nothing compared to the Sathar Wars. They were like nothing we had ever seen. It's hard to describe how... implacable they were. Never giving an inch, not an ounce of mercy. It did make our military decisions easier though." He looked down at his pistol. "Our brigade was separated from the main force while we were escorting an Engineer Group. Our ammo was low, we couldn't get around them on the ground or even in the trees. Any attempt for aerial rescue or bombardment would've have been annihilated by their heavy weapons. The Major was discussing options when he noticed the engineers crowding around a large parabattery.  He stalked over to them, asking them what the problem was. One of the engineers, Atok of Clan Pythagorous, I think his name was, said 'The battlelines have shifted during the last few days of combat. We're now where the Sathar were holed up two days ago. This,' he gestured to the parabattery, 'is one of their spent energy cells.' "'So?' the major snapped, chewing on a stick of pyentine wood. "'The Sathar adapted some of our tech when they invaded the outer colonies. These parabatteries are based on an old design. A flawed design.' Atok pulled open the top. 'These batteries were sensitive to certain frequencies and could explode when a certain set of Radiophone transmissions were sent out near them. They were discontinued and sold at cut-rate prices to poor colonies and expeditions. The freqs were rare enough that with warnings, the batteries were safe, for the most part.' "The engineer took out a mobile satellite dish. 'I know what those frequencies are and we're a communication unit. We can light up this entire valley with those transmissions. Every vehicle, heavy weapon, cooking unit, radio system and computer over there is using these batteries. We haven't found any other versions in their trash.' The Major looked at the parabattery and then at Atok.'Set it up,' he said. "The engineers set up their comm network and powered it up. Atok programmed the transmission and pressed 'send.' A kilometer away, a series of low thumps began to cascade across the jungle floor. It went on for about 45 seconds but it felt like an hour. We moved through the underbrush towards the sound. Scouts went out and reported back. The entire Sathar battalion was either dead, dying or in retreat. We had a clear path back to Command." Father reloaded the three jetclips, sprayed the pistol with sili-oil and put them back in the box. "Knowing how to shoot or stab is good, but learning how to plug up the drain... that's a whole other ball of terra-wax." With that, we went back to Scoonies for sweet milk treats. By the next week, I was hanging around the garages, watching the mechanics. I've never looked back.  On the other hand, I can clear and cycle a Gryojet pistol in an eighth of a second. And that pistol is under my arm every day, a reminder of my father. 
Very nice. New XP totals: +1 everyone that was expected to be on time was on time +1 log +1 creativity No bonus for tasks finished, but there's a lot in the pan The new total: 111 (from last week) + 3 = 114 xp