Ratfolk who seems to have been working on a teleportation machine of sorts.
Conversation 1: 2/28/17
Bro: “Hello Beaker, sorry for the wait. We just want to make sure that your story matches up with Ingrid’s. In your opinion what does the machine over there do?”
Beaker: “Please don’t hit me…” he shields his face. “I can’t tell you that. I told you people all you wanted to hear… Please just let us go.”
Bro: “No, you didn’t tell us all we wanted to hear. I want to hear what that machine does. Believe me, Beaker, I’d love to let you go. But you’re making that difficult for me by not answering my questions.”
Beaker: He starts crying “I don’t know the words.”
Bro: “Answer the question, Beaker.”
Me: “He might literally not know all the words. Not all rat’s speak perfect common”
Beaker: “It is like the knife…” he says, between tears. “It cuts through this place to another.”
Bro: “Who made the machine? And for what purpose?”
Beaker: “I don’t know who made it. It wasn’t supposed to be. I don’t know why they made it except that they want to tear through. I don’t know why.”
Bro: “What interest do your people have in this machine?”
Beaker: He covers his face again, as if avoiding getting hit. “I am not supposed to say. Did Ingrid say it is okay?”
Bro: “Ingrid told us her version of the story. We want to hear yours. That way, if either of you is lying, we’ll know.”
Beaker: “Oh. Then I am not supposed to say, sorry. We each have our station.” He looks out from behind his hand.
Beaker: “To escape! We want to be free from here! Please ask no more!”
Bro: “Do your people have another one like it? And does it require that unusual stone to operate?”
Beaker: “I don’t know if there are more. It needs those stones, yes.”
Richard: “The ambassador seems to think this place and it’s secrets are the path to lasting peace with the surface.” I offer to the group
Beaker: Beaker looks at Richard, then nods repeatedly. “Peace with surface is goal of ratfolk, yes, we want this. Scary man with questions Beaker doesn’t want this.” He points at Harrison.‘s body. “Surfacers are scary…” he says quietly.
Bro: “What can you tell me about those stones? What are they? What do they do? How many are there? Where did they come from?”
Beaker: "They are refined tools, very old, for orienting this device. We don’t know where they came from – Ratman knows, not me, not me. But they tell the device where to go. Otherwise… it is like pressing knife into cover of hot book, hoping to have it sink to exactly one page. Do you understand? No choice, its random without stone."
Me: “Do you know if the stones each go to someplace different? Or are they like general maps?”
Beaker: He seems confused. “Please, you nice one, tell others not hit Beaker.”
Me: “He won’t hit you. We’re just curious if the rocks are all different or if each is unique”
Beaker: He looks to Richard. “You nice one too. Tell not hit Beaker? Each rock needs to be studied before I can answer. I know only of them, not how they work. Some ratfolk know the rock secret, some know the machine secret. No rat know all.”
Me: “Okay. Thank you Beaker”
Beaker: “Thank you no hit me… so nicer than dead man… thank you…” he smiles at you, Stockholm syndrome slightly infecting him.
Bro: “Thank you for cooperating, Beaker. I’ll make sure no one else finds out you helped us.” I walk away very visibly angry and say loud enough for Ingrid to hear. “Damnit! None of you ratfolk will tell us anything when the city is in so much danger! Fine, take your secrets back to your embassy.”
DM: He nods, and turns around. Ingrid looks at him, slightly suspicious, then her expression levels.