Star Wars: Reclamation
- Thread starter Tyo
- Start date
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 4,131
18 AGC - A New Galaxy
Link to video.
Our Home
A soldier clad in black armor - barely visible in the dark and rainy conditions he was currently braving - inched his way across a dome structure. The only lights that fate provided him was the periodic lightning strike that varied in intensity. The downpour made it difficult to maintain his grasp, but he wasn’t worried about falling. He was almost at his destination.
He came up on one of the only lit windows in the dome. He peeked inside from a corner. His intel was solid; the patrol had just left the room. The lights summarily turned off. The soldier quickly broke in using a plasma cutter. He landed softly, but with cause. He had fifteen minutes to complete his objective before the next patrol made their way here and his cover was blown. He trusted the others to hit their marks, but he was not one to take unnecessary risks. He would try to meet his quota even if it was for naught. He activated his night vision and opened the door on the far side of the room; nobody was around in the hallway. His boys were already at work. He activated his stealth field to be sure and went straight for his mark.
The hallways were exactly how he remembered them, even if they added extra security measures. They circled, rarely ever having a hard angle. This was a structure built for efficiency of space as well as production. He only entertained this thought for a moment as he realized a checkpoint was straight ahead. As expected, they changed the locations of a few checkpoints since the last intel update, only twelve hours ago. It didn’t make a difference, he was ready for this.
There were four - two facing either direction of the hallway. The tangos made idle chat, apparently not aware of the gravity of the situation they were in. The soldier made his strike.
Running with the ferocity of a Nexu, he quickly dispatched the closest enemy with his retractable vibroblade, the blade finding a new home in the fully-armored combatant’s throat. Simultaneously, he grabbed the man’s hand wielding his weapon - a new DC - 20X model, and pulled his own finger to eliminate his own ally who hadn’t been able to even react to his friend’s demise. Quickly releasing his deceased target, he drew his own blaster - a DC-15s sidearm blaster, a classic - and aimed at the remaining two combatants, who were only now turning around and seeing their comrades fall. But they didn’t get the chance to do much else - the black soldier put blaster bolts directly in their skulls. Even upgraded faces can’t take direct blaster hits.
The bodies fell roughly in sync, and the soldier was already moving. He came across a couple more posts, quickly and efficiently neutralizing each one. He knew he’d definitely have less time now - someone unaccounted for is bound to stumble upon one of the scenes and immediately activate the alarm. There was no telling how long he had now, so he sped up with vigor.
He finally reached his goal. The main reactor of the facility, when overloaded, will spell the end of the structure - and everyone inside. By now, there had to be an enemy that found a body. Radio silence remained, so he could safely assume his squad had his back - as always. Without hesitation, he began his work. He began rigging up the reactor, which was easy enough. As a failsafe, he unpackaged plan B: several explosive charges. He set them on the reactor’s critical points - if things went south, they could still complete their mission, theoretically. If the laws of physics were on their side, anyways. Worst case scenario, the facility will be permanently without power and his squad would have to blow up the entire thing manually, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Finished with his work, he walked out the reactor control room. Just as he did so, someone broke radio silence.
“Facility alarm disabled and comm systems disabled, but surprise facility check inbound. Two gunships. I can eliminate one as they land, but request assistance. Confirm?” A tired voice fills the airwaves. The soldier recognizes it well. A pause before he responds.
“IC-1138 confirms. I’ll be there to assist. Over.”
Current Events
Imperial Triumph over Aleen
As the Republic tried to make headway against an Imperial enclave in the Galactic Southern Inner Rim, they were met with fierce resistance. The plan to overwhelm the surrounded and cut-off enclave seemed to have failed when the CIS campaign to take Naboo forced the Republic to dedicate more manpower there rather than offensively, making a simultaneous attack on Aleen and M’haeli impossible. The Republic forces were routed, but the Imperials were in no shape to push a counter-offensive into Denon. The galactic stalemate continues.
[effect: Galactic uncertainty increased. Espionage missions have decreased in difficulty by 1 rank; Military missions have increased in difficulty by 1 rank.]
Hutts in a Golden Age
With the galaxy in utter turmoil, no legitimate government has any time to seriously crack down on increasing Hutt activity. The surge of Hutt-backed organized crime has become the driving force of a “Golden Age” for the Hutts. The illegal markets the Hutts deal in are actually becoming somewhat practical to buy from.
[effect: Black Market goods are 75% off; Hutt goods are 50% off]
Republic Propaganda on the Rise
The Republic has launched an aggressive propaganda campaign in an effort to boost recruitment and increase public opinion. Although the cause was hurt by the recent loses, the Republic rhetoric is undeniably powerful as they call on the Galaxy to remember the sacrifices of various worlds that have been ravaged, largely by the hand of Imperials. Capitals of many worlds chant “Remember Kamino” and “Revenge for Thustra.”
[effect: unknown]
Stats
GM notes:
Link to video.
Our Home
A soldier clad in black armor - barely visible in the dark and rainy conditions he was currently braving - inched his way across a dome structure. The only lights that fate provided him was the periodic lightning strike that varied in intensity. The downpour made it difficult to maintain his grasp, but he wasn’t worried about falling. He was almost at his destination.
He came up on one of the only lit windows in the dome. He peeked inside from a corner. His intel was solid; the patrol had just left the room. The lights summarily turned off. The soldier quickly broke in using a plasma cutter. He landed softly, but with cause. He had fifteen minutes to complete his objective before the next patrol made their way here and his cover was blown. He trusted the others to hit their marks, but he was not one to take unnecessary risks. He would try to meet his quota even if it was for naught. He activated his night vision and opened the door on the far side of the room; nobody was around in the hallway. His boys were already at work. He activated his stealth field to be sure and went straight for his mark.
The hallways were exactly how he remembered them, even if they added extra security measures. They circled, rarely ever having a hard angle. This was a structure built for efficiency of space as well as production. He only entertained this thought for a moment as he realized a checkpoint was straight ahead. As expected, they changed the locations of a few checkpoints since the last intel update, only twelve hours ago. It didn’t make a difference, he was ready for this.
There were four - two facing either direction of the hallway. The tangos made idle chat, apparently not aware of the gravity of the situation they were in. The soldier made his strike.
Running with the ferocity of a Nexu, he quickly dispatched the closest enemy with his retractable vibroblade, the blade finding a new home in the fully-armored combatant’s throat. Simultaneously, he grabbed the man’s hand wielding his weapon - a new DC - 20X model, and pulled his own finger to eliminate his own ally who hadn’t been able to even react to his friend’s demise. Quickly releasing his deceased target, he drew his own blaster - a DC-15s sidearm blaster, a classic - and aimed at the remaining two combatants, who were only now turning around and seeing their comrades fall. But they didn’t get the chance to do much else - the black soldier put blaster bolts directly in their skulls. Even upgraded faces can’t take direct blaster hits.
The bodies fell roughly in sync, and the soldier was already moving. He came across a couple more posts, quickly and efficiently neutralizing each one. He knew he’d definitely have less time now - someone unaccounted for is bound to stumble upon one of the scenes and immediately activate the alarm. There was no telling how long he had now, so he sped up with vigor.
He finally reached his goal. The main reactor of the facility, when overloaded, will spell the end of the structure - and everyone inside. By now, there had to be an enemy that found a body. Radio silence remained, so he could safely assume his squad had his back - as always. Without hesitation, he began his work. He began rigging up the reactor, which was easy enough. As a failsafe, he unpackaged plan B: several explosive charges. He set them on the reactor’s critical points - if things went south, they could still complete their mission, theoretically. If the laws of physics were on their side, anyways. Worst case scenario, the facility will be permanently without power and his squad would have to blow up the entire thing manually, but hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Finished with his work, he walked out the reactor control room. Just as he did so, someone broke radio silence.
“Facility alarm disabled and comm systems disabled, but surprise facility check inbound. Two gunships. I can eliminate one as they land, but request assistance. Confirm?” A tired voice fills the airwaves. The soldier recognizes it well. A pause before he responds.
“IC-1138 confirms. I’ll be there to assist. Over.”
Current Events
Imperial Triumph over Aleen
As the Republic tried to make headway against an Imperial enclave in the Galactic Southern Inner Rim, they were met with fierce resistance. The plan to overwhelm the surrounded and cut-off enclave seemed to have failed when the CIS campaign to take Naboo forced the Republic to dedicate more manpower there rather than offensively, making a simultaneous attack on Aleen and M’haeli impossible. The Republic forces were routed, but the Imperials were in no shape to push a counter-offensive into Denon. The galactic stalemate continues.
[effect: Galactic uncertainty increased. Espionage missions have decreased in difficulty by 1 rank; Military missions have increased in difficulty by 1 rank.]
Hutts in a Golden Age
With the galaxy in utter turmoil, no legitimate government has any time to seriously crack down on increasing Hutt activity. The surge of Hutt-backed organized crime has become the driving force of a “Golden Age” for the Hutts. The illegal markets the Hutts deal in are actually becoming somewhat practical to buy from.
[effect: Black Market goods are 75% off; Hutt goods are 50% off]
Republic Propaganda on the Rise
The Republic has launched an aggressive propaganda campaign in an effort to boost recruitment and increase public opinion. Although the cause was hurt by the recent loses, the Republic rhetoric is undeniably powerful as they call on the Galaxy to remember the sacrifices of various worlds that have been ravaged, largely by the hand of Imperials. Capitals of many worlds chant “Remember Kamino” and “Revenge for Thustra.”
[effect: unknown]
Stats
GM notes:
- If you see an error or minor discrepancy, PM me.
- If you have a question about anything,ask in thread. Chances are you're not the only one.
- I would love to collaborate on stories. PM me about ideas and maybe we can work something out together. That said, solo stories are all fine.
- I am a kind GM. If you post a join below, I'll let you send orders for this turn. But you won't get bonus stats. You can still get personalized gear if you talk to me privately.
- Roleplay will no longer confer bonus stats from now on. Roleplay may still provide more subtle bonuses.
JohannaK
Heroically Clueless
So, um, about that podracing guy, how much are the returns? I mean he puts a 1,000 bet, how much he gets if he wins?
Zappericus
Euro scumbag
[Marauder Squad has picked up the security detail contract for The Spacer's Den, for the up-front sum of 500 - followed up by a latter 1,000 galactic credits. Details on the locale's interior and exterior requested, and access to all parts of the club will be required.]
elite stormtroopers acting as club thugs ayy lmao
I assume we perform the missions through extensive roleplay stories, and you (the GM) decides whether this story is plausible enough to succeed? For example, if I powergame and state "Marauders go in and kill everyone but take mob boss alive for 5k without a scratch", you'd probably have a nice giggle, sip your coffee, and PM me that my party was horribly murdered, parted and paraded around the streets?
elite stormtroopers acting as club thugs ayy lmao
I assume we perform the missions through extensive roleplay stories, and you (the GM) decides whether this story is plausible enough to succeed? For example, if I powergame and state "Marauders go in and kill everyone but take mob boss alive for 5k without a scratch", you'd probably have a nice giggle, sip your coffee, and PM me that my party was horribly murdered, parted and paraded around the streets?
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 4,131
Somewhat. Roleplay isn't necessarily required, but if you make roleplay about your mission if will certainly be noted when I decide the result - and indeed, the quality and effort put in will be taken into account.
So tentative yes.
Also I wasn't able to do so right after the update for personal reasons, but I was planning on sending out missions to those confirmed to be under a faction. Your group is considered one of these - if you're set on this listing, I can save your more official mission for next time.
Another note, multiple players can take the same contract. That is all.
So tentative yes.
Also I wasn't able to do so right after the update for personal reasons, but I was planning on sending out missions to those confirmed to be under a faction. Your group is considered one of these - if you're set on this listing, I can save your more official mission for next time.
Another note, multiple players can take the same contract. That is all.
Zappericus
Euro scumbag
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 4,131
Alright. I'm glad you're liking the game!
I'll hand out everyone else's factional missions tomorrow. I might have misinterpreted who is and is not officially part of a faction, so if you don't receive a PM tomorrow but you meant to be an enlisted part of a faction, let me know.
I'll hand out everyone else's factional missions tomorrow. I might have misinterpreted who is and is not officially part of a faction, so if you don't receive a PM tomorrow but you meant to be an enlisted part of a faction, let me know.
thomas.berubeg
Wandering the World
Tatooine, Just Now.
Wind curled tendrils of sand through the ruins of the city. The shattered walls bore the scars of an orbital bombardment of hellish proportions, even sanded smooth by the constant dust storms. The city lay on many levels, the surface levels having born the brunt of the bombing, but the vagaries of time had affected the underground portions as well.
Aara Atasy lightly walked along a crumbling wall, feeling for the ripples of the force. It was a technique that he had been taught by Master Nu herself on one of her rare excursions outside of the temple. The currents pulsed and coiled, and at the edge of his hearing, distant, there was the screaming of beings dead for thirty thousand years. At his side, Balabar walked, as focused on the eddies in the living force as Atasy.
Neither wanted to think about Wrench, who had failed to make his last three check-ins.
Their steps took them further and further into the ruins, farther than any of their group had gone before. Indeed, further than any living being had gone presumably bombing. The Sand people regarded this place as one of their holies of holies, and refused to set foot in these ruins. That was partly why the Jedi had chosen it as a refuge.
The force lay thick and cloying over the ruins, pulsing ever so slightly, as if slowly drawing itself towards the city's heart, pulling the two jedi down the winding cavern.
Atasy’s hand ached for the familiar feel of a lightsaber, so heavy was the sense of menace.
The dust spiralled across the ground, curling between their feet and coiling up their legs.
“You are a failure.”
“Rawrarara. Gragarag.”
“I’m worried too. Wrench’s not the kind to miss checkins.”
A finger of sand snaked up and around the two Jedi’s torso.
“They all died, and you did nothing!”
“He’ll be fine, though. He survived the Clankers and the Purge, what’s going to get him now?” Even to him, the words sounded hollow.
Ahead of the two Jedi, the wind and sand coalesced into a cloaked and shrouded figure. It raised an accusing hand and swept forward on a dark cloud of dust.
“You did this! SITH! You failed him.”
“Rwaragara. EURGHA.” Balabar spoke with command, the force in his words pure and clear, cutting through the miasma of the city. The dust figure shattered against his roar, dissolving into sand. Balabar glanced at Atasy, who simply shrugged.
“Trust in the force.”
Further into the city they walked, their steps leading them down into the catacombs beneath the city. Rustling figures crept at the edge of their vision, and echoes of long silent screams whispered in the distance. Again, Atasy ached for the familiar heft of a saber in his hand, and from the anxious tapping of Balabar’s hand against his leg, he was sure his companion felt the same.
A tremor in the force warned him, and he spun, instinctively raising his arm. In his hand was the familiar feel of his lightsaber, lost so long ago in the brig of the Recusant. With a hiss and crackle, the blade of his saber parried a blow that would have taken his head off.
The skeletal figure, all ashes and dust and bone wasted no time in attacking again. The ghostly green of it’s blade swept for Atasy’s torso, forcing the Jedi to leap backwards. The figure followed, and around it more of it’s kind rose from the dust. Green and blue and yellow and orange and violet flashed and clashed as Balabar and Atasy found themselves back to back, parrying blow after blow as the shadows struck like lightning.
The shadows whispered accusingly with each blow.
“You did this. Sith.”
“They all died because of you. Sith!”
“The galaxy will burn because of you, SITH!”
“Sith. Sith. Sith. SITH!”
Atasy and Balabar found themselves moving with a speed they had only seen in the greatest of masters, as if the force itself were acting on their limbs. Time seemed of no consequence.
Despite the speed, the mastery, both knew that they were slowly being overwhelmed, exhaustion aching in their limbs. For every shadowy jedi they struck down, two more burst into existence.
Ever so slowly the two Jedi were being driven back, their leaps grew slightly less far and their parries slightly less sharp.
And then a blue bolt hit one of the shadowy figures in the back. It screeched, and burst into a cloud of dust. With a mechanical precision, blast after blast cut down the shadowy attackers. Renewed in vigor, Atasy and Balabar rekindled their attacks, and finally the last of the dust gently fell to the ground. As it settled, their sabers vanished again.
“Where did those come from?” Atasy asked.
“Grahghara. Ghar.” Balabar pointed forward, further down the city where stood a clone trooper, weapon at the ready. Seeing that the Jedi had seen him, he waved them forward.
“Wrench! What are you doing down here?”
“Got back from the supply run and patches let me know you were down here, Sir. Figured you could use some backup.”
“It’s appreciated. We were worried about you!”
“Just doing my duty.” Both Jedi knew Wrench well at that point, and could hear how much more than duty it was in his voice.
“Rhagaharah.”
“Hah. Gonna take more than a pirate attack to prevent a Clone from fulfilling his duty, Balabar. So, what are we doing down here?”
“Following the force. There’s something here for us.”
“Roger that, sir. I’ll take point, if any more of those uglies show their faces, we’ll send them packing.”
“That way, then.” Atasy pointed. They walked in silence, but the oppressive atmosphere of the city seemed to have lifted. Where the city had seemed dark and dead before, now it glowed with an innate shine. Echoes of laughter came from the empty rooms above, and a hint of running water could be heard.
Still, at the edge of their vision, just beyond all their senses but the force itself, the darkness lurked, gathering for a final great push. The city spiralled downwards, and as they pushed close to the bottom, the darkness grew again, forcing the light inwards until only the area around which they walked remained lit.
Something crunched under their feet. With a muffled curse, Atasy realized that they had walked into a field of bones, hundreds of skeletons sprawled as if they had fallen running from, or to, something.
“Steady, Steady!” Wrenches ordered.
Finally the spiral levelled out before two great stone doors, carved in beautiful detail. A roaring Krayt dragon embossed on the stone curled up and over and around, covering almost every inch.
“Wouldja look at that.” The clone whispered. “That’s where they were running, I guess.”
“It’s... something. I can’t tell how old it is. Might even date to before Tatooine's glassing! Thoughts, Balabar? ”
The two jedi gazed in awe, and as Balabar raised one hand to touch the stone, the force quivered, tensed, and snapped. Wrench threw himself at the wookie, knocking him to the ground. Not a second too soon, either. Great jaws snapped at where the wookie had just stood.
With a tearing feel to the force, and the sound of a thousand voices screaming the stone Krayt Dragon was rippling and pulling itself free from the stone. It Roared, and the city vibrated with it’s sound.
Wasting no time, Wrench opened fire with his his deece, peppering the dragon’s flesh with blue blaster fire. As the beast’s blood dripped to the floor, it turned back to sand.
Balabar and Atasy both reached for their sabers, but grasped at nothing.
Balabar roared, and Atasy reached with his mind. He knew what the wookie wanted to try, but doubted, somehow, that the creature had a mind to calm.
Together, the two jedi reached forward, even as Wrench was rolling to cover. Atasy recoiled as the Force snapped back at him and saw that balabar did the same. The creature did have a mind, but one filled with such anger and despair that it’s touch was painful.
Balabar Roared and threw himself at the creature, trusting Wrench and Atasy to have it distracted. Wrench fired, aiming for the eyes, and Atasy used the force to lob debris at the Dragon. A cloud of stone and sand whirled in a tempest around the two jedi, serving both as a shield and as a ammunition as they threw whatever they had at the dragon.
Though they struck blow after blow, the sand that was the creature’s flesh and blood turned into more ammunition against it, it never seemed to weaken.
Finally, Balabar stumbled, and the Dragon seized its chance. It pounced, and with one great claw pinned the wookie to the ground. Atasy flinched, and was himself pinned.
Above him, the Dragon reared, opening it’s mouth. A dull red glow lit the insides of it’s throat, throwing the arm-length fangs into sharp detail.
“No! Not them!” Wrench threw himself in between the Jedi and the descending maw. As the dragon’s mouth closed around the clone, the fangs touching the white armor, they dissolved. The dragon collapsed into sand around the Jedi and Clone.
Atasy and Balabar coughed as they dusted themselves off. They looked at the door, warily, but the engraved dragon was motionless and still.
“Shall we move on, sirs?” Wrench said, his voice betraying some exhaustion and fear. With a nod, Atasy and Balabar pushed the doors open with the force.
The doors opened onto the edge of a great cavern. The ceiling arched high overhead, and massive columns of stone rose majestically. At the far end, where the surface likely lay, a great mountain of rubble blocked the sunlight completely.
But what dominated the cavern itself was in the middle. A great ship, unlike any that the Jedi had seen before. It lay dead, clearly tilting to one side. Writing, archaic, but legible, adorned the side.
“The Sunrider.” Atasy whispered.
A series of rough hewn steps led down the wall and towards the ship itself.
“They musta hidden here, buried themselves in this cavern so that their enemies wouldn’t find them.” Wrenches said as they slowly followed the steps. “Didn’t work, it looks like.” He added, softly.
As they set foot on the floor of the cavern, a gust of wind blew at their backs, and the sand again took the shapes of shrouded figures. This time, though, they stood silent in regimented ranks, Lightsabers ready, as if an honor guard.
A light shone from one of the open doors of the ship, and as the three approached, a woman stepped out. She wore simple clothes, a roughly woven tunic and pants, but on her brow rested a crown. The light seem to shine from her skin.
“Who are you, who have breached this tomb?”
“Jedi Knights Atasy and Balabar, and Trooper Wrench.” As he spoke, the Sand Jedi moved to form a half circle behind them.
“Yes... you are Jedi. Sith would not have made it this far. Only great loyalty would have guarded you beyond death, as it were, and that loyalty is not the way of the Sith.” She tilted her head. “ No, you do not have the taint of the darkside upon your soul. The Force brought our ship here to this city. We thought it would keep us safe, even if it hadn’t it’s original inhabitants. It was a new start, hidden, safe. We were deceived. It brought us only death.” The woman seemed to consider. “Very Well, She is yours. She has been my home for many thousands of years, and that of my brothers and sisters. But you have come, and we are now relieved of our oaths.”
“Ragarbrahhh?”
“You are Jedi, Balabar of Kashyyyk. Our people survived, and we are no longer needed. Though we failed them here in the hidden city of the thousand fountains, the Jedi survive outside, and for that we may finally sleep.” As she spoke, she slowly faded, until all that remained was her voice. Behind her, the sand figures slowly fell back into the dust. “Take care of our legacy, Knights Atasy and Balabar.”
“And Trooper Wrench.” Atasy nodded at the trooper.
“Ah, sir, don’t worry about me. You are the Jedi.” Wrench spoke proudly. “And I’ll always be there for you.”
“And us for you and your brothers, Wrench.”
“We know, Sir, we know.” There was a sad note in the trooper’s voice.
As the last of the light faded, so did the ancient echoes of the force, both dark and light. The cavern was truly still now. Gingerly, the Jedi and the trooper entered the ship. Wrench immediately moved towards one of the access panels and popped it open. “Not a hint of power, sir. We’ll need to find the generator core, see if there’s even the standby power to jump her reactor.”
Atasy nodded “Going to be hard to get her up and running again, if that’s what we want.”
“RARGAH! RWAR” Balabar had already strode deeper into the ship, and looked into the door. His happy roar brought Atasy and Wrench running. The Wookie stood in the doorway to a large room filled with datachips and data crystals.
“We’ll come back here, Balabar. Can’t read any of those without power.”
They inched along the main corridor to the ship, passing hundreds of rooms, one filled with deactivated maintenance droids, another with dead, desiccated plants, another with hundreds of bunks and beds, and one Atasy would swear held a saberforge. Finally, they reached the reactor. Atasy and Wrench immediately moved to see if they could coax even a bit of life from the reactor for a diagnostic of the ship’s system.
A sharp beep brought a moment of joy to Atasy’s heart before he realized it was Wrench’s com. “Gotta go, Sir. Patches asking for me. You see if you can get anything out of this ship. I look forward to hearing what you find.”
“Alright, Wrench. Thanks!”
“Always an honor, sir.” The trooper sharply saluted.
As Wrench left, Atasy fiddled with the controls. For a brief second, the screens flickered, but after another hour of work, Atasy had realized that they would need to bring new generators down. “At least some of the systems would work if there was juice.” he mumbled to himself.
Balabar had long left to explore the rest of the ship, and Atasy hoped that he was having more luck.
Frustrated and realizing that there was nothing more they could do, the two walked back up to the surface. Whereas their journey down had taken hours, in less than a half hour, the two had reached the ridge overlooking their small cave encampment.
Relic stood somber, waiting for them on the ridge, anxiously peering in their directions.
“Sirs.” He saluted “Bad news, just came in over the Holonet. Wrench’s shuttle was shot down by pirates over Mon Cal yesterday. All hands lost.”
Wind curled tendrils of sand through the ruins of the city. The shattered walls bore the scars of an orbital bombardment of hellish proportions, even sanded smooth by the constant dust storms. The city lay on many levels, the surface levels having born the brunt of the bombing, but the vagaries of time had affected the underground portions as well.
Aara Atasy lightly walked along a crumbling wall, feeling for the ripples of the force. It was a technique that he had been taught by Master Nu herself on one of her rare excursions outside of the temple. The currents pulsed and coiled, and at the edge of his hearing, distant, there was the screaming of beings dead for thirty thousand years. At his side, Balabar walked, as focused on the eddies in the living force as Atasy.
Neither wanted to think about Wrench, who had failed to make his last three check-ins.
Their steps took them further and further into the ruins, farther than any of their group had gone before. Indeed, further than any living being had gone presumably bombing. The Sand people regarded this place as one of their holies of holies, and refused to set foot in these ruins. That was partly why the Jedi had chosen it as a refuge.
The force lay thick and cloying over the ruins, pulsing ever so slightly, as if slowly drawing itself towards the city's heart, pulling the two jedi down the winding cavern.
Atasy’s hand ached for the familiar feel of a lightsaber, so heavy was the sense of menace.
The dust spiralled across the ground, curling between their feet and coiling up their legs.
“You are a failure.”
“Rawrarara. Gragarag.”
“I’m worried too. Wrench’s not the kind to miss checkins.”
A finger of sand snaked up and around the two Jedi’s torso.
“They all died, and you did nothing!”
“He’ll be fine, though. He survived the Clankers and the Purge, what’s going to get him now?” Even to him, the words sounded hollow.
Ahead of the two Jedi, the wind and sand coalesced into a cloaked and shrouded figure. It raised an accusing hand and swept forward on a dark cloud of dust.
“You did this! SITH! You failed him.”
“Rwaragara. EURGHA.” Balabar spoke with command, the force in his words pure and clear, cutting through the miasma of the city. The dust figure shattered against his roar, dissolving into sand. Balabar glanced at Atasy, who simply shrugged.
“Trust in the force.”
Further into the city they walked, their steps leading them down into the catacombs beneath the city. Rustling figures crept at the edge of their vision, and echoes of long silent screams whispered in the distance. Again, Atasy ached for the familiar heft of a saber in his hand, and from the anxious tapping of Balabar’s hand against his leg, he was sure his companion felt the same.
A tremor in the force warned him, and he spun, instinctively raising his arm. In his hand was the familiar feel of his lightsaber, lost so long ago in the brig of the Recusant. With a hiss and crackle, the blade of his saber parried a blow that would have taken his head off.
The skeletal figure, all ashes and dust and bone wasted no time in attacking again. The ghostly green of it’s blade swept for Atasy’s torso, forcing the Jedi to leap backwards. The figure followed, and around it more of it’s kind rose from the dust. Green and blue and yellow and orange and violet flashed and clashed as Balabar and Atasy found themselves back to back, parrying blow after blow as the shadows struck like lightning.
The shadows whispered accusingly with each blow.
“You did this. Sith.”
“They all died because of you. Sith!”
“The galaxy will burn because of you, SITH!”
“Sith. Sith. Sith. SITH!”
Atasy and Balabar found themselves moving with a speed they had only seen in the greatest of masters, as if the force itself were acting on their limbs. Time seemed of no consequence.
Despite the speed, the mastery, both knew that they were slowly being overwhelmed, exhaustion aching in their limbs. For every shadowy jedi they struck down, two more burst into existence.
Ever so slowly the two Jedi were being driven back, their leaps grew slightly less far and their parries slightly less sharp.
And then a blue bolt hit one of the shadowy figures in the back. It screeched, and burst into a cloud of dust. With a mechanical precision, blast after blast cut down the shadowy attackers. Renewed in vigor, Atasy and Balabar rekindled their attacks, and finally the last of the dust gently fell to the ground. As it settled, their sabers vanished again.
“Where did those come from?” Atasy asked.
“Grahghara. Ghar.” Balabar pointed forward, further down the city where stood a clone trooper, weapon at the ready. Seeing that the Jedi had seen him, he waved them forward.
“Wrench! What are you doing down here?”
“Got back from the supply run and patches let me know you were down here, Sir. Figured you could use some backup.”
“It’s appreciated. We were worried about you!”
“Just doing my duty.” Both Jedi knew Wrench well at that point, and could hear how much more than duty it was in his voice.
“Rhagaharah.”
“Hah. Gonna take more than a pirate attack to prevent a Clone from fulfilling his duty, Balabar. So, what are we doing down here?”
“Following the force. There’s something here for us.”
“Roger that, sir. I’ll take point, if any more of those uglies show their faces, we’ll send them packing.”
“That way, then.” Atasy pointed. They walked in silence, but the oppressive atmosphere of the city seemed to have lifted. Where the city had seemed dark and dead before, now it glowed with an innate shine. Echoes of laughter came from the empty rooms above, and a hint of running water could be heard.
Still, at the edge of their vision, just beyond all their senses but the force itself, the darkness lurked, gathering for a final great push. The city spiralled downwards, and as they pushed close to the bottom, the darkness grew again, forcing the light inwards until only the area around which they walked remained lit.
Something crunched under their feet. With a muffled curse, Atasy realized that they had walked into a field of bones, hundreds of skeletons sprawled as if they had fallen running from, or to, something.
“Steady, Steady!” Wrenches ordered.
Finally the spiral levelled out before two great stone doors, carved in beautiful detail. A roaring Krayt dragon embossed on the stone curled up and over and around, covering almost every inch.
“Wouldja look at that.” The clone whispered. “That’s where they were running, I guess.”
“It’s... something. I can’t tell how old it is. Might even date to before Tatooine's glassing! Thoughts, Balabar? ”
The two jedi gazed in awe, and as Balabar raised one hand to touch the stone, the force quivered, tensed, and snapped. Wrench threw himself at the wookie, knocking him to the ground. Not a second too soon, either. Great jaws snapped at where the wookie had just stood.
With a tearing feel to the force, and the sound of a thousand voices screaming the stone Krayt Dragon was rippling and pulling itself free from the stone. It Roared, and the city vibrated with it’s sound.
Wasting no time, Wrench opened fire with his his deece, peppering the dragon’s flesh with blue blaster fire. As the beast’s blood dripped to the floor, it turned back to sand.
Balabar and Atasy both reached for their sabers, but grasped at nothing.
Balabar roared, and Atasy reached with his mind. He knew what the wookie wanted to try, but doubted, somehow, that the creature had a mind to calm.
Together, the two jedi reached forward, even as Wrench was rolling to cover. Atasy recoiled as the Force snapped back at him and saw that balabar did the same. The creature did have a mind, but one filled with such anger and despair that it’s touch was painful.
Balabar Roared and threw himself at the creature, trusting Wrench and Atasy to have it distracted. Wrench fired, aiming for the eyes, and Atasy used the force to lob debris at the Dragon. A cloud of stone and sand whirled in a tempest around the two jedi, serving both as a shield and as a ammunition as they threw whatever they had at the dragon.
Though they struck blow after blow, the sand that was the creature’s flesh and blood turned into more ammunition against it, it never seemed to weaken.
Finally, Balabar stumbled, and the Dragon seized its chance. It pounced, and with one great claw pinned the wookie to the ground. Atasy flinched, and was himself pinned.
Above him, the Dragon reared, opening it’s mouth. A dull red glow lit the insides of it’s throat, throwing the arm-length fangs into sharp detail.
“No! Not them!” Wrench threw himself in between the Jedi and the descending maw. As the dragon’s mouth closed around the clone, the fangs touching the white armor, they dissolved. The dragon collapsed into sand around the Jedi and Clone.
Atasy and Balabar coughed as they dusted themselves off. They looked at the door, warily, but the engraved dragon was motionless and still.
“Shall we move on, sirs?” Wrench said, his voice betraying some exhaustion and fear. With a nod, Atasy and Balabar pushed the doors open with the force.
The doors opened onto the edge of a great cavern. The ceiling arched high overhead, and massive columns of stone rose majestically. At the far end, where the surface likely lay, a great mountain of rubble blocked the sunlight completely.
But what dominated the cavern itself was in the middle. A great ship, unlike any that the Jedi had seen before. It lay dead, clearly tilting to one side. Writing, archaic, but legible, adorned the side.
“The Sunrider.” Atasy whispered.
A series of rough hewn steps led down the wall and towards the ship itself.
“They musta hidden here, buried themselves in this cavern so that their enemies wouldn’t find them.” Wrenches said as they slowly followed the steps. “Didn’t work, it looks like.” He added, softly.
As they set foot on the floor of the cavern, a gust of wind blew at their backs, and the sand again took the shapes of shrouded figures. This time, though, they stood silent in regimented ranks, Lightsabers ready, as if an honor guard.
A light shone from one of the open doors of the ship, and as the three approached, a woman stepped out. She wore simple clothes, a roughly woven tunic and pants, but on her brow rested a crown. The light seem to shine from her skin.
“Who are you, who have breached this tomb?”
“Jedi Knights Atasy and Balabar, and Trooper Wrench.” As he spoke, the Sand Jedi moved to form a half circle behind them.
“Yes... you are Jedi. Sith would not have made it this far. Only great loyalty would have guarded you beyond death, as it were, and that loyalty is not the way of the Sith.” She tilted her head. “ No, you do not have the taint of the darkside upon your soul. The Force brought our ship here to this city. We thought it would keep us safe, even if it hadn’t it’s original inhabitants. It was a new start, hidden, safe. We were deceived. It brought us only death.” The woman seemed to consider. “Very Well, She is yours. She has been my home for many thousands of years, and that of my brothers and sisters. But you have come, and we are now relieved of our oaths.”
“Ragarbrahhh?”
“You are Jedi, Balabar of Kashyyyk. Our people survived, and we are no longer needed. Though we failed them here in the hidden city of the thousand fountains, the Jedi survive outside, and for that we may finally sleep.” As she spoke, she slowly faded, until all that remained was her voice. Behind her, the sand figures slowly fell back into the dust. “Take care of our legacy, Knights Atasy and Balabar.”
“And Trooper Wrench.” Atasy nodded at the trooper.
“Ah, sir, don’t worry about me. You are the Jedi.” Wrench spoke proudly. “And I’ll always be there for you.”
“And us for you and your brothers, Wrench.”
“We know, Sir, we know.” There was a sad note in the trooper’s voice.
As the last of the light faded, so did the ancient echoes of the force, both dark and light. The cavern was truly still now. Gingerly, the Jedi and the trooper entered the ship. Wrench immediately moved towards one of the access panels and popped it open. “Not a hint of power, sir. We’ll need to find the generator core, see if there’s even the standby power to jump her reactor.”
Atasy nodded “Going to be hard to get her up and running again, if that’s what we want.”
“RARGAH! RWAR” Balabar had already strode deeper into the ship, and looked into the door. His happy roar brought Atasy and Wrench running. The Wookie stood in the doorway to a large room filled with datachips and data crystals.
“We’ll come back here, Balabar. Can’t read any of those without power.”
They inched along the main corridor to the ship, passing hundreds of rooms, one filled with deactivated maintenance droids, another with dead, desiccated plants, another with hundreds of bunks and beds, and one Atasy would swear held a saberforge. Finally, they reached the reactor. Atasy and Wrench immediately moved to see if they could coax even a bit of life from the reactor for a diagnostic of the ship’s system.
A sharp beep brought a moment of joy to Atasy’s heart before he realized it was Wrench’s com. “Gotta go, Sir. Patches asking for me. You see if you can get anything out of this ship. I look forward to hearing what you find.”
“Alright, Wrench. Thanks!”
“Always an honor, sir.” The trooper sharply saluted.
As Wrench left, Atasy fiddled with the controls. For a brief second, the screens flickered, but after another hour of work, Atasy had realized that they would need to bring new generators down. “At least some of the systems would work if there was juice.” he mumbled to himself.
Balabar had long left to explore the rest of the ship, and Atasy hoped that he was having more luck.
Frustrated and realizing that there was nothing more they could do, the two walked back up to the surface. Whereas their journey down had taken hours, in less than a half hour, the two had reached the ridge overlooking their small cave encampment.
Relic stood somber, waiting for them on the ridge, anxiously peering in their directions.
“Sirs.” He saluted “Bad news, just came in over the Holonet. Wrench’s shuttle was shot down by pirates over Mon Cal yesterday. All hands lost.”
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
YOU PROMISED ME
Dookie's Dragoons
"We don't know where we're going, but we're making good time!"
[youtube=200]5QvtL003pXM[/youtube]
Starting Planet: Coruscant
Party Size: 5
Party Alignment:
- Imperium: 15
- Republic: -7
- Hutt: 0
- CIS: 18
- Rebel: -5
Frédéric Dooku, 327th Baronet of Celanon
(Party Manager)
Spoiler :
- Strength: 6 (hey, pushing pencils is hard work)
- Dexterity: 9 (avid fencer)
- Constitution: 8 (self-trained Force user)
- Intelligence: 9 (rich family means you learn good)
- Wisdom: 10 (several decades as a bureaucrat)
- Charisma: 11 (think Christopher Lee playing Christopher Lee)
- Piloting: 4 (that's what chauffeurs are for)
- Loyalty: 9 (call him Forthright Fred)
- Race: Human
- Class: Ex-Jedi
- Malfunctioning Lightsaber
- Vibroblade
- Mabari Armor1
- Force Sensitivity
- Bizarre Personal Quirk: Wants a ysalamir as team mascot, apparently not understanding what it does.
Dooku's parents learned he had Force affinity in his later childhood, by which time he was too old to be admitted to the Order. Undaunted by mere millennia-old safeguards over good and evil, he spent his free time training himself, and even managed to construct his own lightsaber using synthetic components. With no standard training in combat form, Dooku conceptualized the lightsaber not as a sword but a giant switchblade, developing a deft, highly unorthodox technique mixing fencing moves and liberal engaging and disengaging of the blade to throw opponents off-balance and feign manoeuvres, thereby rapidly closing distance for a point-blank 'stab'. This constant on-off switching likely contributed to his saber's present tendency to short out. While he isn't a true ascetic and would be considered Grey at best by 'real' Jedi, his political outlook and contemplation of the Force mean he strives to uphold duty, honour and responsibility in all his dealings.
He came into his own in his early thirties, taking a permanent position as House liaison at the spaceport on Celanon where he developed an entrepreneurial streak, using his family's wealth and influence to establish extensive commercial and political connections in both Celanon City and the planet's main trading partners over the next three decades. Dooku was granted the honourary title Baronet of Celanon for his patronage of the city, even though there were no indigenous noble houses; hence, the order is completely made up—though that doesn't stop him invoking it tongue-in-cheek at posh soirées.
Following the death of the Sith Lord formerly known as Dooku, Frédéric travelled to Serenno in a far-fetched bid to claim the title of Count, only to learn that the deceased had a brother whose son had claimed it five minutes earlier. Dooku vowed that day to travel light so as to avoid future delays at the baggage carousel. With Celanon a CIS sympathizer, he then thought he could honour both his cousin's memory and the family legacy by becoming the leader of the Confederacy. He capitalized on his resemblance to the late Count to win the inner circle's trust, but introducing himself simply as "Dooku", sans honourifics, often led to confused queries of "Duke who?" His reply "Dooku—me" was in turn misinterpreted, mutating into the nickname Dookie which he later adopted himself for when he didn't want to be mistaken for his cousin.
Dookie was accepted into the Separatist Council, who hoped to exploit his valuable Celanite connections (not to mention his House’s wealth) now that its principal benefactor was dead. Unfortunately, his galactic political acumen was about as up-to-date as his Life Day card correspondences, and he didn't realize Darth Tyrannus had only ever intended the CIS as a giant false flag to net Palpatine emergency powers. By year's end he determined half the Council were self-serving opportunists and the other half were too spineless (some literally) to mount a leadership coup; seeing no way to turn the body around, he quietly resigned. But while he'd been at the top of the CIS too short to make an impact, it was just long enough to pop up on the Republic's radar, and upon returning to Celanon he skirted no less than 16 vigilante assassination attempts over the next three months. Deciding he could no longer keep a high profile, he liquidated his assets (one sixth to the family, five to the rural Nalroni), turned the embassy over to a promising niece, and caught the next freighter off the planet.
With only his former bodyguard for company, Dookie travelled to Coruscant, surmising (correctly, astoundingly enough) that the last place his enemies would look for him was the middle of the Galaxy. The pair made money hiring themselves out for odd jobs, attracting a former client to the group that became known as 'Dookie's Dragoons'. After several years of cross-crossing the Core Worlds as quasi-knights-errant, Dookie accidentally exposed himself to Imperial Security when he used his lightsaber for an otherwise mundane task (house repair), not realizing saber use was restricted to Palpatine's favourites. Taken in for questioning, he bluffed his way out of execution by claiming he'd scavenged the blade off a fallen Jedi—hence why it didn't work properly. The ISB officers chose not to arrest the group, but conscripted it to Imperial service as a loyalty test, providing a commando operative as the team's fourth member and dispatching it on increasingly riskier missions against the Empire's rivals. By 14 AGC the ISB was satisfied the Dragoons were not a threat to Imperial interests and relaxed its grip, although the agent remained with them, apparently of her own accord.
Three years later, Count Adan Dooku was assassinated; as his son Bron was too young to assume the title, Serenno's Houses assembled five days later to determine regency. Dookie once more tried to bid for the job, but Imperial ambassador Jahan Cross's motorcade locked him in a traffic jam and he arrived at the chamber just as the first negotiations concluded. Dookie vowed that day never to use standby flights again. Upon returning to Coruscant he received news that Bron had been killed and Pero Borgin named the new Count of Serenno. Despondent (and a rather large bit suspicious), he took the Dragoons to Malastare; while he spent the next several months in meditation, the team tried to boost its capital through podracing bets. A steady stream of wins collapsed catastrophically in the last circuit when the lead racer's craft abruptly disintegrated in what was later determined to be sabotage.
Virtually bankrupt, the Dragoons found themselves stranded on Malastare until their Imperial associate advised them of a lucrative contract to raid a secret Republic communications outpost on Ord Canfre in the Cassander border zone. Assumed to be a simple sabotage operation, it turned out to be a highly dangerous, military-grade clean sweep of a fortified garrison seemingly designed to force the Dragoons to spill blood, if not an outright suicide mission. Instead they succeeded with minimal direct casualties, freed several slave labourers, and collected the bounty that put them back on their feet. Returning to Coruscant, Dookie
"The Shield"
Kriel Kalar
- Strength: 12 (farming makes you strong)
- Dexterity: 13 (fleet-of-foot and quick with the baton)
- Constitution: 10 (law enforcement also makes you strong)
- Intelligence: 5 (blue collar background)
- Wisdom: 9 (you learn a lot when the cops are bent)
- Charisma: 4 (gruff, blunt, and no-nonsense)
- Piloting: 3 (off-worlder tech is verboten)
- Loyalty: 10 (like a puppy—damn it)
- Race: Nalroni
- Class: Medic
- 3 Stimpacks
- First-Aid Kit
- CDEF Carbine
- Padded Armor
- Bizarre Personal Quirk: Wants to punch each governing member of the Corporate SA square in the face.
Kalar personally thwarted eight of the attempts on Dookie's life single-handedly. After Dookie dissolved his commercial network, Kalar accompanied him in his ultra-small-scale business reboot. He was responsible for naming the fledgling organization when they answered a private ad for a bodyguard: asked the name of their group, Kalar broke the hesitant silence by declaring the first thing that popped into his head, "Dookie's Dragoons". The name stuck, and history was made.
"The Wingman"
Jax Pavan
- Strength: 7 (worked in a machine shop)
- Dexterity: 6 (slow and steady don't blow up hyperdrives)
- Constitution: 9 (work accidents what don't kill you make you stronger)
- Intelligence: 9 (has the T16 schematics memorized)
- Wisdom: 5 (dammit Fred, I'm a mechanic, not a doctor!)
- Charisma: 6 (speak to the boss about pricing)
- Piloting: 11 (hobby aviator)
- Loyalty: 8 (friends are good; friends that can fight are great)
- Race: Human
- Class: Smuggler
- CDEF Pistol2
- Simple Clothing2
- M3-A “Scyk” Interceptor
- Bizarre Personal Quirk: Will insist the Death Star plagiarized something he made for his role-playing group, and that Palpatine owes him royalties.
"The Commissar"
Kaldonna Thurinos
(Party Controller)
- Strength: 8 (proficient in a range of weapon systems)
- Dexterity: 9 (infiltrator extraordinaire)
- Constitution: 7 (military training)
- Intelligence: 10 (direct line to the ISB)
- Wisdom: 9 (black ops veteran)
- Charisma: 10 (venomous tongue is surprisingly charming)
- Piloting: 9 (lone-wolf missions are no problem)
- Loyalty: 4 (true blue Imperial)
- Race: Human
- Class: Commando
- Flamethrower3
- 1 Fragmentation Grenade
- 1 Plasma Grenade
- Marauder Armor
- Bizarre Personal Quirk: Wonders if Mon Calamari taste like squid.
She stayed with the Dragoons beyond the ISB probation, providing valuable security clearance navigating Imperial space and emergency access to high-end armouries. Unlike her ISB masters she didn't believe Dookie stumbled upon his lightsaber, and her suspicions grew during the Malastare retreat, yet for reasons known only to herself she hasn't tattled. The Ord Canfre contract, secretly an attempt to cover up the slaving operation's Imperial origin by levelling the facility, was partly her design in an attempt to force Dookie into indiscriminate violence; the scheme backfired when the team refused her order to abandon the slaves, diminishing her standing among the other Dragoons.
"The Exchequer"
Anson Fel
- Strength: 4 (requisitioned for the Imperial war effort)
- Dexterity: 5 (all that menial labour helped hand-eye coordination a bit)
- Constitution: 3 (lingering health problems from forced labour)
- Intelligence: 11 (knows the ins and outs of Outer Rim markets)
- Wisdom: 8 (a pretty good racket until he got caught)
- Charisma: 12 (shrewd businessman)
- Piloting: 16 (used to fly his own freighter)
- Loyalty: 7 (certainly grateful for being rescued)
- Race: Sullustan
- Class: Trader
- CDEF Pistol
- Simple Clothing
- 3 Personal Resource Harvesters
- Bizarre Personal Quirk: Believes the Empire harbours a conspiracy involving giant robotic space fleas that destroy the Universe every twenty thousand years.
1 – Replacing Jedi Robes
2 – Can be substituted with mechanic-related equipment
3 – Can be substituted with higher-end assault rifle
tyo spacemaps yaaaaaay
Suggest a lighter brown and changing the Empire to either white or purple; on my monitor it's almost totally illegible.
gay_Aleks
from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!
I'll take the mission for Coruscant bounty on mafia boss. Expect relevant RP SOON.
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 4,131
I lowered the opacity of some of the layers. I think they look a lot less dynamic, but how about you? http://i.imgur.com/lSOJfUJ.png
Also I'm sorry if I mislead you, but my plan was to always try to make it as early as possible - if that meant pushing to Tuesday fine, but Monday was always preferable
I'll thoroughly look over your join tomorrow.
Also I'm sorry if I mislead you, but my plan was to always try to make it as early as possible - if that meant pushing to Tuesday fine, but Monday was always preferable
I'll thoroughly look over your join tomorrow.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
I can read the names now, so I'll call it an improvement.
Grandkhan
Telvanni Master Wizard
Excellent update Tyo!
Quick notes re: stats - I should have 0 rebel affiliation, not 45.
Map looks cool. I'm guessing dark blue is empire, light blue is republic, red is rebel alliance, light brown is Confederacy, Dark Brown is Hutts?
I'll be taking the womp rat mission, RP to come when i'm not doing assignments.
Quick notes re: stats - I should have 0 rebel affiliation, not 45.
Map looks cool. I'm guessing dark blue is empire, light blue is republic, red is rebel alliance, light brown is Confederacy, Dark Brown is Hutts?
I'll be taking the womp rat mission, RP to come when i'm not doing assignments.
gay_Aleks
from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!
[For greater clarity of dialogue reading, I give thee this guide:
Dialogue like this will be Salsale's.
This is Moradin.
And this is Fias.
The Gree will probably not speak a lot, as he refuses to speak in Basic. Still, when he does, it'll be obvious. Whatever he says will be "translated" by Fias.
Anyone else speaking with no formatting is an episodic character.]
Dialogue like this will be Salsale's.
This is Moradin.
And this is Fias.
The Gree will probably not speak a lot, as he refuses to speak in Basic. Still, when he does, it'll be obvious. Whatever he says will be "translated" by Fias.
Anyone else speaking with no formatting is an episodic character.]
The Trasola was empty at that time. Now that she thought about it, Salsale realized that it was most of the time like that. Apart from her party, there were rather few regulars.
"Empty. Just the way I like it."
"Someone would complain about phrasing"
"I hope they're proud of their last words, then. People spend all their time wondering what their last words will be. "Phrasing, woman!" would be a rather embarrassing way to go."
"Nothing changes in this group, eh?"
"And nothing changes in this bar, being empty all the time?"
"So, uh, do you know any rumours? Just tryin' to break the ice."
"Why would you think I would know rumours?"
"He does have a point. This place's all empty."
"Yes, but perhaps I might have heard about Imperium officials handing out wanted notices? And they visited every bar, cantina, place with breathing sentient creatures, no?"
"Well, uh, there's a certain possibility that an Imperium official might have visited, and dropped off this notice..."
The Imperium henceforth puts a bounty on local mob boss Quintus Northan, a bothan, for charges of assault on multiple Imperial officers and possible connections to the Black Market. Return target's body dead for 2,500 credits or alive for 5,000 credits. Bonus is possible if proof of illegal contraband - and the origin of this contraband - is found.
"Well, ain't that interesting."
"After posting this notice, the Imperium all ran out red ink"
"Ink? What ink? This is all digitized, man."
"So, huh. We'll get a bonus if we catch him alive, eh?"
"We'll have to, anyway. I doubt we can take all of his bodyguards all at once."
"Clearly, that calls for a clever plot."
"One involving seduction and dancing"
"If it wasn't for the bloody 5 000 credits I'd slap the both of you. Lay it down on me."
"Well, in short, we need a stun-spray, which the good doctor Gree surely can concoct, then we need your powers of being a Twi'lek dancer. Hopefully ya still keep that outfit from Tatooine, eh, Salsale? You'll be the less-than-faithful wife of Fias, a bantha trader by day, a crafty drug dealer by night. He'll leave you alone with Quintius as he'll have to make an "important bantha deal. You just need to use charisma to get into his private room. And, fortunately, our dear Quintius fella needs a new private guard to his room. Some angry Wookies apparently beat him up. Such is life on Coruscant. So, once you stun him, you use the elevator to the roof, where Fias will wait you with the interceptor ya own. In the trunk we'll stick our Bothan friend, then give him to the Imperium. Sounds good, no?"
"I'll be thinking of how I'll make your life miserable once I get 5k credits. What about contraband?"
"I'll keep an eye out for it. So should you. Maybe check out his computer?"
And so, the plan was in place. How will it work out? Who knows.
- Joined
- Mar 14, 2011
- Messages
- 4,131
Hey guys, so by now you've realized I'm incredibly indecisive. Here are some (mostly inconsequential) changes.
You can sell stuff to any market. Some things may fetch a higher price than others depending on the market and the item. For example, experimental imperial starship schematics might fetch a high price in the rebel market. However, in general, items already listed on the market will fetch for a percentage of their listed price. If the character making the resell is at 4 or less CHA, the price is 90% of the original. At 5-7, 75%. At 8-10, 60%. At 11-20, 50% At 20 and higher, the price increases by 2% per point to a maximum 20% of original price. If you're selling on the Black Market, you can double the selling price after the CHA modifier, but you cannot sell general market items on the black market.
Secondly, an ex-Jedi (specifically that was part of the Jedi Order in some capacity) may take one stance from this list. Vaapad not included.
An update on progress: I am currently handing out factional missions. After this, I will create stats for items I have not yet done so for. After that, I will judge your join Thor. Thanks for being patient with me.
You can sell stuff to any market. Some things may fetch a higher price than others depending on the market and the item. For example, experimental imperial starship schematics might fetch a high price in the rebel market. However, in general, items already listed on the market will fetch for a percentage of their listed price. If the character making the resell is at 4 or less CHA, the price is 90% of the original. At 5-7, 75%. At 8-10, 60%. At 11-20, 50% At 20 and higher, the price increases by 2% per point to a maximum 20% of original price. If you're selling on the Black Market, you can double the selling price after the CHA modifier, but you cannot sell general market items on the black market.
Secondly, an ex-Jedi (specifically that was part of the Jedi Order in some capacity) may take one stance from this list. Vaapad not included.
An update on progress: I am currently handing out factional missions. After this, I will create stats for items I have not yet done so for. After that, I will judge your join Thor. Thanks for being patient with me.
thomas.berubeg
Wandering the World
Atasy: Ataru
Balabar: Soresu
Shar: Soresu
Balabar: Soresu
Shar: Soresu
GenMarshall
High Elven ISB Capt & Ghost Agent
"So, what now. It's clear that none of us loathe the Empire and the Republic has....gone corrupt and fallen from it's own hide" Connie said as she examines the situation of the moment.
"Well, we can go into the Rebel Alliance" Hanna suggests.
"Where? Where can we find a rebel base, or a strong hold in this dust bowl" Marsha said with disappointment. Then ED-E makes a series of sad beeps and floats downward, emoting that he's sad as well.
"I have my ways. In Tattoine, everyone is here" Hanna explains.
Orders: Join the Rebel Alliance
"Well, we can go into the Rebel Alliance" Hanna suggests.
"Where? Where can we find a rebel base, or a strong hold in this dust bowl" Marsha said with disappointment. Then ED-E makes a series of sad beeps and floats downward, emoting that he's sad as well.
"I have my ways. In Tattoine, everyone is here" Hanna explains.
Orders: Join the Rebel Alliance
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