Star Wars Traveller Quest is a quest where we fill the boots of one man trying to make his way in the universe, or in this case, the Candorian Star Cluster. Largely a personal story set at the height of the Empire and the birth of the Rebellion.>Paste for rough overview of the Clusterhttps://pastebin.com/i1Y8m8LP>Map of the Clusterhttps://i.imgur.com/hQsHR1E.png>Discord https://discord.gg/BnJeeu4***You are not quite a rogue, not quite a renegade. You are an outsider though, a freelancer, a Traveller. Someone who operates on the fringes of imperial society.Nestled away from the wide open spaces of the Galaxy at large is a dense star cluster known as the Candorian Cluster. This is your home, it always has been and likely always will be.You're a natural born spacer from a family that has sailed the void for generations and grew up surrounded by the culture. Born on the world of Kodiak, but raised among the stars. You're at ease on all manner of ships from titanic bulk cargo haulers to ramshackle light stock freighters. As a teenager you served aboard both types and more. Starships are your home, the stars your companions.You are the embodiment of an old Kodiak spacer rhyme:*"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night."*Your name is Vela Rax and you're a man of many talents. Once you became an adult, the feeble tethers of gravity could no longer keep you tied to Kodiak. The sky called to you and you went. What did you do with your life?>Imperial NavyYou did your time with the service for better and worse.>Bounty hunterOther people's bad choices or bad luck was your bread and butter.>Criminal enforcerYou cracked skulls and put blaster bolts through people who got in the way of business.
>Criminal enforcerIt's always either an imperial or a bounty hunter, let's be something else for once.FYI, I do not reccomend much use of a discord, since it kills a thread. People won't talk about the quest in the thread, and that's what brings in new voters.
>>5073713>Bounty hunterWTF TK, this isn’t the DE 2 that was promised
>>5073713>enforcerThis seems most fun
>>5073720Thanks for the advice! I've been running a Discord for a few years now so I'm not worried about it. It's strictly for off topic discussion and to get updates when new posts go up. The quests don't get discussed there.>>5073722We have Dark Empire 2 at home.
>>5073726I've noticed that you have avoided writing female characters ever since DE and the ghost girl quest. Was this because we were too horny back then?
>>5073734Not intentional, I can assure you. I fully support horny posting! My MCs have been male for reasons. Playing female MCs comes with a lot more baggage though.
>>5073734It's impossible to not have that ind of stuff on a star wars quest. Star wars isn't star wars with alien women in skimpy clothing. Thus said George Lucas.
>>5073746This anon is correct.>Criminal enforcer>>5073720>>5073723>>5073725>Bounty hunter>>5073722>>5073724>EnforcerWriting
You were a hired gun, roving the Cluster in search of work. You'd done all levels of it, from being a basic trigger puller on gang squabbles, to being extra muscle for drug deals, to being a hitman for the big movers. It was exciting work and it sometimes paid well, but the risks were a lot to deal with. You have plenty of scars to show for it. You'd made a few friends in that line of work, as well as plenty of enemies. It was why you'd taken to carrying a vibroblade in your boot and a blaster on your hip, the best two traveling companions you could ask for.By the end of your time working for the local gangsters, you'd found yourself in the employ of Lady Lina Roclaw. Beautiful, wealthy, and incredibly dangerous. She'd been your patron for the last year and proved to be a valuable contact.On your last job out for Roclaw, you and your partner Kell Venner had been tasked with recovering a stolen load of spice from a deal gone bad. It had been by the numbers work, easy to track down the junkies who'd foisted it. That had gone south when Kell put a knife in your back, proverbially and literally and ran with the drugs. You haven't seen him since, but it's safe to say you consider him an enemy.It was that episode that convinced you it was time to move on. You weren't about to die in some dirty alley in Kodiak City with a vibroblade in your back, not when you have so much left undone.You spent another year or two kicking around trying to get together the cash for a down payment on a starship of your own with no luck. Those failed ventures and shady loans had left you pretty deeply in debt to some questionable characters. Best not to stick around much longer.Fortunately for you, you have a lead on a job that will get you enough cash to get the ship you want and get off this world. For that purpose, you've made a trip to the outskirts of Kodiak City, away from the bustle of crowds and street traffic, out from the shadow of the crystal skyscrapers of downtown, and to an expanse of docking bays and maintenance facilities. A used Starship lot.An old friend of yours runs this place, Leemy Trehalt, a Duro who'd traded the star lanes for peddling starships. You'd flown out with him once long ago, and now he told you he had the perfect ship for you.
The smell of starships is unmistakable and fills the hangar bay that you and Leemy enter. That smell of metal, lubricant, fuel and carbon scoring reminds you of your childhood. It's a familiar scent, and not at all unpleasant."The ship you'll want is this way," Leemy says, leading you through the labyrinthine passageways and across cavernous bays. You step over hoses and tubing that covers the floor like synthetic vine-growth.As you follow, you study the ships in Leemy's lot, Corellian ships, Rendilli, even a few Incom freighters. Truth be told, almost any one of these ships would work for your needs, but money is the limiting factor. You have none.After a few minutes of weaving between parked vessels, you come to a service tunnel set in the cement wall that led to an isolated hangar complex which is circular, dominated by a single parked ship, the ceiling is a two-piece hatch to allow the craft to leave, the perimeter of the hangar dotted with doors leading to other bays. "What do ya think?" Leemy asks proudly, nodding to the ship here.She's chrome-plated, an older style that had mostly gone out of favor, but was considered highly desirable by many collectors. The muted earth colors of the docking bay reflect from her silvery finish and you see your own distorted reflecting on an oversized engine cowling. You step closer and study the ship's graceful curves and sharp lines. The sublights look boosted, heavily modified and it sports a double-barreled laser cannon on a dorsal swivel. It's a flashy, but classic look, definitely stands out in a crowd.>It's not really my style, but I can definitely make this work>She's perfect. I think I'm in love.>You have anything else on the lot?>Write in
>>5073811>>She's perfect. I think I'm in love.
>>5073811>>You have anything else on the lot?
What kind of ship is it supposed to be like?
>>5073835It's some breed of light stock freighter. Maybe Nubian make. It's heavily customized and hard to be sure.
>>5073811>She's perfect. I think I'm in love.
>She's perfect. I think I'm in love.>>5073830>>5073842>>5073846Writing
You let out a low whistle. "Wow, Leemy. This is . . . she's perfect.""Yeah?" Leemy says, putting his hands on his hips. "I put in a lot of work to get her into this state.You nod, not taking your eyes off the ship. "Yeah. I think I'm in love."Lemmy chuckles. "Hope the buyer likes her as much as you do."You blink and look at him. "Buyer?"He nods, "Yeah, I got a businessman from Kangor Tham all lined up. He picks her up next week. Come on, your ship is this way." He steps past you, headed for the back of the hangar.You gawp. "Leemy? Are you kidding?""Come on, Rax," he calls, not slowing."Leemy you're joking right!?" Leemy doesn't stop.You spare another look at the ship before racing after him. "Leemy, what the fuck is the matter with you?""What!?" Leemy holds up his hands. "I'm real proud of that ship!""Sure," you say, "But does it occur to you that you shouldn't show it to me?"Leemy snorts. "Beggars can't be choosers, Rax. You're lucky I found a ship in your price range at all. Now come on." You stare dumbfounded another moment before laughing and shaking your head. "How does a coot like you stay in business?""I do damn fine work. You saw that ship back there, didn't you?" Leemy answers. "And cutthroat deals. Like this one." He gestures to the ship before you. "This is it." His words have the finality of an executioner. "Ain't much, but if you can get the cash together you're talking about, she's yours."Saying she's in "rough shape" is putting it kindly. This vessel had once been a factory fresh Soorusub Wayfarer-Class light stock freighter. A blocky cockpit sits at the nose of the craft which tapers out with curved armor panels before narrowing to a wasp waist where the engine pod cluster is.At some point it had been painted a pleasing, dull blue but now it was more scorch mark and bare metal than paint. You can see where silvery patches of new metal cover up recent damage and at various points power couplings and ductwork have been hastily spot-welded in place on the ship. You circle the ship slowly, Leemy following behind gravely, like an undertaker. Through a small gap in some armor plates you can see part of a coolant overflow system which has been crudely bypassed, likely in an attempt to provide the aging ship with a bit more performance at the cost of some reliability.The ship's engines were clearly after-market, the old double engine configuration had been replaced with quad sublight boosters that looked perhaps a bit too large for their cowling. You can only hope they were aligned properly when whoever did this installed them.The ship also has a pair of double-barreled laser turrets, dorsal and ventral, with nice fire arcs. The one on the bottom was obviously patched up, with telltale burns around it indicating it had long ago suffered a direct hit. That's a little alarming.
"Where did you get this?" you ask."Don't ask too many questions," Leemy says. "It's cheap. Still interested?"You feel a pain in your gut. Leemy was right, beggars can't be choosers."This is it, huh?""This is it," Leemy says. "Look, she's got some parsecs under her belt and she looks like crap, also her internal systems need an overhaul from before the Clone Wars. But . . ." he struggles to say more. "But uh . . . ""But she's cheap," you suggest."Yeah," he says. "Cheap."You sigh. "Alright. I guess this is it.""Soon as you put the credits in my hand, I put the key in yours," Leemy says."Don't sweat it," you say. "I've got a line on some money. Good money.""Legal?" Leemy asks dubiously.You laugh. "Don't ask too many questions. It's money."Leemy shrugs his shoulders. "I can hold her till then." He looks back at the ship. "Not like she's going anywhere.""Rub it in," you say, "Please.""Starter ship is a starter ship. I know people who have done more with less. Count yourself lucky to have a friend like me," Leemy says."Lucky," you say, eyeing the old battle damage on this ship again. "Sure. I'll get the credits and be back.""Take care!" Leemy says.You part ways with Leemy and exit his lot, your mind already racing. You have a line on some money, it's true, but it's not going to exactly be easy. You got wind of a piece of hardware in an Imperial impound facility, some kind of computer tech that got confiscated. You paid a small sum to get it from a contact of yours, a man who was called Rat for good reason. All you need to do is get into the impound, get the device, and get it to a fence without running into any complications. Easy.
A blaster muzzle prods your back. "Hello Rax."You recognize the voice without turning around. "Friss! Where've you been, man? It's been a while.""Sure has," Friss says, voice just above a whisper. "Funny since we've been looking for you."A pair goons seems to materialize from a nearby alleyway, each of them bearing the shaved head of the Shadow Clan, an organization you had the misfortune of owing quite a lot of money to. A few bad bets had pissed that windfall away and left you broke. It was one of the things you were hoping to outrun with this ship."Let's talk, Rax. Catch up," Friss whispers from behind, snugging his blaster tighter against your back. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now."Sure thing." You're steered into the alleyway, the three thugs form a rough semicircle around you. "If this is about the money-""Save your breath," Friss says. His eyes are sunken, dark, the pale white flesh of his face stands out in stark contrast to the heavy black clothing he wears. The Shadow Clan takes their aesthetic seriously. Part criminal organization, part cult. The less said the better. "We had a chat with your friend Rat.""How is he?" you ask.One of the thugs snickers. "Alive," Friss says. "He told us that you have a particularly juicy job in mind. The data device in Imperial lockup.""Ah," you say. "That.""That," Friss agrees. "It occurs to me that you owe the Shadow Clan quite a bit. Something like that I think might cover it. Settle your debts."You hide a wince. Handing over that little computer once you had it would set you back to square one, that much further from getting a ship of your own and getting back out into space. Refusal would be deadly. Even if you do take care of Friss, you'll definitely have a deadline to get off this world before the rest of the Shadow Clan gets wind of it.Your only other option would be to either play along until you can cross them and split, or play nice with the Clan and hope they can somehow further your goal of getting into space. You can decide which after you get the computer in your hands.>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)>Why do you think I was going for it? I want to square things with you guys>Write in
>>5073885>>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)
Didn't the introduction say we carried a blaster on ourselves at all times? It would be easier to pull out our blaster than to go for his
>>5073971You do, it's holstered. He has his gun trained on you right now. If you try to draw he'll shoot first. It's more about not getting shot than getting a gun.
>>5073976It’s a Han standoff isn’t it?
>>5073885>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)Oh boy here I go killin' again
>>5073885>>Write inFirst time in a TimeKiller quest.Hear me out: let's not try to get shot. This may be a quest where we can actually die. Let's just agree to get the datapad, double cross these assjacks, and use it to get a primo del niceo ship--like that one we had our eyes on? Get offworld.
>>5073885>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)This seems fun I'll join in.
WHERE IS THE BARONESS OF BLOOD?
>>5073885>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)Fuck it, everyone is gonna die someday
>>5073885>Why do you think I was going for it? I want to square things with you guysThe chance that we can spin and disarm him seem low here, guys.
>>5073885>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)
>Fat chance (Go for Friss's gun)>Writing
"Settle my debts," you repeat. "Gee. Sounds nice."Friss taps your shoulder, signaling you to turn around. You do so slowly. He's within arms reach, blaster pressed to your ribs. The other two thugs with him are further back, weapons on you. Shadow Clan street thugs aren't chosen for their brains. It's a mixture of guts and chemical dependency. These guys seem to have both."Nice, yeah," Friss agrees, "If you want to keep your balls." He taps your belt buckle with the muzzle of his blaster. "We've got ways of making things worse for you, you know? Broke street trash like you can't hide from us.""Who's trying to hide?" You protest, raising your hands, slowly shifting your weight and preparing to strike. You'd been an enforcer a long time. You knew just where to hit and just how hard. The real key would be doing it before any of the thugs caught on to you. "I'm walking around in broad daylight, aren't I?""Your mistake," Friss says with a wide grin. "Now. What's the call, Rax? Are you on board with the Clan or are you gonna be another stain in this alleyway?"***Roll 1d10I need three rolls.
Rolled 8 (1d10)>>5074705
Rolled 6 (1d10)>>5074705
Rolled 3 (1d10)>>5074705>>5074705
You don't deliver any crushing one liners. You don't need to. You casually bat Friss's blaster away and seize hold of his elbow, pulling him chest to chest with you.One of the goons reacts instantly, putting two blaster bolts into Friss's back. His eyes go wide with shock, surprise, and pain all at once before turning glassy.You cross draw your own pistol and pivot, firing from the hip. The shot wings the goon who fired, catching the side of his face, spinning him to the duracrete, dead. You drop Friss and continue tracking, bringing your blaster to the third goon-He's gone. You catch a fleeting glimpse of his black coat as he rounds the bend at the end of the alleyway.You let out the breath you were holding and holster your blaster. That could prove to be trouble. Seems like the Shadow Clan were going to find out you weren't playing along sooner rather than later. It's just more incentive to get out of here.You flip Friss onto his back with your foot and crouch down to stare into his dead eyes. Ah, maybe not quite dead. His chest hitches as he struggles to breathe. "Looks like you're the stain after all, Friss." You pick up his blaster and put the muzzle between his eyes. The shot reverberates in the alleyway. You toss his pockets, searching him and the other dead man. You come up with a commlink, some power packs for your blaster, and a few hundred credits. Everything else is garbage. No one is going to care about a couple dead Shadow Clanners in an alley . . . no one but other Shadow Clanners. It just means you're going to have to accelerate your plans. If you want any chance of getting off this world before the Clan puts together a hunting posse you're going to need to act now.The impound facility is attached to an Imperial Security Bureau office, it acts as a local police headquarters, just on the outskirts of Kodiak City in the midst of industrial in-fill. A ugly, blocky, grey building, it's built like a fortress and processes criminals, bounties, contraband and the like. Everyone from prostitutes to rebels gets moved through that facility and sorted into their various fates, either charged, jailed, fined, or shipped off to the penal colony on Nabesbi. There's heavy foot traffic in and out of the main building.
The lockup is more of an archive, just a place for confiscated goods to be secured until they can be destroyed, repossessed, auctioned, or sometimes returned to their owners. No one gets in unless they have authorization, but you've got a couple ideas for quick access. One of them is lying at your feet.The Clanner you hit in the head has his clothes intact. They are recognizable as the uniform of the Shadow Clan. It would be simple to don the outfit, put on a mask, and shoot your way into the lockup. You know exactly where the datapad is and have a good idea of the layout of the building. Speed and violence would be your ticket in and out, though losing ISB pursuit might be tricky. There's vehicles in the impound lot that could aid that. An added bonus would be to put heat onto the Shadow Clan to keep them off your ass.You might also lie in wait near the building, trying to find a lone ISB agent or Imperial who you can jump and take out. With his uniform and credentials you can gain access to the lockup. It might require a certain amount of bluffing and convincingly passing as an Imp to get in.You also now have enough credits for a modest bribe of a low-level official. If you can fake a legitimate reason to enter the lockup, like posing as a pimp trying to collect some confiscated jewelry or the like, then you can try to fast talk or pay an official to look the other way while you snatch the datapad too. All the plans have their own risks and strengths. You don't have a lot of time to spend deliberating about it unfortunately.>Shoot your way in while disguised as a Shadow Clan thug>Take out an Imperial and use their uniform and creds to get in>Disguise yourself as a pimp and fast talk your way into the lockup>Write in
>>5074766>Shoot your way in while disguised as a Shadow Clan thugFuck the clan, sending dumb goons to intimidate a hitman was just insulting
>>5074771Backing this. Seems like our kind of play.
>>5074771Supporting for maximum violence
>>5074766>>Disguise yourself as a pimp and fast talk your way into the lockup
>>5074766>Shoot your way in while disguised as a Shadow Clan thug
There's no reason not to kill two birds with one stone here. You strip the clean outfit off the dead clanner and pull it on. It smells like smoke and stale sweat with a hint of spice, but it hides you well. Thus garbed, you set off for the nearest public transit line, walking as quickly as you can while still looking casual. People give you a wide berth, either because of the smell or because they recognize a Clanner. Problematically, you aren't bald, but you can hide that and your face with a helmet.You board the transit car and find a seat before it sets off along its tracks, leaving behind the outer city sprawl. Your destination is the ramshackle commercial district around the main starport. It's here that things are bought and sold which either can't, or shouldn't be in Kodiak City's main market. The windows of the transit streak with beads of water as a light rainfall passes over the city, swept in by the snow-capped mountain peaks which flank the main urban area. The irony of Kodiak is that for all purposes, it's a pleasant world. It's climate is agreeable to humans. Cool, rainy, forested, dotted with crystal lakes and snowy mountains and crossed by lush, temperate rainforests. Its main population center is Kodiak City which is modern, clean, and safe . . . for the most part. It's prosperous and well ordered. The Imperial troops posted on most street corners are largely for show, army conscripts just going through the motions. Outside of Kodiak City the locals mostly live in small coastal or mountainside villages. Charming. Cute. Cozy. The ironic part is that Kodiakans - generally speaking - want nothing more than to leave. The sky calls and they go. It's not that their home pushes them away, it's that the stars beckon to them, and yet they seem to inevitably gravitate home to the cool, green hills of Kodiak.The outer commercial district is made up of a river of sentients moving along narrow avenues of stores and stalls. Vendors sell goods from across the Cluster. Holovids, weapons, drugs, clothes, all of it is at your fingertips. The drizzling rain has brought out scores of umbrellas and rain slickers, leaving the multitude of species blended into one, water-proof group.After a bit of hunting around you find a suitable facemask made of mirrored metal. The sort of thing and unhinged terrorist might wear to send some juvenile message about who the real monsters are.You buy it and don it. Now you are the unhinged terrorist! You've still got a few hundred creds kicking around. You could use it to up your arsenal, flesh out the armor this Clanner outfit already has, or save it for a rainy day.>Buy a blaster carbine>Buy some additional armor>Save it>Write in
>>5074958>Buy a blaster carbine
>>5074958>>Buy some additional armor
>>5074958>Buy some additional armorConcealable, under the clanner outfit and not easily identifiable so we can shed the armor and blend in after
>>5074998By shed the armor I mean the clanner outfit
>>5074958>Buy some additional armorA Blaster Pistol will kill them all the same. Better to just get armo so we're not killed by a random shot.
The same vendor who provided you the mask has selections of armor for sale, nothing completely outlandish, light enough to conceal under bulky clothing, maybe enough to save your life. It would be simple enough to hide under the Shadow Clan garbs. You buy a set.The vendor, a snake-headed Isthrissian counts the credit chits twice, his slit-pupils narrowing as he inspects each chit. Satisfied, he flicks his tongue at you. "Ssafe travelss, ssir. Huntresss go with you.""Yeah," you say, donning the mask. "You too."***Inventory:>Blaster Pistol>Extra power packs>Street clothes>Shadow Clan Uniform>Light armor>Commlink***The rain has stopped again by the time you emerge, an azure sky peaks through gauzy clouds overhead making the rain drops on parked landspeeders glitter. A pretty day.You catch another transit car across the city, through the downtown financial district and on to the ISB building. It's just as imposing and ugly as you remember. Squat, dark, slab faced. A steady flow of foot traffic comes and goes. Police, criminals, and everyone in between. You duck into a street side nook to check your blaster and power pack. Imperial armor can be tough to punch through outside of close range so you notch the power setting up slightly. It will drain the cell quicker but it will almost guarantee penetration and kills.You force yourself to breathe easy. Sure, it's a police station- an Imperial police station, but they have no idea you're coming. Who in their right mind would anticipate a frontal attack by a single person? "Maybe there's a reason it's considered insane," you mutter to yourself. You holster your blaster beneath your Clanner robes and catch your reflection in a window. Mirrored faceplate, black robes, you look like a specter. Suspicious as hell. Cool.
Your bootheel splashes a street puddle as you cross to the station, turning instead for the smaller impound office attached to the side. A single ISB officer stands watching the door. He looks at you strangely as you pass but continues to scan the crowd afterward. Seems he's seen weirder people than you enter. Tough luck for them.The interior of the impound office is a sickly yellow from the aging glowlamp tubes on the ceiling. It's just like every other governmental office. Dingy, cramped, and soul-crushing. A waiting area houses a rogues gallery of creeps and weirdos waiting to collect their stuff. A handful of clerks sit behind armored glass windows talking to people. The datapad you need is in the back, past a locked employees door. You have the bay and shelf number. You just need to get back there. There's no time to think about it.You approach the door, drawing your blaster in a fluid motion before putting a bolt through the lock mechanism. Sparks fly and people scream. You fire a second shot for good measure before grabbing and wrenching the door open. It moves aside and you step into the employee area. Clerks jump up from their stations in surprise, gawping at you.A beat of stillness follows. You feel like they're expecting you to say something. "Shadow Clan!" Even as you yell it, you wonder if that was too much. What organization goes around yelling their own name? You wave your blaster overhead like an asshole to really drive the point home. "Everyone out! Get the fuck out!"There's a mad rush past you as clerks and visitors alike mob the door, pressing out and preventing the guard outside from getting in. Good.You pass through another series of doors which hiss open without complaint. Staff room, records office. Another clerk here cowers under his desk as you pass. You look up at a holocam on the wall as you pass, glad you thought of the mask. The lockup should be- there! You see the door and reach for the control panel just as blaster fire snaps past you.You duck into shelter around a corner. This area is laid out like a grid, crossed passages surround impound bays. Further along this main corridor will take you to the exterior lot where they keep larger things like vehicles and small starships. Risking a peak, you spot an ISB trooper in riot gear inching along the wall, weapon ready. He triggers another pair of shots making you duck back. You weren't expecting any armed guards this far back. Either you're unlucky or Rat's intel isn't as good as you thought. You don't have much more time before the ISB will start responding to this attack seriously.>Risk it and take him out with a snap shot>Circle around another passage and try to get the jump on him>Try to talk him down, what you want isn't worth him dying over>Write in
>>5075066>Risk it and take him out with a snap shotGotta go fast. In and out.
>>5075066>>Write in>Set your iron to stun and blind-fire until the power cell is empty or you here the thunk of a fully-armored man hit the ground.
>>5074967This is the smart move - we want to actually survive this raid, yes?
>>5075095>Set your iron to stunI'm sad to say that your blaster doesn't have a stun setting. Not to mention he's too far away.
>>5075066>>Try to talk him down, what you want isn't worth him dying over
>>5075066>>Risk it and take him out with a snap shot
>>5075066>Risk it and take him out with a snap shotPEW PEW
>Risk it and take him out with a snap shot>>5075093>>5075160>>5075162Writing
You don't have time to waste on a tryhard ISB cop. You check the power cell on your blaster, steel your nerves, and pop around the corner. You both fire simultaneously and both hit one another.Your shot burns clean through the riot trooper's armor, dropping him face first to the floor. His shot strikes you in the gut and you roll away, the stench of burnt cloth fills the air. You don't feel any pain. A quick inspection shows that your armor stopped the blast. If you were the praying sort you might assume that the Iss vendor's Huntress goddess had protected you. Since you're not the praying sort you chalk it up to prior planning.You get back to your feet and hurry over to the down trooper, kicking his blaster away from him just in case. Not much time now. Racing along the length of the lockup, you check the numbers of individual doors, counting down in your head until you find the one you're looking for. Another pair of blaster bolts cores out the locking mechanism and you slide the door open before changing power packs.The room itself is cramped, dark, and packed with metal shelving holding a variety of plasteel bins containing all manner of contraband. Most of it is utterly worthless to you. Personal effects, banned literature, and unlabeled boxes. You ignore it, looking for the bin in particular. As you hunt for it you mentally fantasize about what you're going to do to Rat if this doesn't live up to his word.The more you think about it, the more likely you realize it is that Rat might have fed you a bunch of bullshit. Doubt vanishes from your mind as you see it. Your bin. You reach inside and pull out a black, metallic puck with a single holoprojector lens on the top. It's nearly featureless, just a few interface ports on the bottom. There's no sign of input features like a keypad, no manufacturer information, nothing to give any clue what it's for.You jump when an alarm starts trilling deeper in the base. Time's up. You pocket the puck and hurry out of the room and back into the main passageway. You look left, toward the way you came in. A door you previously passed through slides open to reveal a squad of ISB riot troopers with carbines.You fire a few erratic blasts down range at them before running in the opposite direction, deeper into the building toward the larger impound lot. You stab at the door open button when you reach it and step back into daylight. The exterior lot. It's like an enormous parking pad surrounded by a high security fence. You put a blaster bolt through the door keypad and hope that slows your pursuers down.Now, you need to decide on how to get out of here. Your eyes wander the lot and take in all manner of small star craft from puddle jumpers to an old Imperial scout ship, and various makes of land speeders and swoop bikes.
"Excuse me, sir. Perhaps I can be of assistance."You whirl around, weapon ready, surprised to find no one is there. A moment later it dawns on you that the voice you heard was artificial, modulated, fuzzy, smooth. A droid. Or . . . a computer.You pull the puck from your pocket. The holoprojector flickers on and a miniscule representation of a colorful tropical bird materializes above it. Its plumage is a riot of color, vibrant and shifting in hue as it ruffles its feathers. You don't recognize the species."Uh," you say.The bird looks at you, tilting its head. "I think we might be of mutual assistance to one another here. You want to escape, yes?""Yes?" you say uncertainly. It's difficult to gauge a programs level of intelligence at first blush. Is it a particularly smooth user interface, or is it truly self aware? In this case you're leaning toward the latter."I happen to be a data dissection assistance agent," it says. The bird's beak doesn't move at all, but it's clear the bird is the avatar of whatever software lives in this device."Data dissection," you repeat, running the phrase through your mind.. "You're a slicer program.""Correct, sir."Something bangs into the door behind you and you whirl again. "So?" you demand, backing away."So, you want to escape, and so do I. I think both our goals would be furthered by access to a vehicle. All of these here have been disabled, either mechanically or electronically. In the latter case I can remove the lockdown.""Fine," you blurt, "Fine, whatever. Let's get the fuck out of here."The hologram bird disappeared and was replaced with a crude map of the lot. A pair of vehicles are highlighted. "This scout ship is in flying condition and compatible with my software. Additionally, this landspeeder could be taken."With a landspeeder you'd have to lose any ISB pursuit somewhere in Kodiak City. You might be able to swing by a fence to unload this device before taking the cash straight to Leemy. It's probably the shortest shot to your goal, but not without danger.The scout ship is a hyperdrive-equipped starship with capacity for a handful of crew and small cargo. You could escape to orbit and circle back to land somewhere else on the planet, ditch the ship, and go from there.>Take the speeder>Take the starship>Write in
>>5075260Take the starship and get the fuck outta here, program the speeder to head directly to the shadow clan base with our dumb helmet visible in the driver's seat
>>5075260>Take the speeder
>>5075260>>Take the starship
>>5075260>>Take the speederVroom Vroom Motherfucker
>>5075272This, if possible. If not, just starship.
>>5075272+1 to this if possible.
>Starting another quest while running another, while ignoring perfectly good previous quests done in the past.Goddam, finish your plate before you start snacking on the other dishes.
>>5075495>1 post by this IDBe careful what you wish for
>>5075745Whens Terminus coming back?
>>5075745DE 2 CONFIRMED BOYS
>>5075746After Saber and Musket is complete. Which isn't far off.>>5075760DE 2 is now permanently cancelled.
>>5075272>This write inWriting
You start running toward the speeder. "You can hotwire this thing?""Nothing so crude," the bird says, sounding a little offended. "But I can take control of it, yes."You pop the hatch on the landspeeder and slide into the diver's seat. "Good. Program it to head for these coordinates," you say, dialing the Shadow Clan HQ on the speeder's navigation system. "Best available route." You look around for a plug to connect the device. "Where do I plug you in?""I can access it via shortrange holonet transceiver. A physical connection is unnecessary." The bird's voice carries something like pride.You pull off your helmet and wedge it over the headrest. From a distance it will look like you're driving. Hopefully."There," it says. "And what about us?""We're taking that," you point to the scout ship. Officially a Sienar Fleet Systems Type-S Scout/Courier. This model was old even during the clone wars. An angular wedge shaped ship, it looks something like a miniscule Star Destroyer. Scout ships were popular surplus in the Republic and found their way into many aspects of life by being capable jacks-of-all-trades. Smugglers, bounty hunters, mercenaries and light freight captains. Everyone used them, and now you would too. The ramp lowers just a moment before you reach the scout and you hesitate, half-expecting to see more ISB troops pour out. Instead, it's an empty corridor. You race up the ramp which starts closing before you're fully onboard."All systems are unlocked, but I won't be able to pilot this ship, I'm afraid," the bird says."Leave that to me." You reach the cockpit and drop into a chair that was once upholstered in synthleather but now is more protruding foam cushion that cover. You strap in and see the door to the impound explode open, ISB riot troops flooding out. As soon as they do, the landspeeder takes off, smashing through the security fence and setting a course for the Shadow Clan. A handful of ISB speeders race off in pursuit. "Happy birthday," you say to yourself, making sure your harness is secured correctly and studying the controls. "I advise speed."You look up and see that some of the ISB troopers are coming toward your ship. They somehow know someone is in here."Alright, we're gone." You snap on the main sunlight engines and engaged repulsorlifts, boosting the 100 ton craft into the air. A jerk of the joystick brings the craft around and you throttle up the main drives. G-forces press you back into the seat as the inertial dampeners struggle to compensate.
Gradually, you bank up, climbing higher and higher, trading Kodiak's blue skies for a darkening purple turning black. A grin creeps across your face. "Easy." you say. You take the puck out of your pocket and set it on the dashboard. The holographic bird reappears and turns to face you."Excellent work," it says."Yeah, thanks. So what exactly are you?""A data dissection assistance agent," it says."Yeah, I got that part. I mean-""Who am I?" the bird suggests."Exactly.""I am a piece of custom software housed in a custom dataframe. A suite of sensors, infiltration software, and holonet transceivers. I was built to assist a professional slicer. My designation is MNG-0."Mingo," you say.The bird nods at you. "If you prefer.""Well, Mingo, you are one valuable piece of software, I have to say.""That I can imagine, sir.""Rax," you say. "Vela Rax."The bird doesn't reply, Maybe you shouldn't give your name out to a sentient slicer program. Ah. Too late now. "Where are we going now, sir?""Well, we can coast in the upper atmosphere for a bit and then set course-" The ship's sensor suit trills at you. A fresh group of signals is approaching. You only need to glance at the readout to recognize them. "Shit.""What is, sir?""Imperial Tie fighters," you say, flipping on your ship's meager deflector shields."Scout Ship TR-V1 you are ordered to power down shields and weapons and standby to receive an inspection party. Acknowledge." the voice that buzzes through your comm system sounds almost as artificial as Mingo, a result of Tie pilots helmet comms. You're not listening though, you're looking through the ship's computer for any information about weapons. There! A dorsal laser cannon."Shit.""And now?""It's manual only," you say, thumping the display. You'd need a gunner. Even if you had one, those Ties would make short work of a ship like this, chewing through your shields and then your hull in minutes. "Discretion is the better part of valor, sir.""Meaning?""I think you should run.""Right." You punch the throttle to maximum and pull away, going for deep space, away from the planet. Any attempt to land on Kodiak now will just draw Imperial retaliation, your only hope is to lose them with a hyperspace jump.You power on the navicomputer one handed, watching the Ties steadily gaining on your ship. On your current heading there are only two viable jumps you could make. Kordellis or Avandis.
Kordellis is a small moon of a gas giant, dotted with a few scattered seas. You've never been there yourself, but reading the data profile in your ship's computer doesn't sound inviting. It's a pretty inhospitable place, virtually uninhabited with only a single town centered around a starport with minimal facilities, little more than a dirt clearing and a storage hut. What you do know about Kordellis is that it's dominated by heavy asteroid belts. Most space traffic tries to bypass the system since it has a reputation as being a haven for pirates. A good place to hide even if it wasn't safe, strictly speaking.Your second option is Avandis, which you have been to many times. The planet itself is covered in a dense, resilient jungle that's made the world naturally resistant to any large-scale colonization. Mostly you've visited the massive starport in orbit of the world which services major traffic lanes in the area. It's highly trafficked, a good place to get lost so long as you stay away from the main port. You might be able to find a small-scale station willing to let you refuel for the jump back and make modifications to your ship to hide its origins.The ship jolts as emerald green laser fire slashes across your bow. Time's up. You check your gauges and see you're still short of the hyper limit. That was a warning shot, likely to be your first last and only.Now's the time to choose.>Jump to Kordellis>Jump to Avandis
>>5075836>Jump to Kordellis
>>5075836>Jump to Avandis
>>5075836>>Jump to Avandishide the ship in the jungle, book passage back
>>5075836>Jump to KordellisGood place to lie low, maybe find a crew member>>5075909Why should we go back at this point? We've got the ship and this slicer AI could come in handy. I don't really wanna sell it.
>>5075745I've got over 100 posts in your other quests.
>>5075979to finish the job, and get a proper-ish ship.do you read?
>>5075996Thanks for playing!
>>5075836>Jump to KordellisI figure we sell the ship, pocket the creds, buy passage back to Kodiak City, and then steal that really nice ship in the lot with Mingo's help?
>Jump to Kordellis>>5075850>>5075979>>5076033>Jump to Avandis>>5075909>>5075881>KordellisWriting
You punch the coordinates into the navicomputer."Kordellis?" Mingo says, sounding shocked."It's our best bet.""Isn't it full of pirates?"The ship lurches and a red light starts flashing on your console. Shields are failing. "Can't be worse than here." You keep one eye on the distance to the hyper limit as it ticks down. You're pushing every last bit of power out of this ship's overtaxed engines that you can. This is it.You pull back the levers and engage the hyperdrive. The ship shudders from another hit and then the stars explode into lines which collapse into a swirling blue vortex. Hyperspace. Safety. You exhale."Well done, sir. You have a quite a talent for this, I can tell!""You wouldn't be praising me just because I'm the only one who can keep you away from going back to the Imperial lockup, would you?""No, sir."You chuckle and call up a ship diagnostic report, scrolling through the list of damage and wincing. Nothing catastrophic, but you'd come close to a hull breach in a few places.The hologram bird hops off the datapuck, growing larger as the projection moves until it's approximately to scale with whatever bird it's based on. It starts walking along the console, trailed by a glittering web of light where the projector catches motes of dust. "Might I ask you something, sir?""You just did.""What are your intentions with me?""With you?" You look at the bird, unable to break the illusion, knowing full well that the puck is the 'real' Mingo."Yes.""Honestly, my plan was to sell you to the highest bidder. Like I said, you're worth quite a lot of money.""I see," he sounds disappointed.
"Hey," you say, "It means you'll get back to doing what you love, right? I mean . . . I assume you love it.""Dearly!" Mingo agrees. "But- if you'll forgive my forwardness- I would actually have a favor to ask of you."You close the diagnostic reports and put your boots up on the console. "I'm listening.""I would very much like to be returned to my creator.""And who is that?""A professional holonet navigator, data retrieval and obfuscation specialist."You smirk. "A slicer?""Precisely.""See, I had kind of hoped to pawn you off for the downpayment on a ship.""Fortuitously, you have just such a downpayment in your hands!" Mingo says, his avatar hopping and flapping his wings with excitement, a few stray feathers float away and wink to nothingness. "This very ship I am certain will easily cover the cost of a down payment."You're amused by the bird's antics. "Sure, the trouble is that this ship is too hot to fence now. We just blasted out of an impound lot.""Nonsense!" Mingo says with enthusiasm. "With a little creative application of an angle grinder and blaster pistol you can erase physical serial numbers easily enough. I have the capability to re-write the transponder given enough time. Then it's just a matter of scrubbing the old paint job. You could sell this ship with ease at any starport I'm sure. That will cover your down payment.""What if I just sell both of you?" you ask, mostly teasing.Mingo stops flapping. "That would be most ungentlemanly of you, sir.""No one ever accused me of being a gentleman," you say. You glance at the chronometer. You have just under an hour before you reach Kordellis.>I'll see about finding your creator, but until then you're with me>Sorry, I don't have time to scour the Cluster for one guy, I'll make sure I sell you to someone who will make use of your skills, okay?>What about working together? We make a good team right?>Write in
>>5076176>>Sorry, I don't have time to scour the Cluster for one guy, I'll make sure I sell you to someone who will make use of your skills, okay?
>>5076176>>I'll see about finding your creator, but until then you're with me
>>5076176>I'll see about finding your creator, but until then you're with me
>>5076176>>Sorry, I don't have time to scour the Cluster for one guy, I'll make sure I sell you to someone who will make use of your skills, okay?Sigma thug mindset
>>5076176>'ll see about finding your creator, but until then you're with me
>I'll see about finding your creator, but until then you're with me>>5076188>>5076210>>5076249>>5076293Writing
You flick lint off your pantleg. "Yeah, I'll see about finding your creator, alright? But until then you're with me."Mingo bows his head to you, stooping down and spreading his wings toward the ground like some kind of avian courtier. "Thank you, sir. I am within your debt."You get up from the pilot's chair. "Don't sweat it. I'm sure you'll pay for yourself. I'm going to take stock of the ship. Keep an eye on things here?""I'm not capable of remotely piloting this ship, sir.""Good, I don't need you touching anything. We're on course. Just . . . squawk if things get bad."Mingo tilts his head at you. "Very well, sir."You leave Mingo and the bridge behind to walk the length of the ship. It's not terribly large, but it's not cramped either. There's a small office attached to the bridge, likely used to house a private comm suite, though this one is empty. There are four bunk rooms, each one with single or double capacity. They're dingy, poorly furnished. At the rear of the ship is the ladderway to the dorsal gun turret and beyond that cargo and engineering.The cargo bay is empty, but the engine compartment is full of thrumming and hissing machinery. You inspect each element in turn, grimacing. Whoever owned this ship before it was impounded ran it hard. A half dozen components look like they could burn out or fail at any moment, and another dozen have already been jury rigged. She'll get you where you need to go, but if you want to make this ship anything more than a bucket it will take some serious time and money.There's nothing of value on the ship. Anything considered non-essential to its function had been stripped away previously. It contains a single vacc suit designed for humanoids and a handful of tools and spare parts. Mingo's idea about scrubbing the ship of ID isn't a bad one. Once you get out of hyperspace you'll see about getting to work on that.You stop at the small kitchenette station in the cramped common area near the staterooms. You fill a plastic cup with cold water and drink.
Kordellis is practically lawless. The Empire only rare makes an appearance here, and most legitimate spacers avoid it altogether. The only ones out here are pirate gangs, smugglers, and idiots like you.You shake your head. This is the best place to stay hidden until heat dies down. All things considered, your heist was pretty low key, and with your disguise it will likely all get blamed on the Shadow Clan, wrapping that up with a neat little bow.The Clan. Right. You look at your clothes. No sense keeping this on anymore.You pick a stateroom and change out of the black robes, throwing them to a heap on the floor and adjusting your Bantha leather jacket. Satisfied, you return to the bridge. The hyperspace proximity alert is beeping insistently. You're right on target."Here we go," you say, more for Mingo's benefit than yours. You pull back the throttles and the scoutship drops from hyperspace. Ahead of you is a massive disk of stony asteroids tumbling aimlessly through space as they orbit the system's star. Beyond that is a yellow gas giant, the parent planet of Kordellis.The asteroid belt would make a good hiding place for you if you want to avoid any contact at all. You have provisions on this ship to spend a day or two in space doing the repairs and filing off the IDs on this ship. Scrubbing paint off the hull in a vacc suit won't be fun, but you can do it.Kordellis itself technically has civilization. A starport settlement offers food, drink, a place to sleep, and people who want to avoid Imperial entanglements just as much as you do. Beyond that, you might be able to make a direct sale of this ship and pay for transport back to Kodiak. And any buyer on Kordellis likely won't care about the ship's shady origins.>Fly to Kordellis star port to see about fencing the ship>Hide in the asteroids and remove any identifying marks form the ship>Write in
>>5076328>Fly to Kordellis star port to see about fencing the shipLawless shit holes have their uses
>>5076328>>Fly to Kordellis star port to see about fencing the ship
>>5076328>Hide in the asteroids and remove any identifying marks form the shipwould be smart, then we can do the other option
>>5076379Backing this, we won't have any luck selling a hot ship.Not to mention we'll look like an idiot to buyers if we dont take even basic precautions
>>5076402Or they'll be very familiar with our basic ass ways of trying to hide the identity of the ship
>>5076328>>Hide in the asteroids and remove any identifying marks form the ship
>>5076328>Hide in the asteroids and remove any identifying marks form the ship
>>5076379+1 This seems like a good idea, let's just head down after we scrub off all of the identifiers.>>5076328
>Hide in the asteroids and remove any identifying marks form the shipWriting
"We'd better keep off the ground for now," you say to yourself. You sigh. Time for a spacewalk. With some careful maneuvering, you angle the ship into the asteroid belt and fly a short distance in, weaving around tumbling rock. This particular belt isn't so bad, you've seen worse. There are enough big chunks to shelter you from the more dangerous smaller pieces of stone.You toggle off the ship's sensors and shields, powering off anything that might make you easier to detect out here, just in case there are pirates about.After a few minutes of flying you spot an appropriately-sized crevice in a big rock and take the scout ship down. A few bursts of your repulsorlifts and you touch down on the rock, landing gear anchoring into place."Mingo, you said you can re-write the transponder?""Yes, sir. It's time consuming, but I can do it.""How long?""Twenty four hours."Enough time to catch some sleep and let the heat on Kodiak die down. "Do it. Something nondescript, okay?""Of course. I would dream of nothing else."You stand from the pilot seat and stretch. "I've got to get to work on the paint job. I think we have the tools to do it.""Good luck, sir," Mingo says, turning his head to look out the viewport. "I would offer to lend you a hand but-" he holds up a wing. "I'm afraid I don't have any."You give him a tight smile. "Keep your seat."You zip yourself into the vaccsuit and make sure the helmet is secured tightly. The suit is bulky, dirty, but intact. With an electro-scour wand in hand you make your way out through the airlock and onto the hull of your ship. Gravity here, away from the confines of the ship, is light enough that a strong jump would send you clear. To be safe, you keep yourself anchored with a tether line at all times.Then, it's just a matter of walking the hull and lasering off any identifying markings or paint schemes. It's not fool proof, but it will make easy identification more difficult. This is the sort of work you grew up doing, dirty, dangerous, monotonous. You don't miss it, but you're comfortable with it.Once the hull is scoured, you return with an angle grinder to file off any serial numbers you can find. Per Mingo's suggestion, you put a few blaster bolts into some to make it less apparent they were manually removed. Given the age of this ship, there's no telling how long it's been unmarked like this, so it shouldn't dissuade any but the most 'by the book' buyers.When you finally finish, you're sweaty, tired, and hungry. You strip out of the vaccsuit and hang it back in the airlock stowage before making your way to the bridge. Mingo's avatar springs to life when you enter, flapping over to land on a seat back and look at you.
"All finished, sir?""Just about," you say. "It looks suspicious as hell, but given the kind of buyer we're probably gonna get, that's nothing new. How's the transponder?""I'm 37.5% complete currently. I suggest you don't wait on me.""Is talking distracting you?"Mingo ruffles his feathers in what seems like amusement. "No, sir."You sit at the pilot's station again and gaze out of the viewport up at the stars. "Nice to be out here again," you say. "Even if it's fucking Kordellis. Where are you from, little guy?""I was assembled on a ship in transit. My creator preferred to keep moving. It's easier in their line of work.""Tell me about this guy. What's his name?""My creator goes by the holonet handle 'Poly'. That's all I'm comfortable divulging at this time."You give Mingo a side glance. "You're not going to tell me his name? How they hell am I supposed to find him?""Leave that to me," Mingo says, puffing his feathers and standing straighter. "I excel in such tasks.""Right." You resume visually scanning the slice of the starfield you can see, watching asteroids tumble slowly in the dark.The comm system peeps to life and starts spitting out a message on its small display.You raise an eyebrow and lean over to read it."It's a distress signal," Mingo says, apparently gleaning the data straight from the ship's computer. "Local to this system.""What kind of dumb asshole would fire a distress signal in a pirate haven?" you ponder."A desperate one, perhaps," Mingo says.You depress a key to play the audio message back and a nervous female voice comes through."This is the Aurora Blue, to any receiving ship. Our main drives are offline, life support systems are failing. Repeat, life support systems are failing. We've taken an asteroid hit to our drive section." There is a pause. "Please, if anyone can hear this, we need rescue urgently. We're willing to discuss fair compensation for any aid rendered. Please."The transmission repeats at an interval.Mingo looks at you and you look back."Desperate, indeed," Mingo says."If they're talking about paying for rescue then they're probably drug smugglers," you say. "Spice from Cantria. Buzzer from Q'Netheria. Either or both bound for Kodiak. Bet you anything."Mingo tilts his head. "It sounds profitable.""It is," you say."So will we intervene?"Running a rescue operation on a stricken ship in the middle of pirate space carries obvious risks. But if your hunch about them being smugglers is true, there could be serious money to be made. It would be nice to have some extra cash, or maybe even a cargo to sell off when you finally reach a port.>It's not worth the effort. Too many risks. I'm sure some of the pirates around here will oblige them>It would be nice to make some new friends, and especially some money. Let's go.>Write in
>>5076965>>Write init's a trap ---> ignore and go to sleep
>>5076965>It would be nice to make some new friends, and especially some money. Let's go.Gotta risk it for the biscuit
That is the most obvious trap i have ever seen. It's probably there to fish dumb pirates.
>>5076965In the immortal words of Mad Max, "That's bait". Ignore it, keep to our own business.
>>5076965>Write init's a trap but we go there anywaylet's make a plan so Mingo will help us take control of the Aurora Blue
>>5076965>It's not worth the effort. Too many risks. I'm sure some of the pirates around here will oblige themI do feel a bit bad, but even if we tried to help, there's no way we can fend off any pirate in this trash ship, especially after taking damage from TIEs. Also this is almost certainly a trap.
>>5076963>It's not worth the effort. Too many risks. I'm sure some of the pirates around here will oblige them
>>5076965>It would be nice to make some new friends, and especially some money. Let's go.
>>5076965>>It would be nice to make some new friends, and especially some money. Let's go.It's a trap but fuck it lol
>>5076965>>It's not worth the effort. Too many risks. I'm sure some of the pirates around here will oblige them
>>5076965>It's not worth the effort. Too many risks. I'm sure some of the pirates around here will oblige themWe can scrounge around the dead ship later on the off chance it's not a trap.
>Don't go>>5076979>>5077019>>5077027>>5077062>>5077135>>5077168>Go>>5076991>>5077020>>5077074>>5077080>Don't goWriting
You rub your chin and read the distress call transcript again. "Sir?""I think we'll sit this one out," you said. "Like you said: discretion is the better part of valor.""That is true.""Plus I'm pretty sure this is a trap. This rust bucket isn't going to last long in a standup fight, especially since I can't even use the gun without some crew.""That is a serious limitation.""Tell me about it," you say. You flip off the the display on the comm station. "Alright, I'm grabbing some sleep. Wake me when the transponder is done, alright?""Alright. Sleep well, sir.""Thanks."You're tired enough that you fall asleep immediately on the thin foam mattress in one of the staterooms. Your sleep is dreamless, but restful. You wake up to the sound of the intercom."Good morning, sir. It's a brand new day!"You groan and blink yourself awake. "Is it?""Yes, sir. Technically speaking. I'm afraid I lack the capability to prepare you a breakfast, but I have calculated some optimal flight paths."You squint at the room's chronometer. It's been about eight hours. "Flight paths?""Yes, sir. I anticipated your plans and calculated the best route to Kordellis and the best route to the hyperlimit so we can jump back to Kodiak if you desire.""Is that distress signal still broadcasting?""No, sir. It ceased several hours ago."Given the way this asteroid belt moves around, with no signal to fix onto, there's no telling where that ship or whatever debris was left over might be now. >We'll go back to Kodiak>We'll land on Kordellis>Write in
>>5077197>We'll land on Kordellis
>>5077197>>We'll land on Kordellis>It ceased several hours agoThot begone
>>5077197>We'll land on KordellisLet's sell off this hunk of junk and go get ourselves a proper ship.
>We'll land on KordellisWriting
"Then no reason to stick around up here," you say. "Let's take her down." Powering on the sublights, you steer the ship out of the asteroid belt and toward the moon of Kordellis. The yellow gas giant looms large beyond the planet, casting a sickly light over the blue-gray world.The moon's weak atmosphere buffets your ship as you pass through it and come in for a landing, approaching the starport, or . . . what qualifies as a starport. As a Class E, it is quite simply a stretch of bare dirt, a few metal storage huts and a pre-fabricated terminal shelter.You dip your ship into the clouds and into a steady drizzle of rain.Clearance for landing is given and you settle into the muddy morass on your repulsorlifts.You have arrived on Kordellis. There is no berthing fee because there is no berthing to speak of. Peering out of the viewport, you survey the landing zone as fat raindrops spatter down on the transparisteel. A handful of other craft are parked here, nothing stands out as particularly unusual. At the far edge of the pad you see a starship breaker yard. Rows of hulks sit half-sunk in the mud beside a large metal building where choppers are at work hacking apart frames and pulling out components. Probably the result of rampant piracy in this sector.With no spare cash to speak of you're not going to be able to afford to refuel the hyperdrives of this ship, but that doesn't matter either way since you have enough fuel to carry you back to Kodiak if you need, and beside which you are going to be selling this ship anyway.You glance at Mingo who is likewise looking out the window. "I think you'd better come with me.""Wouldn't I be safer on this ship?"You look out the window again. "No. Probably not."Mingo powers off his holoprojector and you pocket his puck. After powering the ship down you grab a rain slicker from the ship's locker and lower the ramp of the ship and exit.Kordellis is uninhabited save for this single starport town of a few thousand. The town itself is pitiful. Mostly prefabricated shelters from the Clone Wars and a few adobe/mud buildings. The buildings are the same color gray as the sky, and the muddy earth is a dark, ashy black. Your boots squelch in the mud and you pull your rain slicker tight against the rain."What a shit hole," you say.The nearby terminal building is in a poor state of repair. A lone Imperial army trooper stands despondently, half-hidden by his own waterproof poncho. That's also where the custom's office is. This is probably the full extent of Imperial "law and order" on this planet.You slog your way through the mud across the landing area over to a sheltered booth which has a vandalized map of the settlement displayed inside. It has an impressive array of bars, "rest hotels" and gambling dens on display. Each one has a gaudy advertising poster stapled up inside this booth, generally showing off some scantily clad woman, a variety of drinks, or both. Entertainment for the pirates here.
One of them is probably your best bet for finding a buyer for the ship. You pick the closest one to the starport which also looks to be the most well-advertised. "Grimlun's Hope".You set off through the town for the bar, the thick mud hindering you. It's like stepping into liquid cement, heavy and thick. It clings to your boots in heavy clumps, making each step tougher than the last. After a minute, the rain lets up, which is nice at first but then you realize it had been helping to wash the mud off you. Now it just clings stubbornly.The town roads are not paved, transport seems to be via pack animal. There are a few pedestrians and bystanders watching your progress from under covered porches on the fronts of buildings. They seem to fall into one of two categories:Natives: local human settlers who are gaunt, timid, and dressed in heavy coats and rain slickers who avoid keeping your gaze, and pirates: a gaudy collection of aliens and humans alike wearing all manner of clothing, colorful and intimidating. They carry weapons openly, sneer when you look at them, and seem to travel everywhere in packs, carrying bottles of alcohol and smoking.This planet seems like something of a resort world to their ilk.You reach Grimlun's, a large, two-story metal prefab nestled beside a "rest hotel" which advertises rooms by the hour, and a shabby hab block. The tavern is ringed with speeder and swoop bikes, raucous music plays from inside.You scrape the mud off your boots on the porch edge and enter the building, shaking off the rain. It's crowded and noisy here and stinks like smoke and spice.There are card and holo game tables toward the center of the building, a bar in the back, a small eating area and tons of pirate types loitering around. The only natives you see among them are women, dressed in skimpy clothing, serving drinks or lounging around, presumably waiting for clients.Virtually no one notices your entrance. Any prospective buyer is probably somewhere in this joint though it will take a little effort to dredge one up, you'll also see about finding some passage off this ball and back to Kodiak which shouldn't be a challenge so long as you pick someone who won't simply rob you blind. While you're here, assuming you want to put in the effort, you might look to find some local work, odd jobs that need doing so you can pad your wallet a little bit before buying the ship from Leemy. Given your background you're sure there's something that you're up for.Otherwise, if you want to grab someone less than scrupulous to serve on your crew, this is another good place to do it. You'd have to find someone willing to work for a cut with no advance, and someone you're able to trust, or able to kill if it comes to it. A little carousing, drinking, and gambling should dredge up such a person.>Just see about getting passage off this ball>See about making some extra cash>See about finding crew to travel back to Kodiak with you>Write in
>>5078197>see about getting passage offworld>see about selling the ship
>>5078197>>See about making some extra cash
>>5078210Selling the ship is going to happen with any of these courses of action.
>>5078197>See about making some extra cash
>>5078197>>See about making some extra cashNever hurts to keep an ear on the ground also gotta give the QM some way to feed us some plot hooks since we're pretty aimless so far
>>5078224I appreciate it but that problem will take care of itself once you get a ship one way or another
>>5078197>>See about making some extra cash>>See about finding crew to travel back to Kodiak with you
>>5078197>Just see about getting passage off this ball>See about finding crew to travel back to Kodiak with you
>See about making some extra cash>>5078223>>5078213>>5078224>>5078252>>5078259Writing
You find a spot at the bar between a tired-looking whore and a Rodian in a spiked leather jacket. Without money there's not much entertainment you can engage with, but you can look at home and you can keep an eye out and ear open. Watching the ebbs and flows of the pirates, you adjust to the tides of this place and soon you're able to move among them, drifting from table to table, conversation to conversation, and game to game with the same natural ease that regular visitors of this bar do.Before long, you're saying a word here or there, laughing at a joke, or interjecting your own. You make yourself friendly a very inebriated pirate gang celebrating a fresh haul and score some free booze from them which makes it even easier to get in with others. You've got good leads on work.There's an bare-knuckle fighting ring in the basement of this place. You've see groups of men going down through a staircase in the back and sometimes someone will emerge, bloody and bruised and grinning from ear to ear to celebrate a win with their bettors. You imagine the losers leave through a less prestigious exit. You've done brute work before, you'd probably be pretty good at it, there's a chance you could earn some money from a fight or two, provided you're okay with taking some knocks.There's two rival gangs of pirates eyeing one another from across the bar, maybe the only two groups of people not having any fun. There's a smoldering hatred there, one that's close to spilling over into blood shed. Either of them would likely benefit from an experienced gun like you if they want to do something about their rivalry. An enterprising man such as yourself might even try to play the two groups against one another, assuming you're okay with spending the time it would take to get close to them here.One man doesn't seem to fit in with the rest of this establishment. He keeps to himself, smoking in a booth at the edge of the bar. You recognize a bounty hunter when you see one. This one doesn't look like an amateur either. You'd asked around about him, curious why no one seemed afraid of him. The story you'd got was that he was looking for someone, someone he hadn't found yet. If he's hanging around on this rock then he thinks his quarry is still on this planet. You're no stranger to finding people who don't want to be found, with the right introduction, you might be able to work out a partnership of some kind.>Enter the fighting ring for prize money>Approach one of the pirate gangs to hire yourself as a gunslinger>Try to strike a partnership with the bounty hunter>Write in
>>5078600>Enter the fighting ring for prize moneyQuick and easy money
>>5078600>Try to strike a partnership with the bounty hunter
>>5078660This. Maybe we could take a dive at the appropriate time for some extra cash?
>>5078600>>Enter the fighting ring for prize moneyTHUNDERDOME!!!!! TWO MEN ENTER ONE MAN LEAVES!!!
>>5078600>Try to strike a partnership with the bounty hunterInstead of playing the dumb slab of meat downstairs how about we do a job with the bounty hunter and get some serious cash instead? Bonus of getting a contact with a professional gunman for later.
>>5078600>>Approach one of the pirate gangs to hire yourself as a gunslinger
>>5078600>Enter the fighting ring for prize moneyIt ain't fun (unless you enjoy getting your face smashed) and it ain't prestigious, but it's good money if you can hack it (and Jack seems to think so) and it beats getting shot at and/or making new enemies looking to stick a blade between your ribs. The big score of out own ship is close, let's not botch it.
>>5078994It's that kind of work that got us into this mess in the first place
>>5078600>Enter the fighting ring for prize money
>>5078600>Enter the fighting ring for prize moneyAh. Brawling. My beloved.
>Enter the fighting ring for prize money>>5078660>>5078910>>5079065>>5079506>>5079709>>5079715Writing
Wait, I just realized, if we win our first fight in an impressive manner, we might be able to play the odds by taking a dive in the subsequent bout.We need a good ring name though, something to really make em think we're a badass.
Ah yes. Brawling. You finish your beer and leave the bottle on a counter for one of the scantily-clad waitresses to collect. You'd done a little bare knuckle fighting as a deck hand on bulk freighters plying the hyperlanes of the Cluster. Knowing how to fight was practically a job requirement with how some of those ships operated.Fortified with just enough alcohol to feel the hint of a buzz, you descend the stairs to the tavern's basement. When you reach the bottom of the flight of stairs you're impressed by the size of the operation down here. There are three separate rings set up, powerful overhead lights, and packed crowds cheering and placing bets. As you expected, it's primarily pirates but there are actually a handful of guys who look like they could be locals."It's twenty creds to watch," a bouncer at the doorway says, stopping you with a hand to the chest."I'm here to fight," you say."You got a sponsor?""I'm flying solo," you say.He gestures with his head to the far left ring. "Sign up there. Leave your shit here. No weapons, jacket, shirt."You strip off your jacket, shirt, holster, and pull the vibroblade from your boot before handing it all over in a neat bundle to the bouncer. "Keep it safe for me."The bouncer tosses it into an empty locker in a bank. "No promises if we have to carry you out of here. My advice? Try to stay awake." He laughs.You laugh too, it seems polite. "Thanks." You don't like the idea of leaving Mingo's datapuck in such an insecure place, but no one here has any idea you're carrying anything worth stealing, besides which, all the other fighters are shirtless like you. You approach the amateur ring and sign up, your name goes onto a roster of others and you get paired up randomly. There's a small prize pool at stake here and with each successive win it gets bigger. It looks like the key is that greed takes out most contenders before they can cash out, staying in more rounds than they can realistically win.Also of note is a small collection of people watching the fights, some of them run of the mill scum, but others seem more focused. Talent scouts maybe, looking for fresh meat for the higher tiers of the game.Your name is called by the referee. "Rax? You're up."Climbing into the ring, you eye your opponent as he does likewise opposite from you. A Naruvian with a mohawk and a sadistic glint in his eyes. Naruvians are the near-human natives of Naru, rarely found in any legitimate work off their home world. They flesh out the crews of gangers, pirates, and bounty hunters. His pale gray skin seems to glow under the harsh lights overhead, just as his elongated canine teeth do when he grins at you. A tail tipped with a tuft of fur flicks back and forth behind him as he paces, keeping his eyes on you."Rules are simple gentlemen," the Ref says. "Put your opponent on the ground and don't kill them. A knock out is a victory. Take too long and we throw you out. Got it?"
"Got it," you say."Yeah," your opponent says."Fight."The Naruvian springs toward you instantly with the aggression and foolhardiness characteristic of his species. You side step the first clumsy swing, and then the second, trailing him after you as he forces you back to the corner. In a fight like this there's little time to plan, not that plans do any good when you're bust being punched in the face. You're sizing him up, looking for your opening still when you feel your back hit the ropes.His predatory grin goes wide and you see him wind up a grandslam punch, the kind that he probably considers the mark of a good fighter. His "signature move".You jab him in the nose with your left before he has a chance, feeling it crunch beneath your fist. His eyes go wide with shock and pain when your right hand co-nnects with his jaw, twirling him around and dropping him onto his face.There's a collective shout of savage glee and dismay from the audience and the ref walks over to check him.You walk the perimeter of the ring, flexing the fingers on your right hand which are aching after that blow. It had been a hurried shot, not your finest moment, but it had done the job."KO!" The ref calls, "He's through."The Naruvian's buddies climb into the ring to drag him out.You signal the ref that you're ready to go again.Your second opponent puts up more of a fight. A well-built human, he's clearly had more experience than the headstrong Naruvian. He manages to land a few body blows on you which are still hurting when they drag him out of the ring unconscious, blood seeping from his broken nose. "Good for another?" the ref asks.You eye your winnings on the board. Paltry. You've got to go again to make it worth it. "Why the hell not," you say. Your growing confidence is dampened at the sight of your next opponent. A Trandoshan. This humanoid reptilian has a reputation for ferocity. Plus this one is huge, built like a duracrete slab.Lacking the hands for fists, his three-digit claws look like butcher's tools in this sterile light. He probably won't want to kill you. But that doesn't mean it won't happen anyway."Scared, human?" he asks.You force a grin and a laugh, but the answer is: yes, a little."The ref positions you both. "Fight!"***Roll 1d10I need three rolls.
Rolled 8 (1d10)>>5079764
Rolled 10 (1d10)>>5079764
Rolled 6 (1d10)>>5079764
How's this dice system work anyway
You've never fought a Tradoshan before. This thought occurs to you as you're reeling backward from a backhand blow across your face. You bring your guard back up just in time to deflect most of the energy of another wide swipe. Blood drips from your nose and chin where the Tradoshan's claws cut you.Ducking under the next swipe, you stomp onto his foot with all the energy you can muster. From the way he snarls, you think you might have broken something. You follow up with a hammerblow punch to his ribs. The Tradoshan draws back snarling at you. He underestimated you but apparently learned his lesson. It's a mistake he won't be likely to repeat . . . unless you can piss him off.You spit blood before grinning at him. "Scared of a human?"The Tradoshan's nostril's flare and he snarls again, lowering his head and storming at you claws first. You're pretty sure if he caught you he'd kill you in that moment. But he doesn't catch you.You spin outside of the attack and deliver an elbow-blow to the back of his head as he passes. The Tradoshan takes one more shaky step and drops to his knees, he senses addled. You don't give him a chance to recover them, planting a kick between his shoulder blades which drives him to the mat.The ref waves you off and closes in to check your opponent. You spit blood again and wipe your face clean with your hands. You're starting to remember why you didn't stick with this sport.A moment later you're declared the winner and you decline to go a fourth round. Five thousand credits are yours for the claiming when you get the rest of your gear. Ducking under the ropes, you climb out of the ring to the cheering of the new fans who'd made a few credits off your fights.
"Good showing, Rax. No offense, but I was pretty sure you were fucked when the green guy got in the ring." The man who appears at your side has the sharp, incense aroma of Cantrian Spice about him. The way his pupils are dilated tells you he's a heavy user. "Senn," he introduces himself."Thanks," you say."Were you thinking about sticking around, Rax? I was thinking you might make it in some of the higher tiers of matches here. A lot of the crews in this system take this game pretty seriously, the bigger gangs have a champion or two and they tend to face off every couple weeks. A newcomer like you might shake things up." He speaks fast, giving you no chance to question or interject. "An amateur like you could go real far I think. I'd be willing to front your entry fee so long as you pay me back with your winnings.""What kind of winnings?" you ask."Fifty thousand if you can take the championship, that's not including what you can make on the betting circle. The matches are every couple days. With what you won today you can live like a king here for a week or two. Leave a rich man. What do you say?"You're smart enough to see the offer as what it is: a loan. Men like Senn are as crooked as they come. Either you win and he makes the cash back or you don't and you get hounded by whatever goons he contracts with to pay back what you owe. You don't have any illusions you could make it to the top of this dog pile, but he is right about the betting, you could probably make quite a bit off fights if you play your odds right. Setting that up would take time though, you'd need to get an inside man, a place to stay here, and of course you'd have to spend the time on this planet to make it happen. You have no doubts that your ship will be waiting at Leemy's lot when you get back. The question is if you want to delay getting it.>Agree, stick around on Kordellis and enter their "pro" fighting circuit.>Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to Kodiak>Write in
>>5079803It's pretty simple. Roll 3d10, 7, 8, 9, 10 are successes. Each roll requires a certain number of successes to determine the quality of the success.3 fails is a total failure, 1 success is just barely passing, 2 is doing well, 3 is amazing success.previously I used this system with D6, I might return to that depending on how I feel about this. It's just to insert a bit of randomness if there's a good chance of failure that has nothing to do with your planning or skills. Randomness, luck, etc.Most outcomes will be decided by choices, but sometimes those choices are risky and could go either way. That's where dice come in.
>>5079805>Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to KodiakWe came here to grab some cash and get the fuck out. Let's do exactly that.Besides, the longer we stay in one place, the more likely our loans are to catch up to us.
>>5079805>Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to Kodiak
>>5079805> Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to KodiakGot the loot, time to scoot
>>5079805>>Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to Kodiak
>Decline politely, sell the ship, and get passage back to KodiakWriting
"I appreciate the offer Mr. Senn-""Senn," he says, "Just Senn.""Senn. I appreciate the offer, but I've got commitments offworld to get to. Kordellis is a nice place-""HA!" Senn barks."But I really can't stay."He claps a hand on your back. "Hey, no hard feelings. Listen, I'm not going anywhere. Roots too deep. You come back around and I'll be here.""Sure," you flash a smile. Having friends never hurts. Or people who act like friends.You gather your winnings, weapons, shirt, jacket, Mingo, and the envious glares of other less fortunate fighters. Probably best not to stay around too much longer.Arranging passage offworld is easy enough, as is selling the ship. The wannabe pirate gang you sold it to looks like the cast off dregs of a number of other gangs who've glommed together in a misguided effort to "make it big". Oh well, not your problem.Cash in hand, you board the freighter you bought passage on back to Kodiak. The trip is uneventful but gives you a chance to rest up. Though you've only been gone a day, it feels good being back on Kodiak, the lush green hills are a far cry from the black morass of Kordellis. Since you're not immediately arrested by star port security forces you assume you're in the clear and take the transit to Leemy's lot.The ship is just where you left it, and in more or less the same condition. When you arrive, Leemy is under the hull with a welding torch, making some final touch ups."Rax!" Leemy calls in greeting, "You're alive!""You thought I was dead?"Leemy shrugs. "Just a hunch. Call it a gut feeling. Hey, I'm definitely happy to be wrong!" He puts the welding gear down on a cart and rolls the cart aside. "How'd that job pan out?""Paid off in spades," you say, offering the cash.Leemy doesn't look impressed, but with Duros it's hard to tell. "Yeah, this'll be enough for the downpayment. We'll mortgage the rest." He takes the money from you and counts it. "She's been through a lot, but got plenty of years left in her, especially if you take care of her. You got plans?""I'll probably do some free trading to pay the bills," you say, "find jobs around.""Risky work. Once you get yourself situated, let me know, I always need to do small deliveries around the area.""That sounds good," you say, looking over the ship. It's a strange feeling. A mixture of pride and . . . dread. This was your ship now. Your ship, and your key to freedom. But it also meant the safety nets were cut. If you fucked up, if this ship got wrecked, stolen, or just plain broke down, you'd be on the hook for it."You gonna take on a crew?""I'll have to if I want to run this thing with any efficiency," you say. "Anyone in mind?""I've got a lead," you say. "An old friend of mine." You're thinking of Moho. Mojo was another hired gun from your time. He's tough as hell, good in a fight, not a bad shot, and most importantly, you got along with him. A little on the dim side, but charismatic enough to make up for it.
"You're going to want an engineer," Leemy says, looking back at the ship, "A good one! And if you don't mind a recommendation, I happen to know someone who's looking for work.""Oh?"He nods, "Riss. She's a sweet girl, from a belt mining family. Born and raised on ships like this. She's a qualified pilot and a gifted engineer and mechanic. She's just having a hard time finding work""Why's that?" you ask."Tough times," Leemy answers. "The independent shipping companies are getting shut out by the big Imperial firms more and more, you know how it is."You do, all too well. The more crew you take on, the more money you'll have to pay to keep them around, that or convince them to take a stake of the profits. Of course, without any crew you'll quickly find yourself unable to get much done. With the dreams you have, you're going to need a crew.Moho will be good for dealing with trouble and having someone you can trust to watch your back. Riss will be good for the technical side of things. While you're competent enough with the basics, more advanced engineering work would really benefit from a dedicated crewman.>Bring just Riss>Bring just Moho>Bring them both>Write in
>>5079948>Bring them both
>>5079948>Bring just RissWe are critically low on funds right now so we should try to minimize expenses. while having a second gun would be useful Moho bring basically the same skills as us to the table while Riss knows how to do things we don't. Assuming we can make some money we can always come back and hire Moho
>>5079948>>Bring them both
>>5080099Considering we don't know what "expenses" means in numbers or how much 5k is in relation to everything else I say fuckit.>>5079948>Bring them both
>>5079948>>Bring just Riss
>>5080185>Considering we don't know what "expenses" means in numbers or how much 5k is in relation to everything else I say fuckit.Apologies for being vague on this, I've been adapting some trade rules from the Traveller RPG to fit Star Wars and I didn't want to commit to a flawed system.The salary for an Engineer is Cr4000 per month. For generic muscle like Moho it's Cr1000 per month.You should be able to make that back easy with trading.
>>5079948>Bring them bothThe more the merrier
>Bring them both>>5079966>>5080104>>5080185>>5080323>>5080565Writing
"The more the merrier," you say. "I could always use some extra hands.""She's gonna be thrilled," Leemy says. "I'll let her know you're willing to give her a shot at the engineer position. I can have her down here in a couple hours if you want to get familiar with your new ship. Hey- what are you gonna call her anyway?""Haven't made up my mind yet," you say looking her over."You got time," Leemy offers his hand and you shake it. "Congratulations, Rax. I know you've been working for this a long time.""Thanks." You ascend the boarding ramp to the ship and breathe in that dry, recycled air. Your ship. As you walk its passageways, you fire a message off to Moho, telling him to meet you here and telling him you have work for him. Tucking your commlink away, you tour the ship. Unsurprisingly, it's not in good shape. The upholstery is threadbare, maintenance panels are absent in many places. Pipes and conduits hang exposed. Everything is scuffed and battered. It will take some work, but you're sure you can get this ship back into good shape.She's equipped with a pair of laser cannons in turret mounts. They can be locked to fire forward from the cockpit, or manually operated by gunners. Since this ship isn't a fighter, they'd be of limited use without gunners.With six staterooms she can hold up to twelve passengers if you don't mind double occupancy, otherwise a crew of six would be more comfortable. Thirty tons of cargo space means you can likely offset some travel costs carrying freight, or maybe make some money by shuttling trade goods. The unique stellar composition of the Candorian Cluster means that Hyperdrive travel isn't nearly as quick as it is elsewhere in the galaxy. This ship has a class-two hyperdrive which means she can clear two parsecs in twenty four hours. Not bad, certainly better than Imperial bulk freighters.
She has enough fuel to take a single two-parsec jump or two one parsec jumps before refueling. Fuel is going to be a major expense. At Cr5,000 per jump it will be necessary to carry cargo to offset that expense. Add to it the cost of life support, maintenance, crew salaries, and Leemy's mortgage, you're looking at about Cr55,000 per week. It's enough to make your head spin. You shouldn't worry too much though, on a good speculative trade you can make more than Cr50,000 easy. It means you'll only need to make a few profitable jumps per week to keep the bills paid. That aside you'll have plenty of opportunity for freelance work on the side. Not to mention the money you can make from transporting passengers world to world.*Leemy's offering to contract you to carry freight to another nearby planet. This is the sort of thing where you get paid a flat rate to simply transport goods without any speculative buying and selling. Given the capacity of your ship you won't make much profit off carrying freight but it will help offset travel expenses like fuel. It's a safe bet to get off Kodiak. It's the sort of work you did when you were younger.There's also the option of getting back in touch with your old boss, Lady Roclaw. She's a big time gangster here on Kodiak. You're sure she'd be thrilled to give you work. It would probably pay well, but knowing Roclaw it would be illegal as hell, probably dangerous too.>Carry freight for Leemy to get off Kodiak and find work elsewhere>Go to Roclaw and see if she has a job>Write in****All of this is subject to change. This is the economy framework I'm operating on but if it turns out to be super broken I'll change it. The idea is that this won't just be spreadsheet simulator but there will be some element of ordinary business to making money
>>5080625>Go to Roclaw and see if she has a jobCrime pays
>>5080625>Carry freight for Leemy to get off Kodiak and find work elsewhere
>>5080625>Carry freight for Leemy to get off Kodiak and find work elsewhereLet's get out of this shithole
>>5080625>Go to Roclaw and see if she has a job
>>5080625>Carry freight for Leemy to get off Kodiak and find work elsewhereLet's at least start a little cautiously
>>5080625>>Go to Roclaw and see if she has a job
>Go to Roclaw and see if she has a job>>5080648>>5080935>>5080964>Carry freight for Leemy to get off Kodiak and find work elsewhere>>5080728>>5080731>>5080749>>5080963Freight for LeemyWriting
You lean on a bulkhead in the bridge and look it over again, smiling a little to yourself."How is the ship? Finding it to your liking, sir?" You fish Mingo out of your pocket and set the puck on a bridge console. The hologram bird appears again and shakes its body as if getting comfortable."It's a hunk of junk. But it's mine.""Ownership, I'm told, is an intoxicating experience.""Something like that," you say. "Say, is there anyway we could integrate you with the ship's computer?"Mingo patrols around the cockpit, tilting his head to look at the consoles. "Whatever software this ship has which passes for 'intelligence' won't be integrated with me so much as controlled.""Right, whatever. Are you compatible?""Quite!" Mingo looks around and spots a data jack. "Here. Connect me up please.""Physical connection?""It will be simpler than mucking about with local holonet."You do so, connecting the puck and socketing it into the computer console. Mingo's avatar flickers a moment and stabilizes. "Ah yes." The lights of the bridge all come up as one and you feel the thrum of the reactor starting. "Exhilarating." The ship powers off again. "Yes, I can interface with this ship, I can handle things such as hyperspace calculation, monitoring, basic automatic, though I must confess that's beneath my skill.""I don't doubt it. Can you fly? Shoot?""Not exactly," Mingo says. "I'm qualified to do neither. I can keep the ship on a basic course however.""That will have to do. We've got company coming soon. Crew. Friend of mine named Moho and a girl named Riss."Mingo stares blankly at you."Any trouble with that?""Not at all! I'm always keen to meet new people. I must confess that I find people fascinating, sir. Their interactions sometimes elude me, but my curiosity cannot be quenched."You chuckle. "Sure." "A question, sir?""Hm?""This ship. Does it have a name?'"Not yet.""That won't do. Here." Mingo boots a computer terminal at the navigation station and a text display flashes on. "Some suggestions. If I'm going to get started programming our transponder, I'd rather start immediately.">Meridian Veil>Guilty 1>Red Desire>Write in
>>5081145Tig Ol Bitties was a Devaronian miner you once got into a fist fight with. Better not dredge that memory up.
>>5081092The Lizard's Tooth?Because we won it fighting a lizardman?
>>5081194I'll +1 that
>>5081210Maybe the Fang or Claw? Matches the shape.>>5081194Doesn't really mesh well with typical star wars ship naming conventions
>>5081194Star Wars doesn't really do foreign languages, but I'll support this just to avoid something stupider coming along and winning.
>>5081210It doesn't belong to a lizard though.
>Erlkönig>>5081194>>5081218>>5081229>>5081515I agree that it's not really a "Star Wars-y name but we'll make it work.Writing
>>5081518>It doesn't belong to a lizard thoughNot anymore it doesn't.
"Let's go with Erlkönig for now," you say."I am unfamiliar with that term," Mingo replies, cocking his head to one side."It's a children's tale," you say, running through a pre-flight checklist and checking the systems one by one. "Old timers on Kodiak would tell it to kids. I doubt it would do much for you.""I suspect you're correct, sir."You and Mingo test all the systems onErlkönig one by one, creating a list of maintenance that will need to be handled sooner rather than later. It's longer than you'd like but shorter than it could be. You'll take small victories.By the time Riss arrives you're sitting in the ship's galley, your feet up on the table and enjoying a cool cup of water. It's not your drink of choice, but it's the only thing stocked right now. You hear the uncertain footsteps come up the entry ramp and enter the main passageway."I'm in here!" you call, not bothering to get up.As soon as Riss enters the room you know immediately why sher can't find work, and it has nothing to do with "tough times"."You are Captain Rax?" she asks. "I have been told you are sseeking an engineer." Riss is an Isthrissian, commonly (and sometimes derogatorily) referred to as an "Iss". They are serpentine humanoids native to the cluster. You've worked with Isthrissians in the past, but never so closely. "That's me," you say, "And I am."She's fairly typical of her species. Tall, slender, with a long neck, wide mouth, slit pupils, and a long muscular tail. Isthrissian coloration has quite a lot of variety but she's a dull green color with yellow flashes around her eyes and a bluish stripe running from the top of her head presumably all the way down her back.You stand and approach, offering your hand to shake. Her head tracks you as you move in a way that reminds you that Isthrissians are obligate carnivores, venomous ones at that.You extend your hand. She looks down at it a moment and then cautiously puts her hand in yours. You shake. She looks back up at you. Isthrissians don't have much in the way of facial expressions, so you're at a loss for her thoughts at this moment. You let go of her hand."You're a friend of Leemy?" you say, trying to break the ice."We have worked together," she says. "When I arrived in this ssystem he gave me work."
Given the prevalent attitudes that most sentients hold toward the Isthrissians in the Cluster, that was very kind of him. The Iss had once commanded a powerful and militant empire of their own in the lower quadrant of the Cluster. Constant off and on again conflict with spreading human colonies developed a great deal of fear and mistrust which came to a head during the Clone Wars. The Isthrissians had sided with the Separatists and launched a campaign of conquest which left millions dead. Many worlds were conquered and they were only just barely contained and driven back with great loss of life. The culmination of the conflict with the Isthrissians lead to the Empire glassing their home world through prolonged bombardment. Now their race is a shadow of what it once was, some scattered bands of them roam the Cluster but most of their species live as virtual slaves on their former worlds, a product of the policies helmed by the Ministry of Alien Labor helmed by Aldon Tyrna.You're too young to remember the Iss as planetary conquerors, but the stereotypes and distrust remain."Leemy's a good guy," you say. "You have experience as an engineer?"She bobs her head at you while maintaining eye contact. "Yess. In my clan I wass a pilot and engineer for many vessels.""What sort of work?" you ask."Assteroid mining," she says."Hard work," you say. "I'm happy to have you on, but I want to be clear that we're going to be do more than just milk runs. Lots of odd jobs, maybe some dangerous ones.""That will be no trouble," she says. "I am prepared.""Good," you hesitate a moment, debating how much of your ignorance you should display. "I uh . . . are there any special accommodations you'll need?""Sspecial?" she flicks her forked tongue."Habitation or . . . diet or anything."She lets out a stuttering hiss. Laughter. "No. I will provide for my own needs. There iss no need for you to make any changess." She looks around at the interior of the ship. "Thiss iss the vessel?""This is her," you agree. "Erlkönig."She tries to repeat the name and butchers it, but doesn't really seem to notice."You can handle it?'"Yess," she bobs her head. "It remindss me of home. Almosst.">Why did you quit mining? What made you want to go free lance?>Take her on a tour of the ship>Show her to her quarters so she can get settled in>Write in
>>5081912>>Why did you quit mining? What made you want to go free lance?>>Take her on a tour of the ship
>>5081912>Why did you quit mining? What made you want to go free lance?>Take her on a tour of the shipMay as well get her familiar with the ship and learn a thing or two about her while we're waiting for Moho.
>Why did you quit mining? What made you want to go free lance?>Take her on a tour of the shipWriting
Why Erlkönig? Is our ship gonna be the last thing children see before they die or what?
>>5082109Before we sell them to slavery
"Let me show you the ship," you say. "I'll give you a quick tour and you can pick a room."Riss follows you as you show her the interior, from stem to stern. Throughout your tour, she occasionally stops to examine some exposed cables or open access hatch and mutter something in what you assume is her native language. "Problem?" you ask after a few occurrences.She swivels her head to look at you and blinks. "Thiss sship iss in poor repair.""Tell me about it. It's going to be something we'll have to tackle. I'm no slouch with a hydrospanner so you won't be alone. And when Moho shows up . . . well . . . he can lift heavy things.""Moho?" She flicks her tongue."Our other crew member. Friend of mine."She stares blankly."So do you think you can get this ship in better shape?""Yess. With ssome work. It iss not much different from the sships I maintained.""Once we get our cargo loaded we'll have twenty four hours in hyperspace, we can use that repairing non-critical systems and then start putting aside money for a major overhaul."She bobs her head at you and you continue the tour, showing her each of the staterooms in turn and she picks one to be hers, dropping the small duffel bag of personal affects off in the under-bed storage. "When will we be leaving?" she asks."Today. Soon hopefully. Will that be a problem?""No problem," she says. "I am prepared.""I guess you're used to traveling," you say."Yess."Maybe that was an insensitive thing to say. Or racist? You don't even know for sure if she's from Kodiak or not. Unlikely, but not impossible. You press past that topic, "Up next, engines."Riss seems much more interested in the engineering compartment than any other part of the ship. She seems at home in the cramped confines, looking over each system in turn, examining gauges, welds, and seals as she mutters to herself. "A patchwork," she says at last. "Unique. Not bad.""That was my interpretation. I think she'll do well.""Once we get the systems tuned," she says. "But not in hyperspace."
You smile, "Right. Can I ask you something, Riss?""Yess.""You were a miner before, sounds like you enjoyed it.""Yess. Very much.""So why'd you stop?"She blinks a few times and flicks her tongue. "I was made to leave my family. Removed from the clan.""What? You were exiled?"She bobs her head."I don't mean this in a disrespectful way, but are you a criminal? Some of my best friends are."She hisses laughter. "No. I wass considered to be a bad omen. Bad luck.""Bad luck?" you ask."Yess. There wass an accident with a mining vessel. It iss not an interessting tale.""I'm interested," you counter."I wass pilot of a mining sship. I am told that I intended to leave the charted area to ssurvey farther out for fressh rockss.""You were told?" you ask, confused.She bobs her head. "There wass an accident perhapss. The sship wass sseriously damaged. I wass found alive onboard, but I have no memory of the incident or the dayss before. My family found thiss to be a bad omen. I was made to leave.">That's horrible, your own family threw you out because of an accident?>Their loss is our gain. You'll fit right in here.>At least you can leave all that superstitious crap behind. Accidents happen.>Write in
>>5082127>Their loss is our gain. You'll fit right in here.TK’s been reading too much snekgirl fiction
>>5082127>Their loss is our gain. You'll fit right in here
>>5082127>At least you can leave all that superstitious crap behind. Accidents happen.I feel we're a pragmatic sort
>>5082127>At least you can leave all that superstitious crap behind. Accidents happen.
>>5082127>>Write in"Get out my ship now"
>>5082158Woah woah woah man. You got a reason for trying to run off a perfectly good mechanic?
>>5082127>Their loss is our gain. You'll fit right in here.>Ship named after old superstitious fairy tale about the elf king>Mechanic is found dazed and memoryless among a disasterhuh, she is a perfect fit
>>5082173Xenophobia. No misfortune carrying sneks in MY ship
>>5082204Well, at the very least you'd be considered a model Imperial citizen.
>>5082127>Write in>"As long as it doesn't happen again".Note to self, do not let snek pilot the ship without supervision.
>Their loss is our gain. You'll fit right in here.>>5082132>>5082137>>5082184Writing
"Their loss is our gain," you say. "You'll fit right in here."She bobs her head at you. "Thank you, Captain Rax.""Don't mention it." You feel a little uneasy with the vagueness of her explanation of the accident but she also doesn't really seem the social type so maybe she's just not explaining it well. Either way, you don't worry about it . . . you try not to worry about it.She wipes her hands off on her loose coveralls, leaving faint grease stains from where she's been prodding at mechanical components. "With your permission, Captain, I would like to get to work right away.""No objections from me," you say. "Make yourself at home, call if if you need anything."She bobs her head again.You leave Riss in the engineering compartment just as she takes the cover off a power coupler and beings examining it. Hopefully that works out. You've only just begin to put it out of mind when you hear heavy footsteps up the ramp and a booming voice. "Rax! You old space bum! Where are you?"You emerge with a smile. "Moho, you dirty corsair."Moho grins a wolfish grin at you from where he stands filling the passageway. He's a canid humanoid, covered in shaggy grey fur and over two meters tall with the muscle to match.You're not sure what species he is. He isn't sure what species he is. But with a build like that he was a very popular hire for a lot of gangs on Kodiak. You go to shake his hand but he loops an arm around you and pulls you into a quick half hug before releasing you.Moho is wearing a pocketed vest covered with patches with the logos of various speed thrash bands and has a plaster pistol holstered on his thigh. "How are things, Rax?" he asks."Same as always man, just finally sick of this rock."Moho laughs, it's loud. "Sure! Sure. Your kind can't fucking wait to get out in to space. I get it. So this ship is yours huh?""Just started the mortgage. I'm already regretting it," you joke."Hey, just write me into your will. You know what I'd do with a ship like this?""What's that?""I'd run drugs, man," Moho says confidently. "You can run the loop, Cantria to Kodiak to Q'nethria and back. Buzzer and spice man. Lady Roclaw is big into moving that shit now, you know that?""I didn't," you say. "I haven't seen her in a couple years.""Oh boy, she sure misses you," Moho says, walking past you and looking around the ship. You follow after him. "Asks about you sometimes. I always told her 'Rax is a dumbass for leaving, but I can't hold that against him'!""You still do jobs for her?""Nah," Moho says. "Not lately. She's got a big security squad now. Offworld mercenaries. No room for a guy like me anymore." He opens the staterooms one by one until he sees Riss's, spotting the bag under the bed. "You got other crew!?"
"A girl named Riss," you say, "She's our engineer.""Righteous! Company is good. Never bad. You like her?" He's loud enough that you have no doubt Riss can hear him if she's listening."Sure," you say, "she's a good fit I think. I'm proud of this little team.""So what's the job? Not drugs right?"You laugh. "No." You don't add a 'not yet'. "We're running freight for Leemy. Just to pay the bills.""Sure, sure. Hey, I'm just glad you thought of me! Always wanted to get in on a job like this."Moho and you ran together in the past, usually whenever you needed a bit of a heavier stick at your side. He's one of the few old hands you can trust, because his interests in the industry are so simple and so transparent: Moho just likes strife and conflict. He likes cracking skulls and shooting guns. He likes living fast and seems to have every intention to die young. You don't worry about him double crossing you as long as you can keep him supplied with entertaining work.>Come on, let's introduce you to Riss>Can you get with Leemy and see about loading the ship? I want to get underway>Write in
>>5082778>Take a look around and get settled, I'm gonna get with Leemy and check out what we're hauling
>>5082778>Come on, let's introduce you to Riss
>Can you get with Leemy and see about loading the ship? I want to get underwayWe'll have a lot of time for introductions once we're in hyperspace.
How exactly are Isthrissians supposed to look anyway? How snek-like are they supposed to be, that is.
>>5082778>>Can you get with Leemy and see about loading the ship? I want to get underway
>>5083174They are humanoid with arms, legs, hands and feet. They have angular snake heads with slit pupils and a variety of colorations.Taller than humans, they have longer necks than humans and long, muscular tails. They are relatively thin.Not dissimilar from pic related
>>5082778>Can you get with Leemy and see about loading the ship? I want to get underway
>>5082789This one. If we send him to check on freight as soon as he set foot on the ship, he might resent it and it's not like we have anything else we have to be doing (is there?).Unrelated, but we need to decide how much we're letting the crew know about Mingo. We might not THINK they're gonna double-cross us, but that doesn't mean they really won't double-cross us if they learn about the payday involved.
>>5082778>>>Come on, let's introduce you to Riss>>5083440Nothing right now. If they prove themselves, then maybe.
>>5083440All they really need to know is that he's a personal assistant program. That's not a lie, even if it's not the whole truth.
>Take a look around and get settled, I'm gonna get with Leemy and check out what we're hauling>>5082789>>5083170>>5083191>>5083409Writing
You slap Moho on the arm, "It's good to have you aboard, man. You get settled, any room but Riss's or mine. I'm going to get with Leemy and see about this cargo so we can get underway."Moho gives you an exaggerated nod. "You got it! Man! This is exciting!" He sounds it. You leave Moho on the ship and find Leemy working on another vessel in a nearby hangar bay. "We're ready to head out, Leemy," you say. "You still have that cargo for us?"Leemy puts his tools down and wipes his hands on a nearby rag. "Sure. Fifteen tons of freight- starship parts for a buyer in the Banda system, on Crownspire. I'll pay standard rate. Sixteen hundred credits per ton."You run the numbers in your head. "Twenty four thousand. Sounds fair to me. Need help getting it aboard?""I'll never turn down free help," Leemy says. "Droids do the heavy lifting anyway. You watch the hold and I'll make sure they get the right crates.""Deal."The loading process goes quickly as the binary load lifters move crate upon crate into Erlkönig's hold. It only takes a little attention on your part to make sure the load is evenly distributed in the hold. Moho arrives toward the end and assists with maglocking and strapping down the containers one by one. His strength and agility makes it simple for him to bound up on top of a stack of crates to lash them down."Gonna be sad to see you go, Rax," Leemy says. "But I know you'll be back.""Thanks for the ship, Leemy," you shake his hand. "I'll wire the payments back to you.""You'd better." You think it's a joke. Maybe.Riss emerges at the top of the passenger ramp as Moho seals up the cargo hold. "Everything iss in order, Captain. We are ready to depart."Anything else before leaving Kodiak?>One last thing (Write in)>No, on to Banda
>>5084334>No, on to BandaOn we go, with a snekgirl and a dogbro.
>>5084334>>No, on to Banda
>>5084334>No, on to Banda
>>5084334>One last thing (Write in)We need to do a proper christening for the ship, who's got a bottle of booze to break
>No, on to BandaWriting!
"Not yet we aren't," you say. "Leemy, you have any liquor handy?""Liquor!? What the hell kind of operation do you think I'm running here!?"You shake your head. "We need to christen the ship. Kodiak-style.""Right," Leemy sounds unconvinced. "Well I'm fresh out of booze on my used starship lot.""I got you, Rax!" Moho says. "Two hundred creds, I'll be right back, eh?"You put the chits in his hand. "Be quick, we got a schedule to keep."Moho isn't quick, but he's thorough. He returns with a short stack of crates of varying varieties of booze. "What the hell is this, man?" you exclaim."I didn't know what you wanted! There were a lot of choices, okay?" He cracks open the top crate and starts looking through it. "Corellian Ale?"You make a face. "Are you fucking nuts? Corellian Ale on a Kodiakan ship?" It's well accepted that Kodiak is superior to Corellia in all ways. Well accepted on Kodiak anyway."Uh. I got some wine from Huntress, uhh . . . whiskey.""Just give me the whiskey," you say, taking the bottle from him. Moho looks upset, at first you think it's because you snapped at him, but then you see the bottle you're holding. This is the good stuff. "Ah shit.""Rax. Not that one."It hurts you but- "We have to, buddy.""We do?"You nod and fight back your urge to save this fancy bottle. You know that breaking a cheap bottle on a starship is bad luck, so maybe fancy booze is good luck? You take the bottle by the neck and advance to stand beside your ship's flank.Riss watches from the ramp, Leemy from nearby. Moho hurries the other crates onboard before you decide to smash any others. You touch the durasteel hide of your ship with your empty hand, running your fingers over the shoddy paint job. "This won't be your first trip and it sure as hell won't be your last. It's going to feel like coming home." You raise the bottle overhead and bring it down as hard as you can on the edge of your ship.It shatters with a jolt that runs up your arm and expensive whiskey splashes onto the dirty duracrete floor. "Erlkönig," you say. "Take us home." You allow yourself a poignant silence broken only by the drip of whiskey. Satisfied, you turn around.Leemy eyes the mess. "You're cleaning that up."After cleaning the mess and stowing the alcohol, you seal the ramps and strap into the pilot seat, Moho is beside you in the co-pilot's chair, barely large enough for him to fit in. Riss sits behind both of you at the navigator's station.Final checks are completed, the reactors are powered up and repulsor lifts activated.Mingo's avatar springs to life with a chromatic explosion of color, startling Moho."What the fuck is that?" Moho asks, jabbing an accusatory finger at the illusory bird."Ah, that's Mingo," you say."Hello, sir," Mingo bows to Moho. "Ma'am." He does likewise for Riss who merely flicks her tongue in response."He's a piece of personal assistant software, he helps with the ship. Mingo, this is Moho, and Riss.
Mingo looks at you and then at Moho. "That is correct. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."Moho seems unsure about this virtual bird strutting around. "Uh. Right. Okay."With no more surprises, you receive launch clearance from Leemy. "Safe travels, Rax. See you soon."You feed power to the engines and boost away from the lot, climbing for the sky and accelerating. Blue quickly fades to purple, then black, and soon the pinpricks of stars resolve themselves. Another minute later and you're sailing past lumbering orbital traffic and past the orbital Imperial depot, mindful to obey all traffic regulations. Before long, you're at the hyper limit."Hyper drive iss powered and ready," Riss says, reading the displays at her stations."Hyperspace jump calculations complete," Mingo adds, hopping over to land on the back of your seat. "You may jump when ready, captain."It's nice not having Tie fighters up your ass while you do this. "Goodbye, Kodiak." You pull back the levers and the stars streak to lines and Erlkönig jumps into hyperspace. You double check that the proper course is set in and check your chronometer. "Twenty four hours to Banda.""You been to Banda before, Rax?" Moho asks, leaning back in his seat which creaks dangerously."Briefly," you say. "Just a stop over really."Despite having a B-class starport, Banda is fairly out of the way for most heavy traffic in the Cluster. The planet itself is completely inhospitable to life. With an atmosphere classified as "insidious" for its tendency to eat through hatches and seals, it houses no unnatural structures. Virtually the entire surface is covered in a hydrochloric sea, likely the source of this dangerous atmosphere. As if that weren't enough, average surface temperature is well over boiling. Despite this, tens of millions live in orbit of the world in floating colony cylinders. Most if not all of these massive structures are ancient and pre-date the Empire by millennia. You don't know too much about the history of the world, but you've heard Banda's orbital cylinders described as a mystery."Iss it pleassant?" Riss asks."I've only really passed through," you say. "I didn't get a chance to explore too much. That's something I'm going to change."You have twenty four hours to kill, and limited entertainment options on this ship. You could try to use this time to get a jump start on overhaul work like Riss suggested OR you could use it to be incredibly irresponsible and socialize with the crew. You have enough booze now to kill a Bantha, but split between the three of you it's likely you'll all survive. You also have a deck of Sabaac cards. It's easier on the brain cells than day drinking, but no more productive. >Play cards with the crew>Day drink with the crew>Use this time to get a head start on the overhaul>Write in
>>5085599>>Day drink with the crew
>>5085599>Day drink with the crewGood way to have fun and loosen some lips.
>>5085599>>Use this time to get a head start on the overhaul
>>5085599>Use this time to get a head start on the overhaulWork hard first.
>>5085599>Use this time to get a head start on the overhaulIf only because I know we're gonna get some engine trouble at precisely the worst possible moment if not.Besides, save the drinks for celebrating a successful haul, or at least a successful first hyperjump.
No update today guys, It's been a day.We'll continue tomorrow.
>Use this time to get a head start on the overhaulWriting
"Twenty four hours to kill, but plenty to do before we get there. Is that right, Riss?""Yess, captain."Moho looks crestfallen. "Oh. Uh. Right.""It won't be so bad. We'll divvy up tasks and see what we can get done." You look at Riss. "What can we get done underway?""Anything but the main drivess," she says."I'll conduct a deep diagnostic of this ship's computer systems, if you'd like captain," Mingo says.You're really not sure what else he could possibly do so you nod. "Yeah, do it. Moho, you tackle the cosmetic issues, missing deck plates, shredded upholstery, that shit.""And do what about it?" Moho asks, "We got spares?""At least take an inventory of what needs to be replaced, okay?""Yeah, okay!" he seems satisfied with this direction and sets straight to work, leaving you with Riss."So what's the top of your list?" You ask her."A dangerouss arrangement with power couplingss and life ssupport.""How dangerous?" you ask.She stares back snake-ily and flicks her tongue. "I would like to wake up tomorrow.""Yeah, me too. Let's tackle that first. You need a hand?""Assisstance would be appreciated," she says with a little bow of her head.You spend the next few hours working. It's dull work, tedious labor interspersed with truly difficult tasks. With Riss's help you pull out bundles of power couplings which look more like a rats nest and begin sort, organizing, and securing these lines. Moho works nearby, flitting from room to room with bundles of ratty, torn up fabric coverings and collections of mismatched hatches and panels as he tries to find a home for them. He's oblivious to anything else going on, a pair of headphones fixed in place over his ears. Even at a distance you can hear the grinding sound of what he calls music coming from them.Riss impresses you with her knowledge of ship components as well as her willingness to do dirty jobs. Her narrow frame and flexibility serve her well, allowing her to wriggle into crawl spaces and ducts you would have thought twice before getting into.>Ask Riss about her family>Ask Riss about her love of starships>Ask Riss about her species>Write in
>>5088022>Ask Riss about her love of starshipsFamily and species both seem like touchy topics>Her narrow frame and flexibility serve her wellFuckable
>>5088022>Ask Riss about her love of starships
>>5088022>Ask Riss about her species
>>5088022>Ask Riss about her love of starships>>5088037anon, take this degeneracy into the corona of the nearest star, she's a snek for star's sake!
>>5088022>>Ask Riss about her species
>>5088022>>Ask Riss about her love of starships
"You know your craft," you say, not watching her butt as she works. "A necessity," she replies making a final turn of a spanner to lock a conduit in place before wriggling back out of the crawlspace. "The number sseven, pleasse."You hand her the tool and she starts locking down the panel. "You seem to love what you do.""Yess.""Why is that exactly?"She finishes her work and flicks her tongue. "For my people it wass a way of life. We were not warriorss or hunterss, though thosse were the old wayss. A sship to uss was a home. Like . . . family. Or a beloved creature.""A pet?""Yess." She bobs her head. "Exactly." She wipes her hands off on a nearby rag and starts collecting the tools to move on to the next project. "A sship could not be jusst a tool because we relied on them too much. You ssee?""I feel the same way about my blaster," you say with a smirk.She doesn't smile. That is to say, she's incapable of smiling so she just stares at you, then bobs her head. "Then you undersstand.""How long have you been working on them?""My whole life. Ssince I was a child. Work wass our life. There iss little comfort or profit in asteroid mining. Especially for my kind. We work to ssurvive. It iss a ssort of hunt."You're not really sure what she means by that but you don't worry about it. "I guess the point I'm getting at isn't that you're good at it, I mean you are, but it seems you actually love working on ships."You walk side by side down the passage toward the engine room."Yess," she says, her tail twitching behind her. "I do. It iss rewarding work. Sships are ssimple. They have ssimple and obviouss needss.""Obvious to you," you say."That may be," she says with a glance at you. "But I find them . . . pleassant. A sship iss alsso many thingss. Freedom.""Now that I can understand," you say.She stops at the next panel that needs work and begins arranging her tools, flicking her tongue and eyeing the components that need to be pulled and replaced. "You have the sspirit of a hunter, Captain.">Is that something that's important to you? Having the spirit of a hunter.>It's a shame the Imperials won't give you a chance, you have the makings of a chief engineer>I'll take that as a compliment, now let's hunt for these shitty conduits>Write in
>>5088736>>It's a shame the Imperials won't give you a chance, you have the makings of a chief engineer
>>5088736>I'll take that as a compliment, now let's hunt for these shitty conduits
>>5088736What makes you say that? Calling my previous line of work "hunting" is a bit generous
>>5088126She is an female star wars alien. By the will of george, she will wear skimpy clothing at least once until the end of this quest.
>>5088736>It's a shame the Imperials won't give you a chance, you have the makings of a chief engineer
>>5088736>>I'll take that as a compliment, now let's hunt for these shitty conduits
>It's a shame the Imperials won't give you a chance, you have the makings of a chief engineer>>5088766>>5088862>I'll take that as a compliment, now let's hunt for these shitty conduits>>5088852>>5089118>Writing
"What makes you say that?" you ask. "Calling my previous line of work 'hunting' is a bit generous."She blinks and flicks her tongue at you. "I do not know your previouss line of work. I merely mean that you sseek. You value freedom, yess? You want to do. Thesse are the actionss of a hunter.""I wasn't sure how much Leemy told you about me," you say. You're really not sure how much to tell her about your past. "I used to work security. Something like it.""Ssecurity?""Long story," you say, eager to change the conversation. "Dull story. I'll just take it as a compliment." You give her a smile.Riss returns to her work, working delicately with each part, checking it for faults, and either re-installing it or tossing it. "It's a shame the Imperials won't give you a chance, I think you've got the makings of a chief engineer."She stops her work and looks at you suddenly, tongue flicking. "You do?""I mean, why not? You've got the passion, motivation, and from what I've seen and heard, you've got the skills."She raises her head slightly, her slit pupils dilating. "A chief engineer," she repeats. Her tail swishes on the deck plate before twitching and going still. "Yess. The empire." Her head sinks back down a little and she returns to her work. "Ssuch thingss are fantassy, north worth worrying about. I appreciate the compliment, Captain."You're no expert in Iss body language, but she looks pretty depressed about that. Seems she worries more about fantasy than she admits."You never know what the future holds," you say, but it sounds weak to you. You know what the future holds, you've seen it. The Empire is the future. Riss doesn't answer but continues to work.A loud metallic crash and harsh swearing prevents you from adding anything else. "Excuse me." You leave Riss behind and hurry to the stateroom you heard the commotion in to find Moho scraping up a spilled collection of deck plates. "What the hell was that?" you demand.
Moho stops to look at you. "Take a wild fucking guess, buddy! I tripped on that fucking thing." He points to a deck plate in this particular stateroom that's bowed upward slightly.You help Moho pick up his bounty. He's carrying easily two dozen plates. "Where the hell did you get all these? Are they extras?"He shrugs. "Found em in the galley under the sink. Dunno why. I was coming to replace a plate in here.""Well let's start with that one," you start removing the warped plate.Moho sorts through his collection of covers, holding each square of metal up to the new hole until he finds one of the same size and hands it over. "What's next in Banda?" he asks."Whatever comes next," you say, "A job that pays."Moho opens his mouth."And don't suggest drug smuggling again."His jaw snaps shut."It's not a bad idea, but I'm keeping my options open. Besides, with you on my crew I can imagine you'd smoke half the cargo before we got it to wherever."Moho laughs a deep, rumbly laugh. "C'mon Rax, where's your sense of fun? You've become such a little bitch since we last rolled together! Don't tell me you want to get legit!"The last time you'd rolled together you'd see Moho punch his fist clean through a man, gran another man by the throat, and throttle him to death while covered in blood. It was a little shocking, to say the least, but it also left you profoundly grateful that you and Moho got along well and worked for the same employer.>"Legit" will get us far in life. Drinks, money, girls, just follow my lead, man>I'm as legit as a kick to the head. I'm just doing what I have to do to make some cash>If you were so happy with things on Kodiak then how come you're moving on too?>Write in
I, for one, would like to live without having to worry about being shot in the back of the head in an dirty alley or blown up by an Imperial Cruiser.
>>5089183>>I'm as legit as a kick to the head. I'm just doing what I have to do to make some cash
>>5089183>I'm as legit as a kick to the head. I'm just doing what I have to do to make some cash
>>5089183Why don't you ask that imp police station how much of a bitch I am?
>>5089183>>If you were so happy with things on Kodiak then how come you're moving on too?
>I'm as legit as a kick to the head. I'm just doing what I have to do to make some cash>>5089196>>5089280>>5089295Writing
You give Moho a vicious grin. "I'm as legit as a kick in the head, man," you say.Moho laughs."I'm just doing what I have to so I can make some cash, dig?""I dig," Moho says with a casual shrug. "And I'd rather make that money without having to worry about being shot in the back of the head in a dirty alley or blown up by an Imperial Cruiser.""No guarantee in life but death, Rax," Moho replies."Sure, but I'm not ready yet, are you?"Moho flashes his teeth. "Nah."You return to your work, bolting the panel in place. You shake your head and mutter. "Bitch. Bitch, huh? Ask the fuckers at the ISB station in Kodiak City how much of a bitch I am."Moho gawps at you a moment and then barks laughter. "That was YOU!? You mad bastard!"You don't deny it, but just shake your head and keep working."Gods alive, everyone thought the Shadow Clan had lost their minds. ISB brought the fucking thunder on them, Rax!" he laughs again, harder, hard enough to leave your ear ringing.You wince. "Easy! Shit." You rub your ear. "Look, it's nothing, we'll have plenty of chances for mindless violence, okay? If you want to just crack skulls then you should have stayed home.""Nah!" Moho says, lips peeling back further. "Money is nice! The violence is just a bonus.""And try to be cool around Riss, alright? She's not a part of all that."Moho smiles knowingly at you. "This is that bitch stuff I was talking about."You slug him lightly in the arm. "Quit it. She's got skills, last thing I need is your stupid ass scaring her off by being-""Being me?" Moho asks."Exactly." You finish securing the panel and thump it with your fist ensuring it's snugged in place. "Don't be you too much until we figure out if she's cool or not.""If she's not cool, then we don't want her around, do we?" Moho asks."That's not your call," you say. You boop his nose with a finger and he flinches and covers it with a broad hand. "I'm not paying you to make the decisions here."Moho laughs. "No, you're paying me to bail your bitch ass out when things get too heavy, right?" "Right," you agree with a mocking smile.>I think we've got enough work done today, let's have some drinks>So what happened to the Shadow Clan, are they dead?>Let's go see if Riss needs a hand with anything else>Write in
>>5090066>So what happened to the Shadow Clan, are they dead?Time to find out if we killed the fuckers.
>>5090066>I think we've got enough work done today, let's have some drinks>So what happened to the Shadow Clan, are they dead?
>>5090066>>I think we've got enough work done today, let's have some drinks
>>5090066>I think we've got enough work done today, let's have some drinks
Sorry for the delay. Holidays are going to be busy for me, I'll post when I can.>Writing
"So what happened with the Shadow Clan then?"Moho scratches his chin in thought with an alarmingly long nail. "Hm. Uh . . . I dunno! I guess they all died!""You guess?""Shit, I dunno, man. I'm not a Jedi, how should I know?""You told me they got fucked up!"Moho nods vigorously. "Oh yeah, totally. Whole HQ got wrecked. ISB stormed it. Was pretty cool.""But you don't know what happened to them?""Nah. Probably all dead." He considers this a moment and then nods harder. "Yup. Definitely all dead. Probably. Probably all dead I mean. Unless they got out.""So you have no idea.""Right," he says, "Exactly."You check your chrono and see the time. "Well, I think that's enough work for today. Feels like drinks O'clock."Moho flashes his teeth. "Yes! I'll get the booze!"As Moho joyously scampers back to the galley with armloads of bottles, you travel to the engineering compartment to find Riss making the final adjustments on a thrumming life support machine. "Riss, drinks?"She looks over her shoulder and flicks her tongue. "Drinkss?""Yeah," you say. "Alcohol. Come on, my treat.""I will take a few," she says with more enthusiasm than you expected.The three of you nestle in for a night of drinking minutes later. Moho guzzles whole bottles in one go, wrenching the tops off with his hand and pouring the contents into his mouth. Riss partakes more sparingly. She pours the contents of a bottle into a cup and sips occasionally from it, her slit eyes going from you to Moho and back, apparently judging you both, her thoughts unreadable."Captain Rax, how iss it that you and Moho became friendss?" Riss asks."Same boss!" Moho exclaims as he struggles to open another bottle, brow kitted with concentration. "Same work!""You both were ssecurity?"Moho gawps at her a moment and the throws back his head with a raucous laugh. He laughs until he catches your eye and then stops suddenly. "Uh. Yeah. Security."Riss flicks her tongue and swivels her head to look at you."You were criminalss?" Her tone doesn't have any judgment in it, and her face is impossible to read, but owning up to your past could always lead to some friction or concern on her part.>We were, but we're turning a new leaf now>We were looking to make money, the same as now. Nothing has changed.>No, Moho is just being Moho. We were private security (lie)>Write in
>>5093685>We were looking to make money, the same as now. Nothing has changed.I'd like to go straight, but we just told Moho we're as legit as a kick to the head. Besides, we could be a *cool* criminal, like Han or Lando. Sure. In a /tg/ quest. It could happen.
>>5093959Forgot>Write-in: "But we're gonna keep it low profile, no crazy stunts or organized crime".
>>5093685>We were looking to make money, the same as now. Nothing has changed.
>>5093685Sorry, forgot to take off my name.>We were looking to make money, the same as now. Nothing has changed.We shouldn't lie if we intend on doing criminal work. We need everyone on the same page unless we want a betrayal at an inopportune moment, if she wants off this ship and no part in our business then she can say so once she realises we are doing work she wants nothing to do with, but we have to give her that chance first.
I feel like we should clarify this particular time we're not doing anything illegal
>We were looking to make money, the same as now. Nothing has changed.>>5093959>>5093985>>5094067>>5094078>>5094333Writing
"We were looking to make money," you say. "The same as now. Nothing has changed."Her pupils dilate to orbs. "How exciting.""But we're gonna keep it low profile, no crazy stunts or organized crime" you add hastily.Moho laughs uproariously until you look at him. "Oh. That wasn't a joke.""No," you say."But Rax, didn't you shoot up a police station and start a fight with the Shadow Clan?" Moho asks.You stare at him."That seems pretty high profile to me," Moho adds."A police sstation?" Riss asks."I think it's best if we all just . . . worry less about the past and more about the future, okay?"Moho laughs again, this time at you. "Sure, Rax."Riss bobs her head more earnestly and sips more beer. "Leemy told me that your passt wass colorful," she said. "He warned me not to get mixed up with your work.""Did he?" you ask, sipping your own drink."Yess. But I find that ssort of work interessting."That's a relief. She's got a soft spot for being an outlaw. At least it will make future endeavors easier. "No promises about that," you say. "We do what has money in it. That's all."Moho wrenches another bottle open- when did he finish his last one!? "A toast!" he sloshes booze on the table when he thrusts the liquor bottle out into the middle of the group."To what?" you ask.Riss clinks her glass against Moho's with a little flick of her tongue."Uh," Moho considers this. "Banda. To Banda!"You smirk and tap your bottle in. "Banda."
You've hardly got a headache the next morning when you exit hyperspace, something you take a small amount of pride in. Hyperspace collapses around your ship and you explode into the real, the sickly-green disc of Banda silhouettes dozens of cylindrical orbital habitats rotating languidly in space. Banda.The proximity alert on your console screams at you a second later and makes you jump.Mingo materializes before you. "Patrol vessel," he says, "Imperial Navy. Transponder lists her as Sorrow."A moment later you see her. Sorrow is a Nebulon-A frigate, a sleek, grey predator cutting directly toward you, a pair of Tie fighters on standby."Ah shit," you say. Your heart races as you key on the shipwide intercom. "Moho, get your ass into the dorsal turret, now.""They are hailing us, sir," Mingo says without an ounce of concern in his voice."Yeah," you swallow and toggle on the comms channel. "This is Erlkönig. Go ahead, Sorrow.""Rax, why the fuck you do you want me in the tur-" you snap off the intercom as Moho replies to you."Erlkönig, transmit full identity for verification at once." The officer on the other end of the comm channel doesn't sound in the mood for any games.You eye Mingo who flaps his wings a couple times and stares back at you. "Affirmative, Sorrow. Transmitting now." You press a few keys to beam over your full registration information.A Tie fighter swoops low over the bow of your ship, circling around to orbit you."Received, Erlkönig. Welcome to Banda."You exhale. "Happy to be here," you say. "Erlkönig out." You turn off the comm channel a moment before Moho enters the bridge behind you."Hey, what the fuck did you-""Just forget it, Moho," you say, angling your ship toward the largest cylinder, Crownspire.
Traffic gets denser as you approach, primarily made up of tugs and shuttles going between the various habitats, but also a fair amount of commercial and Imperial vessels traveling to and from Crownspire. The habitat's docking facilities are nestled in the cap on one end of the cylinder. You secure a berth, pay the docking fee, and schedule for a pickup of the cargo. The next half hour is a blur of activity as you sign customs forms and see the cargo offloaded. Crownspire itself has a population of several million. It's nothing less than a city in space. You're stoked to see it. It seems the rest of the crew is too.Riss has traded her greasy coveralls for more sleek, casual clothes, a synth leather jacket and tight pants. Moho is wearing the same thing he always wears, but he seems even more exuberant than usual. "Fucking Crownspire!" he says, practically yelling in your face. "Man! You have no idea, Rax. This place has a scene, I'm telling you!" You assume he means music."Sure. I know you're excited. Got plans?""Drinks!" Moho replies. "There's a place I heard of here that I gotta check out. Loud music and cheap drinks. Maybe ladies too." His mouth lols open with unmasked hunger."What about you, Riss?" you ask."I have sshopping," she says. "Ssome things to make my quarterss more comfortable for me.">Tag along with Moho>Tag along with Riss>Go explore the city on your own>Write in
>>5094980>Tag along with RissMoho can handle himself. We should help Riss, just in case something happens.
>>5094980>>Tag along with Riss
>>5094980>>Go explore the city on your own
>>5094980>Go explore the city on your own
>>5094980>Tag along with Riss
>>5094980>Go explore the city on your ownOpportunities abound.We just got to know our crew a little better already, we could use with some space.We'll need more money before we can afford another crewmate.
>Go explore the city on your own>>5095223>>5095227>>5095259>>5095714>>5095739>>5095831Writing
"You two have fun," you say. "I think I'm going to take in the sights. See what there is to see."Riss flicks her tongue."Yeah, stay out of trouble, man!" Moho waves as he descends the ramp. "That's where I'll be."Riss also leaves, her tail swishing the air behind her.You are alone on the ship with Mingo."You have plans, sir?""Not really. Going to see what there is to see. You stay here, keep an eye on the ship, call me if there's trouble, alright?""Very good, sir."You seal up the ship behind you and leave the starport. It's typical as far as starports go, the usual assortment of sentients and technicians lingers around. Cheap sources of food and entertainment cluster at every junction. You hurry through the starport bustle, eager to get a taste of the true Crownspire.After a quick security check, you enter the habitat cylinder proper and marvel at its construction. You've been in orbital stations before, but nothing like the scale of this one. The entirety of the cylinder is a city, home to millions. If you look directly up, you can see the faint city lights on the opposite side of the cylinder. You're instantly struck by how dark everything is. Surprisingly, Crownspire has no exterior windows or solar collectors to pass in sunlight, so the entire habitat is dark as night, lit only by city street lights and glowtubes. Garish neon lights advertise all manner of entertainment into the dark streets. Here, surrounding the starport hub is an entertainment district. Gambling, dancing, drinking, drugs, and prostitution form a ring of vice. You pass through this, ignoring the solicitations of advertisements. Beyond the entertainment district is a more sober commercial area. Throngs of pedestrians wind through the streets of towering buildings, passing in and out of pools of light from streetlamps.Aside from the usual assortment of aliens, you spot small clusters of Hekki lurking in the mouths of darkened alleyways.
Hekki are a species unique to the Candorian Cluster. They are organic. Technically. But they are proponents of cybernetic enhancement to the point that they usually no longer look organic. Components shine and glisten in the dark. Photoceptors and grilles and screens glint in the light. It's hard to tell what they once were, but now they are something more and less than what they were before.Hekki are mysterious as far as most aliens go, they are not well understood and don't typically involve themselves in the affairs of the clusters. Most commonly they get used as mercenaries or bounty hunters. It's rumored that the Banda system is their home given the higher numbers of them here, some even say they were the ones who originally built these habitats, but if that's the case there's little evidence of that now.The Hekki you see shy away from you when you look at them too long, vanishing back into the darkness.You spend some time ambling along the shopping frontage, eyeing the wares for sale. Everything is here from high end hologames to designer clothes. Crownspire seems particularly well suited to electronics and software. A hologame suite might be fun for the ship, but you're hesitant to drop the kind of cash they're asking for.Well, the night is young! Apparently it's always night here though so maybe the night is immortal? In any case, you have time to kill and credits to burn. You spotted some establishments on the way through the entertainment district that look fun. A high end nightclub as well as a sleazy bar, you can think of a dozen things to do in either of them. Not to mention the possibility of meeting clients who need work done.If you're feeling more belligerent and enterprising, now might be a good time to look into the bounty hunting business. You can get a license easily enough from the nearest Imperial Security Bureau office. With that you might even be able to pick up some local contracts.Beyond that, the sky is the limit! And since Crownspire has no sky, there is no limit!>Go get your bounty hunting license>Travel to a trendy nightclub>Travel to a sleazy bar>Write in
>>5095986>Go get your bounty hunting licenseMight as well get it for if we ever want to bounty hunt.
>>5095986>Go get your bounty hunting licenseBounty Hunters are the peak of star wars non-force user combatants. They're the only one who can fight Jedi on equal ground and not get immediately and effortlessly ganked.
>>5095986>Travel to a trendy nightclubI'd like to participate in bounty hunting eventually, but right now we don't really have the ship or ideal crew for bounty hunting. If we chased a bounty we'd have to hope they don't have a superior ship of their own and that we could pursue on foot.I'd like to see if we can make some contacts or find people that could be future crewmates once we make some more money.
>>5095986>Go get your bounty hunting license
>>5095986>>Travel to a sleazy bar
>>5096038While i agree it might be too early to bounty hunt, we should get the license as soon as possible in case any opportunities pop up. Honestly, it's too early to find new crewmen anyway - what we need is more business.
>>5095986>Travel to a trendy nightclub
>>5095986>Write InGo to a casino. Time to unveil Rax's unmatched (and hitherto unmentioned) pazaak skills.
>>5096635I agree, I just meant scouting them for potential recruitment later, or to make contacts, our relationship doesn't have to begin with us recruiting them.
>Go get your bounty hunting license>>5096001>>5096006>>5096408Writing
With your skillset, and Moho's status as a Certified Bruiser it seems logical for you to get your bounty hunter license. Might be an easy way to pick up some extra credits here and make new contacts. Plus it sounds fun.Shockingly, Crownspire doesn't have much in the way of public transportation so you walk to the ISB office. It feels a little odd walking into one without your blaster in hand now, but you push that aside and navigate the crowd of scum and villainy lingering in the lobby. A tired clerk sits behind a blastproof transparisteel screen and eyes you as you approach."Hey there," you say. "I'm here to get my bounty hunting license."The clerk scoffs. "We don't get a lot of humans asking about that." He reaches under the desk and takes out a scuffed and battered datapad. "Reputable ones anyway." He gives you a sadistic grin. "Fill this out please."You take the pad, resisting a snappy comeback about his bald spot and paunch. "That's all?""That's all," he says. "Then you get your C-class license.""C-class?"His smile remains fixed. "Clueless huh? C-Class means you're just any old asshole. It's a way of warning off prospective clients until you can prove yourself. It doesn't provide any collateral insurance either. Kill the wrong guy and your ass is grass.""Oh? Are they going to get you out of that chair to come after me?" you just can't help yourself.His eyes narrow a little. "Cute. Just fill out the form." Shrugging, you find an empty seat and plop into it. The form is simple enough. You input identifying information, ship registration, and hit the submit key. You return the pad a moment later. "And that's it?"A printer spits out a flimsy that the clerk shoves under his partition to you. It's an ID card marking you as a legal bounty hunter."It lasts for 30 days and then lapses if you haven't scored any bounties." He jerks his head toward a group of people gathered by a scratched flatscreen panel. "The board is over there. You can get holonet access after your first one.""Right." You approach the board, wiggling into a free spot in the crowd to read over the scrolling list of public bounties. It's primarily small fries. People skipping bail, minor criminal infractions, part-time lowlifes. Hardly worth the effort it would take for a novice like you to track them down.Higher paying jobs become visible after a moment. It's easy to see why, they're Imperial contacts. In particular, you note a Bothan who is wanted alive by the Empire. The reward is 50,000 credits. There's also more generic scum, a drug pusher turned cult leader who's been responsible for a crimewave on Crownspire. He's worth 30,000.Both these bounties are reported to be local to this station should you want to pursue them.>Take the Imperial job>Take the cult leader job>The license is good enough for now, return to the ship>Write in
>Take the cult leader jobIf he's a bothan wanted by the empire, he's probably a rebel, a spy, or both. Most likely both. I don't want to face any rogues today, so we should go for the cult leader. It's the kind of scum that's easier to deal with.
>>5098494>Take the Imperial jobC R E D I T SMore credits means we get better gear and better ship parts.
>>5098494>Take the Imperial job
>>5098600>>5098606We barely have any equipment, you think we can take a rebel spy? We have less equipment than an army grunt. Bounty Hunters have entire arsenals on themselve.
>>5098494>Take the cult leader job>Write inHead to the nightclub next. We might be able to find some clients - or chase some tail
>>5098494>Take the cult leader jobI figure taking out some nutjob lowlifes is much more our speed, the Bothan is most likely some kinda of professional spy and we don't need the complications that come with that.Plus yaknow this is our first gig
>>5098494>Take the cult leader job>>5098724To be fair, we literally strolled into an ISB HQ with a pistol and...like a light plate carrier or something and went on a rampage through it and got out just fine. While I think we may be more vulnerable than in some of TK's other quests due to the personal nature of who our MC is as just a dude versus a commander of some kind, I think it is fair to say that we are playing fairly fast and loose with plot armour and how talented we are.If this quest was using a less abstract system like the actual Traveller system or one the Star Wars TTRPG's, we'd be fucked doing what we have done already. I think as long as we take some minimal precautions and don't start picking fights with entire platoons of stormtroopers, we should be fine doing any of the things a protagonist in a Star Wars movie or novel could get away with, which is a lot.
>>5098494>>Take the Imperial job
>>5098494>>Take the cult leader job
>>5098963>To be fair, we literally strolled into an ISB HQ with a pistol and...like a light plate carrier or something and went on a rampage through it and got out just fine.Ehhh, that was hardly an major world. I'm pretty sure we'd get smoked very quickly if we tried to do something like that in a world with real imperial presence.
>>5098494Question, do we have to take the cult leader alive ?If not, then I vote:>Take the cult leader job
>Take the cult leader job>>5098584>>5098815>>5098897>>5098963>>5099011>>5099265>Take the Imperial job>>5098600>>5098606>>5099007>>5099151Kodiak is a major world, it was just not a well-fortified position. The attack worked because of speed and surprise. It's the sort of trick you can really only pull off once.>>5099265>do we have to take the cult leader alive ?No
You're not exactly enthused about the prospect of working for the Empire. Not right now anyway. You snap the details on this cult leader onto your datapad.Human, male. He's in his mid thirties, known only as Seth. On your way out of the station, you patch into the holonet and call up all the data you can on him, scouring the net and building a picture as you walk. Seth seems to have appeared suddenly on the criminal scene of Crownspire, mostly peddling in spice and petty crime. His stature as a cult leader developed over time. To his followers he offered an alternative to their daily lives. There's not much official information on them and there's no open recruitment. It's less a religion and more a decentralized movement that revolves around Seth himself as some kind of holy figure. If you play your cards right you might just be the one to turn this saint into a martyr. You've got the rest of the night to kill and now free of the Imperial Bureaucracy sporting a new status as a bounty hunter you feel invigorated.Someone like Seth has to maintain a low profile and so likely haunts the industrial wastes at the north end of the habitat along with the other working dregs. You might be able to glean information about him or his cult if you spend enough time in that area.On the other hand, if you enlist help from Moho and Riss you might make things go faster, divide and conquer."Of course, you might rather prefer to take this excess energy and spend it in pursuit of leisure. The idea of stopping by a nightclub has been flitting through your mind, and Crownspire has plenty. You can always tackle this bounty tomorrow, assuming no one else gets it first.>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intel>Return to the ship to enlist the help of the crew>Screw it. Nightclub>Write in
While enlisting the crew is cool, are we sure they're already back in the ship? We don't want to waste time, there is no doubt someone is going to come after him.If he's a cult leader, there's no doubt he's going to have an gathering at some point - from there on, it's as easy as a headshot.
>>5099433>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intelThey are busy having their fun, let them. We'll get them when we need to kill him.
>>5099433>Screw it. NightclubLet’s tackle this tomorrow with Moho, after he finishes his jobs
>>5099433>Screw it. NightclubWe should probably wait for the rest of the crew.
>>5099433>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intelWhile taking our furry friend along for the bust seems like a neat idea, gathering intel now is paramount if we want an actual bust to happen. Plus a loner draws less attention than the 2m wolf man.
>>5099433>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intelHe's going to be dead by tomorrow.
>>5099433>>Return to the ship to enlist the help of the crewWe're still small-time, having some backup and a (barely spaceworthy, but still) ship are the only things we have over the average lowlife with a blaster.Also, we don't *need* this bounty to get ahead. We already make some cash hauling freight. No need to take extra risks.
>>5099433>Write inJust enjoy yourself tonight then take the problem tomorrow with the crew. It's not too time critical after all
>>5099433>Screw it. Nightclub
>>5099433>>Screw it. Nightclub
>>5099433>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intelWe can get the intel needed before we involve the rest of the crew.For this sort of thing, Moho is too impulsive and aggressive, he will stand out like a sore thumb. Whilst Riss might not be cut out for this sort of job.If we can find the location, I am sure Moho will be more than happy to join in and help us.
>Head for the industrial wastes to gather intel>>5099478>>5100021>>5100195>>5100490>Screw it. Nightclub>>5099712>>5099730>>5100458>>5100462>>5100471>ClubbinWriting
You brush off your jacket and take a deep whiff of the cool air. There's no reason to rush after this asshole. You can tackle this in the morning with fresh eyes. . . Fresh-ish anyway.The walk back to the entertainment district goes by quickly and soon you're walking the broad avenue, just one more set of eager eyes in a sea of them, scoping out the available clubs. The trendiest have long lines of sentients waiting to get in, dressed in their finest and flashiest. You'd briefly worked as a door bouncer at clubs on Kodiak, you knew the gig, this was all familiar to you.The hypest clubs tended to be overblown, instead you find one maybe just past its peak popularity so you can get in without having to sell your soul.A muscled Gotal stands watch at the door where he collects your cover charge. "Weapons check, sir," he says in a tone that manages to be both professional and convey exactly zero respect."No sweat." You unholster your blaster- carefully- and leave it at the security booth. You get a flimplast slip in exchange with a number to collect it later. You give the Gotal a polite nod who in turn politely ignores you.You enter the club, moving through a narrow hall and into the main building. Thudding dance music vibrates your teeth. Everything is dark save for flashes and streaks of light from holoprojectors casting ethereal starfields through the darkness, creating the illusion that the dance floor is moving through space. Neat.A central dancefloor fills the main space, surrounded by dimly lit booths where patrons can take a load off and share a moment of intimacy. An expansive and well stoked bar lines the far wall, glowing faintly blue from the aquarium built into the bar top. Also neat!You circle the dancefloor, visually sweeping the crowd. You'd blown a lot of credits at places like this when you'd been younger and dumber, a moment of respite in an otherwise monotonous schedule in hyperspace. Among the bodies on the floor, you spy more than a handful you wouldn't mind seeing more of. Maybe a possibility if you play your cards right.You reach the bar and find an open spot. A female Bothan with a piercing stare and low cut shirt appears behind the bar. You flash her a grin. "Hydrospanner," you say.She gives a silent nod and mixes the drink with grace and skill, laying it down before you before moving on with a shake of her hips.
You sip. Not bad. Leaning on the bar you take in the options for entertainment. The dance floor is an obvious target. If you want to meet someone worth leaving with, that's going to be your best bet. You're not exactly a dancer, but you can get by. Further afield, there's a VIP section to the club where the upper crust rub elbows. You're not a blueblood by any stretch of the imagination, but even so, you know that all of the "best people" have a vested interest in keeping guys like you around. Some extra contacts might not hurt.In a secluded area, you see a large sabacc game going, it looks pretty serious, fortunes being made and lost. You don't have a fortune to lose, but you could always try your luck at cards, see if you're able to multiply what money you do have.>Hit the dance floor to pick up a girl>Sleaze with the VIPs >Try your hand at gambling>Write in
>>5100599>Hit the dance floor to pick up a girl
We should maybe look for business opportunities, there's always someone needing something to be delivered.>>5100608That is a horrible idea. Do you really trust any women you'd find here? We're not some dumb bottom-feeder who simps for twi'lek dancers.
>>5100599>Sleaze with the VIPsNetworking is important
>>5100599>Try your hand at gambling>>5100632We're literally a petty thug who just managed to scrape together enough for a junker of a ship, pretty sure any girls here would very much be up to our standards
>>5100745>We're literally a petty thug who just managed to scrape together enough for a junker of a ship,A petty thug who single handedly stole an high-level encryptor and tricked the ISB into wiping out a whole gang. We're a former criminal, but we're not some dumb spice-addicted grunt.
Also, before anyone gets the idea, gambling is a bad choice for anyone who isnt straight up a force user. There's a reason those places make money.
>>5100599>Sleaze with the VIPs
>>5100599>Sleaze with the VIPs >Check out any high class women looking to ‘slum it’ for a night
>>5100599>>Sleaze with the VIPs
>>5100599>>Hit the dance floor to pick up a girl
I for one, have no intention of getting space AIDs
No update today or until after new years. Gonna be busy. See everyone soon!
No update today. Sorry guys, it will have to be later this week
It looks like I'm not going to have time to write anything today either guys.I think I have to face the music that I don't have the free time I thought I would to run this quest. Consider Traveller on hiatus until further notice.Thanks to everyone for their patience, their votes, and their reads. We'll see each other soon.
>>5109156That's a shame, thanks for running anyways TK. Take care.
>>5109156Thanks for the quest TK. Your writing had inspired me to run quests here, and I hope that you will continue to QM for a while yet. Can't wait for this quest to come back.
>>5109156Fun while it lasted, hope it comes back soon.
>>5110317np man just remember to come back.
>>5110533With DE2 ;”)
>>5110317And cocaine and chocolate!