You've got a solid opportunity, but of course, you can only see so far. Once you get past that door, someone could be on the other side. You've got a good feeling about this, though.
Why don't you give me an Act Under Fire to fetch that crate?
After picking your spot, you slip past the cameras with ease. You slip the passkey into the slot at the side door of the quonset hut. The thick metal door slides up quickly, and you slip inside as the automatic lights pop on in response to the pre-programmed sequence.
Luckily, you're on the side of the building closest to your objective. The place is clean, and quiet other than the sound of the many machines and devices running. You head over to find the crate exactly as described, between two banks of transmitters. It is approximately four feet high, nearly three across. You're in luck, because while the crate, which is metallic and sealed, is extremely heavy, it is sitting upon a small hoverlifter. In fact, with a couple toggle switches, you're able to have the crate lifted to four inches above the floor and ready to go.
You begin pushing the crate out. It has stabilizers to keep the crate upright. Quite a lot of effort has been taken to ensure this crate is not toppled over. You use the passkey to open the door again, looking outside to make sure the coast is clear. As you begin moving for the dead zones, with the door closing behind you, a pair of Stormtroopers walk into your peripheral vision on your right. They were walking parallel to you two buildings away and just passed the building into your line of sight.
As a reminder, your building is on the opposite end of Lane Two. Ahead of you, about thirty yards, are fifteen foot high fences. On the other side is housing for permanent residents, and beyond that is the rocky surface of this moon.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I start pushing the crate toward the Storm Troopers, singing in my best drunk voice (not too hard to channel) that song I heard a Pa'lowick singing a few months ago in surprisingly good, crooning Basic.
It's all just a dream, isn't it? This thing we call love... A marvelous scheme, isn't it? This thing we call love..."
My hand is ready for my blaster. I can feel the grip already, before I draw.
Well, Ladro, that takes some stones. Of course, Stormtroopers are used to people kowtowing and scurrying to hide. That gives you an edge here.
Of course, they come up to you, but they're not aiming blaster rifles at you. One of them barks out, "Citizen, this is a secure area. What are you doing here?"
I'm going to choose to achieve my goal, which is to get this karking crate out and back to the Libation without being tagged as 'Ladro Vos' in the process.
Ladro, you draw quickly and fire off a shot at the trooper on your left before he can react. The bolt hits him square in the chest and he stumbles backwards, falling. His trooper armor will protect him from some of the damage, but he's out of the fight for now.
The trooper on your right brings his rifle to bear and fires as you fire a second and third shot at him. Maybe ten feet separate you both. Your second shot is wide, but the third leaves a scorch mark on his armored shoulder-plate.
As the second trooper takes aim, you push the crate ahead at a dead run until you get around the building. He tags you right in the back with a shot.
That kriffing hurt, for sure! I keep pushing the crate, and even though all I really want to do is curl up in a ball away from the pain, I don't head straight for the hangar. I move randomly for a while, turning corners without thinking until I'm thoroughly lost, and the Storm Trooper is in the dust.
I do eventually untangle the way back to the hangar, thanking the stars that Hosk and I decided to undock for separate maintenance checks and a bit of hull cleaning. I stow the crate and put on an undamaged jacket, then, unless someone stops me, I head back out into the night, looking for someplace open with a med droid that doesn't ask too many questions.
Ladro, why don't we try this: you can do either one of these things, your choice.
Option One: When you go into a holding’s bustling market, looking for some particular thing to buy, and it’s not obvious whether you should be able to just go buy one like that, roll+sharp. On a 10+, yes, you can just go buy it like that. On a 7–9, the MC chooses one of the following: • it costs 1-Cred more than you’d expect • it’s available, but only if you meet with a guy who knows a guy • damn, I had one, I just sold it to this guy named Watto, maybe you can go get it off him? • sorry, I don’t have that, but maybe this will do instead?
Option Two: When you make known that you want a thing and drop jingle to speed it on its way, roll+barter spent (max roll+3). It has to be a thing you could legitimately get this way. On a 10+ it comes to you, no strings attached. On a 7–9 it comes to you, or something pretty close. On a miss, it comes to you, but with strings very much attached.
I make my way back to the seedy underbelly, the parts of the station that are still humming and fizzing and popping at this hour, and start asking quiet questions.
Asking a few of the local Rodians, you end up at an underground clinic run by a Droid calling itself "No Refunds".
The clinic exterior looks like it's some storage unit. But after you drop a Cred (one of your two, the other was used up greasing palms), the unit opens to reveal a spotless little clinic inside, and this droid:
It is not very personable, but it is efficient. "This one would recommend bed rest to allow the grafting to take hold. This one can provide pain management injections, but it will impair judgment somewhat. Do you wish to have the medication?"
No Refunds is my kind of droid, in this sort of circumstance. All business.
"Bed rest and impaired judgment sound like a wonderful idea, but not feasible at the moment. Can you give me an injector for the pain management, so I can choose when I manage it?"
"Very well." One of its arms extends to hand you a hypo, a second hands you a case of meds, quite a lot of it. "This one would recommend finding a way off Vespa in short order. This one has heard transmissions about a bipedal organic with an injured shoulder on the Imperial channels. Wanted for injuring one Stormtrooper and the theft of Imperial goods. It is likely that the spaceports will be shut down within an hour."
Deegan's cargo is in the hangar. Kriff me, how do I get that loaded and get us off the moon in an hour...
Okay, I make my way back to the ship in record time. Record time for a sarlaac's digestive tract, at least. I wake Seesk and Jojee first. "Cargo needs loading fast. Empire's about to shut down the port. Some asshole stole Imperial goods from a warehouse, and they're about to clamp down." After they get going, I move on to Lee. I hope this goes well...
Jojee's heading back to the Libation, but she's minutes away. Seesk seems, well, happy to have some work after cooling her heels for so long. They get moving, no question. Squall's asleep in zir bunk.
After a couple raps at Lee's door, she comes to open it slightly wearing a slinky robe, looking a bit disheveled, "What is it, Ladro?" She's not angry, but she's distracted, a sheen of perspiration on her brow. She doesn't look like she wants to talk right now.
Oh hey, did you buy her that nice little robe she's wearing?
Oh, my. I know that look. And the robe, which I did buy for her. "Sorry to interrupt, Lee, but a Storm Trooper got shot and the Empire's about to shut down the port. We've got less than an hour to get off this moon, if we want to go anytime soon."
Here eyes narrow a little. For a moment, you can almost hear her ask, "What did you do?"
But instead, you hear, "Are you okay?" She steps out of her room to look closer at you, then flicks a glance past you towards the bridge where Jojee is furiously throwing the Libation through pre-flights. Leeadra smells of sweat, and... well, sex. Her breath is still a little erratic, but she's about to kick into "go mode" with a threat to her ship.
She sighs a little, like she's waving goodbye to something. "I'll be out in a few. Don't dawdle, Ladro. Squall's down for the count, so I'll be in the engine room." She heads back into her quarters quickly.
She wasn't alone. You catch a glance of a red-skinned someone in her bed.
I double-time for the shuttle. I'll wake Hosk, then get ready to mate with the Libation, running through the shuttle checklist and making sure everything's properly stowed.
Not thinking about Lee's company. No reason I should be, really. So, I'm definitely not thinking about Lee's company. Or the scent of her.
Hosk is, surprise surprise, grumpy when you kick his bunk. He was asleep, not passed out, but belched some foul smelling swill into the air as he rolled out of his bunk. After a couple pops and cracks of his bones, he gets to work getting the shuttle docked with the Libation.
So Ladro, I'm curious about how this pans out. Why don't you give me an Act Under Fire here? You get a +1 from rousing the crew. If you succeed, the Libation makes it off the station without too much trouble. If you miss, then you make it off the station, but I'll offer you a hard bargain.
The Star-Crossed Libation bluffs their way to clearance, and Leeadra cold-starts the ship with some quick rewiring and bypassing a few checks. In ten minutes flat, you're up in the air, and as you glance out of a porthole, you seewhite ants scurrying about the docks. Not a moment too soon.
Comments
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 5, 3. Total: 10)
Why don't you give me an Act Under Fire to fetch that crate?
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 2, 1. Total: 6)
Luckily, you're on the side of the building closest to your objective. The place is clean, and quiet other than the sound of the many machines and devices running. You head over to find the crate exactly as described, between two banks of transmitters. It is approximately four feet high, nearly three across. You're in luck, because while the crate, which is metallic and sealed, is extremely heavy, it is sitting upon a small hoverlifter. In fact, with a couple toggle switches, you're able to have the crate lifted to four inches above the floor and ready to go.
You begin pushing the crate out. It has stabilizers to keep the crate upright. Quite a lot of effort has been taken to ensure this crate is not toppled over. You use the passkey to open the door again, looking outside to make sure the coast is clear. As you begin moving for the dead zones, with the door closing behind you, a pair of Stormtroopers walk into your peripheral vision on your right. They were walking parallel to you two buildings away and just passed the building into your line of sight.
As a reminder, your building is on the opposite end of Lane Two. Ahead of you, about thirty yards, are fifteen foot high fences. On the other side is housing for permanent residents, and beyond that is the rocky surface of this moon.
Those troopers will see you any second now.
What do you do?
Desperate times call for desperate measures. I start pushing the crate toward the Storm Troopers, singing in my best drunk voice (not too hard to channel) that song I heard a Pa'lowick singing a few months ago in surprisingly good, crooning Basic. My hand is ready for my blaster. I can feel the grip already, before I draw.
Of course, they come up to you, but they're not aiming blaster rifles at you. One of them barks out, "Citizen, this is a secure area. What are you doing here?"
As I continue singing, I take my right hand off the crate, pull my blaster, and do my best to take out these two Imperial scum.
(Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 5, 1. Total: 7)
The trooper on your right brings his rifle to bear and fires as you fire a second and third shot at him. Maybe ten feet separate you both. Your second shot is wide, but the third leaves a scorch mark on his armored shoulder-plate.
As the second trooper takes aim, you push the crate ahead at a dead run until you get around the building. He tags you right in the back with a shot.
2-Harm
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 9)
Do you head straight for the ship?
That kriffing hurt, for sure! I keep pushing the crate, and even though all I really want to do is curl up in a ball away from the pain, I don't head straight for the hangar. I move randomly for a while, turning corners without thinking until I'm thoroughly lost, and the Storm Trooper is in the dust.
I do eventually untangle the way back to the hangar, thanking the stars that Hosk and I decided to undock for separate maintenance checks and a bit of hull cleaning. I stow the crate and put on an undamaged jacket, then, unless someone stops me, I head back out into the night, looking for someplace open with a med droid that doesn't ask too many questions.
Option One:
When you go into a holding’s bustling market, looking for some particular thing to buy, and it’s not obvious whether you should be able to just go buy one like that, roll+sharp. On a 10+, yes, you can just go buy it like that. On a 7–9, the MC chooses one of the
following:
• it costs 1-Cred more than you’d expect
• it’s available, but only if you meet with a guy who knows a guy
• damn, I had one, I just sold it to this guy named Watto, maybe you can go get it off him?
• sorry, I don’t have that, but maybe this will do instead?
Option Two:
When you make known that you want a thing and drop jingle to speed it on its way, roll+barter spent (max roll+3). It has to be a thing you could legitimately get this way. On a 10+ it comes to you, no strings attached. On a 7–9 it comes to you, or something
pretty close. On a miss, it comes to you, but with strings very much attached.
I make my way back to the seedy underbelly, the parts of the station that are still humming and fizzing and popping at this hour, and start asking quiet questions.
I want a thing and make it known
Spending 2-Cred
(Rolled: 2d6+2. Rolls: 5, 5. Total: 12)
The clinic exterior looks like it's some storage unit. But after you drop a Cred (one of your two, the other was used up greasing palms), the unit opens to reveal a spotless little clinic inside, and this droid:
It is not very personable, but it is efficient. "This one would recommend bed rest to allow the grafting to take hold. This one can provide pain management injections, but it will impair judgment somewhat. Do you wish to have the medication?"
No Refunds is my kind of droid, in this sort of circumstance. All business.
"Bed rest and impaired judgment sound like a wonderful idea, but not feasible at the moment. Can you give me an injector for the pain management, so I can choose when I manage it?"
"Very well." One of its arms extends to hand you a hypo, a second hands you a case of meds, quite a lot of it. "This one would recommend finding a way off Vespa in short order. This one has heard transmissions about a bipedal organic with an injured shoulder on the Imperial channels. Wanted for injuring one Stormtrooper and the theft of Imperial goods. It is likely that the spaceports will be shut down within an hour."
Spending 2-hold to make this happen.
Deegan's cargo is in the hangar. Kriff me, how do I get that loaded and get us off the moon in an hour...
Okay, I make my way back to the ship in record time. Record time for a sarlaac's digestive tract, at least. I wake Seesk and Jojee first. "Cargo needs loading fast. Empire's about to shut down the port. Some asshole stole Imperial goods from a warehouse, and they're about to clamp down." After they get going, I move on to Lee. I hope this goes well...
After a couple raps at Lee's door, she comes to open it slightly wearing a slinky robe, looking a bit disheveled, "What is it, Ladro?" She's not angry, but she's distracted, a sheen of perspiration on her brow. She doesn't look like she wants to talk right now.
Oh hey, did you buy her that nice little robe she's wearing?
Oh, my. I know that look. And the robe, which I did buy for her. "Sorry to interrupt, Lee, but a Storm Trooper got shot and the Empire's about to shut down the port. We've got less than an hour to get off this moon, if we want to go anytime soon."
Kark me, but she is beautiful..
Here eyes narrow a little. For a moment, you can almost hear her ask, "What did you do?"
But instead, you hear, "Are you okay?" She steps out of her room to look closer at you, then flicks a glance past you towards the bridge where Jojee is furiously throwing the Libation through pre-flights. Leeadra smells of sweat, and... well, sex. Her breath is still a little erratic, but she's about to kick into "go mode" with a threat to her ship.
"I'll be fine." I'm trying to subtly peek past her, see if she had company or was having some "me" time. I hate that the answer matters, but it does.
"I'll get the shuttle ready to mate and make sure Hosk is ready to go."
She sighs a little, like she's waving goodbye to something. "I'll be out in a few. Don't dawdle, Ladro. Squall's down for the count, so I'll be in the engine room." She heads back into her quarters quickly.
She wasn't alone. You catch a glance of a red-skinned someone in her bed.
I double-time for the shuttle. I'll wake Hosk, then get ready to mate with the Libation, running through the shuttle checklist and making sure everything's properly stowed.
Not thinking about Lee's company. No reason I should be, really. So, I'm definitely not thinking about Lee's company. Or the scent of her.
So Ladro, I'm curious about how this pans out. Why don't you give me an Act Under Fire here? You get a +1 from rousing the crew. If you succeed, the Libation makes it off the station without too much trouble. If you miss, then you make it off the station, but I'll offer you a hard bargain.
(Rolled: 2d6+3. Rolls: 4, 3. Total: 10)
--END SCENE--