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Obligatory music for obligatory scrollpre: STAR WARS
STAY CLASSY, CLOUD CITY
It is a time of PEACE. Following the death of the villainous EMPEROR PALPATINE
at the Battle of Endor, the tyranny of the GALACTIC EMPIRE is all but at an end,
with only a few Imperial remnants remaining to eke out resistance against
the rising NEW REPUBLIC.
From the Core to the Outer Rim, worlds and sectors readjust to life after
the Empire. But galactic peace does not necessarily mean the end of
struggles close to home.
On Bespin, in the far-off Anoat Sector, CLOUD CITY contends with its
own myriad crises. Baron Administrator LANDO CALRISSIAN, hero of the
Battle of Endor, remains near the New Republic’s seat of power, leaving the
city in the hands of the ever-faithful LOBOT - while local nobles and the wealthy
jockey for power. Cloud City also faces a rush of urban growth, riches, and
crime as tourists and refugees flock to the legendary station, seeking a new
home after the war or to walk where the heroes of the REBELLION once stood.
But Cloud City is no mere footnote in galactic history. As much a home to
glittering luxury as it is to scum and villainy, the shining jewel nestled in
the scarlet mists of Bespin holds still even more HEROES and VILLAINS, yet to
enter the galactic stage...
Emenwe Cho's office - such that is is - suite is busy today. The beings called themselves Executive Administrators, Assistant Directors, Majordomos, and Consul-viziers, but whatever their title, Cho and her "faithful" "protocol" droid C-3D8 knows them for what they are - fixers. Fixing, after all, was part of their business, and, as the Rodian saying goes, a bounty hunter can always spot a bounty hunter from afar. Unlike Cho, however, each of these creatures had masters, and it's immediately obvious that each of them to a one is petrified of returning with bad news. They sit in their seats nervously, eyeing each other inbetween furtive glances to their hostess. Among the dozen or so assembled representatives, many from less-notable gaming houses along the Concourse and Top 50, were Kayzander Grick from The Royal Casino, FL-SH777 from Crimson Vapor, Yoolee D'an from Pair O'Dice, and The Zephyr's own Plogg. The sour old Ugnaught was the closest thing Cho had to a superintendent, and took great pride in finding creative solutions which helped the day-to-day of Cloud City's biggest - if not most prestigious or succesful - tourist trap. Curious that that pride didn't demand a meeting in one of the The Zephyr's palatial boardrooms, or over nerf-steaks at Tibannuck. This many casinos apparently staked in the same thing was already unusual, but that no one was using it as an opportunity to show off their opulence to all their competitors at once was even stranger. It's Yoolee D'an who takes the lead in their discussion - fitting, as Pair O'Dice was the richest casino on the city. While The Zephyr's owner - a bellicose ithorian named Grimmow Olf whom neither Cho nor C-3 had ever seen in-person - built his kingdom wide, packed with every conceivable distraction a tourist would want with just-enough-but-not-too-much edge to please those who want to see the local color but refuse to go south of Level 192, the Pair O'Dice and its imitators appealed to the wealth and class of the Concourse. The Yarith Bespin hotel, which houses the casino, had seen an unbelievable surge in patronage after the end of the war, and the waiting list for the Organa-Solo Suite on its uppermost levels was at least two cycles long and mounting. D'an, a bith with glassy black eyes and an impeccably-maintained cranial ridge, folds her fingers and addresses Cho. "The considerable gaming concerns of this city," D'an's voice is cool and clerical, her diction haughty but impeccable, as if she were presenting a zoning request to the Baron Administrator, "face a mutual and impending threat. One which requires," she glances at the assembled beings, "cooperation, as well as significant investment of time and resources. Significant to the extent that it has been agreed-upon to seek independent contractors to assist with auxiliary concerns. Plogg," the Ugnaught snorts, pleased, at the recognition, "put forth your names. The possibility was discussed, and consensus was reached; the result of which is made obvious by this meeting." She shrugs her shoulders in a peaceful gesture, "You come recommended from other sources, as well. Highly so. You have a reputation for creativity and vigilance, and the threat in question demands both." "THIEVES!" FL-SH777 loudly clarifies through its tinny vocalizer. The droid waves one of its torso manipulators up and down frantically while its trio of carousel eyes spin and flash a wide spectrum of colors. After a moment, it's Grick who expands on the clarification, "A burglary outfit out from Kessel," of his peers, the human seemed most at ease, nearly lounging in his seat as he nods at Cho seated behind her desk. The wide duraglass window gives an impressive vista of the side of a grey runnel wall - the trench where The Zephyr ran swoop races circled around the massive complex, and Cho and C-3 had to pay extra rent for sound dampeners to compensate for the "killer view" of speeder bikes zipping past in a violent blur. At that moment, there's the low rumble of a minor explosion, and the cherry-red remains of some jockey's hot rod goes bouncing past; there was a spacer pub two floors in the suite two floors up, and a distant roar of approval can be heard. Kayzander Grick eyes the twisted metal hunk, then looks back to the Pantoran - most of the assembled guests ignored C-3 on principle, "They've ransacked casinos in Coruscant, Zeltros, and possibly Nar Shadaa - I'm awaiting confirmation from my contacts there. Now, we have it on good authority that they're on their way to Bespin. A bit of a comeback performance, I think: they spent several years in Imperial bondage, staged an escape, and were fugitives until the New Republic," his inflection changes to show his subtle disdain, "commuted their sentence after the Death Star sunk with the Emperor on board. In exchange for some sort of clandestine and most-likely-illegal wartime services, I'm sure." "SCOUNDRELS!" FL-SH777's expresses its disapproval with another flurry of eye-spins and some angry internal sirens. "Plans have yet to be finalized, but we will need personnel details who may fill a variety of roles:," Yoolee D'an counts off on her fingers, "Reconnaissance, Security, Threat Assessment, Counter-Intelligence... among others. Local talent is preferred, of course; time is a factor. If we come to agreeable terms, do you have operatives who are ready to enter the field?" Now her tone grows more severe as she leans in, "We require the absolute best you have." Disposal Sub-Level 358-L, 359-L, 360-L... Starro Lungsch, VP-1098477, and the old tinkerer known around Cloud City's lower rings as "Relay" were on a freight elevator, surrounded by garbage. The long shaft which housed the elevator was about seventy temps above comfort, owing much to the freighter-sized smelter some fifty yards beneath them. Slowly, but surely, the elevator, the garbage, and Starro, VP, and Relay were inching closer to the smelter. One of the elevator's cousin platforms reaches the bottom of the conveyor and dumps several tonnage of scrap into the red-hot maw of molten slag below. One of them had heard on the fruitvine that some whale up vacationing in Holiday Towers had, in a drunken fit, yanked his priceless sein jewel chain off the schickele table and hucked it into a nearby bin. Gossip demanded that he shouted something like "Let Calrissian fly a ship through that!" or "I'd rather it ends up stuck in a dianoga cloaca than in your fat fingers!", but Starro had heard it from Mygolygo - a Holiday croupier who liked to drink at the sop-stands along 382's West Hallway - that the guy just immediately realized what he had done, and was halfway-wedged into the disposal opening before security was able to tug him out. Lotta folks had gone crazy for the rumor. Sein jewels were self-illuminating, came out of the ground polished, and were worth a fortune. It wasn't long before Cloud City's more desperate or penurious neighborhoods and citizens were overwhelmed with wrenched pipe valves, ravaged wall panels, and upturned fresher-seats. The three now heading into superheated oblivion had joined minds and skills in the venture - Starro would navigate the ventways of Cloud City's disposal levels, VP could slice them past security, and there was hardly an engineering obstacle that Relay couldn't dismantle and repurpose. They had found the chains, but the jewels, Relay was able to quickly determine, were nothing more than imitation electronics. Quality-made, but not worth so much to go diving down a garbage chute for. Maybe it had sentimental value. The walls of the elevator shaft are just outside of jumping or hovering distance, and too sheer and greasy to climb, besides. The giant gnashing teeth and skin-peelingly fast belts of the conveyor were equally hostile to the idea of assent. The wreckage surrounding them are sharp, menacing, sparking, and growing hotter with the room every second. Elevators above them blocked out their view of the corridor's exit, and the ones below each inexorably churned downward. Still, each of the three had seen the absolute dregs of Cloud City, and this was hardly one its worst places. Vonkers - Level 299 When Carnelios Vonkers turned his landing pad's lease into a rent-to-own and bought that decommissioned surplus Imp shuttle to finally fulfill his dreams of owning his own cantina, the old rogue had a vision of a place where the riff-raff could knock glasses and talk deals like civilized beings; real middle-ring joint, strictly blasters on the table. The hollowed-out shuttle was cramped and smelly, and its proprietor too crude and impatient. Vonkers lost its charm quickly and become a sad little refuge for anyone who needed to be reminded of how good they have it, or to die without anyone bothering them. The 'blasters on the table' policy, too, raised issues: the six beings raising their weapons at Dexen Gellar and Javi Roaken were able to get out of their seats and bear down without so much as a holster-fumble. They wore better-than-usual clothes, for street toughs - well-tailored, but still redolent of that coarse, gruff quality which evokes both brutality and respectability in Cloud City's lower levels. They made a crooked line spanning one wall of the tiny bar, keeping their guns trained on the newcomers as well as a nervous, six-armed Xexto in the other corner. "Ya just gotta let this go, fellas," Izzo Plasso stammers, blaster shaking in his fingers as he waves it between the two humans and the muscle, "C'mon, I'll pay ya double. All of ya! A-a-and real creds this time, swear," he adds with a desperate smile at Dexen. About a week ago, Dexen had been retained as a driver and bodyguard by one Livy Lovo, a retired podracer out on holiday from Malastare. Livy turned out to be Izzo. Izzo turned out to be a criminal on the run from a local bounty hunter. That bounty hunter turned out to be Javi Roaken, an old acquaintance. The mens' mutual familiarity, and Dexen's role as employee, brought up dilemmas of both personal and professional ethics. However, it was revealed that Izzo was a counterfeiter specializing in Imperial credits, having been forced to move on to enn-are creds after the war - it was his shoddiness in this department which led to his being pursued by Corellian customs and treasury investigators. He had fled to Cloud City. They, through a mutual contact, had hired Javi. Dexen, after closer examination, was able to determine that his credits were indeed no more valuable than textiles they had been flimsi-printed on. And that the image of Alderaan on the 2,000 note was actually a stock holo of Taris. They had tracked Izzo here to Vonkers, where these others had already been awaiting him. The bar's namesake had bolted through an afore door into the cockpit as soon as hands touched blasters. Neither Dexen nor Javi know who these guys are, but they looked like part of an outfit, and these parts of Cloud City were no stranger to criminal syndicates. Recruitment Thread. Rulebook here. Bonus XP to ambi and Twobirds for creating locations. Welcome to the game! Thanks for joining, I hope my rules are good + fun, but if not we will try and have a fun time anyway! We start with Relay, VP, and Starro in a pickle! Javi and Dexen in a showdown! Cho in a conversation! C-3 maybe serving drinks????? I don't know! Make what moves or say what things as you will. Roll in irc or post a roll in thread or I can roll for you or whatever, TG's norms have changed over the years tin can made man fucked around with this message at 05:32 on Feb 1, 2017 |
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Feb 1, 2017 05:10
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Emenwe Cho She disliked having such a large audience - it was harder to work someone when the room had several someones. But the quality of the clientele was too good to ignore. Some of the station’s most influential business owners, right in her quarters. The Pantoran lifts her narrow chin, giving a face of serious consideration while she tries not to get too giddy over her blessings. Outwardly, she holds on to the face of a stern, calculating businesswoman, who is not at all unused to such good company. Her accent is the clipped, pointed tone of Coruscant or other core worlds, the received pronunciation of it’s folk, not that she’d ever been there, “Nar Shadaa,” she repeats thoughtfully, “if they’ve hit the Hutts, they should hope we find them before someone else does.” Turning to her droid, “C-3, remind me to send a message to Rykoo.” There is no such person, but it’s a common thing for Em, asking him to schedule a thing, call a person, because now the audience wonders what it is, who she’s talking to. It is distracting, and hints at a larger, non-existent operation. “The best available, but local. Very well.” She nods, checking off the names. Vergit would be good for thiefcatching, but he’s offworld. Dabrine but... Cho wasn’t passing along any work to the Zeltron tart after the comment about her hair. Javi arrived on station not too long ago, right? Catching thieves shouldn’t offend his sensibilities, she figures. “I can begin pulling in personnel as soon as we’re finished here. If there’s any information you’ve already collected on these operatives, it would be welcomed in advance - understandably, the people I select for this line of work are much more comfortable when I can be more upfront about their… targets.” Leaning over, she keeps her voice low for C-3, pretending to murmur something private and official, instead dropping into the rounded drawl of her homeworld, “Think we can write our own bloody checks on this one, yeah?” Standing back up straight, she forces a tight, professional smile, and goes back to her crisp presentation, “Given the established reputations of everyone present as pillars of the Bespin economy, I feel satisfied leaving the minor fees and details to be handled by C-3D8.” Looking to each of the owners in turn, “And whom should we contact once all the parties have been brought together?” It'd be D'an she expects, but assuming such might rub some of the more senior clients the wrong way. Rolling to Make An Impression - that Cho is professional and efficient, and every bit worthy of the fees they're totally going to be forking over shortly. <skybot> ambivalent: 12 (2d6+1=6, 5)
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Feb 1, 2017 07:50
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Starro Lungsch Towheaded, her hair blowing back from her brow in the blasting heat of the updrafts, Starro leans over the swaying edge of the elevator platform and peers into the open smelting pit below. "Did you know that the vapour released when worked metal scrap is superheated is about as toxic as eating, like, twelve death sticks?" She considers their fate, nose scrunching up. "So, even though it looks like we're gonna die when we get dropped into that lava thing, we're sort of already dying right now and we can't even see it. Except for you, VP. Anyway, I just thought that was interesting!" She has to end her factoid with a shout to make it audible above the terminating scrape of the elevator mechanism.
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Feb 1, 2017 11:12
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Starro Her eyes scan the smooth, worn sides of the elevator shaft. Toxic slag disposal fumes need to be vented low in the system, because if they reach the main ventilators like Starro vaguely remembers happening when she was small, Baron Calrissian gets sued again. Even so, that doesn't appear to be a good angle. The greasy, heat-shimmering walls of the disposal shaft seem almost featureless except for the joins where prefab slats have been dropped into place. So...think, Starro, think! Starro searches her feelings with the question: How can we stop the elevator from moving? .roll 2d6+2 <skybot> 11 (2d6+2=4, 5) With her two hold she picks: the answer is direct, and she takes advantage on all moves acting on it until the end of the scene. She also takes a Will beat.
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Feb 1, 2017 11:34
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Dexen Gellar Power: +2 Savvy: -1 Nerve: +2 Faith: -1 Harm: 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 Minutes Ago Dexen lead Javi through a series of twists and turns through the cramped interior of level 299, slowly making their way towards the outer layers of the station where the "cantina" would be. "It'll be easy," The pilot had told his bounty hunter companion, "we go in, talk quietly with Izzo and convince him it's in his best interest to come quietly, and then we take him somewhere I can cram these blasted credits down his throat until he chokes on them." Dexen needed the money to pay off the final costs for repairs to The Indigo, and being tricked on top of being stiffed had put him in particularly bad mood. "It's going to be easy." ______________ The Present "This isn't going to be easy." Dexen whispers into his helmet's commlink. The pilot's eyes critically scan the armed thugs from behind his helmet's visor, trying to pinpoint who they work for and, more importantly, which one of them needed to be intimidated into giving up the bounty with as little trouble as possible. ______________ I make a Don't Get Cocky move, Result: 10 Next a Read A Risky Situation move, Result: 8 Spending one Hold to determine who's in charge of these guys
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Feb 1, 2017 19:48
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"Relay" Relay wipes a hand over his face, clearing it of sweat for just a moment. The day had started out so promising, too. The three of them knew the levels that needed ran, and finding the trinket in the mountain of junk was a stroke of luck - admittedly, VP had been the one who figured out how to find it. He sighs and holds up the jewel, pausing briefly to watch the furnace's firelight reflect on its surface. He sighs, then stuffs it deep into a pocket. "I've been sucking poisonous fumes longer than than you've been alive, kid," he grunts. "Though if my lungs close up out before the rest of me turns to ash, I'll buy the next round." He turns to the trash piled on the platform, and quickly begins rifling through it. "Remind me not to come treasure hunting with you guys ever again," he barks over the roar of the furnace. "Unless it's something really good."
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Feb 2, 2017 02:00
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Starro "Hey, don't look at me! It was all VP's idea."
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Feb 2, 2017 02:04
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Suite 2022 Cho's response artfully peels away the tension and concern in the room with each passing sentence; each of the casino fixers noticeably relaxes, and reassuring nods and smirks ripple through the crowd. Grick approves of her authority, D'an of her poise, and 777 of her confidence. Plogg is equally chuffed, possibly due to his recommendation panning out so swimmingly at this stage, or at the prospect of his tenants now suddenly having a bit more prestige and a wallet to match. "I've got some friends in the republic bureaucracy," Grick sits up, "A set of dossiers will be prepared for you by tomorrow. Yoolee will be in touch." The bith nods graciously, "It will be pleasurable working with you, Emenwe Cho. We don't know exactly which casino these brigands-" "BRIGANDS!" FL-SH777 noisily concurs. "-intend to strike, so, at this juncture we are operating under the assumption of 'all of them'. Casting such a wide security net would considerably deplete our resources, so narrowing the range of targets will be your first priority. I trust your people will be up to the task." Yoolee D'an rises and, with her, the rest stand and prepare to depart. "Our droids will be in touch with details on our next meeting," she hands C-3 a dataslate brimming with contact information, "In the meantime: you have much to do before tomorrow, so if that's all, we'll allow you to... do your thing, as it were." Colloquialisms come awkwardly to the woman, and her mouth flaps wrinkle uncomfortably as soon as the words have left them. Freight Elevator KF281, Disposal Model Starro pauses to think, sweat slithering down her forehead. When she takes in a deep breath, the scent of boiling steam and rust whorls through her nostrils. The easiest way to stop the conveyor from moving was to slam on the emergency shutoff console, about a eighty yards and nine elevators above them. The vent-urchin had made a mental, almost unconscious, note of it when the trio had come bursting into the disposal shaft, but it wasn't until after the platforms had begun their lurching descent that she considered its importance. Barring that, jamming the belts would do it, but leave them stranded to watch the superheated air waver while they boiled from the inside. Well, VP would melt from the outside. Vonkers Dexen was no native to the city, but running in the circles he did gave one familiarity with more than a few of the local personas in organized crime. The group here wasn't instantly familiar, but the crime lords who ran book or protection on the Double-Didge levels tended to keep their toy soldiers in sleek businesswear, and these bruisers weren't raggedy enough to be knocking over soup-barrels or scavenging in Red Rooms for the rats who ran things closer to The Stalk. They worked for someone organized and successful, but not yet top-shelf. Dexen runs a few names through his head: Arnolos, Percha-Percha, Lieutenant Carbonox, Keffi Ri, Vibro, Ormanda Gray... he had heard rumors of a few Hutts trying to move in, but these toughs felt like local muscle to him. At the very least, the pilot can pick out the most immediate shotcaller: judging by body language, this gang was taking their lead a bronze-furred gotal who stood just a ways back of the group, her fingers gripped confidently around a factory-new DL-44. tin can made man fucked around with this message at 05:20 on Feb 2, 2017 |
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Feb 2, 2017 02:10
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Starro "Ok! I got it! We just have to hit the emergency shut-off switch." She points with a lifted arm, stretching on the tips of her toes, as if she could reach it by extending her body far enough. "It's up there. All these slag smelters have one. Plus a reverse mode, speed down, speed up..."
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Feb 2, 2017 02:18
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Starro "Basically, it has a lot of stuff," she concludes, wrinkling her nose slowly. Sweat is rolling down her cheeks. It's possible the kid is a little heatstroked.
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Feb 2, 2017 02:18
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Relay Relay looks up. "In the annex room up there? The one on this side of the chute? I completely missed it. I bet there's a hardline - there's too much metal and interference for a radio control. That means it's behind the wall." He lets his hand drift over the rough wall panels as they scroll by. He turns and looks at the junk, then at the others. "Let's jam this thing, then see if we can get to the line."
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Feb 2, 2017 02:41
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VP The communication antennae retract and the lights come back in the dark orbs of its eyes. With a beep and a whir, its head swivels around to look at Starro and Relay. "REGRET: I was just monitoring signals traffic and - ALARM: We appear to be headed downwards towards molten metal. INTERROGATION: Will this not hurt us? REVIEW RECENT COMMS... Oh. I see. REGRET: I was not keeping up with discussion. AVOWAL: Attempting rectification." Three arms hanging from below whir into life and change modular setting from item retrieval to technical repairs and begin removing wall panels at a high speed. "ADDITIONAL: I do not think it was my idea, Starro. INTERROGATION: Would you like me to replay the relevant conversation from my Comms Store?"
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Feb 2, 2017 04:25
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Freight Elevator KF281, Disposal Model The jet-black droid's arms whir to life, tiny manipulators at each end bending back, then wrenching away a wall panel. Sparks fly, and something gushes a dribble of greasy slime, but Relay's right about the hardline. A fat, corded rope of thick industrial cables runs down the length of the exposed panel, but threatens to disappear beyond reach as the elevator continues downward.
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Feb 2, 2017 05:12
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Starro "Okay," admits Starro, unable to continue her perfidy against her best friend, "so maybe I had some input..."
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Feb 2, 2017 09:27
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Javi 0/5 Harm | XP 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 Not easy. Got it. I jerk my head in a quick nod at Dexen's observation, keeping my eyes on the sentients with the blasters. My own blaster, a compact CZ-109, in my left hand and not aiming at anyone in particular. So lets review, 6 hostiles, likely a crew, after my target. This guy's a counterfeiter, a scum chucker no doubt, but he probably doesn't deserve the nastiness these folks plan for him. I sigh mentally, and mumble under my breath..."Easy is not for a Jedi..." without much enthusiasm. Mind and body are one as I find my center, my lightsaber appearing in my right hand from under my jacket as if magnetically drawn there. I leap into action. With a snap-hiss that seems loud in the cramped "bar" a blazing amethyst blade of light projects from my saber, I fling myself across the room to shield Izzo. I fire several blaster bolts toward (but not at) the others, hoping to distract and confuse their aim, as I raise my saber in a basic Form 3 guard. Perform a heroic feat 7 Rescue Izzo from danger
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Feb 2, 2017 10:44
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Emenwe Cho Her eyes track the hand-off of the dataslate, "This will be satisfactory. She gives a curt nod, maybe looking a little too stern and severe in an effort to mask how pleased she is with herself. "By all means, enjoy the rest of your evening." Each of the clients is seen off with a similar wellwishes - though she permits herself a smile to Plogg - that smile that says 'rent is taken care of.' When they've all left, she turns and looks out the window, taking in the familiar sight of the golden orange cloud banks beyond the lip of the station. She waits until they've all safely gone. Then waits a bit longer still, on account of the Bith's keen senses. Satisfied enough time has passed, she snaps back around and dances lightly up the steps back toward the desk and the 'protocol' droid, "We're in, we're in, we're in!" Abandoning the pretense of her coreward accent, she slaps her hands to either side of C3's and fixes his ocular sensors to hers, or her eyes anyway. Same thing. "A solid turn for clients like that and we're made, mate." She stops and lifts her chin, closing her eyes, "Legitimate consulting contracts. Drawing in credits for putting people together, dispensing opinions." None of that awful work like, making things, or performing real services, or endangering oneself. And yet... Em's shoulders sink, and her brain begins to do that thing C3 knows, catching sight of something else she wants, and is already beginning to figure out how to get her way, "Wonder how long we could string that out for. How many creds ya think we pull in, few cycles doing that number, ay?" She shakes her head clear of whatever further plans she'd been dreaming up, "Right, we gotta get started. Jedi's skulking around after some penny ante bounty down south," south meaning more down than actually south - she means the lower levels. "Ring down to the clone's workshop, man'll be running our aft." She puts a nail to her teeth thoughtfully. "Crew coming into town will mean new people, getting new gear. If they're this good, then good gear. Need someone who sees someones like that, right..." She rambles on to herself, trying to piece together the beginnings of the crew she'd promised her clients she already had well in hand. Sorry my posts keep coming out so long Ambivalent fucked around with this message at 13:26 on Feb 2, 2017 |
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Feb 2, 2017 13:24
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Dexen Gellar Power: +2 Savvy: -1 Nerve: +2 Faith: -1 Harm: 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 'A little more intense than I would have done, but I can make this work' Dexen thinks to himself as Javi explodes into action. Without hesitating the pilot pulls his DC-17 and levels it straight at the gotal woman's head. "CALM DOWN!" He bellows before any of the thugs can do something that would get him and Javi killed, his voice amplified by his helmet's speakers. The cramped room is quiet for a moment, broken only by the hum of Javi's saber and the blubbering of Izzo. "Here's the deal. My friend over there, the one who's about two seconds from turning the whole lot of you into a pile of limbs? He has official rights to claim Plasso here as a bounty, and that means the scumbag is coming with us so we can get our money. And I guarantee you that whatever Plasso did or whatever he owes you isn't worth taking a one-way trip to the morgue over." Dexen keeps his voice as steady as his aim and gives his words a moment to sink in before adding one final thing. "But I tell you what, we don't really care what happens to him after we drop him at the bounty office. I'm sure you lot have somebody on the inside that can beat whatever it is you want out of him for you once he gets thrown in the brig." ___________ First, a Dont Get Cocky move: Result 12 Then a Make An Impression move to convince the group of thugs to let us take Izzo now and get him later: Result
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Feb 2, 2017 19:10
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VP The mechanical irises whir as VP concentrates on the hardline. "ANALYSIS: Electrical signal from cable should initiate shutdown from annex control room. STATUS: I am equipped with electrical arc tools. ADVISORY: Please standby." A fourth arm unsheathes a powerful arc welder for work on starship engines which stabs forward to short circuit the elevator controls through the hardline cable. VP's head swivels to look at Starro. "ANALYSIS: You do not appear comfortable. INTERROGATION: Would you like me to edit the conversation so that it was my idea?" -- Would this be a heroic feat? Happy for you to roll for me.
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Feb 2, 2017 23:35
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Freight Elevator KF281, Disposal Model Once the panel is exposed, VP's manipulators go to work snipping, disassembling, and generally making a muck of what must have been some Ugnaught's hard work. Just as the visible cables are about to stretch out of reach, the droid manages to wrench a vibrator coupling out of its housing with a loud KTHUNK. The effect is immediate. At once, the conveyor freezes amid mechanical grinding and groaning echoing loudly throughout the shaft. Several smaller hunks of scrap go tumbling off the edges of each platform as they come to a violently-sudden stop, with one piece of slag coming dangerously close to shaving off Relay's arm on their way down. The most immediate danger passes, but VP's work - compared to the probe's usual portfolio - was rushed and imprecise. Something sparks and sizzles unhappily, behind the now-decommissioned cables. Vonkers Javi springs into action, and the thugs aren't caught flatfooted. Six blasters begin opening fire wildly, mostly in a pyramid of red streaks aimed directly for Izzo as the hunter closes the distance between him and his target. In one hand, his own pistol answers the volley with its own shots, but it's not enough to completely scatter his foes. In the other, his blade comes to life with an air-piercing crackle. A simple turn of his wrist turns the lightsaber's solitary blade into a series of wide, fanning arcs which anticipate and react to the blasterfire - bolts which would have put Izzo in the ground instead rebound harmlessly, showering their assailants. "Bukuta no freego Jedi!" a quarren roars in an undecipherable dialect before tumbling to the ground to avoid the deflected shots. The gotal street captain gives a horizontal chop with her arm, and six blaster noses all dip downward at once. "He ain't no Jedi, you superstitious squid," she growls. Her eyes - round, golden orbs with irises like black grains suspended dead in their center - stay locked onto Dexen's visor as he speaks. The gotal's expression remains firm until she spares a glance to compare her band with the lightsaber-wielding bounty hunter who looks very much like a Jedi and his armored companion. Her flat lips curl up in consideration, then her shoulders relax, "And this one ain't no busker. Blasters down, boys, we ain't no good to the boss dead." Her tone is slightly defeated, but those eyes never leave Dexen, standing there with his chest puffed out, in that distinctive flight suit, daring to stand between a lightsaber and an array of blasterfire. The killers, one-by-one, holster their weapons. "Now tell your buddy to stand down, and we'll just head off, all peaceful like. You're not wrong. We can always catch up to ol' Izzo later." She glances over Javi's shoulder at the xexto with a toothy smile. Since VP is specifically trying to malfunction or break something, that's a destroy something roll: [17:16] <tincanmademan> .roll 2d6-1 [17:16] <skybot> tincanmademan: 7 (2d6-1=5, 3) VP selects one of the following: On a 7-9, it’s still broken, but pick one of these: ● Blowback from it affects you personally. Take a complication. ● You cause significant collateral damage. ● It’s only temporarily shorted out, unstable or disrupted, not totally broken. Javi succesfully protects Izzo from taking any harm! Dexen's impression roll causes the gang to back off, but he now has the complication (Marked). Word's gonna spread, and Dexen now takes disadvantage whenever trying to go incognito on Cloud City's underworld; additionally, he may have attracted some undue attention from this street captain and whichever organization she works for
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Feb 3, 2017 02:47
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Starro Starro keeps her balance surprisingly well as the elevator lurches to a stop, hands fanning out, knees bending to roll with the impact. Her low centre of gravity helps her out in spots like this. "No, it's okay, VP." Her voice, outwardly bluff, has perhaps a hint of guilt at how faithfully self-effacing the probe droid is. "It's not really germane." She flashes it a scraggly smile, embarrassed. She huffs out breath, leans her knee against a scrap heap and, rat-agile, goes up it on hands and knees until she can almost reach the underside of the next platform. Her palms and knees dodge jagged protrusions like flowing water moves around rocks, or more aptly for Starro, like oxygen moves around heavy tibanna gas. Still, she ends up panting at the top of the heap. The heat is getting to her. She stretches out one arm and with a fisted hand knocks and probes at the underside of the lift platform, checking for give or a hollow resound. Starro places her trust in the fact that there's normally an access hatch on the underside of these. .roll 2d6 <skybot> 8 (2d6=4, 4) With her one hold, Starro's faith in the well-worn architecture of Cloud City allows her to pull off something that seemed impossible. Android Blues fucked around with this message at 10:26 on Feb 3, 2017 |
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Feb 3, 2017 10:15
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Relay The rocking platform pitches Relay off his feet backwards, and he lands right on the edge of the platform. The rusty orange podracer engine that tumbles off the platform above them - the thought what crazy nerfherder wants to make money off podracing inside an atmospheric station zips through his mind - misses his outstretched arm by a couple inches. Grunting, he grabs the edge of the platform, refusing to panic, and manages to climb to his feet. It was embarrassing, he had spent enough time on starships that he should have kept his balance. He wasn't sure Starro had even noticed the jolt. VP, of course, didn't have feet to get thrown out from under him. While the urchin climbs up the now-unmoving wall, Relay shoves a packing crate closer to VP's handiwork. "Nice job, frim fram," he says, impressed. Climbing up on the crate, he jams his hands into the sparking, smoldering mass of cable. It's a stretch, but it's a standard line that he knows by feel. Twisting one set of cables together, he ignores the low voltage that suddenly jumps through his arms. "Hey, Starro!" he yells. It wasn't much quieter even with the elevators off, the melt pit below continues to emit a hungry roar. "We're gonna start moving again, so watch it!" He pauses. "In the right direction, I mean!" Relay improves the platform: 2d6+2: 7. My Outlaw Tech gives me two holds, so depending on what VP wants to do, I will repair it and alter the juryrig to let us move us back up, then return it to normal function.
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Feb 3, 2017 13:16
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Starro "Sounds amazing, Relay!" calls Starro back, gaily. If that's happening, then they don't need to dog-frog it up the lift compartments at all. That being the case... Starro searches her feelings with the question: What is the most valuable component/object I can reach and take with me? .roll 2d6+3 9 (2d6+3=4, 2) She picks "the answer is direct". Android Blues fucked around with this message at 16:30 on Feb 3, 2017 |
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Feb 3, 2017 13:48
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Starro "Hey, where'd you learn to do all this stuff, anyway?" Starro's voice takes a detour into the curious as, staring deeply into the guts of the access hatch and fiddling with its wires, she addresses Relay indirectly. She goes a little hushed. "Were you in the Rebel Alliance?" As a Bespin native and a denizen of the lower levels, Starro doesn't know much about politics except for the fact that the Emperor used to be able to breathe fire and a guy called General Skywalker stabbed him in the heart.
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Feb 3, 2017 13:55
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Relay "Yeeeaaah," Relay says slowly as he works. "Something like that. Spent a lot of time in the... the war. Come on, you stupid thing..."
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Feb 4, 2017 02:43
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Starro "Did you ever meet Princess Leia?" Starro's tone has gone from reverent to canny now that she's wormed her way into Relay's would-be confidence.
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Feb 4, 2017 10:55
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Relay "Do I look like the kind of guy who gets to hang out with princesses?"
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Feb 4, 2017 17:54
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Starro "He's not denying it, VP. You notice that?" Starro laughs very slightly as she tugs inadvisably on a power coupling.
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Feb 4, 2017 18:16
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Starro "Anyway, if you did meet her I just wanted to know what she was like," adds Starro, sniffing a little - not out of disdain, but because she actually has a cold and carbon vapour is getting in her lungs. "Plus, I don't know what guys who hang out with princesses look like. But I do know rebels don't look fancy, so that's why I thought you could be a rebel. Plus, you're smart and good at things, and no-one around here is smart and good at things except for me." "And VP," she adds, after a pause.
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Feb 4, 2017 18:23
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VP With a little hiss, the repulsors keeping VP afloat shift and smoothly slide him aside so Relay can work better on the cables. "REGRET: My haste to resolve the situation has not be satisfactory. ANALYSIS: Short circuiting the power should allow us, now, 48.3 seconds to reverse our descent before auxiliaries reroute the connections and the engine reactivates. RECOMMENDATION: The blue wire? ADDITIONAL: Please tell me and Starro about Rebels and Princesses." -- I will say that the short circuit is only temporary, more temporary than VP was intending.
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Feb 5, 2017 00:53
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Relay "All right," the old soldier says irritably, still elbow-deep in trash reclamation wiring. "I met her once, if you can call it that. After the war, there was a lot to do, and she was at the head of it all. But wherever she went, the first thing she did was meet with... with people in the Alliance. I was at this orbital station, a big thoroughfare, helping redo the IFF signal system for recognizing ship traffic - the Empire had turned it into this convoluted, bureaucratic mess based on a... nevermind, it was a mess, and I was fixing it." "She came striding through the place, and everyone was jumping up to salute her. She spoke with my CO about what was going on, our progress and our plans, then went around, thanking everyone. Including me. She looked me right in the eyes, and shook my hand, not caring that it was coated with anti-ox grease, and said 'thank you'. She was... yeah, she was beautiful. Just like everyone says. But you could tell she didn't care. She was there to pick up the pieces of the republic, to put them back together, and still made time to make sure the people that fix engines and charge blaster batteries were appreciated for their part in the war. She was beautiful, sure, but she was there to work, and get galaxy spinning again. That part is what I remember about her." "She told me thank you, and then she moved on to the next person. That's all." With a wretched rumble of gears, the platform starts to move upwards, instead of downwards. The box under Relay's feet wobbles tenuously, and a fresh rain of trash falls from the edges of the platform into the pit below. He gives a long sigh of relief. "Now we're getting somewhere."
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Feb 5, 2017 02:48
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Starro Starro listens raptly, turning around and sitting monkey-lizard style on top of the heap of unstable scrap, one hand holding on to a cluster of wires she's pulled out of their housing from the ceiling of the elevator, a sort of handlebar for the ascent. "That's a great story," she says, clearly lost in imaginings of the royal figure she barely knows anything about other than the fact that she's a princess and she's important. She sniffs again, turning back to her work, getting ready to snap loose some valuables in case they have to leap off the elevator in a hurry. "I knew you were gloss, Relay." This is spoken with self-assured satisfaction rather than in the tone of a compliment. "What do you think, VP? Pretty cool?"
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Feb 5, 2017 12:14
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Starro knew Cloud City - heck, ask a few of the folks in the lower rings who know here well enough, they'll tell you she is Cloud City. The scrappy urchin bangs the heel of her palm on the underside of the other elevator, hoping - knowing - that some fastidious engineer put an ugnaught-sized access hatch there. It takes a minute, but eventually one of the panels gives against her insistent bangings. It swings open with a satisfying, rusty, creak just as Relay finishes his story. The clone works quickly, in the tight window VP predicts, with confidence and mastery. This is pulled apart, that is re-wired and re-soldered, and the other thing gets yanked out entirely; when the deed is done, the elevator conveyor sputters, chugs, then comes roaring back to life - this time, moving in the opposite direction. The air gets gradually less heady and suffocating as they ascend, and, though the waste reclamation crews may wake up tomorrow to find a backed-up workload, they won't have to be digging bones out of the smelter. As they reach the access hatch which leads back to the city proper, Starro does a quick hunt of her memory for anything possibly left behind or worth snatching on the way out - an instinct no underfoot should let go untrained - but among the droid parts and decommissioned game tables, the only thing she can think of is the imitation chain. The thing was a forgery, but a well-made one, and those were valuable on their own. The chain's electronics, higher quality than one would expect for a bit of cosmetics, might also be worth something if they were dug out and identified.
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Feb 5, 2017 20:26
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Starro "There isn't even any live batteries on this thing. Looks like the lighting went out eons ago." Starro pokes her head through the access hatch like a mole emerging from the ground, and takes a view of the swaying underneath of the next carriage up. "Kind of a shame!" She has to holler to make herself heard with her head stuck outside the car. "If you can get a battery with charge, Grollo Shaz on level three usually swaps you some bread for it." She swings back into the carriage, feet propped on the precarious scrap pile as her arms brace inside the access hatch. "That's a good tip if you're gonna live here, by the way."
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Feb 5, 2017 20:57
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Javi 0/5 Harm | XP 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 I holster my blaster, and deactivate my lightsaber almost as quickly as it came to life, though I don't put it away just yet. The confines of this wretched bar seem even more oppressive in the stillness. I catch the Gotal's eyes and hold them in a hard stare but say nothing. Dexen's got things under control, and Dex knows I'll never let these Shkwa'a have their way with Izzo, and he knows that I know he says what he needs to gain leverage when he plays negotiator like this.
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Feb 5, 2017 21:54
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Dexen Gellar Power: +2 Savvy: -1 Nerve: +2 Faith: -1 Harm: 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 "Excellent," Dexen says as he holsters his blaster and steps backwards next to Izzo and grabs the back of the cretin's neck. "then we'll just be taking what's ours and heading out on our way." Without further word the pilot leads the counterfeiter forcefully out of the shuttle/bar and out into the open passages of the station. "So where are we taking this piece of slime?" Dexen asks.
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Feb 6, 2017 16:02
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C-3D8 Power +1 Savvy +2 Nerve +0 Faith -1 Harm: 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 The unexpected outburst of emotion is surprising for Seethree, who doesn't quite know how to react. After doing his best impression of a protocol droid -- by standing there and not speaking, almost a parody -- he'd nearly forgotten that she did this for pleasure, not for any particular cause. The group seemed to him the usual sort of middle scum, the sort who played those only slightly less fortunate than they in the hopes of begging succor from those above. Perhaps not quite as bad as those who ruled the world, but still dangerous because they were convinced that they would, one day, become the elite, and would fight and kill for any advantage that led them upwards. It would be pleasurable to take their money. "Yes, they did seem to take that quite well." And, after a sensor sweep to confirm that there were no bugs or other listening devices left behind. "Now, how are we going to pull it off? I don't wish to be the one doing all the dirty work again, like back on Coutr Prime, with Hom Han Sok and the Chasque Association." He briefly does some tabulations in his electronic brain. "Shall we head down personally, or just send out invitations? I should think the former, as it would look to anyone following us that we were merely collecting those we already had. However, sending messages does convey a sense of power and strength as well. Though who knows if they will be answered." Sorry, missed that the thread had started!
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Feb 6, 2017 16:30
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Relay Relay groans as he hauls himself through the hatch. He didn't have the youthful vigor of Starro or even levitators like VP. Crawling around garbage chutes and almost getting deep-fried seemed more like something young Relay should have been doing. He climbs to his feet and brushes off grime off his patchwork coveralls. "That was wonderful, really," he says flatly. He glances around the barren bay, used as a dumping ground for useless scrap and parts by the adjacent repair shops and machinists. He digs the jewel set out of his pocket, bouncing it in his hand. "Now what? I don't think this thing is worth much, but I'd rather get it off my hands. You know someone willing to pay a few creds for it?" Maybe it doesn't matter, but I was hoping one of my holds could go to returning the elevators to moving in the right direction once we were out.
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Feb 7, 2017 01:59
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Beings About Town C-3 and Cho consider the known and unknown vectors of the job, think of who's still on station and dependable, and draft up a list of names. They catch up to Javi and Dexen at Mist Relay, a suite on 172 where New Republic officials handle legal bounties, issues of border dispute, and various other legal niceties which a new government has to handle with it's far-off territories. The way the buttoned-up drones there tell it, the office used to be a depot and checkpoint for the Rebellion during the Imperial Occupation and went legit after the Battle of Endor, but the place looks far more suited to holding massive amounts of paperwork more than munitions and malcontents. The two men had just finished signing off on the custody transfer for a truly-frightened looking xexto, who appeals once to C-3 and twice to Cho to bust him out. Relay, VP, and Starro are found much quicker than expected - none of the three had a traditional port of call, and Cloud City's lower levels could swallow an outsider up if they searched around for too long. Their clothes (and VP's shell) are a little singed, and the three together have enough filth on them that if you scraped it off, it'd make a fourth, but not much worse for wear beyond that. The details, such that they are, are shared. Agreements are made. C-3 contacts Yoolee D'an's droid - a chirpy administrative assistant model - and the final meet is scheduled. A Taste of Cerulean - Level 5 For some, it's the closest they've ever gotten to the Concourse. Even for Cho, it's a world away from the Zephyr. Here on the single-dijjes, sentients dressed nice, spoke politely, and everything was polished a shiny white or chrome. A Taste of Cerulean - a Gleebo's Guide 5-Star Recommend, as the sign so proudly boasts - had fine food, live jizz, and, important for their purposes, booths and parlors with glittering spiceweave privacy curtains. Yoolee D'an wanted to impress her new contractors, or else didn't feel like venturing too far outside her neighborhood twice in one week. The bith makes it clear she's picking up the check, and orders a bottle of Byssian Sherry and a Kloog'dar '32 for the table, with glasses for Cho, Relay, Javi, and Dexen. Starro and the droids get an apologetic, but firm, shrug. "Kayzander's friends in the Bureaucracy got back to us this morning," D'an explains once the toydarian waiter zips away with their orders. She reaches into her robes to produce a rolled belt of interlocking datapads and splays them out on the table. Her finger slides along each's surface to summon a set of four holographic profile images, each one stamped with PROPERTY OF IMPERIAL PROCESSING - CRIMINAL AND INSURGENCY. D'an goes in order, from left to right, beginning with a bulky droid that's more torso than it is anything else, a boomerang-shaped head buried deeply in its shoulders. C-3 and Relay recognize it immediately as a B-2 super battle droid, the heavier more fearsome cousin of the B-1 "clanker". Its chrome exterior had been painted over with blocky camouflage, its clamshell manipulators replaced with a heavy blaster unit and a more dextrous-looking claw attachment. "First, with the most obviously-identifiable of the group," D'an explains, squinting her tremendous eyes to read off her own dataslate, "Designation B-2-X2181F. The conventional muscle-" she considers the term, then amends with an overly-polite nod to C-3 and VP, "fiber of the group. Found in a Techno Union," she squints harder at reading that, quite unsure of what such a union was and when, if ever, it existed, "storage facility along with a few other non-activated battalions. According to this, a crime syndicate in Boka Tan had the droids fight each other for sport and, when that grew boring, sold them to various fringe interests. It's unclear how it came into the possession of these other crooks, but it's important enough to their operations or sentimentality that they made a point to take it off the scrapping belt when they made their escape from Imperial custody. Not likely to do much infiltrating, despite its cosmetics." "Then the least-obvious," Yoolee's finger indicates the wrinkled, grey face of a clawdite - shapeshifting aliens who were no stranger to the Outer Rim. At her urging, the holo expands into a dozen other faces from a variety of other species, each one unrecognizable from the other. "Imperial records and Kayzander's fringe contacts have her name as Jool Jeetoq. Countless other aliases. Confidence woman, fraud artist, biological shapeshifter," D'an flicks to another entry on her dataslate, "Oh. She's been to Cloud City. Three years before the war, she was running a rather myriad embezzlement scheme at Incom's Bespin offices. Their internal security forwarded the documents to us at FL-SH's request. Incom was quite under the impression that they had killed her, but one supposes that such a deception does not come without ease to a clawdite." The third holo is of a sullen rodian with wild orange fringes in a 'V' pattern along his skull and a slightly-cleft snout, "Pongeeto. Demolitions, sabotage, and forced-entry. The Empire's and Republic's records on him together span a parsec. His parents were Rodian separatist fighters and, by some accounts, war criminals - scholars seem to disagree based on their individual notion of clone personhood - whose adolescent son is implicated quite heavily in something called the Twik'carmoon Massacre. As an adult, he made an Imperial watchlist when he was caught trying to buy two pounds of baridium off an ISB undercover; his custody transport's thrusters exploded in transit and the shuttle crash-landed on the south side of Karkuu III. The investigator's notes are quite confident on the 'who' in that incident, but completely puzzled at the 'how'," D'an seems either repulsed or impressed - the tonals were similar in Bith. "And their apparent leader, by most reports." the last profile-holo is of a middle-aged woman, either human or zeltron by her coloring, with a sneer so satisfying that the upper corner of her lip nearly touches her follicle-bangs, "Noze Artelias. Smuggler, blockade runner, spice trafficker - your general spacer scum. We all know the type. Commanded a crew of pirates for a few years in the Rishi Maze, so claims Kayzander. However, she's seemingly become quite fond of burglary, in her advanced age. FL-SH noticed that her Imperial records had been revised with a significantly softer connotation by the New Republic; Kayzander's theory about their affiliation, no matter how loose, with former Rebels may be accurate." "And that," Yoolee D'an opens her palms in a wide gesture, "Is the broad extent of our intelligence. Their complete files are for you to peruse," she slides the datapads across the table towards Cho and C-3, "But we still don't know their plans. Some or all of them may be already on the station. They may have one starship, or twelve. They may be funded by rival interests on Zeltros, Clak'dor VII, or Cloud City, itself. They may burgle one, two, or seventeen casinos before they make their egress on, again, means unknown." The bith inhales slowly, "There are an uncomfortable amount of unknown variables. It will be your responsibility to clarify them. All our resources have managed to unearth thus far is a rough timeline indicating that they have already mobilized, and plan to fence or launder their financial gains in Chiss space next week." tin can made man fucked around with this message at 04:02 on Feb 7, 2017 |
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Feb 7, 2017 03:42
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Javi 0/5 Harm | XP 0 Will: 1 Destiny: 1 I sit calmly, sipping my drink and letting all the information sink in. I wait for the others to speak, preferring to listen to their thoughts before expressing my own. This group of sentients is clearly dangerous, and if necessary must be fought, but even our gracious host admits she doesn't have all the facts, my eyes stare at the drink in my hands but lose focus as I open myself to the Force. Search Your Feelings 9 You know what the next and best course of action is
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Feb 7, 2017 05:08
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Javi withdraws from the conversation with a mostly-unnoticeable shift into a gentle fugue. There was a great task ahead of them: four foes, each one formidable alone, joined by greed and perhaps a queer sort of companionship. Javi focuses on the names and faces, and feels negative energies ebb and flow from the phantom of each. Faint images are scrawled into the back of his mind: hails of blasterfire, a droid's chittering death wail, a massive explosion blossoming in the Bespin sky - whether this is the past, the present, the future, or none of them, he cannot tell. All Javi can divine is that the Force connects the visions to these four names and faces, either literally or symbolically. All at once, he feels a great weight of fear or anxiety suddenly carve and pit his stomach; mixed with the savory scents of the kitchen, it's an unsettling feeling. Javi senses that the next and best course of action, for him, is to politely thank Yoolee for dinner and Cho for her consideration, hail a freighter heading towards the Core, and stay far, far away from Noze Artelias and her crew of robbers. Javi takes the complication (Shaken), his concentration and resolve having been affected by the mystery and malice he felt within the Force
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Feb 7, 2017 05:56
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