Another thought occurs to him while he's searching for the names. "Um, guys... we may want to see if we can trade in this big ole lady for something else... even if it means we get into a smaller set-up. Someone hired these idiots to come take out the facility where we woke up. I'm thinking - knowing what we just learned about all of our pasts - that its a safe bet to think they might know who we are. If this same ship shows up on the facility - with just us on it - I'm thinking that'll raise a few red flags. We need to either disguise this ship and get it a new transponder, or we need to get into a new rig. I wouldn't mind scrapping this girl and getting something a bit more useful given the size of our team." As he's talking, he splits off one of the screens to begin a search for stations that are likely to have the necessary level of scum-to-official ratio as well as a potential black market for ships, weapons, and skills-for-hire.
Use Computer 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23.
Desh leans back in the comfortable captain's chair, two thick hands pressing to his face as he groans. "Great... of all the Hutt-lovin', dust-covered, ass-end-of-nowhere pieces of floating space sh!t... guys, the only place to pick up extra crew and do any purchases is Tattooine. Well, if we're gonna do this, lets be a prepared as possible. Farmboy, Six... when you two are done playin' with your toys, I could use a hand getting information from that scaly mechanic as well as getting all the gear ready to sell."
Okay, here's my plan, and I don't know how much time we have til we hit Tattooine, so I'll list these prep activities in order of priority. I'm happy to just handle these at high-level so we can hopefully pick up our new players sooner rather than later. I'd love to hear what Six and Jerrn wanna do, too.
The Trandosian Mechanic
First, I think we need to get all the information we can out of the Trandosian. Who is he? What does he know about the mission his crew just failed? What does he know about the situation on the mining facility over Bespin? But more specifically what does he know about the employer and the Mob organization. Any recent knowledge may be helpful as we try to get back aboard.
If he's resistant to tell us, Desh will gladly pay him a couple thousand credits for walking money as we let off on Tattooine, tell him we're not really interested in hurting him if he helps, but if he continues to not speak, it could WILL get physical... fast.
Persuasion (to intimidate the guy into talking) 1d20 ⇒ 13. If one of you two wanna take lead on this thing, be my guest, but at least provide an AA roll.
Organize our lootz
Jerrn & Six, what do we want to do here? Liquidate this stuff along with our ship and try to get unique gear/ship for us? Or keep all this and the ship while we pick up any specific gear we want as well as our two new teammates? One thought about this big ship is that we could find an out-of-the-way asteroid belt in the middle of nowhere and park her there, leaving all this mechanical equipment… turn off her transponder and then use it as a safe-house for when things go bad.
Twenty credit chips each containing an average of 75 credits each. (1500 cr)
heavy blaster pistol w/ targeting scope - Six takes this? Or did you use the scope in the making of your custom gun?
Rack of Gaming chips from "Royale Casino" - 50,000 cr value
Note from the employer
Three tool kits
One power generator
15 energy cells
34 power packs
A rack of a dozen power rechargers
Two medical kits
One crate of 144 medpacs
Fifteen crates of 144 ration packs
Three binder cuffs (attached to bunks)
Two field kits
Three partly disassembled swoop-bikes (looks like they were in the middle of being fixed)
One new swoop bike in pieces in a shipping crate
One complete mechanics workshop
Three Swoop bikes (one with sidecar)
Seven hip holsters
Double-Pulsewave Repeater w/ Power Pack Generator
Nine pulse wave pistols
Three pulse wave rifles
Five ion carbines
11 vibroblades - Desh would keep at least 2 of these
One cross-pattern vibroblade backsheath
One vibrobayonet - I'm calling dibs on this. :)
One double vibroblade - sell
One Zhaboka [kotor] - sell
One Arg’garok [kotor] - sell
Six sets of Fiber armor [kotor] - Desh will want one of these
One set of weave armor [kotor] - might as well keep this, too, unless we need the cash
Additionally, we need to have a shopping list when we hit town… we shouldn't plan on staying on Tattooine long if we can help it.
Vibro-axe - that was a nice weapon to have when Desh needed it.
Grenades? - any specific requests?
Blaster Carbines - probably all black-market and crazy expensive given what Camris said before, but it is worth looking into.
Any specific armors anyone wants/needs?
Any gear we're lacking? Bracer computers or anything?
Intimidate Assistance: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
I vote to sell as much as we can and buy a unique ship/ships. I think a light freighter is probably best, as it's a floating home, while starships are a little cramped for long voyages. However, we could always buy some cheap starships and either store them in the hold or attach them to the hull for hyperspace travel.
All the possessions that Jerrn needs are some changes of clothes, his lightsaber (YAY!) and maybe a droid to assist in astrogation/mechanics.
Okay, cool. I just talked to Six's player yesterday offline, and it sounds like he's still engaged.. .just going through some job interview transition stuff. I'd suggest we just move forward, and let Six catch up when he's got more time.
I just hate to make the two new players wait any more than they have to.
That in mind, I say we move this thing forward to Tatooine, with the goal being to search out new teammates, check into the possibility of a better-suited ship for us, and then sell off any equipment on that list we don't think is necessary. I think a lot of this will be dependent on how much money we can get for our current big but beat up ship as well as what is available on Tatooine.
Also, it'd be nice to know what info we could get out of the Trandosian.
"Tattooine... what a dump! Still, it's a good place to lay low, when you need to. I think I'll see to the swoops, while you two have a chat with Ugly, in there."
I'm no good with Persuasion, so I guess you two had better take care of interrogating the Trandoshan.
Taking a look at the swoop bikes, Six sets to fixing them up as best as possible. Sifting through the spare parts, he tries assembling a gimble mount on the sidecar, for attaching the heavy repeater.
His military training and defensive instincts still sharp, he works with blasters close to hand. Don't want to go down like that Trando, after all..."
Mechanics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10 Hmm. I may be in here for a while...
After consulting with Desh and Six, Jerrn will head to the hold where the Trandoshan is currently housed. He'll take with him food, water and clean clothes.
He openly wears his lightsaber now, proudly. "You know what this is? This means Ah'm a Jedi, which means Ah'm disinclined to kill people outright. Ah'd much rather have a peaceable sort of discussion with ya, and come to a mut'ly agreeable conclusion, right? So Ah brought you some clothes and food. Now, here's the way it is: we're headin' to Tatooine. We're plannin' on sellin' this here ship and walkin' away with a new one. Yer welcome to walk away too. Heck, we'll even throw in one of them swoops, too. All you gotta do is answer my questions without lyin' to me and when we get to Tattooine, you walk away, free and alive. Got me?"
Persuasion: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13
The journey will take 2-3 weeks, but there is plenty of fuel and consumables.
Somebody needs to make the Astrogation check (Use Computer DC15).
After a couple of false starts, Six has the remaining swoop racers in passable shape, and the sidecar now has a proper quick release universal gimbal mount for the heavy repeater. A little paint, a little polish, and they'll fetch a good price if you want to sell.
The ship itself is another story. Years of neglect show; systems are out, corrosion is obvious, some section lighting is on the blink entirely. One reason the voyage takes so long is the hyperdrive has to be babied. Getting a good price for the ship will require everyone who can wield a hydrospanner to work like dogs.
Everyone with Mechanics ranks make a roll please.
Meanwhile, down in the improvised brig...
1d20 ⇒ 9
The Trandoshan, clearly having tried to tear his way out from the inside seems about to attack Jerrn before Desh came in to back him up.
He sullenly sits back down on his bunk.
1d20 ⇒ 6
1d20 ⇒ 13
1d20 ⇒ 1
The Trandoshan is as tough as his people's reputation, and it takes most of a day to wear him down. For his name, it's easy; he blares it out to anyone who'll listen "Bardak Trak". As to who the crew was, they were the "Death's Head Riders" and he makes many threats about how they'll track you and your whole family, etc. etc. The last takes longest, gutting it out as long as he does. As for what they were doing; they were hired by someone only Bones knew on Bespin. Take these weapons and plant them around this place on a map out in the middle of nowhere, and blow it to hell.
This idiot doesn't know anything.
The Trandoshan's threat brings a rumbling chuckle from Desh, and he steps forward, putting the blade away, "Listen, Bardak, I've heard trandoshans aren't all that smart as a race, and I can see that you're particularly stupid even for what you are, so I'll break this down as simple as I can. We've left a smoking heap of everyone and everything that has come after us since we woke up on that facility.. ya know, the one your crew tried to blow up." He puts a dismissive air-quote around the word 'crew'. "You behave, and you'll walk off this hunk-a-junk ship when we get planet-side. You keep threatening us or give us any grief, we'll drop hyper and space you with the rest of the trash on this old lady. And if I think for a second you're trying to put more heat on us… if more of your Riders ever show up, if there's anything strange waiting for us in Bespin, if I ever hear the words Bardak and Trak used in the same sentence, hell… if I ever catch a whiff of your stomach-turnin' stench again… I will make it my personal religion to see you put down." He crosses his arms and matches stares with the scaly thug, letting the threat hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing.
"We're keeping your broke-ass ship and everything on it except you and the swoop Jerrn promised you. When you leave this ship, either on Tatooine or through the air-lock, I expect never to hear about you again. I'd say don't disappoint me, but I'm kinda hopin' to get to cut you up." The last is said with a dark smile and he walks back out, clapping Jerrn on one meaty shoulder on the way by, "Come on, Farmboy. This guy doesn't know anything. Let's get some grub."
If you want a Persuasion for any of that, here ya go. 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9.
Otherwise, I can't think of anything else to try to get from this guy.
The rest of the trip to Tatooine is a nightmare of electrical and mechanical problems that you could ignore if you liked; just sit back and relax. But if you don't, you won't get a good price. Thus, the whole trip is an endless procession of broken fresher units, inter hull plumbing, turret misalignment, broken running lights, corrosion repairs, broken artificial grav plates, sticky landing gear, smoking auxiliary power generator, etc. etc.
By the end of the trip three weeks later, you're beaten and exhausted, looking forward to a nice firefight.
The ship is actually looking and acting passable now. If you only had the paint to dress it up...
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Eventually, the sandy beige/brown globe looms into view.
Orbiting a Red/White double star system way out in the Outer Rim, Tatooine is an desert planet rich in mineral wealth and dotted with cities, villages and moisture farms. The native Tusken Raiders are violent, and the Jawas will steal everything not nailed down.
Far from more civilized worlds, the Hutt crime lords impose a kind of peace, but many criminals, fugitives and desperados still make their way here.
The main spaceport is Mos Eisley. You are a little big to land in town proper, so the port director has you land on a dry lake outside the city limits, marked for large cargo vessels like several others here.
Pilot check DC15.
When the big ship finally drops into place on the dry lake-bed, Desh lets out a loud sigh of relief. "Honestly, I'm just glad the atom-thrusters all stayed in sync. Good job on the repair guys. I didn't think it would come together this well." He takes a quick look around at the other ships docked in the area before standing up, already thinking through what sort of small arsenal he's going to be comfortable taking with him into this scum-hole-of-a-port-town.
With the Hutts in charge, what level of armament would be too much? Could Desh walk around fully armed (as in blades and that repeater) and not raise eyebrows? Or should he stick to something less visible (a pulse-wave pistol at his hip and a few vibro-blades)? Don't want to start off on the wrong foot in this place.
Just having a little fun here…
Scene cuts to an interior shot of one of the ship's poorly-lit bunks, the camera is set on what appears to be a bench with a very tight depth of field so the rest of the room is blurred out.
A big biker boot slams down on the bench inches in front of the camera, and a vibro knife is jammed into its boot-sheathe by a scarred yellow hand.
Cut to super-tight shot of a heavily muscled yellow chest. The same yellow hand fastens the top clasp on some heavily worn Fiber Armor.
Cut to a tight shot of a black-gloved yellow hand holding a pulse-wave pistol. A power pack is slammed home into the grip. The ammo read-out switches from red to green with a satisfying BWEEEEEEeeeeeee.
Cut to tight shot of a broad back clad in Fiber armor. The Feeorin shrugs on a rugged black leather vest with the words "Death's Head Riders" in a stamped-letter semi-circle half-encircling a wicked looking alien skull with smoking bullet-holes between the eyes. The camera zooms out slowly - long enough for the Feeorin to stretch his back and roll his shoulders. Then he camera swings quickly and furiously around to the front of the Feorin before it quickly zooms out with a rushing sound.
Desh stands in his dim, smoky bunk, fully decked out in swoop gang leathers and fiber armor, weapons hanging from him. He slides his vibro-bayonette slowly into its vertical sheathe on his chest harness while he bends his head to the side, his thick-muscled neck letting out a loud POP. His lips part into a slow smile around a smoking cigar and he finishes by sliding on a pair of ultra-black sun-shades over his red eyes.
"Let's do this."
Desh is locked, loaded,and ready to roll. Armored and geared up, not taking any heavy weapons. Just a pulse-wave rifle, pistol and blades. He's also going to take a handful of cred-sticks to pay off any thug enforcers who bother them about licenses. He's not interested in causing any unnecessary trouble.
As you are getting ready to disembark, you hear a throaty roaring even through the armored hull. Checking viewscreens, you see a series of swoop bikes circling your ship, all the riders heavily tattooed, pierced and muscled, all various species, all wearing black fiber armor liberally adorned with silver spikes and all flying black flags.
All sixty of them.
They circle you twice in an intimidating manner, then break off and sail on down the line towards the walls of Mos Eisley.
Those of you in the Bounty Hunter line of work often keep track of incoming ships. You've noticed a big ex-mobile infantry lander inbound matching the description of the Death's Head Riders swoop gang base ship.
There is a 500,000 credit bounty on the lot of them, dead or alive, on delivery to Motta the Hutt's agent at a rendezvou thirty km outside the walls in an out of the way landing zone. Of course, there's forty or so of them.
And as far as you know, you are the only hunter that put the information together. That bounty is as good as yours!
So now you're looking at the ship as it settles down on it's jacks through your electrobinoculars/sniper scope from your place of concealment, spot the Black Flag swoop gang giving its traditional greeting to a rival gang and leave. Now you wonder how the hell you're going to capture forty gangbangers...
Bolt considers the swoop gang through his gun's scope.
He thinks to himself, purring in frustration, But that there are so many of them… Hmmmm, perhaps Baniss knows someone whom I could work with. I guess I could share out five-hundred-thousand credits. Yes, Baniss seems to know most everyone out here. I’ll call Baniss now.
”Hello Baniss. This is Bolt. How are you? I’ve come acrross a big job, a bounty worth enough to save both our hides, Baniss. Five-hundred-thousand credits!
“But maybe, Baniss, maybe it is too big. Therre’s about 40 swoop-gangerrs to take down. I need another gunman, Baniss. Maybe two. Do you know someone who could do it? Someone whom we could trust to share the bounty with, Baniss?”
This lean Cathar continues to watch the ship. He has placed his fate in a good friend. If Baniss can find him someone to work with, he can afford repairs on The Yellow Truck and get off this desert planet.
Baniss tries to hold down a normal conversation over the comm but his Cathar friend speaks to fast and irratically for his to keep up "I'm Ok I gue..., a Jo..., Five Hundred!..., forty gan..., This could get us off this dirty rock! Hmm" There's a pause while Baniss thinks through the posibilities. "Wait there, let me know of further developments and I'll get back to you"
Baniss punches in the contact frequency that Juce has given him to dial when his equipment needs repairs "Juce you there?"
'Death's Head Raiders? Great name. F!++ing amatures.' Juce thinks as he looks at the data running across the screen of his computer. The green-ish light reflects off the face-plate of his blast helmet, the last remains of his mandolorian battle-suit. 'Mobile infantry-lander? Might be worth a look. 500.000 credits!?!? Hell's!' Juce is interrupted in his work by the peep of his comlink.
'The doctor.' "What!?" he barks into his comlink, his voice a hollow metalic clang from inside his helmet. "I'm buisy. Can it wait?"
"Sorry Juce, but I've got an interesting proposition... You may already be all over this but a friend just told me a 500000 bounty just landed in our door step. I was thinking of putting together a team, apparently there's a lot of them. You want in? Equal shares and I'll cancel what you owe me."
Juce pauses a moment before answering. " They'r already hear? Frack! ... Yeah.. I'm interested. There are forty gangers on that crew. How many are you proposing to take them out? If I could sneak on that ship I could turn it into a death-trap, rig the life support, seal the hatches. They be out cold without a shot fired. Who's got eyes on 'em?"
I like your idea, but if you get caught sneaking on board you'll need some back up, My colleague Bolt is out there watching them, with 40 crew I'd imagine their ship is parked on that dry lake just out of port. I'll meet you there if your interested, look for the hairy Cathar, tell him I sent you. I've got one more call to make. Split four ways ok with you?
I'd hate to kill people for money, but I really need to clear this debt and get off this rock
"Four-ways. Sounds good. Let your buddy know I'm coming." he says, clicking off the comlink.
Turning back to his workstation he does a quick search, looking to see if he can find out the model and make of the ship and pull up scematics.
Use Computer 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (5) + 15 = 20
Master Slice trait; re-rolling ---> 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (9) + 15 = 24
Juce gathers up his gear and heads out to meet the cathar, doing his best to avoid any of the hutt's personel en-route. 'Let's hope this is good. I need those credits.'
Stealth 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (8) + 16 = 24
Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
Baniss gives Bolt a quick call to let him know that Juce is on the way. Then gets straight back on the comm to call Jeriko as he gets his gear together and walks out the door. The tiredness present just moments before vanishing as he realises this could be his ticket off Tatooine.
come on Jeriko pick up, Pick up we'll need your blaster skills if we're gonna pull this off
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Oh for the love... I'm coming, I'm coming already!
A rough, scratchy blanket arcs up into the air as a blue skinned twi'lek tosses it aside and grumpily rolls out of his medical cot. He gingerly makes his way across the spartan room to his beeping com unit, careful not to bump or jostle one of his bandaged lekku.
His eyes narrow as he picks up the com then soften in recognition of the caller. Ah, the good doctor.
Jeriko's wry grin is evident in his voice as he answers the comlink, Yessir! You do realize that you interupted the most delightful dream, don't you?
Baniss laughs in-between breaths as he walks down the street, then he says being careful not to speak to loud "Ah but do I have a dream for you! 125000 to help bring in a bounty on some swoop gangers who just landed out of town. Are you in?
Jeriko leans up against the table his comlink was previously laid on as he clips the device around his wrist, listening intently to the doctor. He looks languid and relaxed as he considers what the doctor's told him.
One Twenty Five? Baniss, mah bukee, you and I both know the bounty for the Death's Head Riders is for 500. While 125 is considerable, a 75/25 split is hardly fair. And after all the kolto you've pumped into me... Baniss, I'm hurt! His voice clearly conveys a melodramatic pout with the last line.
"Well, ain't that a show! Suppose they think we're the swoop gangers what owned this thing, hm? Might as well keep up appearance, eh?" Jerrn will prep three of the best running swoop bikes, just in case.
"Oh I'm not dropping the look of the ganger. I just don't know that associating with this crew of idiot low-lifes is best. I didn't realize the gang would have a presence on Tatooine. Now that I know they do, I'm just gonna look like another scum-bag low-life myself... as opposed to one of those scum-bag low-lifes. Know what I mean?"
He tosses the vest aside, re-checking his gear for a final time while snapping his bayonet into place on the rifle. "We ready to roll yet? I don't' wanna stay on this rock any longer than I have to."
”Hello Baniss. This is Bolt. How are you? Have you orrganised things?Please hurrry Baniss, they could head off in several different directions at any time now."
He pauses to allow Baniss a chance to respond, purring in short, impatient rounds. He scratches furiously at his fur behind his ear.
”They seem to be waiting. The ship has landed, Baniss, and the dust has settled, but not one perrson comes out. I will continue waiting because I am well hidden from view, but I am worrried, Baniss, that this bounty will slip away frrom us."
Havent heard from Six in a while. Do we want to wait on him? Or should we continue. Maybe he can be watching the ship?
"I'll go get the Trandoshan." Desh says as he turns back towards the containment cell. "Jerrn, get the swoops prepped."
A few minutes later finds Desh and the Trandoshan mounting their swoops, firing up the thundering engines so they can head into Mos Eisley.
"Oh come on Jeriko, would I do that to you? The Creds are split evenly four ways. There are 40 of them apparently. If we want to corner them in their ship we need to hurry... If you're in, meet me at the dry lake just out side of town."
As he shuts down the comlink the incoming sIgnal sounds, he picks it up and Bolt starts chattering. When Bolt pauses Baniss replies "Ok Bolt, I'm on my way and I've got two others coming. I think we've got a good chance, you remember Juce the mandalorian and Jeriko the swoop racer? We can do this Bolt, we're finally gonna get off this rock!
Baniss hurries on through the sandy streets under he load of all his medical gear with his blaster slapping against his thigh, hoping to make it in time, hoping that Juce and Jeriko make it to.
Six straps on a set of fiber mesh armor, and checks his weapons. "Never much cared for eye contact on this dirt ball - let alone a welcoming committee. "
Following the swoop gang's departure with his rifle scope, Six tracks across the horizon for any other surprises.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
As Baniss responds to his mock-jab at the doctor's intentions, Jeriko smoothly pushes away from the table and casually begins gathering up his belongings. It takes a moment to register the totality of Baniss' reply though, and the comlink has already been cut from the other end when Jeriko blurts out, FORTY?! Doc...? Doc?
For a smart guy, that loca* koochoo** doctor sure can be dumb sometimes. Even if it's a four-way split, he does realize that we'll be outnumbered 10 to 1 doesn't he?
Jeriko shakes his head in amazement and quickly gathers up his things, affectionately dropping Angeline into her holster on his left hip. He gives the blaster a reassuring pat before heading to the door.
As he heads out of the medical ward and makes his way to the dusty streets, a thought strikes him. I wonder who else we're working with on this- ooohhhh no. No no no. I bet it's that kriffing mandalorian. An aggravated sigh escapes his lips as he starts to hustle his way to the rendezvous point.
Why is it always mandalorians?