Round 3 - 1st Action
Now committed to defensive positions, the local hoodlums rain blaster fire into the entrenched members of your team.
- Miss!
- Hit!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Hit!
- Hit!
- Hit!
Party is up!
Greff whirls around to face the hooligan perched on the rooftop, and opens fire. He then goes back to his last target.
Honey begins gathering up the memories around her, mind a-whirr as it seems to manufacture some schematic from the depths of her memories. Where she'd learned to do this is beyond her. The materials available however are defiantly of poorer quality then what she was used to, and her skill falters.
Rel takes full round Dodge
Greff shoots Black on roof
Tavin takes a 5' step and shoots at Blue Girl (sorry no clear shots at that angle, but with a 1 on the wild die your roll is a 3)
Honey tries to assemble a bomb
Greff shoots Guy on parapet
Green Parapet top vs Greff vs 16, Wound!
Under a hail of blaster fire, Mal goes down, but his wounds are not yet grievous. Rel dodges the shot from the guy inside the cantina, narrowly avoiding getting hit. Tavin steps forward but has not unobstructed shots yet; the turned-over tables providing stout cover for those inside. Meanwhile, Honey draws together several items from the workbench, but so far has constructed only the lethal shell of a bomb - she has not yet crafted a detonator for the device.
Greff, go ahead and take your final action of this round.
Rel takes full round Dodge
Round 4
With victory now all but certain, the thugs continue to pour on blaster fire, intent on taking out the rest of you!
- Miss!
- Hit!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Hit!
- Miss!
- Miss!
Party is up!
Then, all of a sudden- It clicked for her. If she adjusted this part here, substitite the reactive isotope with this piece of silicone instead, then if she were to sporadically wrap the thing within a wired shell...
Honey held out the incendiary device, and a thought ran through her circuits. Where the hell did she learn how to make this?
Dodges as an reaction
Moves as an action
Drags Mal down the corridor after the woman.
Not having a clear shot at anything, and not being able to hit much even when he does, Tavin happens to see Honey hold up some creation. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had a feeling he didn't want to be around to see what it was going to do and moves back into the alleyway behind him.
Honey succeeds at making a homemade bomb of unusually high yield.
Rel is stunned by a shot from purple, and runs toward Mal
Greff full dodge
Tavin jostles for position
Mal licks his wounds
For all their collective firepower, these young toughs do little to dissuade you from carrying on the fight. Only one of the shots lands, a grazing burn against Rel that is more of an annoyance than actual pain. Greff sidesteps the one shot that might have otherwise hit him, and seems ready to pour more hot death from his military-grade repeater.
Rel rushes over to where Mal soaked a few good hits from the riff-raff in the rafters, but finds him only wounded, and fully able to act.
Tavin hustles into the shop to find Honey staring at her latest improvisation, a frighteningly lethal-looking device that, at worst, will scare the hell out of these thugs, and at best (or is this the worst?) might level a city block. Only one way to find out.
End of Round 4
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"...I made this thing, but frankly, I'm a little terrified to even handle it. Tavin, care to help a girl out with this?" The cybernetic woman asked, her voice dipping into a synthesized tone of feminine pleading. In her hand, she holds out the dangerously unstable looking device.
Round 5
Despite consistently poor accuracy, the thugs keep shooting. They're winning, after-all, right?
- Hit!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Hit!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
- Miss!
Their blaster fire finds no more purchase than it did in the last barrage. One wonders who's teaching these punks to shoot.
Party is up!
"Sunofa-!" She shouts, as a solid hit tears through the servo motors of her left arm. It's good to know her artificial nerve clusters were working ad intended, at least, because lord almighty does that hurt.
Honey and Tavin: Honey's bomb will function like a grenade; she was able to use some blaster parts to make a crude impact trigger. Because of her success in crafting the weapon, it has properties similar to detonite, with a blast radius of 5/10/15/20 with damage increments 8D/6D/4D/2D. It must be thrown, and either of you could do it although Honey is wounded. Don't forget you have a character point to use and this may be an appropriately dramatic moment, as long as you don't accidentally hit Greff with it.
Rel, you could also take the bomb by moving 5' and then throw it. You would have the most dice to roll for the Grenade skill.
On the ground floor slide I created a text box with a "B" for bomb. Move it to where you want to throw it, and remember to account for cover.
Depending on where you want to throw it the difficulty will be either easy or moderate, DN 8 or 13. If you challenge their cover add 9 to that. Rel gets 4D, and +1D if you use your character point. If you do opt for a shorter toss you will be in range for some of the damage, fyi, but it may be worth it.
just looking at it, I'd probably go for just behind the pink/blue/female blue, white area
Sure, that makes sense. Go ahead and give it a toss.
Takes the improvised bomb and tosses it over the obstacles and at the malcontents.
Greff's shot wings the guy who stepped forward stupidly between the upturned tables.
Honey takes a hit and goes down, but Rel jumps toward her, takes the hand-sized, makeshift, military-grade nail bomb and gives it a heave in the direction of the thugs. There's a long moment when all the shooting stops, and the bomb is in flight. It looks like a big mudball with a lot of pointy spikes; hardly a thing to worry about, but captivating nonetheless for its peculiarity. There is a swell of anticipation on both sides; what if that thing is real?
: 26/19/13/6
It lands in the midst of the thugs, and immediately there is a loud blast, an explosion of dust, and the sound of nail fragments shooting through the Bazaar.
Blue Guy vs 26, Killed!
Blue Girl vs 26, Killed!
White Guy vs 26, Killed!
Other Guy vs 26, Killed!
Gray Guy vs 19, Incapacitated!
Red Guy vs 13, Stunned
White hot slivers of iron shower the group but the damage is almost totally contained inside the cantina. The four nearest thugs are shredded and killed instantly, another behind the bar is desperately wounded, and the last one looks about in horror through the red cloud, which may be dust or blood; it's impossible to tell the difference.
When the air clears out a minute later the survivors have fled and only bodies remain. The cantina looks like it was hit by a proton torpedo. Everything that may have been of value here is destroyed.
Behind her mask, the woman's eyes guy wide. Nobody's going to need to be a jedi to have sensed that disturbance. "We need to get the hell away from here right now!"
She starts to stagger back up, her injured cybernetic straining with what motors it had left to push against the planet's gravity well. "Find a place to hole up, maybe find a medkit or three... "
Helps Honey up by offering a hand after taking in the explosion. He looks around, "make sure that other woman comes with us too... think she might be able to share some intel on what we stumbled into."
Your ears are ringing like a bleating klaxon on doomed starship. Over and over, waves of pressure reverberate in you heads as the concussion blast echoes through your bodies. You touch your face and look into your hands and see blood. But these effects will wear off eventually. The question is, how much time do you have before the situation goes from terrible to s!!% out of luck?
You collect yourselves and exchange a few sentences to let each other know you survived Honey's homemade thermal detonator. As the sounds of each other's voices start to penetrate the throbbing din you also hear screams and shouts from nearby. It's one of those moments that again feels familiar. Perhaps it's the smell and taste of iron, the choke of smoke and dust, or the bombed-out building beside you. You didn't bring war to this place, or did you?
"You, outsiders," the assertive female voice matches the one you heard before the shooting started. Martya stands in the alley among you, Had she fled? She appears only slightly worse for wear. "You have my deepest regret for this incident. But you saved my life, and I thank you. Please, allow me to save yours. In a minute this area will be crawling with Davika enforcers, and anyone they catch will get thrown into the Hole. I can offer you safe passage, and an explanation. Will you trust me?"
Honey looks to the others, her audio receptors still re-tuning after the blast. "Better then whatever s%*@hole motel we were going to squat in. Think this is our best option."
Nods, "yeah I agree" as he looks about and then over to the assertive female. "For now, I'm good to go with you... you seem more forthcoming about explanations than other recent individuals I've encountered."
With the group's consent, Martya leads you quickly through the back of the cantina, stepping over bodies and rubble, and out the back door into another alley. For the moment, other residents of the Bazaar are too preoccupied with the recent firefight and explosion to pay you any attention. Soon enough though, you hear the unmistakable sound of an approaching drop ship.
"This way, quickly," says Martya, funneling you into the back of another shabby building. Inside the small, darkened room waits a young man, no more than a boy of fifteen, his face layered in red dust.
"Mother, who are--"
"There's not time, Kell. Open the door!"
The boy hesitates by ultimately obeys, flinging aside a floor covering to expose a stone lid. He pulls it open and you see a step ladder into a lower chamber. Martya motions for you all to proceed below.
"Please," Martya asks, her tone soft but grave. "They will find us if we don't. I don't know who you are or why you are here, but you're involved now." She finds herself approaching Mal, her hands trembling, her face painted with despair and hope. "Kell, give this man your weapon."
"Mother, we don't know these men. I won't--"
"Do it now, Kell!"
Reluctantly, the boy rolls up his sleeve and unstraps the hold-out blaster he was carrying, a scratched thing that looks very old and poorly maintained. He hands it to Mal.
"And I have only my staff, though I am skilled at its use. Take them." Martya inhales sharply. "Or leave if you must and take your chances with Davika. But I promise you they will not let you leave this planet without a full interrogation, and they will not offer you justice. They see no profit in it."
The cyborg waves her hand, "Steel," She spoke, not wishing to use the man's full name around strangers. "You and I both need some maintenance, and we're not going to be getting that while franticly looking for somewhere we won't be compromised. If you're so worried, well,"
She gestures vaguely towards where smoke trailed up into the already dusty atmosphere. "I think we've proven ourselves capable of handling ourselves when driven into a tight corner."
Waves away at Martya gesturing to her to keep her weapon, "Its fine, keep it." He looks about, "Best we get going before and try and get some answers"
Kell takes a hard look at each of you but softens a little when Rel hands his blaster back to him. He climbs down into the hole in the floor and is quickly followed by each of you, with Martya the last one down, sliding the lid back into place above. Phosphorus lamps emit a dull glow that bathes you in shadows but is sufficient to jostle around the space. The small room itself was clearly dug out of the rusted earth by hand, but it's anyone's guess how long ago. A tunnel continues into the darkness.
"This tunnel system has been here are very long time, since when Rushtown was a prosperous moisture farm," explains Martya. She has a resonant voice, deep for a woman, and with an unhurried cadence. "These were linked cisterns. Over the centuries, the planet changed, a natural shift in the magnetic field, resulting in the current dry cycle." She touches the wall of the chamber. "This planet was not always called Red Barren. Traders gave it that name in the last hundred years. Before then our ancestors called it Myraltar, which in a language mostly forgotten means, blessed fields." Her voice carries a heavy weight.
The ground shudders. "Davika is here," says Kell, angrily. For a long minute you wait in silence.
"Water became big business. The Family was operating a small fleet of ships; we traded ore for water and other consumables. It was a hard life, and dangerous, but dependable. Then Davika arrived. The biggest mining corporation in the quadrant, they promised to enrich the people of Myraltar by expanding extraction operations a thousand-fold. We all wanted an easier life and they seemed to promise that. We signed over land rights without much thought, and for a time, it was as they said. Rushtown grew out of the ground almost overnight, with hotels and industry, a spaceport and a medical center. All thanks to Davika.
"But then they dug The Hole. Those who worked in the depths started talking about diamonds, but it was really just some junk crystals. Mostly opaque, ugly things. But obviously someone was buying because Davika kept digging. Not long after, the entire mining enterprise on Red Barren shifted to crystal mining. I don't think there were even all that many. Workers would go months at the breakdown stations without seeing a single crystal, and whenever one was unearthed it was a big deal. The worker who found a crystal always get a bonus. But the deeper Davika went into The hole, the more cave-ins happened and workers started coming to the surface in bags.
"And the money was drying up faster than the atmosphere. Crystal mining wasn't paying the bills so Davika cut pay, then people started to disappear. The Family went back to running water, and at first Davika only wanted a cut off the top, but then they brought in the cruiser and threatened to shut us down unless we paid a transport tax coming and going. Some of us have been trying to run past the Davika cruiser, but that only gets us so far; we still need to get cargo to and from the landing sites. It's deadly work, but it we were surviving. Then Davika brought in the White Suns - nothing but pirates - to harass the small freight ships. Our people are dying in The Hole, dying in space, dying of thirst, and now we are dying in our own markets by each other's hands. Davika has caused all of this death.
"Dasaraek is a fool and I believe he would have killed me tonight if not for you. But we share the same desire to purge our planet of the Davika Mining Corporation. The Family is at odds over how to do that, and the hatred is tearing us apart. We need allies from the outside, but I believe we must deal in good faith, and he does not."
Martya turns to each of you in turn. "You are formidable and clever. I know I risk my life and the life of my son by inviting you here, but if there is even the smallest chance that you would help us, it is worth the risk. We have credits for payment, but I confess that though I hoped to have this chance, I never believed it, so I don't even know what to ask. But I think I want to hire you for a job. I want you to kill Davika Vice Regent Matok."
"So you want us to assasinate Matok?" he asks then pauses, "so do you know where these crystals are? Or have an "in" inside the Davik corporation?
"Getting rid of Matok would certainly be an interesting step in our overall plans." Honey commented, intrigued.
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"So, after the organization you are with almost killed all of us, you now want us to to attempt an almost-impossible job, for this same organization. A Family that might, for all we know, also know that you will be telling us this, and might start to work against us, and tip us off into the clutches of Davika, where we are about to put ourselves willingly.
Good. Good plan. I'm sure this is exactly how you drew it up.
Some might have thought to approach us before we got ambushed. That might've been good.
And now you want to offer us...some un-mentioned amount of credits.
Since you're new, and don't know how this works--what with the ambushing and shooting the people you now want help from--I think even my non-memory of everything has a better grasp of how this should go.
For starts, how much credits? Then, we'll need half up front."
He pauses.
"For medical expenses," he says, pointing to his recent blaster wound.
"Then, we'll think about it.
But, yes, please do answer Rel's question."
Marta winces at Mal's reply. She nods to Kell, who had disappeared for a minute while his mother was explaining the ask, and now stands behind you with a cache of medpacs. He hands out two of them to each of you. You read the label, a hastily printed red block print that identifies these as property of the Rushtown Medical Center. He stands with two extras and proceeds to open them, but is shy from approaching either of the wounded party members.
Martya takes the kit and approaches Mal, her face stern but hopeful. "With your permission," she says and hesitates for a moment. The Red Barren atmosphere has done her no favors, but her beauty strikes against the elements. Full-bosomed and strong in the wrist, you can't help but inhale her scent, a light musk of perspiration and womanhood.
Martya finishes the application of coagulants, expertly applied, and steps back, satisfied with her work.
"Mother worked as a nurse at the Med Center for a time," says Kell, seemingly eager to have a voice in this exchange.
"Son, go get these people something to drink." It's becoming clear these tunnels are more than just old cisterns converted into hideouts.
The woman steps over to Honey with another medpac, and frowns. "How do I... fix you?"
Meanwhile, Kell returns with a plastic pitcher and a set of cups and hands out a cloudy liquid with a surprisingly sweet smell. For those that try it, you recognize the qualities of Sunny D-Lite, but can't quite place where or when you might have last consumed it.
"If you have any spare protocol droid parts, I can patch it up well enough. Don't worry, the pain I'm feeling right now is entirely artificial. Actually, if you don't have any parts maybe you can help me at lest turn off the nerve receptors in that area for the moment..." Honey rambled.
Martya addresses Rel. "There is a hangar to the north of Rushtown. Close enough that you could walk to it but far enough so that you wouldn't want to. Davika constructed it soon after Matok arrived, but as far as any of the miners know they don't store anything there, not ore and not water. Two of our young men were sent to investigate but they have not returned. That was eleven days ago. It's possible that is where the crystals are stored, but it is a very large facility for such small inventory. My assumption was that the crystals are taken to Davika Tower, where they have a laboratory. The lab is managed by a man named Buzik, a cherry stone of a person that wastes his evenings gambling at the Metrotel Lounge."
She steps over to the tunnel and peers within. "Davika has no idea this system is as widespread as it is. The cisterns punctuate the underground and the tunnels run for miles. We have a tunnel that terminates at the machine room under Davika Tower. The perimeter of the building appears to be rigged with seismic sensors which the Family does not have the technological fluency to bypass. If you were to disable the sensors you could enter the Tower from below.
"Another tunnel leads to an abandoned storm cellar connected to the Metrotel. All of the important Davika people live in the upper floors, including Matok, who has the suite in the penthouse. I hear its nice," adds Martya with disgust.
The woman straightens and turns toward Mal. "There is a cache with twenty thousand credits, saved from when the Family could still make a profit in trade. I've seen what you can do, but before we agree to terms, I'd like to know what other questions you have, and then I may have a few of my own."