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Curse of the boards strikes back, I suppose. Lots of ill-fated games these days. Perhaps it's for the best, though. I've started my own campaign (after various technical issues,) and my college classes start up this coming Monday, so perhaps I should clear my plate a little and focus for once...
Moroka chuckles to herself, nudging Corven as she takes in the rough-and-tumble scene. "Wouldn't it be ironic if our client was another anti-imperialist?" She inquires in a low voice. Would be nice to be free of the moral ambiguity... She smiles at the throng of swoop bikes new and old, musing to herself. "Never got to work on a swoop bike before. Wonder if anyone needs a tune-up?"
Moroka points out the small circular device. "The bandits are less of a concern than this. I think someone is tracking us right now; their purpose isn't clear, but whoever they are, they know we're here." "I wonder: what if Stigs put the tracker on us to make sure we make the delivery? I could understand her anger if we decided to jump the system without finishing the job..."
Well that explains a few things... Moroka muses, removing her hand from her holster. She folds her arms for a moment, pondering the situation, then shrugs and goes about cleaning up the leak and beginning what repairs she can on the coolant line, humming a tune nonchalantly as if she'd never seen a thing. Removing it now would just tip off whoever's watching us...they already know where we are, so it wouldn't buy us any time...hmm. If we do it as soon as we can take off, we can slip their view more readily--as long as they're not already on their way... Pausing to wipe her hands, she decides to pull out her comlink. "Jak? Come outside, would you? You need to see this."
Moroka's eyes widen for a moment before she reaches for her comm. "Jak, DO NOT fire up the engines. We've got a coolant leak; one of those desert folk must have some miraculous aim. We'll have to pull some parts and do proper repairs. If we're lucky, we'll have the part we need and be airborne in two hours; if not, we're looking at four or more." She approaches as she speaks, examining the scene more closely, intrigued by the blinking light. not usually a lot of lights underneath engine nacelles...
Her hand unconsciously reaches for her saber. That better not be what I think it is...
Spotting the puddle under the ship, Moroka sighs, shaking her head. "And we were doing so well..." She starts to pull out her tools, stepping under the leaking nacelle and scanning for the source. "Brand new ship and we're already leaking..." Don't remember taking any solid hits last time we were shot at; did the manufacturer just not weld something securely?
Moroka furrows her brow as something in the sub-light drives shows errant behavior. Odd...we haven't had this ship THAT long... She calls up to the cockpit as the ship moves in for a landing. "Jak, everything all right with the controls? I'm seeing something strange in the drives back here..." Must be some sand in the exhaust... She pulls out her tools and prepares to look more closely once the ship has landed.
Moroka whistles at the magnitude of cargo the crew has just shouldered. "Well, I have to gives Stigs credit for one thing; she's honest. One stray shot in here and the locals'll think a sun exploded..." She gives the restraints a tug, testing the stability of the cargo. Satisfied that nothing's moving, she nods to Jak with a confident smile, patting the canisters. "Let's fly nice and casual; don't want to spill any precious 'water,' do we?" And let's hope the Force does NOT have a cruel sense of humor today...but just in case... Moroka nods toward the engine room. "I'll run a check on things while we wait, to make sure everything's humming nicely when we lift off. Just let me know before you warm us up for takeoff, would you? She then heads toward the engines to run her inspection, removing covers to check parts for repair and cleanliness while taking care not to make a mess.
Moroka watches the news report in silence, gathering every detail her eyes can absorb. The black figure sticks in her mind as she recalls the sound of a lightsaber blade plunging through flesh. The Order still fights, though: if Jedi are still dying, then Jedi still fight back. She hears the conversations around her only distantly as her thoughts go back to the end of the war. Things might have been different. I could've stopped at least one soldier...maybe even gotten lucky and changed the course of a battle... She finishes her drink and walks off to the hidden room, kneeling to meditate.
The hiss of a cargo ramp brings Moroka out of her reverie; she's surprised to find her hand at her back, touching her hidden lightsaber. She sighs as she stands, shaking her head. Alright, that's enough of that, girl. Can't wait to meet this friend of Gotal's...
Moroka nods in agreement. "Short trip's a good idea. We learn our way around, make some friends, and earn funds and good faith, all without charting a hyperspace route." She stands as hands are shook, clasping her hands together and glancing about the room. "So! What are we porting, then?" Please be something simple...
What's your stance on the 'outlaw tech' rules in Scum and Villainy? I feel like a slightly nonstandard piece of gear would be fitting for my character.
Moroka nods and steps up to take a seat with a smile, noting the surroundings as she analyzes the situation. If she means the attention of the authorities, that might be an issue. If they know about the Jedi bounty, this could get ugly quick. Only one way out and they've likely locked it behind us by now. Starting to wish I'd spent more time on my saber forms...
A concept is forming for a Cathar brawler who seeks to test his mettle, but seems to find rejection and disappointment wherever he goes. His hotheadedness and simple mind have caused various militaries to turn him away, and the Empire shows no love for nonhumans, so his frustrations have mounted. He's turned to mercenary work in order to travel, make a living, find opponents, and maybe even teachers... Assuming a Cathar character is approved by the DM.
Oh, a reroll? Alrighty then, you're the GM. Back to the dice gods! 7
WHOAH, them's some crazy scores...
Weeeeeell...ahh why not. when it comes to RP, less is most certainly NOT more. To the dice gods! 14
Oof. Two penalties there. hmm. A racial could even it out, but I guess I'll have to peruse some books and see what comes of it. Question, DM: are there any books not allowed for references and choices? You mention a few you've allowed, but I THINK I have them all. Any chance of a short 'white list' so there's no confusion?
Moroka chuckles to herself as she turns to follow. "Well...I suppose we're about to be, at any rate..." She glances over her shoulder at Corven with a bemused smirk. "What do you think, Corven? Spice smuggling or bounty hunting? My gut says smuggling."
Moroka smiles at the little creature and produces thirty credits for his palm as she steps out of the rickshaw, observing the dome with a curious gaze. "I wonder how a dome would earn such an unfortunate name as 'The Pits.' She wonders aloud, smirking. "Hope the welcome mat isn't a trapdoor..." She nods to her crewmates and approaches the front door.
Moroka spares a curious glance at the tiny robed creature, then shrugs and climbs in. "I'm sure they understand, Corven. They could hardly provide a service out here without knowing some Basic." ...Right? She gestures for her crewmates to join her. "Come on, this desert isn't getting any cooler while we wait."
Moroka nods in agreement. "Even I know the Hutts should never be one's first choice for work." She looks back to the dockmaster, tossing him another 20 credit chip. "Let us know if you hear of any Imperial presence heading this way, would you?" Never hurts to have some extra eyes and ears about... She then motions to Jak and Corven. "Come on. The others can catch us on comms later; let's go meet and greet with the locals, shall we?"
Moroka steps out behind the group, examining the scene and the twi'lek for a moment before walking past, handing him a credit chip with a smile. "150 is fine." She waves back to the crew. "Someone mind signing that?" Won't do to have a Jedi name on the record now, I suppose... A few steps forward, and she stops, looking over her shoulder at the Twi'lek. "Actually, we might be interested in making some credits of our own. Know anyone in need of some legwork?"
Moroka inspects her gear, adjusting her belt and saber holster, and throwing her all-temp cloak on her back. She gazes at the walls of the ship, shaking her head in disappointment at the false moniker. Truncort IV...such a lifeless name for a fine ship. We'll have to do better than that next time... She then finds a secure seat and watches the approach. "This is going to be some unpleasant weather..."
"Hmmm...I definitely recommend some cover, Ren. Fish and deserts don't mix, do they?" She comments with a smirk. "On the other hand, I doubt many people will bother reporting a bunch of Jedi to the empire out here. Might be nice to walk around without hiding our faces all day..." Of course, now that I've SAID that out loud...
"So there are some people with some sanity left in the galaxy. Good. If this senator's trying to assist the Jedi and undermine the empire, I can't think of a more fitting employer." Moroka pats Gotal on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Working from meal to meal isn't so bad. It's actually rather adventurous at times. Good for testing all those skills from the Order, hm?" She then makes for the closed room, her thoughts on lightsaber practice, when she spots Renlo out of the corner of her eye, kneeling in his room with closed eyes. So he HAS had some training. Hmm. Pausing for a moment to consider her actions, she taps on the door frame, smiling as the Mon Calamari's massive eye pops open. "You look a little un-centered. The first step to productive meditation is finding the posture that suits you best." Moroka steps into the room, sitting cross-legged opposite Renlo, with her hands over her knees. "We washouts should stick together, don't you think?"
Moroka exhales as the familiar sensation of a hyperdrive jump reaches her and distance starts to grow between them and the dark presence. I think I'd rather be anywhere in the galaxy than close to that thing... She smiles at Jak's meager jest and heads to Gotal's station, wiping sweat from her brow. "Gotal...you felt it, didn't you? That...presence? It was the most unnerving thing I've ever felt in my life. Even my master's death didn't disturb me like that. Was it the same thing you felt before?"
jedi 2 -> 3 BAB +1
43 total talent: clear mind (reroll UTF to hide from force-users)
Moroka shudders as a vile presence flows through her. What IS that?? The pitching and rolling of the ship make it hard to maintain her balance and her concentration at the same time...
The rumbling of cannons against ship shields brings a smile to Moroka's face as she continues her monitoring of the ship's engines. "Someone put this bird together properly," she muses. "Good cold start, solid shields...hmmm." She calls out toward the cockpit. "Don't be afraid to push it, boys! Let's find out what this ship can do!"
The chilly engines voice their grievances as Moroka moves to address them. The sudden takeoff throws her balance, making her suddenly regret spending less time in physical training...
Moroka exhales. "Cold launch. Right. See you in hyperspace." Or the scrapyard... She hops up and makes for the engine room, running a quick check of her utility belt for her tools. Cutter, spanner, lightsaber...check. Time for some real training...
Sounds alright to me. Don't have the books with me at the moment; that's a use computer check isn't it?
Ooh. Hm. You're right. So which way did we want to go with that guys? Switcheroo for temporary incognito? Or under the radar completely at increased risk of suspicion? Kinda feeling like a switch would serve us better at this point, which I think is more the realm of computer specialists...
Moroka snaps awake with a start at the alarm, her hand going to her lightsaber as soon as her muscles find coordination with her brain. As she hops from her bunk, she spies the signs of battle outside the viewport, worry on her face. "Oh dear..." Focus. Respond. Cockpit. She takes a breath, resets her expression, and dashes for the cockpit, finding Renlo already responding. She slides into the copilot's seat, scanning the scene and checking systems, preparing for launch at a moment's notice. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the Empire is after us," she quips, turning to Renlo with a smirk. "Still think staying cold is our best bet? Or shall we see what this ship can do?"
Well if it's WIS bonus at DC25, it's not happening...probably not for anyone, actually...now a perception check, it's possible, but since no one has a 20 wisdom, DC 25 wis check is out of the question (force points notwithstanding, of course.) EDIT: just read the updated post. DC20...that's doable.
Moroka snaps her fingers in affirmation. "The Owl's Gambit. I like that. It still has a bit of clever wisdom to it, but also has a bit of a sly, daring feel. Sounds like a name Master Skywalker would use.
so THAT'S why mine got shot down. Somebody likes patterns, I see...
Moroka rolls her eyes, sighing. "Well now, If we want to appear as un-Jedi-like as possible, why not just name it after war or bloodshed, or slavery or the like? I'm sure the empire will never look twice at a ship like that."
Moroka gazes around the ship's walls for a moment, pondering the events that led to her current situation. All the lessons, all the efforts, all the consequences--they all point towards a common purpose. Of course... She smiles to herself. "If we're to try talking some sense into the galaxy, then I think our ship should reflect that. If we're to bring some wisdom to the leaders of the known universe, then our ship should be the Voice of Reason."
"Don't mistake me; I'm no strategist, but I know that just opening fire would get us killed. I'd much rather undermine them, aggravate them and make their lives difficult. I agree we need a new ship ID, but if we intend to make a profession of poking the Empire in the ribs, we're going to need more than a new name." Moroka spots Donavaan disembark, but says nothing. That one's got some rough times ahead. Might be wise to work with him soon... "There're bound to be other systems that oppose the empire; hopefully a few of them have more sense than Senator Toora. Unless anyone has any pressing business, I suggest we get that transponder changed, pack up and leave Sy Myrth before we're blockaded in, or worse."
Accepting her credit chip, Moroka studies it for a moment, digesting the news. "So, one way or another, war is coming to Sy Myrth..." Pocketing the credit chip, she furrows her brow in thought. "I don't fancy facing down the Imperial Navy, but neither do I fancy just letting the Emperor have his way. I don't see any good coming of a regime that needed to slaughter Jedi, women and children." She stands, folding her arms. "I've half a mind to upgrade this ship with a stealth field generator and start using it for more covert operations against the empire. They're vast, but they can't possibly have the entire galaxy under lock and key yet."
Moroka heads to the lounge, finds a seat, and leans back with a smile. "No injuries, casualties or horrified expressions; that's a good sign."
"Sadly, I don't know much about the Sith, except the fact that they don't like to be well known. I know they stand against the Jedi at every turn, and wield powers from the dark side of the Force; this alone makes them the single biggest danger to the known galaxy, in my estimation." It also makes us their favorite prey... Moroka looks up at the ceiling, then around to the ship's walls before turning back. "I think I know what I'd like to do with this ship first. Stealth field generators."
"If there is a Sith lord among the Emperor's cabinet, then we're going to have very serious things to worry about." Moroka begins walking to the designated meditation chamber slowly, eyes wandering as she thinks aloud. "It may be the thing that found Gotal, but it could be another one. I seem to recall hearing about a rule of two among the Sith. One would likely remain behind the scenes, letting his subordinate be the public face and his agent. There's a good chance the entity that reached out was the master, meaning the black figure is probably his apprentice." She then stops, a worrying thought crossing her mind. "What if the emperor IS a Sith lord?"
1. How satisfied are you with the story line?
2. Are there aspects that you think should be changed?
3. How satisfied are you with the pacing?
4. Does the campaign have a "Star Wars" feel?
5. Any improvements that you would like to see?
6. Would you recommend campaigns hosted by this GM to your friends?
Brought out of her almost meditative maintenance routine, Moroka glances up before starting to put everything back into place, her brow furrowing only slightly at the latest news. "So the emperor has a champion then. Lovely." Her pile of parts grows smaller as internals and plating resume their places, eyes focused on her work as she speaks. "I suspected that at least some Jedi survived as we did, but to find there are masters yet living is the best news I've heard all week." Returning the final plate to its proper place and sealing it in position, Moroka stands and stretches. "While I'd certainly love to just shove the emperor off his chair and throw him in a cell somewhere, I don't realistically think that'll happen. Honestly, I'd be content with finding our Jedi comrades, continuing my training, and officially graduating. It's a little thing, I know, but I do feel slightly cheated by this whole 'empire' ordeal." She returns her tools to their place at her belt, then leans against the nearby bulkhead, admiring the engine chamber. "This is a nice ship. It deserves to earn a nice name, don't you think?"
Moroka watches her crew depart, and once Gotal has found his spot to meditate, she smiles to herself, eyeing the walls of the ship. Time to get to know this big girl better and see how well they've taken care of her... She heads to the engine room, starts pulling tools from her kit and begins to examine things more closely, removing plating and non-essential parts to get a better look at the internals without compromising any systems. She methodically organizes removed parts for easy access, mentally noting her deconstruction order and taking great care not to leave anything in precarious positions. Not a bad piece of work here... she muses as she exposes engines and circuitry, hands gliding over durasteel and wire; she smiles as she starts to locate critical components and carefully look them over.
"Well," Moroka exhales, "That could have gone much worse. Glad we're all at an understanding then." She reaches for her saber to replace it in her hidden holster, then raises a hand. "We shouldn't all go as one group. Two people arranged the meeting; two should arrive to reduce suspicion. It'll give us a chance to warm the engines in a hurry, should the worst happen." Might also give me a chance to have a look at this ship. It could probably use some modifications... She resists the urge to smile at her own thoughts until the others have left the room. |
