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Star Wars: Interregnum


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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

 

Two columns of stormtroopers marched out of the troop transport, followed by Raltz. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the area. He had seen worse, admittedly, but not much. He spotted an officer standing at attention. Good, this outpost could ensure the bare minimum of efficiency, at least. "I want that mobile unit in the armory!" he barked at the technicians pushing the mobile armory unit before he approached the officer, a lieutenant by her pips.

 

Raltz clicked his heels and drew up into a smart salute. "Sergeant Raltz Nightwing, designation DT-204, Inquisitorius. We're here to augment the Imperial forces on this planet to ensure that the Inquisitor's mission goes as smoothly as possible."

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "Understood," Mia said. She hardly understood anything of what was going on, but this seemed like a bad time to be asking questions.

 

"Lt. Mia Arkada," she said. "I run a small outpost just down the street from here."

 

There were a lot of questions she struggled to resist the temptation of asking. Who were these people? What were they doing on Taris? What kind of operation was she in the dark about?

 

She just led Raltz toward the outpost, opened the door, and stepped inside.

 

"It's nothing fancy," Mia explained. "We've been spending the past few months trying to restore this place. It used to belong to one of the old gangs, the Hidden Beks, then it got destroyed, rebuilt, went on to fill a variety of different uses before it was claimed by the empire and then abandoned. Now they want it back in working order. We haven't finished yet but it should serve your needs. There's two bedrooms, one for officers and one for enlisted."

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Taris Imperial Outpost):

 

"Thank you, Lieutenant Arkada." Raltz turned to the technicians, handing one his E-11. "Put the mobile unit in the enlisted barracks," he told them before pulling out a small comm unit, keyed into the Inquisitor's frequency.

 

"Inquisitors, I thought I should let you know my squad and I have landed on the surface of Taris, at a small Imperial outpost of some sort. If you run into any trouble, we are available for rapid deployment should you need us."

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: Mia watched. Only a few minutes ago, this place was empty, with only her and a dunk stormtrooper. Now it was bustling with activity. She thought for a moment how she was going to explain this when the rest of the staff returned.For now, she had a few more immediate questions.

 

"I was not told you were coming," she said.

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IC:

So, first of all, rundown of assets. 

 

Her armor was stowed in the case, fully functional, but only suitable for a last resort. If she powered it up it would be like waving a neon sign for the Imperials to pick up on. And beyond that, any shootout in a place like this would go badly. One in the streets would be very much to her advantage, permitting guerrilla tactics that suited her more than they did her pursuers, but getting trapped in a building would be a death sentence. The armor was out. The E-11 was there, too, and would do wonders for pursuers. But once again, if she got into a firefight she had already been spotted. Odds of survival, let alone evading capture, plummeted. Her present armaments would suffice for brief engagements, which was the worst she should encounter. If things went reasonably well. 

 

A diversion. She still had the standard issue ion flares. And the launcher included with her armor. She launched one in the opposite direction, and the Imperials would go for it. Nothing that would say it was her, which was actually the point. No good Stormtrooper would leave one of the comrades behind. They would feel honor bound to go to the rescue of their comrade in peril. Not that there would be one, but it would effectively draw a significant number of potential pursuers to another point. If she were lucky it might even draw her current pursuers away, suspecting that she had taken down a Stormtrooper. Either way, Rebekah's potential escape on ground was accomplished.

 

Space would be the hard part. She was being pursued by Regency, a Pursuit-class light cruiser. Patrol vessel. Kuat Driveyards. She'd need something fast, operated by someone who would smuggle her offworld for a price within her (unfortunately dwindling, given the seizure of her apartment) budget, and with a reasonable degree of trustworthiness. A threatened report from her 'intermediary' would deter backstabbing, but not prevent it. This was a much more difficult issue, but not one she could solve at this moment. She needed to get moving.

 

The Novatrooper quickly scribbled a note out, and pinned it underneath the edge of her drink glass. Basic instructions, just 'When the Imperials come for me, tell them what you know for your safety', but it should do the job. There was no time for anything more complicated. An alley was needed, now. Somewhere to retrieve the flare and launcher without arousing suspicion. She picked up her case and shifted the glasses further up her nose, looking at the ground while she started towards the exit. 

 

Past, unfortunately, the Imps that had come in for a drink. They must have been off-duty. She recognized the off-duty uniform for the Stormtrooper Corps, plus various members of the crew of the local outpost. Hopefully they were not paying attention. She doubted that they were; her disguise, for the most part, was quite effective. And they would be looking for a Novatrooper, or at least someone who looked like they could be one. Not a low-class Tarisian who looked a little like her personnel file's picture.

Not that it made the process of getting past them less tense.

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: The outpost had been bustling with activity. Mia was still struggling to understand what happened, but before she could get any answers she was disrupted by the sudden arrival of one of her officers.

 

"Lt. Arkada," He said as he stepped into the room, looking around in surprise at the activity around him.

 

"Long story," Mia said. "While you were out a whole regiment decided to show up. I thought I gave you leave."

 

"You did, but I needed to report something." The officer reached for his datapad, handing it to Mia. It was displaying an arrest warrant, with a photograph of a young woman. The name: Fell.

 

"She was a rogue Novatrooper," the officer explained. "Wanted for treason after trying to assassinate the Moffs. I think she's here on Taris."

 

"You're sure about this?" Mia asked.

 

"It looked like her, and I don't think she'd want to show her imperial uniform right now."

 

"Well, there's not much we can do now," Mia said. "But first chance I get I'll report this information. You go back and enjoy yourself. Let me know if you see anything else."

 

"Yes, Mia." He said before turning toward the door.

 

Mia glanced one more time at the datapad. As if they didn't already have enough problems. First the restoration, then this group showing up out of nowhere, and now there was a dangerous fugitive nearby.

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IC:

Taris' air tasted familiar the instant Liare stepped outside. There was a quality, not exactly pleasant but familiar, that you could only find on planets like this. Planets where the cities stretched across the globe, where society had taken over every inch that it could. Where the population was dense and unscrupulous. It was in the air, even in the Upper City, but it'd be more prominent the lower he went. It was where you could find the seediest places in the galaxy. Honestly he almost looked forward to descending into the Lower City. It made sense in a way that the Imperial-dominated Upper City just couldn't.

 

The place Costa'd picked out was nice, though. 

 

The taxi had been waiting outside docking area, where their Lambda had been admitted with no difficulty. No one working in a backwater like Taris wanted to off anyone riding in an Inquisitorius vessel, which was one of the (rather few) benefits of belonging to the group. An Inquisitorius IFF and a black paintjob would get you priority treatment on any Imperial world. Even some non-Imperial worlds, if you were scary enough. Convenient, but not really his style. A good word and a silver tongue would open more doors than a threat. He learned that a long time ago, on the run in a world a lot like this. You didn't get your way by announcing your presence, coming in and making demands. That was the Empire's style. It was their way or the high way. If you disagreed you ended up dead. If you were lucky it'd be an assassin. If you weren't, well, Tarkin's shuttle always needs a new coating of the blood of innocents.

Oops. Needed.

 

They could get away with it, though. For a while. Eventually it came back to bite them. But one person, let alone a kid, didn't have that luxury. If you needed something and you couldn't take it, you persuaded. Persuasion makes it seem like it's their idea to give the little urchin a room for the night, or lie to the Empire that broke down their door. It made them want to help, rather than forcing them. Intimidation had its place, when diplomacy simple can't work, but that place wasn't in his life.

 

That's why places like this could flourish. The Empire can't stop what it can't understand. Liare could feel the truth of how Taris ran, even before he reached out through the Force. He spent most of the ride that way. Sitting in uncharacteristic silence and watching the world outside the cab, listening to the thrums of the world around them. Listening to how Taris breathed, the way its heart beat and the way that sound flowed through the people on her surface. Like a person. All the little pictures, the people that made up the big picture, made up Taris' being like cells in the body. The little pictures were important. But it was when you took a step back that you could feel the living, breathing whole. Taris had seen millenniums pass before his heart had ever beat. It had felt the greatest Sith walk across its surface, known who he was before he knew himself, and felt the wounds that followed. Four thousand years old, but the scars were still there. Taris was still recovering. Despite Malak's efforts, the planet still drew breath, and it drew breath perhaps stronger than before. Its people, all the little pictures, chafed under a new yoke but they had cast one like it off before. He could empathize.

 

The hotel was beautiful in its authenticity. None of the fancy dressings of Coruscant's lodgings, for it was not Coruscant. It was the most elegant of a backwater's hotels, and it embraced that image. The fact that he could see signs for a spa helped very much.

 

Checking in took only a moment, since the Chief had booked their rooms ahead of time, and after asking a (rather cute) secretary for directions, Liare handed off his one bag to the nearest porter droid. He traveled light. He would have headed up himself, but he wanted to take a look around the ground floor. Get acquainted with the establishment's form. And find Costa, while he was at it.

 

If I were Costa, where would I be...

 

... Not there, so perhaps a spa. Could ask the secretary. She was nice.

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC (Raia Veyura, Upper City hotel)

 

Sarir felt a hand come down lightly on his shoulder and heard Veyura's voice in his ear, quiet and silky and mocking.

 

"Pretty little secretaries turning your head already? I'm almost surprised. Maybe you should ask her about the room service."

Edited by Ghosthands

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IC:

 

The Force had called Costa to the room's minibar. Raia wouldn't mind if she deflowered it without her.

 

"Me again! As you may have noticed, this is not a co-ed field trip. Boys room with boys, girls room with girls. We meet at midnight in the hotel diner for another briefing. And nobody parties without their party buddy!"

 

-Tyler

Edited by Costa Vespula

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Taris Imperial Outpost):

 

"I wasn't finished, Lieutenant." Raltz slipped the commlink into his coat pocket. "I haven't read the reports for Taris, not entirely. I'm aware that rebel activity is low, and crime is high, but I'm not entirely up to date."

 

He had heard of the traitor Novatrooper; he had personally met several of the moffs almost killed in the threat. He would not turn down the chance to dispense Imperial justice to the traitor, Inquisitorius-style. He straightened up, rubbing the back of his neck, where his cortical implant was exposed. He quickly placed his hands behind his back. Lieutenant Arkada technically did outrank him. Only technically, though; by her age, he might have been already fighting for the Republic before she was born. "If I may, Lieutenant, would it be possible for my men and I to receive a briefing on the fugitive? She may prove a threat to our mission. As well, if the opportunity presents itself, we would relish the chance to bring this traitor to justice."

 

IC (Vanndred, The Stray Tach):

 

The Chistori tore the last piece of meat off one of his kebabs. His eyes picked up Jenth; he had seen her before, exchanged a few words. A technician, he had heard. His armor had been sitting in his closet for over a year now, most of its gadgets and systems inoperable. The job climate didn't favor entirely legal ways of accruing credits fast currently; he might need to break out his old bounty hunter gear. It would take some outlaw tech work to get everything working again, and it wouldn't be cheap, but it never hurt to get an estimate.

 

"Hey Jenth! I have some business questions for you."

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "Crime isn't too unusual around here," Mia said. "The past few months we've had to deal with some of the local gangs. Most of the time we can keep our distance, but you generally don't want to get caught in a crossfire between beks and vulkars. Four thousand years and they still refuse to give up trying to kill each other. Then of course there's plenty of corrupt businesses. The exchange never got a firm hold over Taris again but there's the occasional mobster. As for your rogue Novatrooper, this is the first I've heard of her being on Taris. She seems to have refrained from directly engaging any of us which indicates she is trying to avoid detection, and probably won't be in uniform. Given her background she obviously knows a thing or two about looking after herself, and probably has a few strategies for blending in. If you want to catch her, I'd say you will need a way to trick her into exposing herself while her guard is down."

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IC:

"Who knows? Maybe I will. I like to try and enjoy my trips out of prison." The human Inquisitor grinned, turning his head to look back over his shoulder and make rather close eye contact with the Umbaran that had entered his space to speak her polyester jabs. Lazy and casual, like usual, but with an unusually cool note creeping into his tone. "Then again, some of us are there by choice. And they have some pretty specific tastes, don't they?"

 

"You keep on chasing that white whale, Veyura." Sarir pivoted slightly, the motion casually brushing her hand off of his shoulder while he took a step in that new direction, softly patting the doctor's shoulder before continuing towards the door. He popped the Inquisitorius pin off the lapel of his coat and tucked it in his coat, concealing the emblems of the Inquisitorius once it was unbuttoned. A minute adjustment to his earpiece made sure it was securely in place and out of easy view, leaving him free to glance at the time on his way back through the doors. "It's a few hours til midnight, boss. Already sent my bag up."

"We need some basic intel, and there's no better time of day to get it. I'm going for a walk."

 

IC:

 

It was not lost on NT-081 that one of the Imperials she passed had exited the Tach a few moments after her, heading in the opposite direction. Roughly in the direction of the Imperial outpost, in fact. While that was no guarantee of their intent, a properly prepared individual planned for the worst case scenario. Which meant that the local authorities would be aware of her presence soon.

 

Took them long enough. She had already been on Taris for several weeks. 

 

Nevertheless, despite their less than stellar track record, any increase in the opposition's number was unfortunate. Though perhaps it was a boon in this case. Knowing that she was in the area would make the signal from a 'Stormtrooper in distress' that much more believable. After all, a commando wouldn't raise the same commotion that a gang would. And a commando would require a larger force to subdue. Thoughts of how this altered the plan dominated her thoughts while she quietly slipped into an alley two blocks down from the Tach, and popped the clasp on her case. It took only a few, practiced seconds to pull out both the launcher and the flare. She tucked both into her belt, sealing up the case and using the adjacent building to climb up higher for the optimal shot.

 

Though the Lower City did not have the same open air as the Upper City, the upper heights were nevertheless very high indeed; high enough for a properly aimed flare to not only achieve a great high, but a relatively large distance between its original launch and its apex. And such a height and distance it did achieve, before ultimately igniting and drawing as much attention as it could.

 

Not that Rebekah was paying attention. She had returned to the ground as soon as it was away, tucking the launcher into its case once more and disappearing into the Lower City's streets. A hat from a nearby merchant was the perfect addition to her disguise, pulled down over her brow and holding her hair pulled up to the top of her head.

 

She'd made her move, and now it was time to move.

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Rav

 

"Starting to pick up on that," Rav admitted. He glanced over at Calrissian's (related to the general?) model thermal detonator, before giving a shrug.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take too long for them to reach the edge of the city. Navigating the overly polluted swamp seemingly only inhabited by the rusted hulks of century-old ships slowed their progress somewhat, though they had fortunately not run into any of the roaming packs of scavengers. None too soon, as Taris' sun had begun to dip below the horizon in the distance, the dusty sky taking on a startlingly blood-red appearance.

 

"One small favor, you wouldn't happen to know where the Imperial checkpoints are located?" Rav asked. He had discarded his jump suit some ways back, in favor of the worn pants and jacket which better suited a down-on-his-luck spacer only stopping by Taris because his nav computer malfunctioned. Blaster holstered at his hip, like any sensible resident of Taris, of course.

 

IC: Jenth [The Stray Tach]

 

The diminutive mechanic perked up at the sound her voice, even as it passed through the fangs of a being that looked like he would be more comfortable using them to tear off someone's head than speak basic. Which is to say, she honestly nearly jumped out of her seat, after having nearly witnessed a shootout.

 

"Huh? Oh, yeah sure," Jenth said, like she was going to say no. "What's up?"

mnogsignature.png

BZPRPG -

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IC: "I suppose I'd better get my staff back here," Mia said. "I've got a handful of officers and stormtroopers who might be able to assist. I just hope they haven't all gotten themselves too drunk."

 

Mia reached for her comm link and activated. "This is Lt. Mia Arkada. I hate to interrupt you recreation, but I need you to return to base as quickly as possible."

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

 

Raltz's face fouled. "Have you been having discipline problems?"

 

IC (Vanndred, The Stray Tach):

 

The Chistori set down the kebab he was working on and took a slurp from his drink, leaning back. "You do tech work, right? I'm a bit low on credits now, but I think I'm gonna have to break out my old armor soon. Been a while since I used it, and some of the systems are kinda... not working. Was wondering if I could get an estimate for what a repair would be."

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "Not much," Mia said. "Then again, there aren't very many people to manage and  the worst that has happened is the occaonal crossfire between some of the gangs. Some of the staff have been anxious to get home but nobody's outright disobeyed orders. The only problem is that some of them tend to drink a bit too much when given leave."

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IC (Tallik Vao, Taris spaceport outskirts)

 

"Their nearest outpost's not that far from here," Tallik answered. "Lower City, near some old gang territory. Not the biggest garrison, but I heard something in the cantina about a Star Destroyer in orbit so they might be getting reinforcements in."

 

He gave the Zabrak a sideways glance.

 

"'Specially if they're looking for someone."

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OOC: Okay, so I finally got my second character approved. Now for some action.

 

 

IC: The adrenaline was pumping through her as Nadia drove her swoop bike along the track. Taris had of course long been a popular venue for swoop races, a once-popular activity which had been replaced on most other worlds by the more popular sport of pod racing. Many of the riders on Taris, Nadia included, objected to the pods, and preferred to stick to the old ways. It would not be long now before the big swoop race that would draw crowds in from off-world, one which had been part of the Tarisian lifestyle for over four thousand years. It had even been said that Revan herself once took part in the races, and won. Of course, the technology had changed somewhat over the years, but the rules were more or less the same as they had always been: it was all a matter of getting the best time.

 

 

From the sidelines, several of the Vulkars watched keenly as their friend drove her swoop. The Miraluka Viseria was busy attending to her own swoop, receiving assistance from an ewok. A few years ago an ewok would have seemed like a strange addition to the Vulkar's swoop team, but its small hands allowed it to get into spots not easily accessible by other, much larger members. There were several other riders and mechanics for the Vulkars present as well. But of course where there were Vulkars, there were also Beks, and so far they seemed to be winning. The leading score had so far been made by a Wookie rider, who was visibly tense as he watched the Twi'lek who looked very much like she could defeat him.

 

"Those Hidden Beks have hit a new low," an Ithorian rider noted, observing the wookie's behaviour. "Getting a Wookie and expecting that the other riders will just be too scared to try and beat its score."

 

"It's sadly effective," Viseria replied as she stood. "Nadia's got a lot of nerve trying to beat him."

 

"They should just be banned from the races all together," the Ithorian said in response. "All they ever do is cheat."

 

That was when the Twi'lek's swoop finally came to a stop and she took off her helmet. She eagerly climbed off as she approached the rest of her team.

 

"Nice work," the Ithorian said. "That Wookie didn't stand a chance against you."

 

Nadia smiled. She looked toward the Ewok, who performed a small dance in response to their potential victory. Of course, they were also prepared for what was about to happen next. The Beks had tried to rig the swoop race by getting a member of a species notorious for being bad sports to ride for them, but it was hard to prepare for what happened next. The Wookie growled, staring at Nadia.

 

"I beat you fair and square!" She yelled. "You'll just have to go again."

 

The Wookie began to charge toward Nadia angrily. the Twi'lek was able to roll out of the way just in time, but not before the wookie managed to punch Viseria's swoop. The Ewok mechanic began to climb over, desperately trying to get away, but it was no use. In a few seconds the wookie had grabbed the unfortunate Ewok and thrown it out onto the track. Visiera quickly stumbled out of the way as the Wookie tore a piece of the swoop off and began to move towards Nadia. The Twi'lek drew her vibroblade, but one swing from the wookie was enough to knock it out of her hand. Then the Wookie growled as it was struck from behind. Viseria was there with a blade of her own. The Wookie just turned around; all they had done was make him even angrier.

 

To make matters worse, Nadia looked over towards the far end where the Beks were watching. They laughed as they watched the Wookie's rampage against the Vulkars. One of them even brought out snacks for the others. Two of the Beks' riders appeared to be placing bets on who the Wookie was going to take down first. It was hard to imagine them ever having any kind of honor.

 

OOC: Nadia is available for interaction, though you might want to be prepared to deal with an angry Wookie.

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IC:

 

The earpiece's mic was disengaged the instant he was out the door. He kept it tuned to the Inquisitorius channel, in case one of the others said something he felt like hearing, but he didn't need everything he said transmitted. Half the crew'd decide it was a great idea to try and be funny (and only one of them was actually any good at it), and the few seconds it took to fire back were distracting. Not to mention they drew attention to the earpiece, and really detracted from the whole 'blending' thing. So all in all, listen-only-mode was best.

 

Especially once he descended into the Lower City.

 

Not that it took long. Anything good in the Imperial files had been nabbed as soon as he landed. Namely, the sensor logs that picked up something that looked an awful lot like a B-Wing landing outside the city. Couldn't be entirely sure, given that the readings weren't perfectly clear, but the timetable was right, It was a safe bet. Going out to look for it was an exercise in pointlessness, It entered the atmosphere subsonic on a controlled burn.. The guy at the wheel was alive, and he'd ditch it real quick. Depending on what shape it was in, no guarantee he'd ever go back to it.

 

But replacing a ship was even harder than replacing confiscated booze in deep space when you're a wanted man. He'd have to go through secondhand sellers, if not outright shady ones. Or he'd have to hire some unscrupulous ship owners. Neither option was gonna be found in the Upper City. Still, it'd be helpful to have somewhere to start from.

 

"Raltz," Liare said, switching on his mic as he stepped off the lift and into the streets. "Imp sensor logs say our friend's B-Wing probably went down a little ways outside the city. Forwarding them to you now. He shouldn't be there anymore, but I want you to take a shuttle, some of the local troops and as many of your own men as you need to find that ship. Copy anything on its computers, take the astromech if he's got one, and destroy the ship."

 

Simple strategy. When someone goes to ground, you start taking away escape routes. Then they start getting desperate. And desperate means easy. Any data he got would just be a bonus. That was step one. Step two was finding the best of the low-class bars. If anyone knew where to find the shadiest transports and transportation, it'd be the shady people. His type of people.

 

It's where he'd have gone looking, when he was running.

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Nadia turned her attention towards the Beks as they laughed. The Wookie was still attacking the other Vulkars. Viseria had managed to avoid him thanks to her quick reflexes, but that didn't stop her from having to catch her breath. The Ithorian was not so lucky. One of the other riders, a gungan, managed to save him, but not without becoming a target.

 

The Twi'lek began to approach the Beks, vibroblade in hand. "This is pathetic," she yelled. "Even for Beks!"

 

"You goin' to cry now?" One of the Beks yelled mockingly.

 

Nadia stood firm, trying to control her anger.

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

As soon as his commlink chirped, it was in Raltz's hand. He listened to his orders closely. "Yes sir. I'll be over there right away."

It may not be exciting, but it was important. "Lieutenant," he said, "prep your troopers. I'm taking a transport out to a crash site and I need manpower."

Not waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the barracks, shouldering his way through the door. His men were in various stages of relaxing. He pointed at one, the pilot. "Prep the transport, we're heading to the B-Wing crash site. Pull the location from the sensor logs here." He didn't pay attention to the salute snapped back at him. As he walked towards the mobile armory unit, he tossed his cap on an unoccupied bunk and started peeling off his jacket. Tapping a six-digit keycode into the security pad, Raltz stood back. Time to get suited up.

Edited by Keeper of Kraata

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "Understood, sir," Mia said calmly. As the stormtroopers began to move ready themselves, the lieutenant moved toward recreation room and waited by the door. The staff were beginning to return in groups. A few stormtroopers were among the first to show up, followed by an officer.

 

"What's going on?" The officer asked.

 

"Change in plans," Mia said. "We've got some new arrivals and I've been instructed to assist them as best I can. Right now, that means giving them access to all stormtroopers sober enough to fight. Maxwell, you're in charge while I'm gone, understand?"

 

"Yes lieutenant," the Officer replied.

 

"As for the rest of you, you look sober enough. The timing of this couldn't be worse. Anyone that can shoot straight is to report to Sergeant Raltz. Those of you who can't, report to the barracks and try to get some sleep. We'll need you sober as soon as possible. LET'S MOVE!"

 

The Stormtroopers began to rush towards the armory, putting on their armor. Mia turned towards Raltz and approached him. "So what exactly are we dealing with?" She asked.

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

 

Despite an officer that outranked all present, none of the Inquisitorius stormtroopers saluted when the Lieutenant entered the armory. All were either checking weapons or donning their matte-black individualized armor. The Sergeant himself was in front of the armory unit, his Darktrooper armor being fitted to him by automatic systems.

 

"I'm not authorized to answer that question, Lieutenant." His scarred face showed no sign of being perturbed. "There was a B-Wing crash recently. We are taking a ship there, where we will search the area for information on its pilot, and then destroy what's left of the fighter. That's all both of us need to know for now."

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "Yes sir," Mia replied. She could hardly claim to be okay with being in the dark but this stormtrooper did not look like he was going to divulge anything. The best she could do right now was hope that everything made sense when they reached their destination.

 

"Okay then," Mia said. "Let me know when you're ready."

 

 

IC: Nadia was becoming increasingly frustrated with the rival gang. They had been a nuisance for a long time, but now they were beyond a mere gang rivalry. She turned back towards the wookie, the real problem. Viseria was trying to hold him off but he was tough. Nadia ran towards the wookie and swung her own Vibroblade at him. He growled and pushed Viseria aside with one stroke. One way or another, that gang was going to pay for this, but right now she needed to focus on defending her friends.

 

The wookie's attention was on Nadia. She could still hear the taunts and laughter from her rivals.

 

"Didn't anyone tell you never to upset a wookie," one of them shouted. Nadia ignored her remark and focused on the wookie.

 

"You've messed with the wrong gang," Nadia told the wookie, staring him in the eyes.

 

OOC: I guess Nadia is still open to interaction if anyone wants to head out to the swoop race, but apparently it turns out the Vulkars and Beks aren't still going at it after all, so I've got to find some new names for the gangs.

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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

 

"Lieutenant, please address me properly. I fought for this Empire for twenty-eight years. There are very few people alive that I am on a first-name basis with."

 

Raltz stood still and straight as the final piece of his armor, the grimacing helmet, was lowered onto his face, pressurizing with a hiss. He spoke again, this time his voice lowered and with a distinct mechanical tinge. "Protocol states that I am to be referred to by my rank or my operating number, DT-204. You're an officer, you should know this, Lieutenant. Ma'am." The trooper, now fully clad in his gray durasteel exo-armor, took his repeater off the armory rack and marched toward the exit. The local stormtroopers seemed to be put back; Raltz knew that none of them had seen a Darktrooper, and none were likely to see one ever again.

 

"Move out!"

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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IC: "I'm sorry sir, most stormtroopers seem to like it when they're treated as human beings." Of course, Mia could address him however she wanted seeing as she outranked him. The only reason she was even taking orders from him at all was because she had instructions to assist Raltz on his mission, even though he wouldn't even tell her what it was.

 

For now, the best she could do was prepare herself. Most of the stormtroopers were ready to go now, and it looked like Ratlz was more or less in position. Mia turned toward the officers' barracks and entered, approaching her bunk. Next to it was a footlocker, which she opened, and pulled out her standard-issue pistol. Not the most impressive weapon but it worked for field duty. After holstering her weapon, she stepped back outside, ready to move. "Okay, let's go!" She said.

 

The stormtroopers began to move into formation, organizing two lines and exiting through the door. Mia followed behind.

 

OOC: Nobody seems to be able to get to the swoop track. Maybe I should just deal with this whole mess so Nadia can get into a better position.

 

IC: Nadia ducked under another blow from the Wookie. She was beginning to regret provoking it now. An angry Wookie was bad enough, and it was well known that they do not take kindly to losing, but he was just getting angrier. Another stroke from her vibroblade managed to hit the Wookie's leg. He growled.

 

Having caught her breath, Viseria turned toward the wookie once again, aiding Nadia with her own vibroblade. A few more of the gang arrived. Viseria was able to quickly dodge a few more blows before moving away. Nadia was quickly pushed aside as well, but that was when she noticed the Gungan returning, with a round object in his hands. It didn't take much to realize he was armed with a thermal detonator. Nadia quickly got to her feet and ran for cover, as did the other gang members. The Wookie however, was not paying as much attention. The explosive went off, and he finally collapsed to the ground.

 

With the danger now passed, the rival gang's laughter began to fade.

 

"Is everyone alright?" Nadia asked as she looked toward her teammates.

 

"I think so," Viseria replied. "I don't think I can do another run today, though."

 

"Understandable," Nadia said, trying to catch her breath.

 

The announcer ran up to the gang, shaken by the fight that had just taken place. "Is anyone hurt?" He asked.

 

"I'm okay," Nadia said. "Just tired. Some of the others might have been injured, though."

 

"Alright," the Announcer replied. "We'll have to stop the race here. Why don't you two go back to the base and try to relax. I'll call for a doctor to come down here and make sure nobody's hurt."

 

The Twi'lek began to turn towards the exit to the track, her Miraluka friend following close behind her. Both were tired. "The Stray Tach shouldn't be far from here," Nadia said in between breaths.

 

"A drink might not be a bad idea," Viseria muttered.

Edited by Atton Rand
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IC (Raltz Nightwing, Imperial Outpost):

 

DT-204's face was inscrutable beneath his helmet. He paused for a moment, before making his way for the landing pad.

 

"Treating troopers like people turned out so well for the clones, don't you think?" the Darktrooper hissed as he passed the officer. As stormtroopers piled into the troop transport, DT-204 did not sit, only holding a handhold. "Pilot, we have those coordinates?"

 

"Yes sir. The trip shouldn't be long."

 

"Good."

Edited by Keeper of Kraata

The times, they are a-changing...

 

 

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OOC: Strange analogy. I don't know that I'd call programming the clones so they were unable to question orders, growing them on masse to be soldiers without any real say in the matter, denying them the right to leave (and sending hit squads after deserters) and then executing any who were unable to continue fighting is "treating them like human beings."

 

IC: "You mean the ones that were programmed to respond to orders without question and were executed when they were unable to continue serving?" Lt. Arkada muttered. She didn't want to provoke the argument further, but it seemed obvious to her that this man had little understanding of what he was talking about. Obviously, he needed to learn a bit of the Republic's history. For now, she followed him into the cold, windowless transport and took a seat next to one of her own stormtroopers. She tried to stay calm, not sure of what to expect from the mission.

 

The Stormtrooper quickly removed her helmet and turned toward the officer. "So what exactly is our mission?" She asked.

 

"I don't know, Dak," Mia said. "Something about a downed B-Wing. That's all the information I could get."

 

IC: It was only a short walk before Nadia and Viseria saw the door to the Stray Tach. As the Twi'lek stepped inside, she approached the bar, her Miraluka friend close behind.

 

"Hey!" Nadia shouted towards the Christori Bartender. "Get us a couple of your strongest drinks."

 

Viseria stood against the counter, facing the other table. She may have been technically blind, but as a Miraluka that hardly stopped her from observing the action going on in front of her. At one table, there was a Christori discussing some sort of business with a nervous mechanic. There was of course an area being used for gambling, with a variety of different races taking part in card games.

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IC:

 

That was weird.

 

By now Sarir should have been stripped bare and placing peeled grapes between her teeth pounding on her door making jokes about her figure.

 

Maybe I avoided him too well this time.

 

She needed pampering.

 

Could she find her way to a bar and back by midnight? Probably. This was the Upper City for a reason.

 

Maybe someone had heard something from the Lower City by now.

 

Worth a go.

 

Plus she could damage Sarir's chances of bringing a third tenant back to his room tonight. That would be hysterical. He would know the agony of being Costa Vespula...

 

Well, the gender-neutral parts, anyway.

 

Back to the taxi!

 

-Tyler

Edited by Costa Vespula

SAY IT ONE MORE TIME 

TELL ME WHAT IS ON YOUR MIND

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OOC: I just looked at the discussion topic again, and I think I figured out where I goofed up with regards to Sue the Bartender. It has to do with me misreading the following post:

 

Quote

And then there's Skri and Reo, impersonating Imperial officers, NT-081 (a rogue Novatrooper), Ghost and Dov's smugglers, Sue the bartender, the Chistori retired bounty hunter, Sen, a ship captain, an air traffic controller, Dov's rogue Dark Side practitioner, and probably a few I'm forgetting.

 

So what I think happened was I misread this excerpt as saying "The Christori Bartender" obviously mixing up Sue and the bounty hunter. I apologize for that misunderstanding. I probably also should have read Sue's profile in more detail beforehand.

 

IC: Nadia performed a quick double-take towards the bartender as she looked at her. That was a bit strange; mistaking a wookie for a Christori. Of course, this realization wasn't totally comforting to her. It was after all a Wookie who had attacked her friends earlier in the day. That didn't matter much for now, she was probably just tired and not thinking clearly. So far they had failed to call over the Wookie bartender, who was too busy attending to other matters. She cursed in her native Twi'Leki.

 

"I've got a strange feeling," Viseria muttered. Nadia turned towards her.

 

"Is something wrong?"

 

"I'm not sure. I just feel a strange presence here," the Miraluka paused. "It's probably nothing. I'm just exhausted."

 

"We've had a rough day," Nadia said. "Let's just get a drink and then go back to the base and get some sleep."

 

The Twi'lek turned back towards the bar. She felt somewhat reluctant to order drinks from the Wookie after what happened earlier, but that was the only person currently working.

 

"HEY!" She yelled. "Can we get a couple drinks over here!"

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OOC: That's not really how clone troopers in the Republic actually worked. Grown to be soldiers, yes, and not given any other choice but they were very much individuals. The Clone Wars places the most emphasis on this (though it was present in other pieces of media as well), but the clones were people and they knew it. They had distinct names, and the Jedi that commanded them generally encouraged individuality and camaraderie. They were completely able to object to orders, too. The Umbara arc provides an immense number of examples, but it's present everywhere.

The only orders they couldn't actually disobey were a very specific subset, of which Order 66 was one. Those orders activated a control chip that actually put the trooper into a trance-like state wherein they had no control, nor any memory of what they did after the fact.

In that sense, yes, the clones were actually high individual.

IC:

The Lower City only added to Liare's growing sense of familiarity. The Upper City at least tried to put on an air of class, but the Lower City was truly an Outer RIm city. Dim, dirty, and full of all the shadiest people Taris had to offer. If you were looking for something, anything really, then the Lower City would have it. Entertainment, live music, good bars, Mandalorian ne'tra gal, death sticks, stolen Imperial equipment, gangs, hitmen, the list went from 'legal' to 'illegal' in a heartbeat. Just like the Lower City. The Inquisitor felt at home in a way that he never could on anything but the lowest levels of Coruscant or the shadiest parts of Nar Shaddaa, Come to think of it, the second one might have explained a few things.

 

Even he knew how to separate business from pleasure, but this wasn't just a mission. He hadn't been lying when he told Veyura he tried to enjoy his time off of the Insight. This was one of the few times that he wasn't constantly on the Inquisitorius' radar. Soooo, he had to make a few stops too, The first few were easy. A local liquor shop to buy some of said ne'tra gal (he had a weakness for the stuff) with an extra tip to have it delivered to the hotel, a weapons dealer to buy some components for the DC-17 that the Empire didn't exactly keep in stock, holovid store, the list went on. The visits were quick but they weren't just for pleasure, either.

 

Anyone coming down from the Upper City, dressed like he was dressed, was worth noting. Plenty of gangs would peg him as an easy mark, for instance, It took a little time for him to un-learn the gait that being an Inquisitor encouraged, too, and go back to the way a smuggler really walked. Not just smugglers, either. People from all sorts of less-than-savory backgrounds. Anyone in the Upper City wouldn't notice, but down here you had to really fit in, The stops helped him acclimate. Slip off the mask of an Inquisitor, and put on another one. One he liked a lot more, if he was honest, and one that was probably closer to the truth. But a mask nonetheless. The visits helped disguise his purpose, too. No Imperial officer on a mission would take the detours. In other words they were all carefully designed to mask his identity and purpose.

 

Plus, they really were fun. He'd have to pour Costa some of that ne'tra gal, she'd love it.

 

The point is that when he got on his way towards the Tach (chatting up the liquor store's cashier was pretty helpful, apparently the Tach was one of the best around) he was a few credits lighter, a few pockets heavier, and now fully settled in his own skin. He pushed the door open with a grin, slipping into the bar just after a pair of what were almost certainly gang members, and casually slipped around the aforementioned (rather loud) gang members to nab a comfy seat near the bar. Sort of seat that let him get an easy view of the bar, and the bar an easy view of him.

 

Liare Sarir never said he didn't enjoy being the center of attention.

 

"'Scuse me," He said to the bartender, slipping away from his seat after setting down one of his small bags to mark it as his own and over towards the bar. Liare gave the Wookie bartender a grin, and raised a hand in greeting. "Can I get a double of the strongest spirits you got?"

"After, of course, you finish with these two ladies." The human Inquisitor gestured to Nadia and her Miralukan friend absently, grin shifting to something almost apologetic. "No rush. Just been a long trip."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Nadia turned in surprise towards the new visitor, a man who looked like he was from the upper city.

 

"I'm feeling it again," Viseria said, a bit more nervously. "That presence. It's stronger."

 

Nadia turned back toward her friend. "Is everything alright?"

 

It took Viseria a moment to calm down and catch her breath. "Yeah," she muttered. "I think I'm okay."

 

"Look, if you want you can go back now. I'll catch up later."

 

"No," Viseria muttered. "I'm fine. I should be okay."

 

"Alright,"

 

Nadia turned toward the new arrival. "I guess you're from the Upper City, judging by your clothes. Not many people from that area come down here without good reason so I assume you've got some kind of business here. Of course, I don't recognize you either, so I guess it's fair to assume you're from off-world."

 

OOC: I've been meaning to share this for a while, so I guess now is as good a time as any. I'm not sure how much use it will be but at the very least it makes for a fun intellectual exercise. I've been thinking a lot about how different species in the Star Wars universe have been stereotyped and represented, and it got me thinking of finding ways to subvert those associations. I came up with a few ideas, and if anyone wants to use these feel free to run with them. I figure worst case scenario, maybe you'll have some fun trying to imagine these things. So here are some ideas I came up with:

 

  • A Gamorrean who is extremely friendly and intelligent
  • A Hutt who is not greedy, and lacks any sort of affiliation with illegal and/or unethical business operations
  • A Toydarian who isn't obsessed with money
  • A member of Yoda's species who is depicted as an incompetent bumbling fool
  • An Ithorian warrior
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OOC:  Atton, while there's nothing wrong with such contemplations they might be better suited for the discussion topic.

 

IC:

 

[Sue, The Stray Tach, Lower Reaches]


As the tall women left, Sue swiped the class, taking off the note and sticking it to the bottom and plopping in the sink.  She deftly unfolded the wet paper with he claws and read the note.


“When the Imperials come for me, tell them what you know for your safety.”


Lovely.


Sue was used to the occasional runaway going through the bar.  Despite Vanndred’s warning, bounty hunters weren’t usually a problem.  They usually didn’t want anything but information, and Sue was usually gregarious considering what she knew was often minimal at best.  Imperial troops, now those were a little more difficult, although they didn’t usually come down here.  While Sue was pretty much clear--the battle of Endor had broken the slave trade in Wookies--she didn’t like to attract the attention of Imperials.  She did have a history.


She tucked the wet note in her bar apron.


There’s something different about that woman though, Sue mused as she wiped and disinfected glasses.  Most runaways practically exuded a cocktail of adrenaline and sweat that was the distinct smell of fear, but with this woman, Sue had only been able to catch a slight wif.  She was dangerous, and would probably have equally dangerous people coming after her.


The traitorous, adrenaline junkie part of Sue’s brain said well, it will be interesting.


"HEY! Can we get a couple drinks over here!"


Only Sue’s eyes moved between the Twi’lek and the man at the bar.  Then she relaxed into leisurely motion once again, her growl coming out almost as a drawl.

“Hold on to those rycrits, Princess,” TK translated, causing a smattering of laughter.  “It won’t be a minute.”

 

Sue was already in the process of composing drinks for the pair.  The Twi’lek didn’t look like the picky type; something classic and strong like a Starshine Surprise would do.  The human (was she a human?  She seemed to be, but the dark glasses that she had yet to take off seemed a little strange for baseline) looked like she could do with a bit more of a break.  She poured half a shot of Sulustan gin and layered a splash of spicebrew on top, finishing with a bespin sparkle.


She set the drinks on the counter and returned to the cabinet.  The newcomer smelled like ne’tra gal.  She tried to concentrate on the pleasant sweet smell of the ale instead of the finger of ice that was crawling up her spine.  It was that feeling she got whenever she saw imperial star cruiser overhead, except magnified in a way that made her skin itch with the desire to be somewhere else.

Sue, however, had a couple decades of experience in not letting that foreboding show.  She set a couple shot glasses in front of the man and filled them with the milder variety of Cortyg brandy.


She growled at him, interrupting the Twi’lek’s attempted interrogation.


“Unfortunately, the strongest liquor I have here would dissolve your internal organs from the inside, so I’m afraid you’ll have to stick with the one that will let me keep my job,” said the droid hovering beside her.

There's a dozen selves inside you, trying to be the one to run the dials

[BZPRPG Profiles]

Hatchi - Talli - Ranok - Lucira - FerellisMorie - Fanai - Akiyo - Yukie - Shuuan - Ilykaed - Pradhai - Ipsudir

And some aren't even on your side.

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IC: "That'll do," Nadia said as she picked up her drink and took a sip. Viseria slowly picked up her glass and put it onto her lips. She let the drink flow into her mouth before placing it back on the counter. She tried to ignore the stares from the Wookie; the fact that only her mouth and nose were visible under her hood did occasionally draw confused looks from locals. Being served by a Wookie was also somewhat ironic, but Nadia tried not to let it bother her too much. At least he (or was it a she? They all seemed to look the same). At least this one could control its temper.

 

"So how are we going to get back at the Beks?" Viseria asked.

 

"I'm not sure. We'll think of something clever. Why don't we talk to Gonzai about it tomorrow morning?"

 

"Sounds good," Viseria muttered as she took another sip.

 

"Feeling any better now?"

 

"A little,"

 

"That's good," Nadia replied. "Just try to relax and enjoy yourself."

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IC:

"Off world, yeah, but not Upper City." Liare answered the Twi'lek with a casual grin and shifted a little to be able to converse both with her and her friend, as well as with the Wookie bartender. He gestured vaguely towards the door while he waited for Sue to finish pouring the drinks, slipping his other hand into his pocket to locate his credit chit. "Upper City's not really my speed. Boss picked the accommodations, though, so we're staying up there while we're here. I figure we'll be on another job in a few days, but we don't get much time planetside. Upper City's too stuffy for recreational ."

 

At Sue's comment, though, he gave a friendly chuckle. He picked the glass up with a nod to the Wookie, setting his chit down on the counter with his off hand. "Yeah, guess you're right. Appreciate the thought. Humans aren't really cut out for what, say, a Hutt drinks, now are we? Not that I think anyone would want to be. Hutt cuisine is something else."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: Viseria smiled at the remark. Neither of the women had actually eaten Hutt cuisine, but the numerous Hutts who ran businesses on Taris had allowed them some exposure.

 

"Trust me," she said. "You don't want to know Hutt cuisine, if you can even call it that."

 

"Makes sense," Nadia replied. "I've got friends all over Taris. If you'd been from around here I probably would have met you before. It's the kind of reputation you get as a swoop race champion. I've even got an Imperial contact, Mia Arkada. She's been restoring one of the local outposts, and offers credits or swoop parts in exchange for equipment. I can tell you she pays real good."

 

The Twi'lek paused for a moment. "I guess I'd better introduce myself," she said. "Nadia Rinlo. This is my friend Viseria."

 

"Hey," Viseria muttered shyly as she took another sip of her drink.

 

"We're swoop riders for the Vulkars," Nadia explained. "We're not the most powerful gang on Taris, but we get by. For some of us who grew up in the streets they're the closest thing we have to family."

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IC:

"Good to meet you." Liare said easily, taking a long swallow from his drink before resting it on the counter again. "I'm Liare. Not surprised the gangs are still going. Empire's hold out here isn't great anymore, and it's hard to crack down on places like the Lower City."

"I'm just in town with the boss, finishing a cargo delivery. She just wants to get the job done, I'm hoping to get some business done myself before we leave."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC:

"Hm?" Liare asked quizzically, blinking slightly at the Twi'lek's question like he wasn't quite sure what she meant. He took a sip of his drink a second later, eyes lighting up with understanding. "Oh, right. We got robbed on the way here. Some New Republic type in a B-Wing. Not quite sure what it is he got, I didn't have the cargo manifest, but we handed it over. A freighter can't really stand up to a B-Wing, y'know? We had a great plan to try and disable him when he left, but, well..."

Liare looked sheepish a moment, and covered up his embarrassment with a sip of his drink. "Didn't quite work like we hoped. We winged him, but he was still in good enough shape to beat us to Taris before we could catch him. Zabrak fellow. Boss wants me to drop it, but I kinda want to find him before we leave. Get back what he took, if I can."

fK5oqYf.jpg

 

On this eve, the thirtieth anniversary of that first colony, many are left to wonder; is the world fast approaching a breaking point?

 

 

  Breaking Point: An OTC Mecha RPG

 

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IC: "Interesting," Nadia muttered. "I don't think I've heard anything about any b-wings on Taris recently, but some of the other Vulkars might know something. We've got a hideout near the Imperial Outpost, you could ask around in there. Talk to Gonzai. He's a big gamorrean so you should be able to find him easily, but he manages the gang's publicity and has some contacts in the media, so he might know something I don't."

 

IC: The flight was largely quiet as the shuttle moved onward. The dark and windowless environment hardly made things any easier, as she still had no idea where they were going. Finally, she felt the vehicle beginning to slow down, and realized they had arrived.

Edited by Atton Rand
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