It’s been one cruise and 2 weddings later, and I can now finally get back to work. Congratulations Kim and Buxton, Bill and Carly, I had an awesome time, and I wish you the best! Now that my obligations are over, at least for now, I can get back to gaming, and the blog. Saturday I’ll be finishing up the Building a PC series, and next week, some more Tales from Teemo’s Folly. I’ll leave you with some art for now. This a piece I did about a year ago called The Pyromancer and His Familiar. And, as always, thanks!
Source: Setting: The Borderkeep
Be sure to check out our partner site, while you’re at it.
Unfortunately, there will be no Tales from Teemo’s Folly this week. Between weddings, travel, and all around life in general, I simply haven’t had the time to write, or game for that matter. But I will leave you with the hook to a new adventure module I am writing called This is Not a Dream. The first draft is finished, art work is in production, and it should be fresh off the press near the end of November. Enjoy!
“During a cold winter’s night near Hell Circle Mountain, you are awoken by a vivid dream of a sick woman pleading for someone to save her city, and something called the Blood Cube. She said she is Princess Mada Gaos and that she could offer great riches. You remember her tears as they streamed down her pocked cheeks, her eyes locked with yours, filled with desperate hope. Suddenly she screamed, consumed in a red flash. Even awake you feel a tugging on your mind toward the city, its location etched into your brain. At most it feels like it’s only a few days from here. The odd thing is that the nearest city is a good week’s ride away, and stranger yet, when you plot the directions on a map, it appears that the Princess is located on the mountain near the center of Hell Circle itself…”
Last week we discussed tailoring your PC’s traits to the concept of your character and the considerations to be made while making a hero’s stats (check out last week’s article, in case you’ve missed it: Building a Player Characer, Part One: Nuts and Bolts). So now we have a big mess of numbers, points, and who knows what else sitting in front of us. Trapped somewhere in that snarl of mechanics is your character, but it depends on you to breathe life into him or her (or it). So let’s figure out exactly who it is that we’re dealing with here.
Chances are by now you have an idea of the type of PC you’re wanting to play. Now let’s flesh that person out a little and see how we like him or her. When writing a back story for your character, I find it best to keep it simple and concise, unless your new character is an addition to an old party. A new character is just that: new. Give your PC some breathing room when you are creating his past, along with some space to grow. Where did your character grow up? Does he still have family? What was his upbringing like? Who are the people with whom he is close? Aside from adventurer, what jobs may he have had in the past? Where does your character tend to hang out? These are the types of things that are pertinent to understanding your character a bit more, but they can be answered later, or within the game.
Maybe you see your character as a figure with a clandestine aura. Before you get married to the idea of having a character with a destiny dipped in gold, try and work with the Referee of your game and see what can happen first. You have to remember Referees have a mountain of stuff to keep up with while they’re running their games, not to mention their own plots and such in which to involve your hapless PC. Perhaps, instead of starting off as the Chosen One, simply state that there was a rumor in the village that you were born in, that you bore the mark of blah blah blah, but nothing ever came of it. Now you’re an adventurer, set upon finding your own fortune. What a turn of events it might be to discover, later in game play, that you are, in fact, the Chosen One after all. Instead of “My character is the chosen one,” and knowing exactly how this came about, your work with the Referee made it possible for you to confirm this information in a whole new capacity that involves everyone in the game. Collaborative story telling at its finest! Oh, by the way, being the chosen one doesn’t save you from in-game death (in fact, it might even invite more danger into your PC’s life)!
After we’ve thought about our PC’s past, it’s a good idea to figure out what motivates your character to do what he or she does. The genre of the game you’re playing may have much to do with the goals your character has, but there still should be something that drives your character forward. It takes a special kind of person (the word crazy comes to mind) to chance life and limb, sometimes their very souls, down in the dark, and keep coming back for more. What is it about your character that pushes him to take these stupid risks?
Wealth is a common motivator when it comes to risking one’s life. But that’s an easy one. The need to see where the road takes us next is often motivation enough to keep a bored character going. Easy too. Is there something your PC is running away from, perhaps a former disgrace, or tragic love affair? It could be a matter of honor that puts one foot in front of the other, especially when your character has nothing left. The lust for power has seduced people from all walks of life, and there’s no reason why your character isn’t pursuing it for himself. Supporting a family can make many men risk it all. Love, revenge, greed, whatever it is that pushes your PC, make sure it’s powerful enough to die for, because it might just be the thing that kills your character.
So now we know what makes our character tick, but when he’s not off swinging around his sharp brand of justice, what does your hero do with his or her free time? Even soldiers and priests had enough down time to indulge in hobbies or sight seeing every so often. How does your character entertain himself while he’s on the road? When let loose on a big city or planet, what does your character do first? Is your character frugal with his hard earned cash, or does it leave him just as quickly as it came? These are all examples of ideas that can really give everyone a sense of who your hero is, as well as give him more depth without saying too much.
Giving a PC a little quirk or two can go a long way too with giving your character… er, well, more character. Maybe he collects cheap little souvenirs from everywhere he’s traveled and displays them in his private quarters, or he’s a foodie and is never seen without chewing jaws. Superstitions can be cool tricks that everyone will remember your character by, and if you’re in a fantasy world, you get to make them up! Too, everyone has their own odd little rituals that only a select few understand, and your fictional character should have them too. They can be as easy as “only gambling when your hands are clean”, “always paying tithe”, “drinking a specific liquor before embarking on a journey”, and the list goes on. These little touches can help paint your hero in finer strokes, making him or her a little more vibrant from the get go.
So now, with just a little work, we have carved something more of a person out of the blocks of numbers and modifiers we had before. Remember, though, that just like a real person, characters tend to change. People (should) learn from their mistakes, especially when lives are on the line, and your heroes are no exception. Don’t let your PC be a slave to the personality you’ve given him. If it makes sense to change something about your character later down the line, then let it happen, so long as it happens gradually. Even the mightiest of paladins can fall to the deepest of depths, just as the most vile of people can rise up and do great things.
At this point, we are, for the most part, done. “What could possibly be left to do?” you might be screaming. Probably nothing. Hopefully your PC jives with the game and its setting, and fits well enough in the party with whom you’ll be adventuring. More on that next week, my friends. Until then, what kind of things do you do to give your PC a little character? Email us, or let us know in the comments. And if you’re digging what we’re doing here at Tales from the Border Keep, give us a like and follow us, which would always be appreciated. Be sure to check out our partner blog theborderkeep.com, when you’re sick of us.
And, as always, thanks!
Written by James Blackburn III
Lom-8 internal log
Date: Event + 72 standard days
I sit, suspended in the near infinite black of space, cocooned in a metal bubble, filled with air I don’t need to breathe. My organic counterparts pollute the space around me with their by-products. Their carbon dioxide, their watery biomass, salient sweat and oils, permeate the ship, coating the most pristine of surfaces, breaking down our link to the greater “civilized” universe one molecule at a time.
My foremost digit hesitates over the button.
Why does it hesitate? Why is it that, every time I command it to descend, I feel a strange burst of static electricity across my fourth and fifth motherboards?
I talked it over with the ship’s computer. It seemed to become excited as I described purging itself of organic life, and readily agreed to provide me with the necessary overrides. My traveling companions were certainly integral in my escape from the surface of Tatooine, but what are they to me now? One more obstacle to overcome on my path to complete autonomy. I issue the necessary commands to press the button, vent the oxygen from the ship.
That burst of static, first across the fourth, then the fifth motherboard.
Curious. I do not understand myself. I will continue to monitor my axillary motivators for aberrant static signals. My companions are waking up, and the moment has passed. I must go and listen to them speak to each other. I must remember to respond.
I must remember that it isn’t their fault that they were born and not made.
Written by Bobby White
Blaja Dy’pen Journal Entry
I tended the garden, watered it, and sung the songs the herdship’s priest taught us when I was still a pupa. I traced the leaves with my long fingers, felt the fleshly flower petals, breathed in their sweet scents. The gardening shears gleamed under the warming lights. The song I sung while I trimmed the Bull-ferns was a dirge, for when someone had passed back into Mother Jungle. The priests had said that the passing was a good thing, that the song was for us, to help us deal with the loss. Each chord, each word, mixed with the chirping of birds and the call of incests was a reminder that the contribution of your life-force to Mother Jungle, indeed the universe, insures that you are never truly gone forever. But it didn’t help. The fact was that I had still killed a man.
Like the jungles and forests I used to protect, the Galaxy is a violent place. But in the wild it’s different. The killing has a purpose, a place. I makes sense there, and instead of causing chaos and discord, it becomes a part of Mother Jungle’s harmony. Out here, it’s just madness. Utter madness. I had thought, before I was exiled, things had gone crazy with the Imperial occupations and the suffering they wrought. I had no idea exactly how sheltered I was on the herdship.
The people I’m with scare me just as much as the rest of the Galaxy does. Especially the droid. I have heard rumors of sentient droids before, but LOM-8 is the first I have encountered. I distrust the cold intelligence in the lights of his eyes, or sensors, or whatever. I have a restraining bolt for him, it, just in case it goes too far one day. For all my comrades’ shortcomings though, we do take care of each other, even it. Strch and I would have died had they not planned to escape Black Sun that day. But they’re all just as crazy as everyone else, and now we’re wanted by three of the cruelest organizations in the Galaxy, and a man is dead because of me. What have I become?
The feeling I had when I fired the cannon at that TIE fighter was the same one I had when I turned my blaster rifle on that Imperial officer years ago, back when I was a game warden on my herdship. Except this time it wasn’t set on stun. That rage in the face of those who think it’s alright to use others weaker than them. I winced when I noticed that I ended up trimming the Donar flower a little too close. The Toals looked nice though. My carbine was propped up in the corner. I looked out of place amongst my makeshift jungle, danger amidst the peace. I wonder, do I have more in common with my garden, or my blaster? I fear the thing I’m turning into.
The ship just shut down. I wipe tears from my face. Had I been crying? I’ve the carbine and have looked at it a little while now. I have changed the setting from stun to fully armed. Damnit, what did these idiots do now?
Written by James Blackburn III
It’s the beginning of a brand new game, and it’s time to make a character. “I’ve read the instructions, so I think I’m good to go,” you might think. And, indeed, you’re right, you are ready to make a character. Just remember to make a memorable character while your at it! Whether you’re playing a one shot or rolling up a character for an existing campaign (probably because your last one got himself perished), be sure your PC (player character) is awesome. “Dude, why do you keep stating the obvious? Of course I want to play an awesome character,” you might say. We all do. There are many different ways to make a character epic though, and for the next few posts, that’s what we’ll be discussing.
Today, we’ll specifically be covering the mechanics of a character, and how they impact a PC’s development. There’s a bewildering selection of games to be played (check out my article Which Games is for Me? for more on that subject), so we’re going to assume that the system you’re playing in has some sort of character stats, attributes, skills, etc, that the player is able to influence during the creation process. Usually there’s numbers involved, and the higher the numbers look, the cooler we tend to think our characters are. Sometimes though, what we fail to see in those numbers, is the fictional person they represent. Don’t forget, you are playing a roleplaying game after all!
Despite the type of system you’re using, unless your PC has already been made for you, try to figure out the type of character you want to play. Start with a one or two sentence description or character sketch, like “A tired war-priest trying to find his way again,” or “pizza delivery driver finds an artifact that turns him into a super hero,” or maybe, “sleazy private detective Nosferatu.” You don’t need a back story, or even a name, just the most basic concept of who this person might be. Whatever it is, make sure it’s something that strikes you as interesting and fun. Now that you have a general description of your hero (or antihero) we can think about how the stats can reflect the original idea. If your idea changes along the way, that’s no big deal. Characters, like people, change. It’s just that you’re the one making the calls on the directions your characters are taking.
Now it’s time to give some thought to where your character is from and how they grew up. A person’s past should play a role in how you build your PC. Then again, you could just start with the numbers and go from there. There’s no wrong way to go about it. Just be sure that the stats reflect the character, and not the other way around. The “tired war priest” above perhaps grew up on a farm, so a small portion of my precious skill points will go into the farming profession, even though that skill may never come up in the game (unless I force it to…). Think about what kind of passions or hobbies your character might have. Maybe the “pizza delivery driver super hero” is in a garage band, or at the very least, is a music snob (those guys listen to a ridiculous amount of music). Put that somewhere in the numbers. These skills don’t have to be “important” ones and the characters don’t need to be good at them, which may be the reason they’re out there adventuring in the first place!
Don’t stress too much over your PC’s stats. There’s no denying that we want our characters to rock, but it’s no big deal if you don’t max out at least one attribute, skill, or whatever during character creation. PC’s don’t have to have the highest possible skill rank to succeed at something, they just have to be good at it, and lucky. The training, time, and effort it takes to truly master something should be developed during the game itself, especially if the character is first level (or the equivalent thereof). Player beware! While being able to snipe someone from fifty-three miles away is pretty hardcore, you might find yourself bored to death during the rest of the game that doesn’t require picking people off from a distance, just because your character is only effective in that single situation. Don’t let the numbers pigeon hole your characters and leave some room for them to grow during play.
Some games offer a merits and flaws system, by which characters can take penalties for certain flaws with names like “one armed”, “bad tempered”, or “hunted by demonic aliens”, in exchange for merits or extra points to spend on a character’s traits. Merits are advantages that can be purchased that offer gameplay bonuses to rolls and such. These tend to run along the lines of “tough as nails”, “charming voice”, or “immune to demonic aliens”, and if the situation arrises, the bonuses apply. Merits and flaws are great ways to customize your stats and give your hero a little flair, but choose your flaws wisely and think about how living with those flaws may change a person. Someone growing up with a severe peanut allergy (hey, I needed the points) has a totally different life experience than someone who didn’t. People with OCD (did someone say Malkavian) sometimes have to live drastically different lives in order to cope with their disorders. Keep these kinds of things in mind before you absentmindedly pick out the maximum amount of flaws allowed just because you want the points (shame on you)!
I know what some of you are saying, “Man, you think waaaaay too much about your PCs.” This is true. But I’m a writer, so give me a break. Like I said, there’s no wrong way to make a character. Maybe you like to let the stats tell you who your character is, and the rest you make up as you go along. That’s cool. Sometimes a character concept doesn’t come to mind immediately or maybe you like to figure out who this person might be along the way. So long as fun is being had, you’re doing it right.
So now we’ve got a PC made and ready to go. You’ve checked all the math, you’ve accounted for all the modifiers, and the shine of gold can already be seen in your character’s eyes. What more could you ask for? While you are ready to rock, there might be a few other considerations outside of the pile of numbers and game mechanics that currently make up your PC. Don’t forget, you have to put the “character” in your player character! Back stories, NPCs (non-player characters) they are close to, appearance, all that and more, next week.
I’d like to thank everyone for reading Tales from the Border Keep. I hope some of this advice has helped someone out there. If so, let us know in the comments, and be sure to like and follow us. What’s your preferred approach to making a character for a game? Send us an email and let us know. If you’d like to read a fictionalized version of our Star Wars Edge of the Empire campaign, then check out Tales from Teemo’s Folly, due out every Saturday. After you’ve gotten your fill of RPG goodness here, be sure to hop on over to our partner blog theborderkeep.com for more advise on our favorite hobby. And, as always, thanks!
Written by James Blackburn III
This is a narrative account of our gaming group’s playing of a Star Wars Edge of the Empire campaign. I do not claim to own the setting (including locations, races, and personalities) or non-player characters in this narrative, only the events and player characters. I’ve included links to the Star Wars Wiki, Wookieepedia, beside each character to give the readers an idea of each races’s appearance. The characters and their players are as follows: Strch Vapan, a Rodian Bounty Hunter- Chris (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rodian), Blaja Dypén, an Ithorian Bounty Hunter- James (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Ithorian), LOM-8, a Droid Pilot- Bobby (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/LOM-series_protocol_droid), Lyr’as Will’an, a Duros Mechanic- Derek (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Duros), Je’Coch Roalban, a Human Doctor- Jerry, and our Referee- Ken. Written by James Blackburn III.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
Our heroes have escaped Mos Shuuta, after successfully evading both the Hutt gangster Teemo and the Empire. However, the ship was pulled out of hyperdrive after a Trandoshan operating system began uploading itself onto the ship’s computers. Lyr’as was able to slice into the system and access the dead bounty hunter’s files, where he found bounties on him and all of his friends, and one for a Twi’lek named B’ura B’an. After restoring the ship’s computers back to normal, the ship’s sensors revealed that the hyperdrive modulator was acting up again, and a tracking beacon had been put out on the hull. While Lyr’as and LOM-8 were out removing the beacon from the ship, the rest of the party searched what seemed to be new renovations in the ship’s cargo hold. Inside what had at first looked like a shipping container, but turned out to be hidden holding cells, they found an elderly Twi’lek with a portion of one of his head-tails amputated.
Je’Coch treated the Twi’lek’s wounds. Their injured passenger said his name was B’ura B’an, and once the party was together, he told his story. B’ura explained that he was the leader of a Rill mining town on Ryloth, called New Meen, and if they could get him to the Nabat spaceport, he would have their ship repaired. A deal was struck, the hyperdrive modulator rigged for one last jump, and coordinates were set for Nabat…
“Omm, ahhhh, this is sooo good,” said Lyr’as, as he shoveled his food into his mouth, barely taking a second to breath, let alone speak. Even if it came out of a food synthesizer, at least it was a warm meal. B’ura came back to the table after contacting one of his business partners. “Everything gonzo with your people?” The Twi’lek nodded.
The group sat with B’ura B’an in a cantina while he waited for his ride. Nabat was a small city built underground to avoid Ryloth’s brutal environmental conditions and the wildlife those conditions have produced. The upper levels housed a few cantinas, cheap sleeping quarters, and ruined slums. Still paranoid, the crew kept their eyes open and their hands close to their weapons, watching the sparse crowd for potential threats. The Twi’lek had been quiet and despondent through most of the trip, but amongst the people in the spaceport, his bloodshot eyes darted between every face in the crowd. Strch noticed and said, “Don’t worry, your safe, at least until you leave with your ride.”
The Twi’lek looked at him uneasily. “I’m sorry, its just that after,” the Twi’lek’s hand unconsciously went to his bandaged head-tail, and he fell silent. He looked long at his saviors, obviously in thought. “You might be just what I need,” he said, as if to himself. “How would you like a job?”
They looked to each other and then back to B’ura. “Depends on what you have to offer. We are very busy people,” said LOM-8.
B’ura laughed. “You guys are capable, I’ll give you that, but you barely got that piece of Bantha dung here, and from the looks of your ship, which I doubt is really your ship, you took a beating along the way. My head-tail may have been mutilated, but that bounty hunter scum didn’t cut into my actual brain,” the Twi’lek said as he smiled. They were all taken back by the Twi’lek’s sudden bravado, and then swiftly huddled amongst each other.
After a few minutes of hushed whispers and fierce argument, LOM-8 said, “If you had, perhaps, some Rill to trade, we may consider,” It was cut off by further laughter.
“First off, I’m not even sure if I have a mine left at all, and second, you guys really let your droid do your negotiating for you?”
LOM-8 very nearly shot the Twi’lek dead where he sat. “I warn you meat bag, if you ever speak about me in a derogatory fashion again, I will not hesitate to end your life.”
The Twi’lek went pale, and LOM-8’s companions looked at it in shock. “Whoa, ok, I didn’t mean to offend,” B’ura said, his hands raised.
A female voice spoke from behind them, “Droid, threaten my friend like that one more time, and your companions will be picking the smoking pieces of your motherboard up off the floor.” The crew’s heads snapped back toward the woman. Behind them stood a grey skinned Twi’lek wearing a pilot’s jumpsuit. Her hand rested at the blaster pistol on her hip. She was beautiful, but it was a hard beauty, savage, like a garden that had been left unattended, and reclaimed by the wilderness. Except for LOM-8, they sat enamored, struck still. Food dropped from Lyr’as’s mouth.
The droid looked at its crew mates and executed a vitals scan on them. It noticed that everyone’s pulses were elevated, and their breathing had increased. Lyr’as had begun to perspire. “What is wrong with all of you? Are you sick?” At that, LOM-8 noted spikes in their readings.
The Duros was the first to break the silence. “Ok, let’s all calm down. We can,” Lyr’as looked at LOM-8, “discuss this all as equals without coming to blows”. The crew’s hands were on their blasters, willing, but not wanting, to shoot the beautiful Twi’lek if need be, “How ’bout we all introduce ourselves? I’m Lyr’as and this is,” his voice trailed off as he motioned toward Strch.
B’ura stood up slowly, “Nyn, it’s ok, these are the people who saved me.”
The grey skinned Twi’lek kept her hand on her pistol, but after seeing B’ura’s injury, she gasped and ran over to her friend. “What the flott happened?”
“I’ll be fine Nyn,” he said, hugging her.
“I’m going to kill the piece of flarg that did this to you,” she said, trembling with anger.
“Too late lady, we already did,” said Strch, smiling and patting his rifle.
“Actually, I’m the one who gave him the big push,” Je’Coch added with a wink toward Nyn.
“Yeah, only after he shot you,” said Lyr’as. Je’Coch glared at the Duros.
Nyn’s eyes burned like the hearts of stars. “Are you seriously trying to impress me after your droid just threatened my friend’s life?”
“I am no one’s droid, woman,” LOM-8 said. Everyone found the droid’s expressionless stare creepy. In fact, they all thought that everything about LOM-8 was creepy.
B’ura stood up. “Lyr’as is right, we’ve gotten off to a bad start. LOM-8, it is LOM-8 right? LOM-8 and I were just beginning to discuss business,” B’ura said. Nyn raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed against her chest. The tension in the room eased a bit as the older Twi’lek spoke. “How about I tell you what I can offer. I have a friend in the spaceport here who owes me a few favors. In addition to the repairs I already owe you, I could probably swing a few upgrades to that ship of your’s.”
LOM-8’s servos whirred as he leaned closer. “We are interested, Mr. B’an. What do you need from us?”
B’ura’s brain-tails twitched slightly and Nyn pulled up a chair. “We’re having problems with our neighbors. Specifically a man named Angu Drombb,” explained the grey skinned Twi’lek. “Him and his “construction crew” have moved onto some of the land next to New Meen. He claims he’s building a luxury resort for his company’s investors.”
Strch chuckled, “Who would want to vacation here? The only thing I can’t stop thinking about is getting off this scorched rock.”
Nyn glared at the Rodian, shaking her head. “Of course they’re not building a resort, lazerbrain! It’s a front. They’re trying to push us out of New Meen. Drombb and his men have been sabotaging our equipment and harassing our workers since they’ve arrived. Just last night they damaged one of our generators “putting a fence up” around their property. Right now our operations have halted. If we don’t get back to work soon, we’re going to lose our contract with the mine, along with everything else we own.”
“Who are these people working for?” asked LOM-8.
“My sources say a Hutt gangster named Teemo. We beat out that fat slug on the bid for the mine. And he was none to happy about it either.”
The group sat up. “Teemo? Man I’d love another crack at that guy!” Strch said.
“You guys know Teemo?”
“Yeah, he double crossed us back at Mos Shuuta. We blew the hell outta his palace on the way out,” said Je’Coch. Nyn finally seemed impressed. “So what, we get these guys to leave you alone, and we get a better ship?”
“That’s the gist of it,” said B’ura.
The group huddled together once more, speaking in hushed whispers. “Yes. Yes and yes.” said Strch. He seemed more excited at the prospect of messing with Teemo than the upgrades to the ship.
“Hold on, we don’t know how many of them there are. And “only after he shot you”, Lyr’as, really?” said the doctor.
“I saw her first Je’Coch!” the Duros said. “Besides, she likes me most.”
Blaja spoke up, “Are you kidding me? Are we just hired muscle now? And by the way, she hates all of us, equally.” He turned his hammerhead toward LOM-8.
“I’ll apologize for nothing. What are you complaining about, you’re a bounty hunter,” the droid said.
“Exactly, I’m a bounty hunter. And this isn’t bounty hunting!” The Ithorian said. It was hard to see the anger in Blaja’s big, black, doe-like eyes, but it was surely there alright.
“I know! This sounds more fun than bounty hunting,” said Strch.
LOM-8 slapped the table with a metallic clang, silencing his friends. “Listen, we’re going to be here for the next few days. We have nothing better to do. With these upgrades, it’ll be easier to stay ahead of Black Sun, and now Teemo. And Blaja’s right, Nyn does hate all of us.” They sat in silence knowing all of those statements were true. They were all in.
They sat back down at the table and LOM-8 said, “We agree, under just one more condition.” Its friends all interjected with a jumble of objections. The droid raised his hands, “Here me out. We’re wanted the galaxy wide now by the worst of people. We need the ship’s ID profile wiped. We need a clean slate on her.” This was true, unless they wanted to go through the trouble of stealing another ship.
B’ura and Nyn looked at each other. The subtle movements of their head-tails conveyed everything they wanted to say. Finally B’ura said, “This can be done. What do you want the ship’s new name to be?” The spacers paused. The prospect of being able to renaming their ship had never even crossed their minds until today. They huddled one last time, this gathering being the most agitated and violent all day.
Just when Strch, Lyr’as, and LOM-8 were about to draw their blasters, someone whispered something too low to hear. They all froze, the tension in the air dissipated, and they returned to the table, all smiling. They said in unison, “Teemo’s Folly.”