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…
The five rogues, after questioning their prisoner, have learned that their ship is docked at the local port, but that it’s been put on lock down. Furthermore, it’s still missing it’s hyperdrive modulator. They decided that it’d be easier to find the needed part first. The crew made their way through the back alleys and slums of Mos Shuuta to a junk store.
Lyr’as wasn’t able to find the correct part, but he was able to find one he thought he could at least make work for the time being. LOM-8, with his silvered tongue, and the badge he found on Teemo’s men, convinced the shop owner to charge not only the part they needed to Teemo’s account, but also about 2,000 credits worth of other inventory that was to be loaded onto the ship before they left. Now all they had left to do was infiltrate the port authority and get their ship unlocked…
They had decided it best to split up. Je’Coch and LOM-8 were to go in under the guise of being some of Teemo’s men, and try to convince someone there that the Hutt wanted his ship unlocked so it can be taken out for a test ride. Since the Empire looked down on species other than humans, the other three were to try and blend in with the other “help” there, posing as more of Teemo’s men sent to find some people who had escaped their master’s grasp. If Lyr’as was able to get to a computer station, he’d be able to slice it and release the ship from there. If either of them were to be caught, their only other plan was to blast their way out. Strch chuckled and said, “I like the second plan better.”
“No. Nooooo. I’ve been beaten on enough already today, thank you,” said Je’Coch, his shoulder still sore from the fight in the bar.
Strch grunted. “Ah, come on. Between us all we’ve ‘nough grenades to blow this place to bits if…”
“Noooo. No.” With that the group spilt up.
LOM-8 put his odds calculator program in sleep mode as the numbers kept dipping lower and lower with each step toward the building’s entrance. It noted the two stormtroops at the door, as well as the other government employees milling around hastily. Before long they were noticed by a young Imperial Officer. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be in here!”
Je’Coch began to speak, but was cut off by LOM-8, “Sir, My owner and I have been sent by Teemo to release the Duraflight L Model currently on lock down.” It presented its badge to the young officer. Je’Coch did the same.
The man briefly looked at them. “We don’t have an order placed for that. You’ll have to speak with the Lieutenant for clearance.”
“That won’t be necessary. We just simply need to have the ship released and we’ll…”
“Actually it is necessary for orders that haven’t been approved yet,” the man interjected. “Stay here.” With that he walked away, but not before giving them an untrusting glance from over his shoulder.
Blaja, Strch, and Lyr’as found it surprisingly easy to infiltrate the ship yard. In fact, they simply walked right in. All of the workers were busy organizing equipment, or otherwise straightening up, as if they were expecting an important guest. Amongst the hurried confusion, they quickly found a terminal that was a little out of the way, and the Duros began his work while Blaja and Strch kept an eye out for any trouble.
Lyr’as slotted his data probe into the machine and activated its codebreaker program. The device was modified by the mechanic himself, which was something he had prided himself on. Now he’ll actual get to put it to a real test. It detected two security nodes. He checked the stream of seemingly endless data on his probe. It would take a couple minutes to crack, but it should allot him enough time to search the registry for their ship and and unlock it. If not, security would be immediately alerted to the system breach, and then Strch’s favorite plan would go into effect.
“Hurry up!” Strch said in a hushed voice. Both bounty hunters noticed extra security coming out of the building and marching toward the landing pad. “Its getting mighty white out here.”
“I’m trying damnit!” Lyr’as kept looking from the terminal’s screen and back to his probe. The handheld device finally beeped. “I’m in!” He began to filter through the registry, frantically trying to find the right hold at the port. He began to sweat.
“Don’t try, just do!” Several officers began to come out and meet the security by the landing pad. They looked as professional as they possibly could.
Then Lyr’as found it. He issued the command to release the docking locks and checked the power levels. Everything looked good except for the part he needed to install. He slotted out. “Let’s hit it,” he said.
As the three began walking out, they noticed an Imperial Transport Shuttle coming in for a landing. It kicked up a cloud of dust as it touched down. A small regiment of Stormtroopers filed out the of vessel, their white armor bright in the Tatooine suns. Blaja’s eyes narrowed, his mouths clenched tight with anger. Strch was both taken back, and proud of his partner, who’s emotions the Rodian could never read. At that, the three hurried their escape.
LOM-8 began storing pictures of faces and the names on the corresponding badges of the people milling about, mostly out of boredom. Mostly. Je’Coch kept his eyes on the two guards at the door. He noticed that all the rest had gone out the back of the building for something. After a couple minutes wait, a woman with dark hair and a stern lips met them, along with the man from earlier. Her Imperial uniform was impeccable, beyond what an Imperial’s uniform usually is. “What’s the problem here? Make it quick.”
LOM-8 filed away a picture of her face as well as her name. “Yes. Our master wishes to have his ship cleared for…”
“What’s the status on their order, private?” the Lieutenant barked.
The man jumped slightly at her voice. “A request has not been submitted. Mam!” the intimidated man said. He glared at the two with the satisfaction.
“Check again,” said LOM-8.
The three humans looked blankly at LOM-8. It was the first time either of them had been issued an order by a droid. Just as the lieutenant was about the give LOM-8 a piece of her mind, it offered, “Excuse my rudeness. It is only that Teemo tends to get… upset when he doesn’t get his way. I only fear what he may do to us if he doesn’t get to see his new acquisition fly today. Mam.”
The lieutenant’s anger subsided. She turned to Je’Coch, “Your droid needs wiping. It’s forgetting its place.” She looked at her subordinate and said, “Check it again.” He looked dumbfounded that she would take their word over his. “Are you deaf, private?” He snapped out of it and began looking it up on the nearest terminal.
“I’m not seeing any,” he paused. “Oh, wait, there appears to have been a request,” he said as he looked up from the screen, “and, it appears to have already been granted. I, uh, I must have made a,”
“Do not worry, Organics make mistakes all the time.”
“But I…” he trailed off.
“Enough private. Go get ready. I’ll deal with you later.” The man swallowed, saluted her, and went on his way. “Your ship’s ready. Now get out,” the lieutenant said to the relieved pair. LOM-8 and Je’Coch turned around and walked out, not even offering a backward glance.
They eventually found each other outside amongst the crowded streets and informed each other of their actions. They began down the dust choked streets of Mos Shuuta toward the port. Lyr’as’s stomach growled as he passed a food cart. “Alright, the port’s only a few blocks from here. All we gotta do is lay low, take the alleys, and boot up the ship as soon as we get there,” he said. He wanted to get to the ship, and to a hot meal, as fast as possible, even if it were only Synthefood. “Yep, clear sa…”
A microphoned voice interrupted the Duros, “There they are!” There were five stormtroopers advancing forward from the opposite end of the alley way, their blaster rifles raised at the crew. A few people in the crowd bolted.
“Damnit!” Lyr’as yelled. Pulling his slug-thrower, he made a break for it. His companions followed suit. LOM-8 drew a frag grenade from his satchel and armed it. “Everybody look out. The stormtroopers threw a grenade,” yelled the droid, its voice modulator’s volume turned up as high as he could make it. It tossed the grenade near the mouth of the alley and strained to keep up with his companions. The entire crowd dispersed in a panic, and the grenade exploded in a plume of sand, rubble, and dust. LOM-8 knew none of the meatbags would be seriously injured, but the blast would sure slow those stormtroopers down.
They spilt up in the hopes of shaking the Boys in White. The stormtroopers spilt up as well, taking shots at their targets with no regard for the crowd. Blaja, Strch, and Lyr’as dodged heaps of trash, vendor carts, and people, weaving their way toward the port. Now with only three stormtroopers to face, they decided to make a stand. Once they were away from the streets, they took cover, returning fire with their pursuers. Blaja managed to knock one out with a stun blast. The other two landed some shots, but couldn’t manage a killing blow. The stormtroopers returned fire. Ly’ras took a blaster shot in the shoulder, a burn he had never felt before. He screamed, and took cover behind a rubbish heap.
The bounty hunters focused their fire on the trooper who had just injured their friend. Both shots found their target, the man’s death cry amplified by his helmet’s microphone. The last trooper fired a series of shots to cover his escape. The bounty hunters helped their friend to his feet and continued their frantic run, transmitting to Je’Coch that they’ll need medical assistance if the doctor and the droid beat them to the ship.
Je’Coch and LOM-8 had managed to loose the stormtroopers that were chasing them. The port’s doors slid open as the two hurried inside. Je’Coch leaned against the wall to catch his breath, while LOM-8 instructed the worker droids to get the ship ready for take off. Once he felt like his heart wasn’t going to explode, Je’Coch said, “I’m going to go prep the med bay for Lyr’as for when they get back.” He looked down for a moment. “If they make it back.” He began lowering the boarding ramp, and as it slowly creeped open, Je’Coch saw a reptilian humanoid standing at the top. “What the,”
The doctor was greeted by a stun blast to the leg, his thinly armored jumpsuit absorbing most of the charge. He clenched his leg and fell to the ground yelling. LOM-8 dove into action at his friend’s cry, taking cover behind a stack of crates. The droid returned fired with his blaster set on stun, so as to not cause any real damage to the ship. A shower of sparks burst from the hull near their intruder’s face, forcing him to take cover as well.
The trespasser was a Trandoshan. He wore a blue flight suit with a tactical vest that had seen the wrong end of a blaster one too many times. He leveled his heavy pistol at the droid and fired, his shots burning holes in the crate LOM-8 was forced to hide behind. Je’Coch scurried to his feet and ducked behind a heavy loader, his leg throbbing with pain. The three seemed to be at a stalemate until the port’s doors opened and the rest of the crew arrived. The bounty hunters bolted into action, peppering the Trandoshan’s cover with blaster fire and burning scorch marks into the ship’s hull. Lyr’as hobbled behind them. LOM-8 yelled, “Easy! We want to have a ship to leave in.”
The two ignored him and continued their assault, forcing their enemy to retreat back toward the cockpit. Lyr’as grunted, “Yeah, I’m fine LOM-8, nice to see you too.” Je’Coch roared and chased after his attacker, the rest of the crew following behind. Lyr’as diverted from the group and tried to climbed down into the engine bay. He fell halfway down the ladder after his burnt shoulder gave out. The Duros clenched his teeth in pain. He steadied himself and started to dig through his tools, tossing the ones he didn’t need over his shoulder. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered to himself as he searched. “Ah ha!” he yelled finding the last one. With that, he tore into the hyperdrive engine, and began trying to make the modulator fit. He spoke into the intercom, “This may take a few moments.”
Strch yelled down, “Hurry up,” as he took aim at the Trandoshan. His shot hit his target, but only seemed to burn a hole into the intruder’s armor. It was enough to knock the reptilian off guard though, leaving Je’Coch with an open shot. The doctor fired, hitting their hunter in the face. The Trandoshan fell to the ground, a thin wisp of smoke trailed up from his green scaled head. LOM-8 pushed forward, unfazed by the brutal death. He deftly mounted the cockpit, his mechanical hands working in steady clicks as his metal fingers met the instruments. Soon the thrusters were burning and the hangar doors were sliding open. LOM-8 pulled up on the controls and the ship began to gain altitude. It spoke into the intercom, “We will be taking a slight detour first before leaving the planet. Please man the turrets.” With that LOM-8 turned the ship toward Teemo’s palace. “Let’s show that fat slug what happens when you mess with us.”
LOM-8 pulled up beside the beautiful palace, its windows gleaming in the light. It was an opulent jewel in stark contrast to the dusty streets and slums of Mos Shuuta. They opened fire while LOM-8 gave each of them clear shots. Blaja only shot at structures or vehicles he knew would be unmanned. The explosions were wonderful to the droid’s visual sensors, and he almost missed the alarm he had set to remind him to take off. He punched the throttle and yelled “Whooo!” as the ship blasted off, the aftershock of which caused further damage to the palace. Lyr’as continued to work, shaving down bits of the part here and there, filing, wedging, and otherwise trying his hardest to make the damn thing fit. The rest stayed in the turrets, knowing that someone was sure to follow.