Tales from Teemo’s Folly 1

Image by Jason Gillman via http://mrg.bz/DhhFG0
Image by Jason Gillman via http://mrg.bz/DhhFG0

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.



1

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…

During a time of civil war, a small band of rogues and scoundrels wandered the stars in a stolen ship, desperate to keep one step ahead of The Black Sun, a vast criminal organization that wanted its property back. The spacers decided to lay low for a while and docked at Mos Shuuta on Tatooine where they quickly found work with a local Hutt named Teemo..

While waiting on repairs to their Duraflight L Model, the crew is double crossed by Teemo and his thugs. After a quick escape, our heroes ducked into a local cantina in an attempt to hide from their pursuers…

It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the small gloomy cantina. A lone Twi’lek serenaded a few patrons seeking refuge from the punishing Tatooine suns. They barely batted an eye when the disparate runaways burst through the door. LOM8 and Lyrás dove behind the bar past the objecting bartender. “Don’t worry sir, my droid will work for free so long as you let us lay low for a little while,” Lyrás said, flashing enough credits, and the slug-thrower on his hip, to make it worth the bartender’s while. Strch and Je’Coch slid into a booth amongst a few drunks, feigning conversation. Blaja ducked backstage, joining the Twillect in her song.

 
Only moments later did Teemo’s Gammorians come in, packing clubs and scanning the dark cantina. There were four in total, and after grunting and squealing amongst themselves, 2 walked toward the bar while the other 2 slowly walked around the small crowd. LOM8 polished a glass as the lead Gommorian snarled at him. “We’re looking for four people and a droid. Saw um run in here. Where are they?”
“I have not seen anyone else come in, aside from yourselves. May I make you a refreshing beverage sir?”, LOM8 said.

 
The Gamorrean snorted, eyeing the droid intently. The bartender nodded nervously, “Drink? On the house, for Teemo’s men of course.” The Gamorrean’s face split into a tusked smile. He clearly enjoyed the respect being in Teemo’s employ commanded. “Flameout. Strong.”

 
LOM8 paused for a moment, searching his data banks for a Flameout. It considered the odds of just shooting the Gamorrean in the face, but that option wasn’t out weighing their current ruse just yet. Frankly, it was baffled as to how the Gamorrean hadn’t recognized it. It and its other crew mates had literally just shot up a business meeting with some of these idiots not fifty-two minutes and 38 seconds ago. Meat bags. Dumb, useless, obsolete things.

 
The other two Gamorreans continued searching the bar, going from table to table harassing customer and employee alike. They began to approach the booth Strch and Je’Coch were hiding out in. “That looks like two of them,” Je’Coch overheard one of thugs say to the other. The doctor looked nervously at his bounty hunter companion, who had his blaster rifle trained on the brutes from under the table since they had entered. The Gamorreans stood over the table, brandishing their clubs. “You two, stand up!” one of them squealed.

“I don’t like much being told what to do. Especially by filthy swine,” Strch said, maintaining his relaxed position. Je’Coch sighed, his hand already going for his blaster pistol.

 
The Gamorreans hesitated for a moment in shock. Rarely were Teemo’s men talked to like this by anyone other than Teemo himself. They raised their clubs, but that slight hesitation was all the time Strch needed. The bounty hunter smiled.

 
LOM8 finished the drink with a garnish that even the actual bartender didn’t know how to make. The green swine eyed the droid and took a sip. “This is the best Flameout I’ve ever…” was all that left his mouth before blaster fire erupted behind him. Bar goers screamed and darted in every direction, taking cover where they could. Strch kicked the table in front of him on its side as the Gamorrean he had just shot in the gut fell over, but not before the thug’s companion brought his club down on Je’Coch’s shoulder with a meaty thud.

Lyr’as pulled his own piece as the screaming bartender ran into a closet and locked it behind him. With the odds now drastically recalculated, the droid drew his blaster on the Gamorrean in front of it as the ugly meatbag turned his back on LOM8. It squeezed the trigger. There was a flash of red light and the Gamorrean’s head jerked forward violently and as his body crashed to the floor, the droid felt something. The feeling was a familiar one, a mixture of fascination and satisfaction. Feelings were strange though, and often times they worried LOM8. They complicated his calculations, adding weird unknown variables to the equation. And they were somehow tied to the red streaks of paint he had been trying to burn off of his body. It decided to store its thoughts about this for another time though, as the other thug by the bar spun around toward LOM8.

 
Blaja jumped out from behind the stage and aimed his blaster carbine at the Gamorrean who had just bashed Je’Coch. The Ithorian prayed that one shot set on stun would be enough to take out his target, before Strch had a chance to kill him too. His Rodian partner was ruthless, and delighted in the rush of combat. At least one life would be saved, even if it were someone who was trying to kidnap them. Blaja waited a moment for the crowd to thin and fired. The shot hit the Gamorrean right between the shoulder blades. The fat beast squealed and shook, then crumpled to the ground like a demolished building. Blaja let out a sigh of relief, which was short lived as he saw Lyr’as and Je’Coch leveling their weapons at the last remaining thug.

The cries of the crowd were replaced with the deafening thunderclap of the Duros’s archaic firearm and the distinct sound of a blaster pistol. The last Gamorrean squealed as both shots tore through his body sending him flailing into the bar before falling still on the ground.

 
The cantina was filled with silence and the smell of gun powder and ozone. Many jumped as Je’Coch groaned, “Yep, that hurt.” Lyr’as hopped over the bar to help the doctor with his wounds. As the two of them patched Je’Coch up, the Duros said, “Weird, I’m used to patching up machines. What’s it feel like to be a doctor and a patient at the same time?”

“It hurts,” said Je’Coch.

 
Strch stood over the debilitated Gamorrean with his blaster rifle pointed at the back of its head. Blaja pushed it aside, “We need one of them alive.” The Ithorian put the enforcer in restraints. Strch shook his head and frowned. “Whatever.”

 
No one noticed as LOM8 deftly opened the register and relieved it of all its credits. It strode around the bar and began searching the pockets of the dead. He took the credits that he had found tucked away in the grimy folds of the Gamorreans’s clothes, as well as what looked to be a few of some kind of security badges, 4 in total. “I may have found something useful,” he said, holding them up. “Pick up the meat, er Gamorrean. We need to find out where our ship has been taken.” The bounty hunters paused for a moment and stared at the droid. “Er, please.”

 
“That thing freaks me out,” Blaja said as he grabbed the Gamorrean’s feet. “Do you really think droids can, you know, be like us?” Strch grabbed the arms and the two hoisted the fat green thing and began towards the door.

 
“Why are we always carrying fat people around?” Strch asked, as if he hadn’t even heard his partner’s question.

Blaja sighed, a strange sound coming from a two mouthed, 4 throated creature. “Because that’s the only ones it seems we’re able to catch, my friend,” said Blaja as they strained under the Gamorrean’s dead weight.

On their way out, LOM8 noticed the bartender start to peak his head out the door. The droid fired a few lazy shots in that direction and shouted, “Oh no, there are more of them!” The frazzled man shrieked and slammed the closet door shut again. The droid laughed, and then suddenly stopped mid-chuckle, as if It were surprised, or shocked, by the sound. It stood still for a moment, as if lost in thought, until it disappeared into the Tatooine heat behind its companions.

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