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.”