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Star Wars: My Kind of Scum [PbP] Escape from Mos Shuuta

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The young technician scrambles to his feet and darts for the door once the towering droid releases him. Overseer Brynn takes in a deep breath, instinctively straightening her crisp grey uniform of any imagined wrinkles. “Finally, a bit of order,” she says under her breath. “Now, let’s get that droid out of here. No, no, not deeper in. There, take it out the side entrance as to not alarm any of the rest of my employees.” The Overseer points down one of the major hallways to emphasize her instructions. “That way.” The east-west hallway is fairly sparse, with no wall hangings and a clear shot towards an exit door to the eastern side. Two computer terminals mirroring one another, both devoid of personnel, flank the entrance to the hallway. The terminals, while in plain sight, are angled in such a way that it would be difficult for an onlooker to discern what an operator was doing without being within arm’s length of the user.

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One of you can slice the terminal and unlock the docking clamps with an average computers check. Add a setback die for the heightened awareness of the employees within the central command center.

I don’t know how you can stay so nonchalant at a time like this,” Trok says to Lang, looking at the Mirialan sitting in the passenger seat sideways. “We could be moments away from a firefight and you want to pass stories?” The Dug guffaws, obviously forced, before taking another puff of his death stick. “You seem to have enough wear on you to have plenty of stories. Why are you so fond of that hat of yours?

41-Vex immediately interrupts the two aliens sitting in the front seat of the speeder. “Ah, the oral storytelling tradition! I do enjoy strong oratory skills indeed. I believe that I am quite talented in this field, though I have heard that I can, at times, be somewhat loquacious. I would be happy to share with you the step-by-step process of capturing and dissecting the Torquese swamp froggodyte; it will take approximately four hours and eleven minutes to properly explain, so we may need to break up the discussion into multiple sessions given our current risk profile.

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Yawning hugely as Vex rambles on, Lang struggles to pay attention to the biology lesson's brief introduction. "Alright, listen... I recognized about half of those words and I'm pretty sure you were still speakin' Basic," he says with a chuckle, "And in the interest of stayin' awake enough to shoot my gun if we have need of a gun shootin' fella I think we'd better swap to somethin' less... Educational."

Adjusting his position to get more comfortable, and lifting his hat a little now that the sun currently visible has passed behind a taller building, Lang grins at Trok and starts his story. "A long, long time ago, there lived a young, handsome and erstwhile Mirialan named Lang, yours truly, who decided it was time to move off-world and start fresh somewhere far, far away. I booked passage on the first liner out of my home town and took it to the end of the line. There I found a planet full of potential, but also with something of a crime problem."

Gauging the reaction of the Dug, and less so the droid, given its stoic face, the Marshal has a moment of nostalgia before continuing. "It was a frontier planet, teemin' with settlers who wanted to set up somewhere new and excitin', away from the chaos of Coruscant or the aggravation or Akrit'Tar. I just kinda wound up there, realizin' I could help in about all of three ways. First, bein' bad at business. Second, slumming about until I made a mistake and got shanked for it. Or three, using the skills I did have to toss the law breakin' types out of town and keep 'em out.'

'I know, I know, it sounds like those old holo-vids and all romantic and such, but it was honestly what needed doin' out there. So there I was, lawman in a lawless town and hoping to make it less of an awful place to live. Turns out, much like this giant ball of sand and pissed off Hutts, that the planet I settled on had some harsh suns. Hence my permanent squint. It's not for effect, my eyes aren't in good shape. A few months into my self-appointed role some rough types rolled into town with a mind to cause trouble.'

'Thinkin' to stop that before it got started, I swaggered on over to their swoop bikes as they parked up at the saloon and told them then and there I wouldn't brook no nonsense. Five on one wasn't a fair fight, let's put it that way. But I'd been there long enough for people to know who I was and think more of me than that borderline criminal stopping more crime from happenin'. So the townsfolk came to my aid. After sendin' them packin', they helped me to my feet and one of the farmers clapped his old hat on my swollen head, likely to keep me from seein' the damage."


Shifting in the passenger seat again, Lang watches a passerby, checking to make sure they were not going to head inside the port authority, before relaxing again. "Next day, in spite of the pretty serious wounds I had sustained, I kicked my old swoop into gear and headed out the way the toughs had come in, finding them shelterin' in an abandoned shanty north of town. Now, I ain't one to fight a losing battle if I can help it... Yeah that pit fight wasn't my favorite moment, Vex, before you say anything... So I fought smart. And one trick involved this hat on the end of a stick, gettin' one guy to empty his gun. Amazingly, the hat didn't even get hit.'

'Thinkin' this was a sign, I walked out all cock-sure and confident, ready to give some speech on livin' just and being a stand up citizen. Took my first blaster bolt to the gut that day. Forgot there was still another feller left. Shot them both, dragged myself back to my bike and struggled back to town. The only way the folk found me crashed on the outskirts was they saw the hat flutterin' in the wind, stuck on my handlebars. Admittedly they thought it was the farmer who gave it to me, but they still decided to save my life by stitchin' me up and forcin' me to rest for a week."


Smiling ruefully, Lang runs his fingers across the edge of the hat's brim again. "He even let me keep the hat, after findin' out what I'd done. Town propped me up as a sheriff sorta thing, mostly because they didn't want to do the job, but I think it was some part to do with gettin' shot and decidin' to keep doin' what I was doin'. So that's my hat's story."

Edited by waywardgm

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Dro-Kar may not be the master of subtle trickery, but he recognizes an opportunity when he sees it. “Droid, go out. Over there. Our boss will have to sort this out himself,” he says to 66, pointing towards the side entrance mentioned by the woman who seemed to think she was in charge. Rather than pointing straight for the door, the Nikto instead points directly at one of the two unoccupied computer stations, hoping the droid understands the hint.

Now. The distraction. Dro-Kar tries to think of something clever to say to keep the important-sounding woman occupied, to give the droid time to slice the computer, but he comes up blank. Looking around to find something to say he thinks off the security droids by the door. “So. Huh. Droids,” he says to the woman in a tone he hopes she might think is sort of friendly. “Can’t live with them. Can’t repair a ship without them. So it’s not practical to shoot them. Unless they shoot you first, of course. Then it’s fine to shoot them. Or, not fine, really, but you sort of have to. Because they were shooting you. Right? Anyways. How about the sand and dust out there? It gets everywhere on this dust-ball. I see you have security droids. They must need constant oil baths to operate out there. Oil sure is expensive out here, isn’t it? So. Many ships coming or going today?”

Dro-Kar knows he’s rambling almost incoherently at this point. He considers just pulling his pistol, flipping it to stun and shooting everyone in here to get out of the cringe-worthy and rather one-sided conversation, but it’s not a practical solution. He doesn’t dare looking in the direction of 66. How long does it take a tin-can like that to slice a computer?

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So, @Richardbuxton can assist @The Shy Ion in the computers check -- I believe that this is a skilled assist since HM has a rank in computers and Caizu does not. Additionally, given @Kymrel's actions, if he succeeds in an opposed (1R 1P + 1 setback die given his awful performance) deception check, I'll allow Caizu to add a boost die to her check.

 

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Caizu grins at her droid accomplice. "I think that went quite well," she says, and walks over to one of the terminals. She gets to work immediately, fully confident this will work...

Unfortunately, she's wrong. She frowns as the terminal refuses to accept her computerized cajoling. "Blood and mass shadows," she mutters, a curse she picked up from a pilot she spent the night with a few years back. The pilot was forgettable, but the curse stuck. Caizu chews on her bottom lip and presses a few more buttons. "Must be out of practice..."

Let's unlock those docking clamps: 2eA+1eP+1eD+1eC+1eS 1 failure


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I will count myself lucky that there was no Despair.

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Apologies. I'm an idiot. This was supposed to be an average computers check (per my above note) with a setback die due to the heightened awareness. I got it mixed up with the opposed check that Dro-Kar was doing. Because the droid is assisting Caizu, it's 1Y 2G. @The Shy Ion - can you give it a good ol' re-roll. If it's still failure, the next decision is either try again (with an additional setback), fight, or leave with the clamps still attached (which will have impact later during take off, obviously).

 

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Caizu shakes her head and presses a few more buttons. "No, wait, I think I have this—hah. Who does this to their interface?" Tap-tap-tap go her blue fingers on the keyboard. "Got it!" she says, a smug grin already working its way onto her face.

Sorry. I somehow thought I'd already responded... disorganized mess, that's me.

Let's do this with the right difficulty this time: 2eA+1eP+2eD+1eS 3 successes, 2 threat
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66 watches over the young ladies shoulder as she taps away, suggesting a few technical details as she works. Suddenly the creative workaround activates and the screen shows the clamps as detached. "Hmmm, it seems you found a workaround miss, I believe your intellect exceeds my factory standard brain... shall we go fix ourselves a ship now?" 

Edited by Richardbuxton

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Caizu continues to make progress through the terminal’s user interface, navigating the various protocols. Finally, she reaches the docking security display, selecting emergency override. She nods to herself and confirms the workload. The display begins to flash yellow as the terminal’s artificial voice comes through the nearest com speaker. “WARNING. EMERGENCY OVERRIDE ENGAGED. SAFETY FIRST. HAZARDS MAY INCLUDE ELECTRICAL FIRE AND STRUCTURAL DAMAGE THAT MAY CAUSE PRESSURIZATION ISSUES.” The warning messages begins to repeat. “… WARNING …

The warning alarm calls the attention of one of the nearby technicians, a lanky, clean-cut human male. “Hey, alien, what are you doing here? I thought the Overseer commanded you to get out of here?” he asks in a nasally whine. He calls loudly to the main work area, “Overseer Brynn! This droid and that blue alien are still here, and I think they’re causing trouble!

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Used the two threat to sound the internal alarm >:)

In the streets outside the spaceport control facility, the medical droid continues to drone on, oblivious that Lang and Trok are having their own side conversation. “… where there are seven, distinct ensnaring techniques that are recognized by the indigenous tribesmen…

Now that is what the holovids are made of…” Trok says skeptically. “That’s quite the tale. You expect me to think that you’re some noble hero? Out in the galaxy saving some coreworld princess from her certain doom?

Trok’s usual gruffness softens, the alien’s tone more playful than taunting. “That story sure does explain a lot, though. For one thing, now I know how you got so ugly. And to think, I thought you were born that way.” The Dug’s fleshy tendrils twitch in amusement. “That hat of yours seems to be in decent shape, all things considered. Maybe it brings good luck. So long as I’m not the one taking the blaster bolt in the gut, I’ll call it a win….” Trok’s voice trails off as his attention is diverted.

The crowds thronging the streets of the settlement part enough to reveal a chilling sight; three soldiers dressed in white plastoid armor. The rays of the two suns reflect off the Stormtroopers, casting ominous shadows at odd angles. “Uh, Lang… enough blathering…” Trok breathes, “Impies…” Just as the Dug speaks, the lead trooper points directly at the speeder. The Stormtrooper’s voice can be heard above the crowd noise, sounding mechanical through his armor’s speakers. “There they are,” the Stormtrooper says. “Get them!

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The group of three Stormtroopers are currently at medium range. Everyone can roll initiative using vigilance! 

 

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@Kymrel - Dro, Caizu, and HM-6T6 can all leave on their own accord right now... I had assumed you guys were exiting the front door right in time for the Stormtroopers to ID you guys, so you'll also be at medium. There are two old droids standing right at the door to the traffic control facility. Looking forward to this firefight :)

 

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"Hell, I don't expect you to think that. I'm just a simple man, tryin' to make my way in the universe," Lang replies with his lazy drawl as he spots the Stormtroopers, "And I reckon that lot plan on impedin' us today."
 

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Vigilance for impending Stormtrooper combat: 3eA 5 successes, 1 advantage
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Well boy howdy is Lang quick to react. 



 

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ok, ill not do that then. 66 will just be following Caizu outside. If there is a good (before the Stormies but after a bit o shooting) initiative slot Ill RP Caizu directing 66 to slow them down.

 

Edited by Richardbuxton

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