Gueldiar looks around, as if trying to find who the man is talking about. He then looks straight at him and points to himself with a look of disbelief.

"Gueldiar, pilot," he says, holding up his commercial piloting credentials. "Was trying to take a shortcut to my ride, and saw this beautiful thing come in." He gives a low whistle. "She's a beaut, what kind of tonnage can you haul with her?" He waits not enough time for an answer. "I've been piloting all my adult life, and the chance to crew a ship like that, wow. I'm getting goosebumps even thinking about it. Where'd ya come in from?" He pauses, this time long enough for the man to answer, a smile coming to his face.

OOC> We were certainly off the ship!

Kell nods to Anya and moves down to the front desk. He enquires on the options of places to stay.

Fenn see's the two tie fighters approach the "Balmoral". A slight rush of nervousness goes through him, his fur ripples a little bit, externally showing his mood. He quickly, though, realizes that those fighters can't be attacking the ship.

(thinking)"Heh, they can't possibly be attacking, they would have to be much farther back in order to properly target us. I wonder if the others are a little apprehensive as well?"

DeSuto surveys the scene for the least hospitable looking cantina and figures nothing but scum will be there; likely to have resentment towards the empire and might have some useful information. Though he doubt any respectable faction member would ever associate somewhere like this. He figured faction member would go to a popular spot for everyone to blend in. However, to find them, he'd have to stir up the wasps nest a bit.

Walking with presence into the cantina he, in his mind, makes a mental map where every patron is located and the layout of the cantina, in case he would need to escape. He immediately searches for any Bothans...he knows they're good for info.

To All:

Evening begins to turn to night, and the heavy clouds from earlier in the day grow more threatening. Around you, the general movement of people is inside, to either shelter or the night's entertainment.

To Party #2:

The rest of your flight in continues without incident. As your ship breaks below the low clouds, you catch a brief glimpse of a city on the edge of the coast. Its lights illuminate the massive white towers that dominate its center. Before you have time to study it in more detail, you are past and over the spaceport. A vast field of docking areas, many of them occupied, fills the area north-east of the city. As you slowly sink into the landing area, you notice a heavier than usual proportion of Imperial ships. Including something in a distant bay that can only be a heavy capital ship of some kind, but the dim light prevents you from identifying it. Right before you touch the ground, the pair of TIE fighters break off and disappear into the distance.

Once on the ground, you find yourselves in a very typical docking bay. You see no sign of other people present.

To Gueldiar:

The man's suspicion appears to fade once he sees your identification.

"Alright, I guess you're not going to kill yourself around here, you can stay. I've got a few minuites before the work crews get here, and some new company would be a welcome break."

He extends his hand in greeting.

"Captain Apret, pilot of this ugly beast. Don't know how you can stand using the word beautiful to describe her. Sure, she'll carry a quarter million tons with a point-eight drive, but half the crew has to hide their ship's name in port!"

"If the job didn't pay so well, I'd be out of here in an instant. Just got in from a long run from Kerest, and haven't seen a decent bar in weeks! And with the crew I've got to put up with? I'd be drinking this trip off my mind for a month if I had it my way!"

He pauses a moment and gives you a hopeful look that suggests his question is entirely honest.

"I don't imagine you've been here long enough to know where I could find one?"

To DeSuto:

Your search takes you deeper into the city, and the relatively clean world of the spaceport itself is replaced by the familiar darker side of every port city. Half-maintained warehouses line the streets on one side, with docking areas on the other. Even this late at night, a few ship crews work under spotlights, and occasionally your walk is interrupted by a sub-orbital cargo shuttle passing low overhead.

Eventually you find what you are looking for. A few signs advertising various alien drinks are the only thing that separates the cantina from the other buildings. Once inside, the sense of hostility is almost overwhelming. In the dim light, you can see a few details of the crowd that packs nearly every bit of table space. They are very obviously the scum you seek, a wide variety of humans and aliens, but none appear to be bothans. Nearly everyone carries obvious weapons, and the few that don't undoubtedly just have them concealed better. Conversation in an equally wide variety of languages assaults your ears, nearly burying the band playing in the center of the room, and preventing you from hearing anything useful.

As you scan the room, a human in a worn looking flight suit shoves past you and heads for the bar. A few of the closer patrons look up at you, wondering what you are going to do.

ooc: map attached

"Kerest, huh?" Gueldiar says. "Haven't been there in like, forever. How are things there?" He pauses, but just for a millisecond. "As far as her being ugly, depends on how you look at her. Quarter million with a point 8 is certainly beautiful sounds to me, or at least my wallet.." He laughs. He waits for the reply on any news from Kerest, then points him back to the bar he first encountered when he got on station.

When the man has gone, he heads toward his ultimate goal. "Max," he says. "cancel timer set for twenty minutes. Looks like we're going to be getting there early."

To Gueldiar:

"Boring. And if anyone on that worthless rock knows how to make a good beer, I couldn't find them. And it didn't help things any when they wrecked half our locking points trying to load the containers. Since the Imperial occupation, their service crews have been getting worse and worse."

As you mention the bar's location, his mood improves significantly.

"You have no idea how good it is to hear that. May fate bless your travels for this."

He looks around, hesitating for a moment as if unsure whether he should leave the ship, then slips the datapad into a pocket and follows you out the door. He stops just long enough to close and lock the main doors, then walks off quickly in the direction of the bar.


The walk to the next ship is a fairly long one, and by the time you arrive, the ship has already landed. As you walk around the last corner before your destination, you find a very surprising sight. A pair of stormtroopers stand guard at the door to the bay, with another two leaning against the side of a cargo speeder with Imperial markings. Inside the bay, you can see a half-wreck of a freighter being unloaded by an equally ugly crew.

As you watch, a pair of aliens you've never seen before carry a cargo container through the door, exchanging hostile looks with the stormtroopers before placing it in the back of the speeder. But what is most unusual are the blaster rifles slung across the aliens' shoulders, and the completely unharmed appearance of the ship. The pair of aliens are very obviously not the usual slave laborers you might expect to see working under stormtrooper guard.

None of them appear to have noticed you yet. The corridor you were walking down continues straight ahead, as well as the branch to the left where the ship is. Traffic in this area is frequent enough that your mere presence is nothing to get any attention, for the moment.

Gueldiar lets loose with a low whistle. "Looks like our plans change here, Max. Identify species of aliens on imperial speeder, and list recent dealings with the empire. If possible, more information on the cargo - any dealings including crew members with known smugglers, and communications between the Hutts and the Empire."

When the search for the alien race comes back negative as Gueldiar feared (DM contact through AIM), he knows that the second request will take quite a while longer. He looks over the situation again, and requests that Max make a hologram of the area that he can pull up or study later, with all evidentiary matter in the right place.

If they are real stormtroopers he thinks to himself, Then there is something of imperial import going on here. But why the aliens? Why are they being allowed to bear arms? If they are not real stormtroopers, then someone is risking an awful lot for this cargo....

As they break off, Adrian Firewell thanks the TIE pilots for the escort, though his tone makes it clear that he is merely being polite. He then lands the ship and powers it down.

"Guess that writes-off the 'arranged VIP status' theory," Adrian thinks to himself, with mild half-hearted disappointment, upon seeing that the docking bay is empty.

Turning to the two aliens, he tells them, "You two said you were hungry, right? Then go and get something to eat, I have to check on several things." Adrian thinks for a second, "and get me something too while your at it."

He then addresses the human, "Tiber, you can go and acompany them. Unless you can think of anything better to do."

"I will stay here. I need to speak to Adrian, alone." He then waits for their answer.

DeSuto takes offense to being shoved and trails the human to the bar. "You owe me an apology," he snidely commands.

To Gueldiar:

Your conversation with Max is apparently enough to get the stormtroopers' attention. The pair standing by the cargo speeder walk over to you, rifles held ready but not aimed.

"This is a restricted area. Show your identification and state your purpose here."

ToDesuto:

The man turns around and looks at you for a moment. "Yeah, I guess I do... I shoulda shoved ya harder the first time!" As he says the second half, he corrects his mistake and shoves you back into the wall.

*Initiative roll: Desuto 21, Opponent 9*

"I guess I shouldn't expect much in the way of tact from an inferior race of spaceport sludge, now it's my turn to push back," he draws his blaster pistol and fires.

To DeSuto:

The shove into the wall leaves you off balance a bit, and your shot misses, blowing a hole in floor next to him.

(Attack: 2 + 4 vs. AC 12)

As your opponent dodges to the side to get behind another patron, he draws his own pistol and fires back. The bolt hits you in the chest, but most of the energy is stopped by your armor. You feel the pain of a penetrating hit, but not serious injury.

(Attack: 19 + 2 vs AC 18, Damage: 3d6 -4 = 7)

*fires again*

To DeSuto:

The human shield your opponent was using provides no challenge as you steady your aim and put a blaster bolt through his heart. He collapses to the floor, unconscious and fatally wounded.

At a couple of the closer tables, you see money change hands, but other than that, the crowd pays no attention to the fight.

(Attack: 23 vs AC 16, Damage: 3d6 = 12)

DeSuto, not suprised at the reaction of the crowd figures at least for now he won't be bothered. He acknowledges the now saved hostage as he reholsters his blaster. He sqauts down puts another hole in the thug just to be sure; he examines the wretch for any clips, money, personal items, just about anything that could prove useful.

"You shouldn't let people like him take advantage of you so easily; you don't look like you belong here...so what are you doing here?" he inquires.

To DeSuto:

The former human shield looks away from the spots of blood he is trying hopelessly to remove from his jacket.

"I don't owe you a thing, alien scum. Go bother one of your own kind."

Without waiting for a reply, he turns his back to you and resumes cleaning.

Your search of the body produces the following:

Blaster pistol (unfamiliar model, but typical looking)
4x spare power packs
147 credits
Identification as an "independent pilot", obviously fake
Burned and bloody flight suit
Datapad

DeSuto searches over the cleaning human for any obvious pockets where he could easily slip a small object into.

He makes a mental note of the information provided on the fake ID and the location of the cantina.

Worthless human scum, he thinks.

DeSuto grabs the dead human and attempts to carry him over his shoulders out of the cantina (strength check). Once out he goes in search of the closest imperial guard.

"Gueldiar, pilot." He says, producing his identification. "Currently between jobs and looking for a ride. Thought I might catch on with the ship that came in, but obviously not. Max - display information again on incoming ships I asked you about...."

To DeSuto:

You manage to lift the body, struggling a bit with the load. Fortunately, the closest Imperial guard is not difficult to find. Not long after leaving the cantina, you see a pair of stormtroopers escorting a group of what appear to be spaceport workers with a few too many drinks in them. From the agressive looks being exchanged by the workers, it looks like the aftermath of an especially nasty bar fight.

To Gueldiar:

The apparent leader looks at your identification, then hands it back to you. Apparently satisfied with your explanation, he waves a hand in the direction you came from.

"Move along, citizen."

The rifle pointed at your chest leaves little room for disagreement.

Gueldiar takes stock of the situation and decides that discretion is the better part of valor. He takes back his ID, and moves along to the next berth. When out of range of the troopers, he looks at the information and moves along to the next ship. Interesting port he thinks to himself, chuckling, though filing everything away for the future.

"Max - rerun list of incoming and recently arrived ships." When the data comes back just listing the same ships as before (per IM with Peregrine), he decides to head to the imperial shuttle rather than take a chance on the unknown ship. "Imperial gig? Might be good."

ooc: sorry malchik, I forgot to include your part of the long post

To Kell:

The man behind the desk studies you for a moment, then looks down at his computer.

"A hundred fifty credits for the night. Take it or leave it. And if you're going to take it, do it fast. We're closing in a few minutes."

To Gueldiar:

You reach the Imperial ship without any problems, but you notice that the streets are growing more deserted, and much less friendly looking. The security patrols seem to have disappeared entirely.

As you approach, you see a group of low-ranking officers loading bags of what you suspect to be personal equipment onto a passenger speeder parked outside the bay. Behind them, the shuttle's engines flare to life and the ship rises slowly above the bay walls. The shuttle hovers just long enough to lock its wings into flight position then disappears into the low clouds.

With the shuttle's engine noise gone, you can hear some of the conversation. From the bags and general happy tone, you guess that what you are seeing is part of a ship's crew on leave. You suspect that your late arrival didn't matter anyway, as the shuttle is probably a short-range one assigned to a capital ship and not a very likely source of employment.

Kell agrees and hopes that he won't have to spend more than a couple of nights there unless some source of income emerges.

He also says to the man at the desk. "I'm stuck here because there's a problem with my ship I need to work on. But I thought I might as well enjoy what little free time I have. What 'entertainment' does this place offer?"

To Kell:

"Good food and a good bed. Don't know what you're doing looking for entertainment in a hotel, when you've got an entire planet for that. Anyway, room 315 is yours."

He places a room key card on the desk for you, then returns to doing something with his computer. From the complete lack of attention he is paying you, you get the feeling he isn't in the mood for conversation.

Kell pays and takes the key.

He turns to Anya. "I'll just go up to the room and stash a few bits and pieces. Then I'm going to have a drink before retiring. You?"

Might as well start doing some reconnaissance, he thinks.

DeSuto gestures to the guards to come over, "I've come across something that might interest you," he drops the body on the ground in front of them and takes out the fake ID.

"I was minding my own business at that cantina (he points to it) and this man started heckling and threatening me. Not that he mattered, just lowly space port fodder, but what is interesting is the ID he was carrying. It's obviously a counterfeit. I did some investigating and found that one of the bartenders (goes on to describe the human shield who gave him lip) has connection to a faction in the spaceport that deals in smuggling illegal weapons to rebel factions," he continues, "who in your garrison should I report to?"

Fenn stands up and turns to tiber. "Well, I wouldn't mind the company if you want to go." he then turns to Adrian and Shadow "Where can I find you after I am done eating? Or do you want me to wait there for you at the cantina?"

"I told you already, go to get some food if you want to, and bring me some while you're at it," Adrian says a little impatiently. He then begins to remove his black flight suit, and put on some normal clothes, not minding the fact that the others can see his undergarments.

Shadow growls and then dons his armor and walks off the ship but not before giving ADrian a cold look and saying "I will speak to you later, and what do you want to eat."

"oh well, they can figure it out for themselvews if they are coming; I am heading down to the cantina" Fenn thinks to himself and starts down the ramp into the docking bay. "Ok, you guys d owhatever but i'm leaving now, just letting you know" He then walks out of the spaceport into the streets."Maybe I should look for a public map of the city, I have no idea where the cantina actually is." Fenn says while shaking his head a little.

"Oh well", Gueldiar says, walking away from the bay. "Time for bed, Max - find me a decent hostel, and let's head there. Looking for moderate in price, out of the main stream, but safe." Wherever Max suggests, they head.

Tiber had leaned against the wall while his pilot ordered him to leave, or at least that was how he saw it.
"I'm not hungry," he says late enough that Adrien took a moment to remember the question he was responding to.

"It is getting late, and I'm tired. After dinner, I can sleep on my ship, but you and our two other companions will have to find a hostel of some sort. I would recommend something cheap and low profile." Adrian tells Tiber. He then connects his ship' s computer (kind of like a PC attached to the ship) to the local internet, and begins to run searches on local gun laws and regulations, or lack thereoff. He also runs a basic overall search of the political situation on Habassa, which factions hold power, who is influetial, what groups law-abiding citizens should dissasociate from, etc.

Remembering Shadow's question, Firewell answers, "anything will be fine, so long as it is edible to humans and it doesn't taste so bad that to eat it I'd have to force it down my throat."

Kell returns to the room and changes into casual but black clothes. He then sets out to find a late bar. He adopts the walk of one who has drunk a fair amount and is holding it. He is perfectly sober.

"oh, you are very generous Mr. Firewell." Tiber says and walks away angered, as was his nature sometimes.

Looking for some havoc to cause Tiber begins wondering the spaceport, checking doors, landing bays, maybe even somone to rob if his mood was worse, but it wasn't and he passed by those oh so tempting vonorables sitting against the wall.

(search check)

ooc: just as a side note, I am trying to establish that my character is fairly negative, not that I think this way or anything if that makes sense.

Shadow Growls loudly and looks as if to charge Adrian (Intimidate Check, I think) then stomps off the ship.

Edit: oops

Adrian says out loud, and to no one in particular, "With this level of cooperation where are sure to follow each other into hell fairly soon." He sighs and turns back to his computer, hoping that at least when the chips are down, and the blasters are lighting up the air, everyone will do their part.

OOC: I wouldn't mind it much if it Adrian wasn't my real first name, but since it is, try to spell it correctly.

Update: No, this isn't dead. Emry seems to have disappeared, and I'm possibly adding another player as a replacement. Hopefully I'll get all that fixed soon, and we can get back to playing.

OOC: Sorry folks, I'm out, I really can't get into a game that is going to take months of trying to start up again and It's hard to keep my character consistent when I forget about him.

Walker who had for the entire past time hadnt said a word decides he should get more sociable...beginning tommorow that is. For now he decides to follow Kells example and should find a place to get some shut-eye.

He heads to the counter where Kell used to stand and was hoping to have enough money to rent a room. Life was expensive and to serve as a rebellion soldiers wasnt really provitable.