Star Wars d20 RPG

[Pack Rat]

Walker waits till everybody has left the briefing room. He decides not to get involved with them too much, afterall, if one of them gets killed, he would have to mourn. Something he hasnt done for ages.

 

<For now, it's better this way...>

 

He mumples as he stands up. He follows the noice of the others and finds the main hangar by just following the noice of his new compagnions. Before throwing everything onto his back he checks everything.

 

He knods satisfied as he sees that everything is in order. He looks at the ship that'll be transporting them to Habassa. He smiles as the thought of hijacking some 'mobilisation' on Habassa. Afterall, they will need some transportation on the planet itself...

[Peregrine]

To All Characters:

 

You enter the hangar to find a scene of absolute chaos. Two starships dominate the hangar, a Lambda class shuttle and a boxy transport of an unfamiliar design. The ship's crew swarm around the transport, locking down last second repairs and loading crate after crate of weapons and supplies. As you watch, the ship's engines flare to life with a near-deafaning roar, then cut off again almost instantly. The yells of "conversation" and the sound of heavy equipment moving echo through the hangar, making conversation difficult.

 

To Kell Olafsson:

 

You notice that the repairs on your ship now seem to be almost finished. A Habassan tech is welding the last armor plates back onto the damaged section. Your ship is much less active than the transport, only a couple of Habassans are there, apparently waiting around for your orders. Your yell to the others apparently gets their attention, as one of them runs over to you.

 

He has to yell to make himself heard over the background noise, despite the fact that he is standing right next to you. "She's ready to go, sir. All repairs done as ordered and your identification has been set to the CSA transport ST-4216. Full Imperial authorization and weapon licenses. Don't attract too much attention and it'll stand up to customs. Here's your flight data and clearance codes for our defense patrols. Anything else sir?"

[Kethruch]

Gueldiar thinks for a little, then responds to his trusty droid. "Yes Max. Possible locations for employment, use the standard options on the search." He continues in a lower voice as to not attract attention. "Include in search level of sympathy to resistance where known and use silent printout for display." He begins walking toward a quiet corner where he can peruse the results in peace.

[Malchik]

Kell Olafsson doesn't trust the average tech to know his arse from his elbow and checks the work with care. He goes inside to make sure nothing has been removed or damaged - or added. He has almost been caught out by sneak listening devices before. He goes over the inside of the ship carefully.

[Stampede]

Ishtah watched with slight interest as the tech crews scurried all over the ships, like scavengers on carrion. He could smell their sweat and anxiety as they fought to meet their schedules. A deep sigh escaped his nostrils, while he tapped his claws on the shaft of his weapon. He let his mind drift to thoughts of mating, how his trophies would most assuredly gain the attentions of an attractive fertile female.

[thanateros]

DeSuto, unexpectedly face to face with Anya releases a perplexed expression beneath his mask. "Watch yourself love, this isn't the time or place to be making futile mistakes," he recalls a theory he read once about physical signs of internal conflict; Loosing balance was near the top of the list.

 

Extending his hand he introduces himself, "I'm DeSuto, an Ubese mercenary who recently left Centerpoint Station because of the Imperial occupation. Pleasure to meet you," he studies her embarrassed expression, "No need for that, where we're going you should try and keep emotions within yourself else you will be exploited undoubtably."

 

Kell's comment slightly offends him, "I'll do my part, for what it's worth," he jokingly continues, "and apparently it's worth a lot. For whatever reason any of us have found ourselves here, whether it be for profit or politics, it seems to me that our task is colossal, so coordination is key. I'm a team player so long as everyone else is willing to pull their weight," he trails off.

 

He scans the clips of bolts he has in his traveling pack, checking to make sure they are fully charged. Also, he inspects the various sets of lavnaroc discs set aside for this mission. "Damned things are so expensive," he looks up at Anya and Kell, "I hope I don't end up having to use 'em."

[Malchik]

Kell leans in towards DeSuto. "Listen, I'm not talking of teams. I'm not a team player by nature but yeah - by force we are going to have to be. What I mean is my ship's not large. I don't want tensions. We get to where we're going and do what needs doing as professionals. What we think of each other - personally - is on hold."

 

He looks at Anya narrowing his eyes. "Are you okay? I've got the usual supplies but nothing too fancy. If there's anything you need?"

 

Kell's movements are all tighly controlled, his eyes forever on the move miss little. It does not look as though he smiles often.

[Pack Rat]

Walker decides not to interfere with the discussion that's going on. The loudly noice that rages into the hangar slightly irritates him. He decides to ignore it and sits on a crate, keeping an eye for the others their actions.

 

He takes the E-11 rifle from his back and cleans it. Just a waiting-routine he picked up...

[thanateros]

DeSuto audibly addresses Kell such that anyone in the immediate area can hear, "Well, if by force, you have to 'put up' with us and save your tongue then I'll have all the more reason to keep an eye fixed on you. Trying to protect yourself only makes you all the more vunerable to betrayal. You work for the cause now regardless of your motivations. I'm not keen on being a team player either, but you speak as though you are tortured by having to do so. That attitude will get us all killed," still speaking through his mask. He lifts it up revealing his face and rests it on his forehead. From his pocket he takes out a ration and starts to feed himself.

 

He breaks off a piece and offers it to Kell, "Want any?" he continues, "It's not about tension, it's about respect. Personality has no place, like you said, among us."

 

He turns to Ishtar, breaks off a piece of the ration and offer it to him, "It isn't wookie steak, but it's edible. So tell me, why are you off Trandosha? I know you species not to venture off world unless banished; most of them at least."

[Stampede]

Ishtah leaned in towards the hunk of flesh, letting his nostrils take in the sweet odour. The Ubese had a subtle humour that was not lost on him and the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly in amusement. He plucked the meat as delicately as possible with his claws and considered for a second. Poison? No...none that was so carelessly concealed at least....to refuse could be seen as insulting and cowardly...yet to accept might be seen as too much of a compromise.

 

He chose the route of friendship instead and plopped the morsel into his mouth. He then regarded the mercenary and began his hissing halting response:

 

"I left to seek...stature, if it could be called that. I must prove myself to the almighty Scorekeeper and in doing so, be blessed with a mate. I have killed many since I left Trandosha, but they were...weak scum, filthy rabble. To take trophies from them would be...an insult to my divine mistress. So I seek a guarded prize."

 

Ishtah did not tell Ubese how the elder warriors ostracised him on Trandosha because of his lack of "'score". At almost 2 metres Ishtah was a formidable sight, but they had felled beasts beyond imagination and would most likely fell him with as much ease.

 

"What of your homeworld, Ubese?"