Campaign of the Month: May 2012

Star Wars: Rogue Traders

Mistrust and old friends

Port a tyr
EyeUser: Tyr Solaris
Log Entry: 170713

Port-NPC-Talia.jpg Talia had come to to our room at the Eye. As soon as I saw her I knew something was up, she never visited our cramped quarters. The only people who came to this area of the Eye were keeping a low profile. PlanetData-NarShaddaa.jpg She had a parcel for me and straight away I knew this was a setup, who ever heard of a tramp freighter captain giving away gifts? The story was simple, an associate had seen the Gambit crew’s performance and wanted to meet us in person on Nar Shaddaa to discuss a job. The package was our, or more accurately my, incentive to come along.

Inside the package was an arm that for all intents could have been the one I had lost. It would be easily mistaken as a mockery designed to raise my ire. However on the ring finger was a small signet ring that gave away the owners idetity. There were few people in the galaxy with an Imperial agency signet and there was only one person that I knew who could get me to visit Nar Shaddaa.

Marl Vorusk…my old mentor.

Port-NPC-MrlVrsk.jpg The last I had saw him was my final day working for the Imperium. We met a fellow operative named Gorman to trade Rebel data, only to be caught up in the purge to destroy the data. That was the same day I lost my arm and picked up my scars. Talie wasn’t telling us the full story but I wasn’t sure she was the player setting the trap. Whoever knew this information on me and had tracked me to the Eye had to be high in the agency. Not that it mattered, old habits die hard. Marl had been my mentor and contact, one of the few people I could trust when I worked for the Imperium. If this person had him he was in trouble. I couldn’t let him down.

We left the Eye the next day with the aim of meeting the Firecracker crew at Nar Shaddaa. The meet was at a party in a popular restaurant called “Outlook”, somewhere that no doubt had high security. It was a fancy place with a large atmospherically sealed platform for diners. The high security was confirmed on arrival and to compound matters only myself and Talia were on the guest list. Manco took the speeder and his arsenal out to look for a vantage point while Arri and Vrinko looked for an alternative entrance. The rest of the Firecracker crew waited at the entrance ready to provide support if needed.

It was only when Talia and I came to the secondary security entrance that Talia came clean. Whoever we were meeting held her sister, Willa, captive. If this really was the Imperium there was no guarantee that any of us would make it clear of this meet.

Walking onto the platform it was clearly a busy day, wealthy patrons sat lunching on the choicest Bantha cuts. A roped off area had half a dozen hard types in plain grey outfits, subtly had not improved in the agency. Port-NPC-WilSF.jpg Willa sat next to two guards, a few tables away from a seated individual who faced us. I didn’t recognise him but his air of authority marked him as the commander. Talia nervously paced to the side as he waved me forward.

The deal was simple. Come back into the fold, be pardoned for my “crimes” and earn enough credits to keep myself happy wherever I wanted to be. The first thing I needed to do was secure the Rebel data that was lost at my last Imperial meeting. But I was never going to go for that, the Empire had taken my arm and nearly taken my life. I had started again with a crew I could count on and the esteem of being the best tramp freighter captain this side of Coruscant.

Well the Emperor’s finest were never the kind to take ‘no’ for an answer. The commander immediately reneged on returning Willa to Talia. However that wasn’t what gave me pause, he motioned off to a nearby section where a hunched form slump out of place among the noble types. Marl was a shadow of his former self. He was heavily scarred and like myself part machine now, no doubt the results of the same action that removed my arm. But that wasn’t the the most changed thing about him, his eyes were downcast and vague as though they Imps had finally beaten the life out of him and still held on to his partially functioning husk. The final sweetener was to be the full repair of my once mentor and dearest friend.
It was then that I recognised the commander, his heavy features had been preserved by the dark science of the Empire but it hadn’t changed the cold impartiality in his eyes. Gorman himself had come to return me to the fold. His face spurred me to action. No one would cowl Tyr Solaris, especially not the man who had cast me aside as a utilised asset. A hundred back-alley deals gone wrong had honed my reflexes beyond compare and even then I was expected to be weaponless. No one could have anticipated the hold-out blaster ejecting from it’s secret compartment in my robotic left arm. Three galactic years of military action against the hardest fighters the galaxy had to offer guided my hand. As I depressed the firing stud, an overcharge shot aimed squarely at Gorman’s face, something strange happened. With what could only be significant cybernetic enhancement he jerked his head sideways and what was a fatal shot merely vapourised his left ear.

At that moment the world went straight back to the clone wars. The Imps and Talia both drew hidden blasters as the unmistakable energy bolts from Manco’s snipeblaster punched into the two bodyguards who hurled themselves over Gorman. As the citizens of Nar Shaddaa fled the scene of the esclating blaster fight I took the opportunity to break for Marl. Marl sat hunched at his table, oblivious to the action going down around him. As I closed an angry red blast cut over my shoulder and clipped Marl in the side of his head sending him sprawling. Turning I saw Gorman, his face a mask of rage, pointing a heavy blaster pistol at me. I snapped my holdout out but the small clip was spent. Another angry bolt let out and took me in the thigh, tumbling me over. I pulled a table across me, the plasteel buckling as Gorman sprayed my position.

I fought the agony of my leg and tried to slam a fresh charge into the holdout. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a sleek black speeder hurtling towards the platform. Jinking wildly behind it came our own speeder with Manco at the controls. A PLX missile corkscrewed lazily from the drivers port, trailing a black contrail. It impacted with the rear of the black speeder and sent it tearing down below the platform. Whether it was Gormans escape or the white armour of Stormtroopers it didn’t matter, my own cavalry had arrived. As my the edges of my vision sunk into blackness I could hear Arribacca’s Wookie battle cry and Vrinko’s humming lightsaber strikes clearly over the sounds of battle.



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