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Thread: Delusions of Grandeur: The Jaded Exports Missions

  1. #1
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    Default Delusions of Grandeur: The Jaded Exports Missions

    Cargo, bodies and slaves littered the desolate landscape of the canyon on the prison planet of Kessel....
    Last edited by rogue; 06-03-2012 at 06:45 PM.
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    Vordell was a man apart. Well, a man apart from his comfort zone anyway. The last standard day, 26 hours Kessel time to be exact, was a living nightmare. If it could go wrong, it did.

    The cool and cocky smuggler never let anything faze him. Everything was always Astral. He was the Dude, or at least that was his nickname in the cantinas. Sometimes it was “His Dudeness.” They called him El Duderino on Mos Eisley. No one knew whatever language that slang spawned from. His easy smile let it all flow. It was the way. No one messed up his good Force. Sure, smoking spice helped the ins and outs. He always made it through the “what have-yous.” But hey, he did things his way. The Dude abides!

    He took the job from Zrek, as normal. Jaded Exports paid well, and a smuggler had to do his special dance to qualify for a run. The Smooth Method slipped in through the Maw using Vordell’s own special route, as normal. Some time ago, well after his jettison by former co-workers via an escape pod, the Dude successfully navigated through the gravitational calms in the storm. Vordell called them the “Byways.” It was true. Little known safe routes through the Maw did exist. A pilot only found them through sheer stupidity or blind luck, usually one in the same.

    Regardless, the freighter slipped through the Dude’s Byways, everything Astral. Finally, the Method cleared the path of extreme G’s to make the final micro-jump to Kessel. Arriving on the dark side of the planet where the shadow of the moon overrode any trace of light, a dummy security satellite pinged on the comms for passage. It was one of a handful controlled by criminal organizations. If you didn’t pay a “tax” to the Hutts, Dark Sun, Jaded Exports or a few others, the Imps had your ass.

    Vordell paid the toll, as normal. They landed in the little-used canyon, as normal. Like the Dude was wont to do after a good flight, he lit up. Trekking the Maw was hard work, so he caught 40 winks. One of his crewmates was not feeling the Force. Gurby, the most recent hire from Coruscant, was antsy in his pantsies and made a Holonet call: the pay-by-the-minute kind.

    The wails of the holographic Twi’lek did not do much to drown out the knocking threats of the Imps soon after. Some crazy Lieutenant in charge threatened Vordell with everything in the book. The smugglers finally gave him their cargo, but also that of some other guys running some rebellion. It sparked the Clone officer's interest.

    And now here he was running for his life, after the deal gone wrong made a turn for the right. Who knew? The Dude was sure having jedi on his side set the Force right. It was like the tide of an ocean, and all that. The tide of energy washed through his head. A lotta strands in the old Duder's head. Luckily he adhered to a pretty strict drug regimen to keep his mind limber.
    He only hoped that hacked Imperial flight plan from the Clone’s datapad was worth the trouble.

    As he ran from the battle, Vordell’s heavy boots scattered scree in all directions. The Dude’s long and black, braided hair flew behind him as he neared the landing site. Engines hot, the pad was much warmer than the rest of Kessel’s wasted, frigid surface. Through the viewports of the Luck, Tahla, Lykka and Warrick Raden saw the smuggler escape from the canyon with the hidden cargo.

    Smelling foul play, they hurried to waylay the swarthy Corellian. His swinging gait and easy words stunk of any other scum promising shady deals throughout the galaxy. Unfortunately, Vordell knew quicker ways to safety. Pressing a hidden access panel, his handprint opened passage through the hull, and he entered the “Method” in microseconds. Tahla was amazed at the speed of such an abuser. Almost as if his action flowed with something stronger.

    A detached wave and sloppy grin from Vordell through a viewport was Tahla’s only confirmation as the Kazellis Corporation light freighter’s repulsorlifts roared. The ship maneuvered upward, leaving behind the Beginner’s Luck and the YT-1250 class Merchant’s Pride. Before blasting into the atmosphere, hidden sections of hull scraped open to eject a dozen flailing bodies to the deck. Life forms from a half dozen system hit the rough ground, their hands and feet akimbo, tied in alloyed binders.

    Moments later, the combined crews under the employ of Gavin Zrek rushed out of the ambushed rendezvous gone wrong, cargoes in tow. With Vordell’s escape, the Imperials were not far off...

    OOC: Ok, game on Remember, this scene does not move without posts from Nathril, Vit and Pirategirl as well!
    Last edited by rogue; 06-05-2012 at 11:22 PM.
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    “Lykka! Drop the ramp!” ACE's voice crackled over their commlinks. “We. Are loading. And leaving. Now!” the droid shrieked as he sprinted for The Luck.
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    "Not so fast ACE," Trangle said, stepping in. "There are slaves to be freed."
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    “I will,” Darvig uttered.

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    "Wauuhhh arrh tooaahh, ummbba ragna", said Rarwaraa. To those who understood he let it be known that he wanted nothing to do with slaves. He continued to load the spice on the Merchant's Pride and weapons on the Beginners Luck as the others made decisions on how to proceed next.
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    That at least gave ACE pause. He knew there were slaves that deserved to be free, but when he'd started untying one of them a few moments ago the Duros captain of The Merchant's Pride had started a vehement argument with him. He'd also noticed the Twi'lek woman's hands reach for her guns again. Chances were that argument was going to turn into a firefight – and they couldn't afford another one right now. Vordell was already off planet. They should be too. He wheeled quickly on the Mon Calamari.

    “No time. Now! Trangle! There's. A very. Large. Imperial. Starship. Baring down. On. Our position! We can. Rendezvous. And discuss. Cargo. Later!” the droid sputtered unhappily and fumbled for the exterior manual ramp drop. His partner was apparently asleep at the helm.

    Hopefully, the others on board The Luck would get down here and help quickly or they'd all be Imperial slaves themselves.
    Last edited by Tauren_Kai-Jere; 12-14-2013 at 10:15 PM.
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    Despite the intense situation, Comps' sense of honor left him torn. Slavery was the most abhorent thing in the galaxy, and he couldn't let it stand. Then again, ACE was right as much as the clone hated to admit it. If they took the time to free the slaves now, it would likely escalate things into a fire-fight with their new, erstwhile allies. And more to the point, they would most likely suffer some Imperial entanglements in the interim. In short, though it aggitated Comps severely to admit it, they just didn't have time to deal with this now.

    He glared at the Duros captain before following the others on board. "We'll talk about your 'cargo' later. You had better be there!"

    His threat made, Comps ran up the ramp to the Luck. After the first firefight with those Imperial TIE's he hoped ACE would be on his game. If he wasn't, they would most likely be space-dust. Either way, Comps took his customary position in the gunner's seat. His hand gripped the controls a little more tightly than normal. The Luck was in bad shape.

    OOC: Persuasion check. Intimidate on Nate's character(forgot his name...) 1d20(1)+2=3. Comps isn't very scary...
    Last edited by Majere; 06-07-2012 at 11:20 AM.
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    "Well I'll be a pickled dog-turd," Rukin grunted.

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    Comps' skilled blaster fire was much more scary than his intimidation tactics.

    "Comps," Trangle croaked, laying a peaceful webbed hand on his shoulder, intended to calm him.

    Fish eyes ogled at Shayle. Trangle approached close to the Bothan and spoke in a low voice. "Major, whether to trust Sanos is your decision as ranking officer. If you wish, I will talk with Captain Sano myself, make sure he doesn't double cross us."
    Last edited by Bong Bellowsmoke; 06-08-2012 at 05:49 PM.
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    “I will,” Darvig uttered.

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    There was no time to think on what was going on, no time to debate and no time to argue. Shayle had to trust his instincts here. "We need to load this cargo on the Luck now. We'll have time to try and "change" Sano's mind later. If we're captured or killed than the slaves have no chance. We'll rendezvous with them and figure it out then, until that time... LET"S MOVE PEOPLE!" Shayle shouted as he picked up a crate and brought it aboard the Luck.
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    Proximity alarms began blaring on the bridges of both the Beginners Luck and the Merchants Pride. A massive power signature was ramping up five kilometers east. Only a capitol class ship put off that type of signature.
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