Star Wars: Edge of the Empire

From the journal of Rennek Ghast:

Nowhere to run to baby, nowhere to hide

We were doomed. Teemo the Hutt had caught on to our various infractions against his crime empire, and he’d decided to end us in a group. There was a Gand with a rifle, two Trandoshans, one more fierce looking than the other, a suave Bothan who liked like he was finally going to crack under the pressure, a Chiss explorer, a perplexed looking medical droid, and me, a slicer who’d checked into the wrong computer at the wrong time.

But Teemo decided to toy with us; he let us flee his palace, into the streets of Mos Shuuta, chased by a horde of Gamorrean guards. We took refuge in the nearby Cantina and Grill. Shoving past a vest-wearing rogue, I flashed a signal to the bartender, letting him know that I was in on local Underworld activities. He let me by, and hid me in the closet behind the bar. I later learned one of the Trandoshans, 2-Squares, set up in the bar, and tried to play it cool, blending in with the diverse crowd. Several of the others fled to the back, where they convinced a Twi’lek dancer to let them hide backstage.

When the Gamorreans burst in a moment later, we had all blended in, or hidden successfully. They were just beginning to walk away when a shot was fired, missing one of the Gamorreans, but setting them upon us. The air was quickly filled with blaster bolts, and Gamorrean after Gamorrean was felled. My first shot missed wildly, destroying the drink the vest-wearing rogue was holding, and soaking him in cheap rotgut. My second separated a Gamorrean from the use of his intestines. One of them got wise, lifted one of his deceased companions as a shield, and charged at the Bothan, Rurra. Rurra tripped and fell, avoiding the worst of the charge, and was saved by a stray blast. Finally, 2-Square gutted one of the Gamorreans with his claws, as we got the hell out of there. The bartender stopped us on the way out, gave us word that there was a possibility of escape, but that we’d need to find a part for the ship we wanted to escape on at the nearby junkyard.

We made our way to the junkyard, and through a ludicrous display of deceit, Rurra convinced the proprietor that we were in fact couriers from Teemo, come to take the part on to the ship. At this point we remembered that the ship would need to be disengaged from its docking clamps in order to take off. We made our way to Mos Shuuta’s Spaceport Control.

The two Trandoshans began playing tourist, to distract the aging guard bots while VEX (the medical droid), (someone else – I’m blanking on who now) and I tried to sneak in through a side door. The lock was difficult, but between my slicing, and (someone else’s) skulduggery, we had it open, only to trigger an alarm. I disabled the alarm, and we made our way in. I’d underestimated how busy the Spaceport Control was going to be, as an Imperial Administrator led tens of droids and technicians in their work. She swiftly spotted us, and I bluffed past her, convincing her that VEX was here to repair the broken alarm system.

I made my way to an unused terminal, and quickly sliced in, freeing the docking clamps from the ship, and sowing some additional chaos. An Imperial shuttle had just landed in the other bay; I engaged the bay’s fire suppression systems, flooding the area with foam, to give us a little more time to escape. On the way out, we were stopped by the administrator. Thinking she was on to us, I began reaching for my blaster, when she accused me of not filling out the final requisition form for the work I’d done. I signed it with a flourish, ‘Han Solo’, and walked out, quivering.

We began to gather together again, to head to the dock and steal our ship, when a group of damp stormtroopers, still dripping flame retardant materials, came charging at us, while another tried to cut us off from the south. Taking aim at a nearby water tower, I shot a hole in it, beginning a slow trickle, and started fleeing towards the docking bay. The trickle swiftly turned into a flood, and the two groups of stormtroopers were knocked off their feet, only getting a few futile shots off as we ran towards the bay. Sneaking in, Rurra again bluffed us past a group of dimwitted robot guards, and then performed a masterful piece of trickery, convincing the ship’s owner that the Stormtroopers outside were coming for him. He charged out to face them, and as we closed the door behind him, this journal entry comes to an end.

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