Malexia
2017-09-07, 10:06 PM
The Laser's Edge: Flashpoint Emerald Raven
Dobara is a wretched hive of scum and moral ambiguity. This backwater world was conquered close to a decade ago, and not even the most zealous and empathetic rebels have given a thought to liberating it. Why would they? It's a giant swamp that occasionally gives way to cave-riddled cliffs, a cesspool of a planet that has only survived this long because of extensive trade deals and a thriving criminal underworld.
The booze is cheap, the air is pungent, and the citizenry are unruly. If it weren't for the imperial garrison (understaffed and underfunded) and the regnant bureaucracy (poorly managed and poorly marketed) there would be no reason for you to ever set foot on this footnote of an intergalactic travel destination.
But here you are. The four of you have been summoned to this world by your handlers in the Vasra Supremacy. You have debts, and loyalties, and today they're being called in.
The message brought you to the city of New Oldtown, to the shipping district. Behemoths of corrugated neo-steel grind against each other, and twisting alleys criss-cross through the district in search of an escape. The industry here is dead, or maybe undead. Dobara has never been an industrial hot spot, and attempts like this to create a factory economy have failed dramatically. Still, the abandoned warehouse industry has never been more profitable.
You know each other only by reputation. The 2nd best pirate. A Revoxi. The scourge of New Heaven. That creepy fox thing. You're all expected to play nice. Well, nice is a relative term. Just don't kill each other before Imperial Intelligence shows up.
There's the cue.
An imperial dropship, a black and red spike bristling with jagged angles, drops out of cloaking and smoothly glides into the warehouse you're all waiting in. The vessel lands, and the bay door unfolds to create a gangplank.
Eight jackboots march out and stand in formation, adorned in the black armored uniforms of imperial troopers, with the classic white markings to indicate their grunt status. A red-marked trooper follows after them and stands in front of the block, clearly the squad leader; a redcoat.
Then the Agent emerges.
The Agent is a Vasran of noble stock, with soft crimson skin and subtle horns. His eyes are calculating, piercing, black orbs with orange irises like twin eclipses. His uniform is nondescript, a charcoal peacoat and laborer's boots. Nothing of his appearance would suggest he is anything more than a well-to-do citizen of the Supremacy, but he is possessed of an abiding presence that weighs on you like a lead vest.
The Agent is smoking a cigarette. An exotic laboratory concoction, by the look of it. He takes a long, final drag of its toxic vapors and flicks it to the floor. He crushes it beneath his boot heel, then looks at the four of you as if the cigarette was an allegory for your faces and his boot was an allegory for his boot.
"Let's cut the pleasantries." His voice is gravel-smooth, a rough and low drawl. "You're here because my boss, Lady Shadowmaven, thinks the four of you together can serve the Vasra Supremacy more adequately than as you were before."
"You work for me, I work for Lady Shadowmaven, and she works for the Empress. Welcome to Imperial Intelligence, operatives." He smirks. "The first rule of the job is easy: Imperial Intelligence doesn't exist, and you're all private contractors with no relation to said nonexistent organization."
"This isn't a stealth mission." He jerks his thumb at the jackboots. "I wouldn't be loaning them to you if it were. Don't misuse them; they are the face of the empire, and the empire will not be made a fool of."
The Agent pulls out a data chit and tosses it to the Revoxi. "Details of the mission inside. You have a week to figure out why imperial supply lines in this sector are being disrupted and excise the issue as one would a tumor."
"Don't screw this up." The Agent turns smartly and vanishes into the shadows of the imperial dropship, which only seconds later ascends and cloaks. The transport ship disappears and takes the Agent to parts unknown.
You are given a moment to collect yourselves before the redcoat steps up and delivers the traditional imperial salute, a fist to the chest. She's another Vasran, though a little rougher around the edges and with darker red skin.
"Enforcer Coldfist, sirs. It's my job to translate your operational directives into actionable orders, and keep the troopers in line. I can answer any questions you have about their capabilities, and provide strategic input in combat situations. When you'd like, I can also show you to a safehouse that I-I has procured nearby." She pronounces the acronym for Imperial Intelligence as 'eye-eye', or perhaps 'aye-aye'.
She stands in front of you crisply and awaits your assessment. The other troopers stand at attention.
The data chit classifies this operation as Flashpoint: Emerald Raven. It indicates that Dobara is a low-priority Supremacy world, not fully subsumed into the machine of the empire but not deemed sufficiently dangerous enough to host a large military presence. Every imperial on the planet is there for a reason, involved in bureaucracy or peacekeeping.
Imperial supply lines are sometimes long and meandering, and the supply line that passes through Dobara is certainly one of those. Ships carrying weapons, medkits, and rations land in a bloated bog to refuel, then travel through a shadowy swamp to reach the imperial garrison's murky marsh. Once they've passed inspection and local restocking is complete, the supplies are shipped offworld to the next destination on their journey. This complicated interaction is, the data chit assures you, completely necessary to preserve the integrity of the Supremacy's resource network.
Dobara is of interest to small-time illegal organizations because it has very exciting and dangerous flora and fauna that make delightful sport for the idle rich. The criminal element on this world has been considered irrelevant so far, but I-I has reason to believe they might be connected to the supply line disruption.
The final piece of data you receive is about the disruption itself. The supply line hasn't been broken here,
merely depleted. Sometimes a supply ship goes missing, sometimes simply a few crates go missing.
Such disappearances are suspicious, but more cause for an internal affairs officer to show up. I-I is involved because the rate of disruption is increasing; more is going missing, and garrison command is tight-lipped about the details.
Serve the empire. Enforce the will of the Empress. Find the pest responsible for this and crush them like the pathetic insect they are.
You have gained an aspect with two free charges. You can invoke Emerald Raven Data Chit in any situation where I-I's intel might prove relevant.
All players are restored to their full refresh of Fate Points.
Since it's easier, we're going to be using standard d6 and the forum roller, and just treating 1/2 as a -, 3/4 as a blank, and 5/6 as a +. You can of course choose to spend fate after you've rolled, but if you reroll I'd prefer it if you added a second block rather than editing over the first one.
If you're ever uncertain about what approach a roll should be using, you can always drop a question in OOC. Of course, with the added time that PbP gives us it should be easy to dissect the action that's happening and figure out what fits best.
If you invoke an aspect, make sure to narrate how exactly you're using that aspect to succeed.
Dobara is a wretched hive of scum and moral ambiguity. This backwater world was conquered close to a decade ago, and not even the most zealous and empathetic rebels have given a thought to liberating it. Why would they? It's a giant swamp that occasionally gives way to cave-riddled cliffs, a cesspool of a planet that has only survived this long because of extensive trade deals and a thriving criminal underworld.
The booze is cheap, the air is pungent, and the citizenry are unruly. If it weren't for the imperial garrison (understaffed and underfunded) and the regnant bureaucracy (poorly managed and poorly marketed) there would be no reason for you to ever set foot on this footnote of an intergalactic travel destination.
But here you are. The four of you have been summoned to this world by your handlers in the Vasra Supremacy. You have debts, and loyalties, and today they're being called in.
The message brought you to the city of New Oldtown, to the shipping district. Behemoths of corrugated neo-steel grind against each other, and twisting alleys criss-cross through the district in search of an escape. The industry here is dead, or maybe undead. Dobara has never been an industrial hot spot, and attempts like this to create a factory economy have failed dramatically. Still, the abandoned warehouse industry has never been more profitable.
You know each other only by reputation. The 2nd best pirate. A Revoxi. The scourge of New Heaven. That creepy fox thing. You're all expected to play nice. Well, nice is a relative term. Just don't kill each other before Imperial Intelligence shows up.
There's the cue.
An imperial dropship, a black and red spike bristling with jagged angles, drops out of cloaking and smoothly glides into the warehouse you're all waiting in. The vessel lands, and the bay door unfolds to create a gangplank.
Eight jackboots march out and stand in formation, adorned in the black armored uniforms of imperial troopers, with the classic white markings to indicate their grunt status. A red-marked trooper follows after them and stands in front of the block, clearly the squad leader; a redcoat.
Then the Agent emerges.
The Agent is a Vasran of noble stock, with soft crimson skin and subtle horns. His eyes are calculating, piercing, black orbs with orange irises like twin eclipses. His uniform is nondescript, a charcoal peacoat and laborer's boots. Nothing of his appearance would suggest he is anything more than a well-to-do citizen of the Supremacy, but he is possessed of an abiding presence that weighs on you like a lead vest.
The Agent is smoking a cigarette. An exotic laboratory concoction, by the look of it. He takes a long, final drag of its toxic vapors and flicks it to the floor. He crushes it beneath his boot heel, then looks at the four of you as if the cigarette was an allegory for your faces and his boot was an allegory for his boot.
"Let's cut the pleasantries." His voice is gravel-smooth, a rough and low drawl. "You're here because my boss, Lady Shadowmaven, thinks the four of you together can serve the Vasra Supremacy more adequately than as you were before."
"You work for me, I work for Lady Shadowmaven, and she works for the Empress. Welcome to Imperial Intelligence, operatives." He smirks. "The first rule of the job is easy: Imperial Intelligence doesn't exist, and you're all private contractors with no relation to said nonexistent organization."
"This isn't a stealth mission." He jerks his thumb at the jackboots. "I wouldn't be loaning them to you if it were. Don't misuse them; they are the face of the empire, and the empire will not be made a fool of."
The Agent pulls out a data chit and tosses it to the Revoxi. "Details of the mission inside. You have a week to figure out why imperial supply lines in this sector are being disrupted and excise the issue as one would a tumor."
"Don't screw this up." The Agent turns smartly and vanishes into the shadows of the imperial dropship, which only seconds later ascends and cloaks. The transport ship disappears and takes the Agent to parts unknown.
You are given a moment to collect yourselves before the redcoat steps up and delivers the traditional imperial salute, a fist to the chest. She's another Vasran, though a little rougher around the edges and with darker red skin.
"Enforcer Coldfist, sirs. It's my job to translate your operational directives into actionable orders, and keep the troopers in line. I can answer any questions you have about their capabilities, and provide strategic input in combat situations. When you'd like, I can also show you to a safehouse that I-I has procured nearby." She pronounces the acronym for Imperial Intelligence as 'eye-eye', or perhaps 'aye-aye'.
She stands in front of you crisply and awaits your assessment. The other troopers stand at attention.
The data chit classifies this operation as Flashpoint: Emerald Raven. It indicates that Dobara is a low-priority Supremacy world, not fully subsumed into the machine of the empire but not deemed sufficiently dangerous enough to host a large military presence. Every imperial on the planet is there for a reason, involved in bureaucracy or peacekeeping.
Imperial supply lines are sometimes long and meandering, and the supply line that passes through Dobara is certainly one of those. Ships carrying weapons, medkits, and rations land in a bloated bog to refuel, then travel through a shadowy swamp to reach the imperial garrison's murky marsh. Once they've passed inspection and local restocking is complete, the supplies are shipped offworld to the next destination on their journey. This complicated interaction is, the data chit assures you, completely necessary to preserve the integrity of the Supremacy's resource network.
Dobara is of interest to small-time illegal organizations because it has very exciting and dangerous flora and fauna that make delightful sport for the idle rich. The criminal element on this world has been considered irrelevant so far, but I-I has reason to believe they might be connected to the supply line disruption.
The final piece of data you receive is about the disruption itself. The supply line hasn't been broken here,
merely depleted. Sometimes a supply ship goes missing, sometimes simply a few crates go missing.
Such disappearances are suspicious, but more cause for an internal affairs officer to show up. I-I is involved because the rate of disruption is increasing; more is going missing, and garrison command is tight-lipped about the details.
Serve the empire. Enforce the will of the Empress. Find the pest responsible for this and crush them like the pathetic insect they are.
You have gained an aspect with two free charges. You can invoke Emerald Raven Data Chit in any situation where I-I's intel might prove relevant.
All players are restored to their full refresh of Fate Points.
Since it's easier, we're going to be using standard d6 and the forum roller, and just treating 1/2 as a -, 3/4 as a blank, and 5/6 as a +. You can of course choose to spend fate after you've rolled, but if you reroll I'd prefer it if you added a second block rather than editing over the first one.
If you're ever uncertain about what approach a roll should be using, you can always drop a question in OOC. Of course, with the added time that PbP gives us it should be easy to dissect the action that's happening and figure out what fits best.
If you invoke an aspect, make sure to narrate how exactly you're using that aspect to succeed.