truemane
2021-02-23, 07:53 PM
STAR WARS: EDGE OF THE EMPIRE
Adventures on the Rim
Chapter 1 - That Old Gang of Mine
https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/384514050912026641/813935789061832714/map.cantina.jpg?width=210&height=293
Out here on the Rim, you lived and died by the Word. The Word was son and father, drug and pusher, shield and trap, thorn and flower. In the streets, the cantinas, all along the alleyways and dirt-strewn lived the Word. The old timers said you gotta get with the Word or the Word will be your end. The Word told you who was in, who was out, who was dead already and who was dead and just didn't know it yet.
And sure, they had the Word in the Core. But in the Core the Word was careful electrical pulses along careful secured lines. In the Core the Word was double-checked by committee and custom-designed and verified and sent out into the world spell-checked with proper grammar, like a holovid idol taking the stage for adoring fans.
On the Rim the Word was smaller. Quieter. Equal parts lies and truth. Equal parts tonic and poison. One the Rim, the art wasn't catching the Word (the Word was everywhere, all the time, wherever you might be), it was sifting the true Word from all the wishful thoughts and bravado and ego and malice. The art wasn't finding the Word, the art was hearing it.
Just because you couldn't hear it, didn't mean it wouldn't knock you dead in a heartbeat and then pass to another ear with only your final death rattle to mark its passing.
Out on the Rim, on the planet Tattoine, in the city of Nal Shudda, the had the Word. And the Word said that Teemo the Hutt, flush with confidence over his new alliance with the Genosians, has gone to war with the Pyke syndicate. Word around Nal Shuuda was that Teemo was looking for a few freelancer operatives with steady aim, questionable ethics, and who don't ask a whole lot of questions.
Word said there was heavy cred on the far end, heavy cred and the well-wishes of Teemo, poised as he is to solidify the entire sector under his rule.
And all you had to do, said the Word, was find your way to the Dreaming Gundark cantina. And there the Word would come to you.
Inside it's cool and dark compared to the sun baked hell of the streets. There's a shockingly tall Devaronian tending bar. A few patrons tucked away in the corners, too tired and wasted to think of anything but their next drink. In the back, a stage, and on it a trio of strung-out Rodians dancing with more apathy than skill.
Around the tables sit a few others like you. Alert. Hardened. Ready for whatever came next. A Wookie with a face full teeth and scars. A human clad in heavy armour and a mechanical arm. A Bothan sitting with a bulky driod, eying the door. A Gand standing near the bar, still, not moving, watching.
And others...
Welcome, everyone, to Adventures on the Rim! In your opening post, feel free to tell us how you heard about this job, how you came to be on Tattoine, and some of what other people see and sense when you enter the room.
Feel free to ask if you have any questions!
Adventures on the Rim
Chapter 1 - That Old Gang of Mine
https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/384514050912026641/813935789061832714/map.cantina.jpg?width=210&height=293
Out here on the Rim, you lived and died by the Word. The Word was son and father, drug and pusher, shield and trap, thorn and flower. In the streets, the cantinas, all along the alleyways and dirt-strewn lived the Word. The old timers said you gotta get with the Word or the Word will be your end. The Word told you who was in, who was out, who was dead already and who was dead and just didn't know it yet.
And sure, they had the Word in the Core. But in the Core the Word was careful electrical pulses along careful secured lines. In the Core the Word was double-checked by committee and custom-designed and verified and sent out into the world spell-checked with proper grammar, like a holovid idol taking the stage for adoring fans.
On the Rim the Word was smaller. Quieter. Equal parts lies and truth. Equal parts tonic and poison. One the Rim, the art wasn't catching the Word (the Word was everywhere, all the time, wherever you might be), it was sifting the true Word from all the wishful thoughts and bravado and ego and malice. The art wasn't finding the Word, the art was hearing it.
Just because you couldn't hear it, didn't mean it wouldn't knock you dead in a heartbeat and then pass to another ear with only your final death rattle to mark its passing.
Out on the Rim, on the planet Tattoine, in the city of Nal Shudda, the had the Word. And the Word said that Teemo the Hutt, flush with confidence over his new alliance with the Genosians, has gone to war with the Pyke syndicate. Word around Nal Shuuda was that Teemo was looking for a few freelancer operatives with steady aim, questionable ethics, and who don't ask a whole lot of questions.
Word said there was heavy cred on the far end, heavy cred and the well-wishes of Teemo, poised as he is to solidify the entire sector under his rule.
And all you had to do, said the Word, was find your way to the Dreaming Gundark cantina. And there the Word would come to you.
Inside it's cool and dark compared to the sun baked hell of the streets. There's a shockingly tall Devaronian tending bar. A few patrons tucked away in the corners, too tired and wasted to think of anything but their next drink. In the back, a stage, and on it a trio of strung-out Rodians dancing with more apathy than skill.
Around the tables sit a few others like you. Alert. Hardened. Ready for whatever came next. A Wookie with a face full teeth and scars. A human clad in heavy armour and a mechanical arm. A Bothan sitting with a bulky driod, eying the door. A Gand standing near the bar, still, not moving, watching.
And others...
Welcome, everyone, to Adventures on the Rim! In your opening post, feel free to tell us how you heard about this job, how you came to be on Tattoine, and some of what other people see and sense when you enter the room.
Feel free to ask if you have any questions!