The Wheel (SWSE)

[Empedocles]

That wretched hive of scum and villainy that is The Wheel. A space station, isolated from any civilized world, aloof from all conflict save those that could cost it's owner - the miserly Senator Greyshade - a sliver of profit.

Those that find themselves on The Wheel are either greedy, foolish, or have nowhere else to turn. And it is here that four seemingly insignificant scoundrels and warriors find themselves, unknowingly on the brink of setting off a chain of events that could shake the very core of the galaxy...



You're in a seedy cantina, sparsely populated with only a small group of Duros traders sitting in a far off corner, taking a break from the gambling and bickering that dominates most of the station. Take a moment to describe your character and what he or she is doing.

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

Talia sits at the back of the cantina at a round metal grated table.

She’s a small framed Twi’lek woman with green skin and long perfectly tapered Lekku, or head tails as they’re more commonly called. She wears black cargo pants and heavy leather work boots, a blue cropped tube top and a leather vest over that. A ridiculously huge blaster can be seen in its holster on her right hip.

Talia picks up the glass that’s been resting on the table and looks through it at nothing really, before taking a sip. She lets the Corellian whiskey sit on her tongue for a moment, filling her senses with its smoky aroma before swallowing it. The whiskey was at best, passable, not the worst alcohol to be had, but certainly not the best. After swallowing the liquor she sets the glass back down and continues to be lost in though.

Where ever you are my friends, I hope the drink is good and the company warm. Blazes, I hope your not all dead. I’d have nobody without you three.

[XianTheCoder]

Dressed in nondescript brown and black clothing, so as not to stand out, a short blue-gray skinned Duros sits, slouching over his drink, at the corner of the bar. A slight turn of his head in either direction gives him a vantage of each and every table in the cantina, which he inspects every few minutes. Laikir sits in contemplation about what his next move will be, gambling was entertaining and paid the bills... sometimes... but not a long term plan. He needed to get back to using his core abilities and acquire a cargo or freighter ship of his own. First, Laikir needed to find the means of acquiring the credits to purchase one, or find a ship that wasn't heavily guarded and could be stolen. Laikir motions to the barkeep, and orders himself a plate of food. As he waits for the food to arrive, he will take stock of those in the cantina with him.

[Redshaw]

Jim was not a happy man. He appears tall, overweight, and generally less-than-intimidating in his sweat-stained security uniform. Standing at the entrance to the bar, Jim is charged with the most enviable and prestigious of responsibilities to refuse under-aged patrons and escort disruptive gamblers off the premises. His graying red hair is wild and his beard has grown tangled and untamed.

With a heaving sigh, the bartender attempts to ignore the fact that Jim is sipping from a hip flask as he stares ahead with dull intelligence. The large man's weight shifts from his right leg onto his prosthetic as his mind ponders simple things.

Jim's mental acuity might refocus however as a young man steps into the bar. It is not out of sense of duty to his employer that gives Jim pause over the presence of this individual, but the fact that he is a ghost; a slim man in the garb of a Mandalorian warrior, something he has not seen in years. His shoulders straighten and he holds up a large hand to stop the individual at the bar's threshold, "Hold up there."

Individuals of all sorts passed through the Wheel and this pub was no different, but Jim knew how to weed out the dangerous from the harmless and masked men tended towards the former.

[Greymane]

Etyc. That's the only term Arn could think to describe The Wheel. It was filthy and dirty. Perhaps not in its environment itself, but the people. He had already heard at least five arguments over who owed who credits, and no small amount of weaseling out on said debts by multiple parties. He found himself already a little homesick.

Arn was making his way into the nearest cantina. He was dressed in a simple black shirt, with a brown vest over it and a bandolier yet over that. He found the vest and bandolier made his slight frame seem bulkier, and had made a habit of wearing them often in public. A Mandalorian helmet sat on his head, obscuring his brown hair and eyes from view. He felt particularly aware of the clomping noise of his combat boots, and the weight of his heavier equipment in a place like this. Unfamiliar environs always made him uneasy and paranoid that he was being observed without his knowledge. He adjusted his bandolier, shifted the weight of his jetpack, and made certain his blaster was where it was supposed to be. He double checked his credit chip and silently lamented the sparse amount left. He was going to need a job.

He stepped through the threshold of the cantina door and made a quick scan of the people inside. Several duros in a far corner, another one by himself, and a twi'lek girl. Nothing of immediate interest or danger. He instinctively headed towards the bar but was almost immediately stopped by a man with wild red hair in a dirty security uniform. Etyc. "Me'copaani? Er, is something wrong?"

[Redshaw]

Jim frowned at the Mandalorian, recognizing the language, though perhaps not fully comprehending it. Fortunately the lad provided a translation; he sounded young. Jim did a once-over on the stranger, gauging him as if he were a threat. He was small, but most definitely knew how to use that blaster. Jim could probably tackle the brat if he needed to, but he doubted he'd get close enough without getting shot.

Still, it might not come to that. In his experience, Mandalorians only caused trouble if they were getting paid to, in which case they did it better than anyone else. "If you're here for a bounty, either wait for them outside or find your paycheck somewhere else." Jim leans in to growl at the Mandalorian, his eyes narrowing with dangerous intent, "If you cause any trouble, I'm taking you down."

With his message delivered, Jim steps back and gestures for the guest to proceed if he wishes.

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

Talia watched the conversation between the Boba Fett cos-player and the slobby security guard with interest. There was nothing really interesting going on at the moment; the group of duros in the corner were ignoring here and the one at the bar didn’t look like he wanted company. She took another sip of the overpriced liquor repeating the process as before.

Maybe this guy will liven things up, things seem pretty dull as it is.

[XianTheCoder]

Laikir watches the Mandalorien enter from the corner of his vision, trying not to be obvious. A Bounty Hunter? Maybe he needs someone to acquire information on his next bounty? It could pay better than mechanical work...

[Empedocles]

A new piece of scum enters the cantina: a snivvian, smelling worse than most of them, and heavily armored. His armor seems to be assembled from a motley collection of traditions - Mandalorian included - and is poorly hidden under ragged robes. He also has a large blaster at his side; more firepower than most would care to flaunt onboard The Wheel.

He looks uneasily around the cantina, and then mistakes Laikir's keen interest in the bounty hunter for interest in his own affairs - not of you miss the hopeful glance he gives towards the other smaller cluster of Duros traders in the room. It is clear that this snivvian is looking for allies. He approaches Laikir with a half hopeful, half cautious walk.

Spoiler: Snivvians

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Read all about this lovely little species.

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

Talia’s Lekku writhe out of control and she stifles a cough as the snivvian walks within smell range. As soon to his back is to her, she tries to cover her nose, but to no avail.

Well our loner friend at the bar seems to have found some company, how he can get so close to that snaggletooth is beyond me, maybe duros can’t smell? I should find a new table… further away from the bar.

[Greymane]

Arn frowned and squinted his eyes behind his helmet. The man was larger than him, and would definitely be able to subdue him in close proximity if it came to a confrontation. Fortunately that wasn't on his agenda for today. He shifted his weight and folded his arms while the man spoke his warning to him, wanting to look annoyed or bored by it. "You have nothing to worry about with me, burc'ya." He added emphasis on the last word as he spoke. "I'm here for a drink."

As the firey rent-a-cop steps aside, Arn drops his hands to his sides and barely notices the snivvian walk past him. Arn takes a seat a stool or two away from the lone duros who was being approached by the snivvian, and removes his helmet and sets it on the bar. He waits for the bartender to be available before ordering a drink, and resolves to keep his ears open on the off-chance he hears anything interesting.

[XianTheCoder]

Seeing the Snivvian approach, Laikir scolds himself for not being more discrete. Seeing no point in keeping up the ruse, Laikir turns partially towards the direction of the entrance, using the opportunity to subtlety slide his hand to where he keeps his concealed Hold-Out Pistol. He doesn't have the look of someone with credits, what could he want? And that smell... Ugh!

When the Snivvian finally reaches Laikir, Laikir will turn completely towards him. Sparing a glance at the Bounty Hunter, now just seats away, Of Course... I find someone possibly worth talking to, and he drops into a seat where starting a conversation wouldn't be awkward, and I'm cut-off by a vagabond! Lets hope he makes this quick! Laikir acknowledges the Snivvian newcomer with a nod, and waits for him to speak first.

[Empedocles]

The snivvian seems extremely uncomfortable, sitting awkwardly close to Laikir, but reluctant to actually speak.

After almost two minutes of expectant silence, he gives in:

"So..." he says in a guttural voice, "I'm looking to get off this station. Family problems, you know? Cross my heart that's all. I'm not in any trouble. Really. Hoping I could buy a ride aboard your ship?"

It is obvious that this snivvian is not particularly bright, but he also seems vaguely traumatized, or at least very on edge. He waits for a response.

Spoiler: On the spaceships...

Show

For the record, none of you own spaceships. All of you would've arrived via some other means (i.e. hitched a ride), dependent on your backstory.

[XianTheCoder]

Family problems... My bald ass! Laikir sits quietly for a moment in contemplation before responding, Sorry Friend, I'm currently in the process of acquiring a new ship after an unfortunate separation with my last one. If you want to give me your contact info I'd be glad contact you when I can be of assistance.

[Empedocles]

The snivvian leans in closely now, with a determined look on his face, as if he's committed to whatever course of action he just decided on: "Listen close now, ok? If you don't have a ship, and you can't get to one soon, you won't be gettin' off the station. You help me, I help you? Whaddaya say?"

The snivvian grins, showing that what few teeth he had remaining were rotting. He seems very satisfied with himself.

Spoiler

Show

Laikir, as far as you can tell, the snivvian is telling the truth (surprisingly).

[XianTheCoder]

Laikir sits unblinking for a minute. Speaking softly, so as not to be over-heard, Lets assume I have the means of getting a ship quickly and that I believe you, what kind of threat are we talking about?

[Greymane]

Arn attempts to listen to the conversation that's a mere few feet from, hoping he's not looking too obvious about it. Perhaps there's something to learn in this desolate cantina after all.

Perception: (1d20+6)[23]

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

Suddenly glad she hadn’t quite switched seats yet, Talia tries to subtly listen in on the conversation between the duros and the snaggletooth. Keeping your eyes out for trouble before that trouble gets to you is a great way to stay alive in this world.

Spoiler

Show

Perception check to listen in: (1d20+5)[10]

[Empedocles]

Talia, Arn, and Jim, their attention grabbed, listen in closely to the conversation. They also noticed that the less-than-subtle snivvian has drawn in the attention of the four duros who are also in the cantina - perhaps intentionally.

To Laikir, he says: "Well, thing is, if I tell 'ya everything now, you don't have much of a reason to help me do 'ya? So how's about you get me to a ship, and I tell you not to trust anybody who might work for the Senator who owns this place. We're all in danger here, the way I see it, and the sooner we get away the sooner you can know why."

[XianTheCoder]

You're not very subtle, I suggest you try harder to be if you want to survive the Wheel. As for the rest... Laikir thinks for a minute before nodding, So he's not as stupid as he first appears... If I'm acquiring a ship on such short notice, it may not be by the most legal means, and we aren't getting near a ship with you in your current condition. Laikir glances around the bar, before looking back to the Snivvian, Between the blaster, your attire, and your smell... Especially the smell we won't get near a ship. You need to clean yourself up, go to the bathroom and do the best you can about the smell, even if you have to bath in the sink. After that, find yourself a cloak to hide that armor and blaster. In the meantime, I'll see about getting us a crew.

Laikir waits for the Snivvian to agree and head to the bathroom before deciding his next course of action. Bounty Hunter, Green Chick, Bouncer, Traders, Barkeep? Well the traders probably have a ship... But if I'm leaving this place under these circumstances, I'm doing so with my own ship. Laikir glances around again, Bounty Hunter! Taking his drink, Laikir shifts over a seat towards the bounty hunter, Hello Friend, can I ask, tracking a bounty or looking for one?

[Empedocles]

The snivvian looks at Laikir for a moment, then mutters "the name is Gru" before leaving to clean himself up.

[Greymane]

A puzzled expression dawns upon Arn's face now and again as he listens to the hastening problems of the lone duros and the snivvian. Was the smelly brown rat being truthful? Or was he perhaps touched? If what he was saying was true, then Arn couldn't have picked a worse time to show up by transport and with barely a credit to his name. Maybe my instinct was right. I may need to find a way to leave and quickly.

He sipped casually from the poor quality corellian whisky he'd managed to afford, and when the duros turned his attention to him, it broke him from his introspective reverie. Arn sets down his glass and gives Laikir a sideways glance. "Looking. Why? Need something done?"

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

That’s my cue.
Talia stands and taking her glass, casually steps over to the bar, positioning herself next to the duros. She sets her glass on the bar and indicates to the barkeeper that she wants a refill.

"I couldn’t help but hear that you’re looking for a crew for a ship. I just so happen to looking to join a new crew myself."

She says in a casual conversational way.

[XianTheCoder]

Arn sets down his glass and gives Laikir a sideways glance. "Looking. Why? Need something done?"

Speaking softly, Long story short, it might behoove us all to get off this station in a quick hurry, and you look like the type who could help me acquire transportation. Maybe I'm over-reacting, maybe not, but if my little friend is correct, then it might save both our lives. I can't pay anything upfront, but I'm willing to split the spoils evenly with those that sign on to help. Since this whole place is in for trouble, I was thinking we could borrow one of those cargo ships that are docked all over the place. If nothing happens, then we can return it, if the station explodes... Well... Spoils to be split?

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense : fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

I’m strapped for credits myself, Talia says, picking up her freshly filled glass and taking a sip. The smell of the Snivvian still lingers in the air, spoiling her drink. Besides it’s usually better to try to avoid any danger that comes your way than to fight it.

[Greymane]

Arn absently rubs his chin while listening to the duros' proposition. Before he responds the twi'lek girl interjects herself into the conversation, leaping into the idea without a moment's hesitation as far as he could tell. Desperate, maybe? Arn rubbed his chin as he sized them both for a brief moment, his gaze instinctively lingering a brief second longer on the girl's cleavage then he would've liked.

"It sounds risky for how little information you have on it. But it sounds like a fair split and a minor apology to some potentially dangerous people if you're wrong. I don't do illegal hits, though. So if your plan is to kill indiscriminately, then I'll pass. Otherwise I'm on board." He pauses for a moment and narrows his eyes towards the doorway where the aggressive bouncer who had accosted him earlier stood. "And if you can get someone a little bigger, like him, I think we'll do alright."

[XianTheCoder]

Laikir nods, I have no interest in wracking up a body count. That's one. Laikir looks towards the door, I'll see about getting us the muscle. Hopefully he's not all for show. Gru is in the bathroom cleaning himself up, when he comes out, make sure that the smell is gone, we don't need to deal with that. You can call me Laikir, as he holds out his hand for a shake.

Turning his attention on the door, Laikir makes an attempt at a casual walk over to the bouncer, as casual as he can feel when virtually every eye in the bar is watching him. Once he is standing in front of the bouncer he will smile and speak softly, Hello Friend, may I ask, do you enjoy your current employment situation?

[Greymane]

Arn grips Laikir's hand in a firm handshake before the duros makes his way towards the surly bouncer. "We have a deal, then. I'll keep an eye out for our snivvian friend." He then turns towards Talia for a moment. "I don't think he noticed you. Perhaps you should try a dancer's outfit next time?" He smirked.

After which, he turned his attention in the direction of the refresher where Gru had gone, wanting to see him the minute he gets out, and making sure to note if someone else goes in there with him.

Spoiler

Show

Perception: (1d20+6)[25]

[TheThan]

Talia Azrah
Defense: fort 12, reflex 14, will 11
HP: 18 condition: normal

Losing interest in her drink, Talia responds to Arn.

“If I was a dancer, I wouldn’t be looking for a way off this tin can.” She says with a smirk on her face.
“I’m Talia by the way.” She says, extending her hand daintily.

“Duros always seem to have a hard time at grasping subtly. Besides it looks like you could use someone else who knows her way around a starship."

[Redshaw]

Jim appears fat, sloppy and his amputation suggests a lack of coordination.These details are a convincing deception and little about the conversation between individuals at the bar or the amassing of resources escape his attention. A sideways glance at the bartender suggests that he had not missed anything either. If the snivvian's threats were legitimate and the barkeep was aware, this could spell trouble and Jim was too old and jaded to actively go searching for trouble. On the other hand, the snivvian reeked of something else besides his stench: Jim smelled credits.

As the veteran weighed his options, a savvy-looking Duros approached,

Hello Friend, may I ask, do you enjoy your current employment situation?

Jim is slow to respond as he eyes the spacer up and down, gauging the xeno for threats and abilities. The wandering sort, guessed Jim, handy with a blaster but probably more suited in the seat of a cockpit, just like every other Duros he'd met. But without a spaceship, Jim had to wonder just how useful he would be. His massive forearms fold across his barrel chest and he stares directly in the eyes of the bartender as he replies to the inquisitive scoundrel with a vague answer, "It's quiet."

Jim's green eyes move to focus in on the Duros, eyebrows raised expectantly. He was legitimately curious about a prospective business venture, but age made him cautious and experience made him suspicious of cantina room business offers. But he would hear more.