SWRPF Archive Ancient War Of Tattooine (based on an RP by -Guerrero-Del-Luz-)

Many millions of years before the rise of the Republic, before space travel allowed escaping from a single planet, the planet of Tattoine was little but a barren wasteland speckled with a few human-occupied Mos' here and there, and many more gangs of Jawas and Tusken Raiders. By mere chance, two human brothers were born with force abilities. Their powers imedietly allowed them to rise to positions of power in Mos Erentan. However, they were easily corrupted. Tydrel, the younger brother, turned on his brother Tallon-Kor when they were at the ages of 16 and 18. For 11 years their small armies fought each other. In the end, Tallon-Kor was the victor. Tydrel fled to Mos Issin 3 miles away with the intention of forming an army there. To complicate matters, 6 years later, there is a small, heavily armed faction of bug-like flying warriors who crash landed from the nearby planet of Geonosis. They are led by Finor the Great. Having lost contact with Geonosis, they want only to kill whatever they find.


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Finor, Tallon-Kor and Tydrel are my characters and the only God-like characters in the game. The brothers' only developed force power is the "mind trick." Other than this even they are merely humans with good reflexes. Finor's only special ability is flight.


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Affiliations:

Army of Tallon-Kor.
Positions:
Soldier: Armed with both a primitive laser gun and a sword, soldiers travel in bands of 10-12 striking Mos Issin guerrila style and occasionally fighting in larger combat situations.
Officer: Usually veterans of the war six years ago, they command the bands of soldiers. They are also equiped with both a gun and sword.
Riders: Elite troops which act as units. Armed with the Banthas they ride and the primitive laser cannons mounted on the steeds' backs, they often find themselves lost or alone.

The army of Tydrel
Positions:
Soldier: Usually very young, and filled with a propoganda fed hatred for Tallon-Kor. They weild cross bow and blades. The cross-bows are more accurate, but less deadly than the guns. They also travel in small bands.
Officer: Once again, the older, more battle-hardened soldiers who are in charge of the bands. Equiped with cross-bow, laser gun, and sword.
Riders: Tydrel's riders ride the massive Rontos. They are armed with two laser cannon-one on each side of the beasts' neck.

Sandpeople
Positions:
Renegade: They travel from the villages alone or with 1 or 2 massiffs. They fight Tydrel, Tallon-Kor and the Geonosians, but are wary of fighting the Jawas.

Jawas
Positions:
Agent: The agents act sneakily. They will enter either village and try to destroy weapons holds or government buildings. Usually leave their village armed with 12 or less light explosives. Sometimes run suicide missions. Travel in 2's or 3's.

Geonosians
Positions:
Warriors: With flight, sonic wave guns, advanced laser blasters, and nothing to live for, they will do anything to annihilate the natives of the planet and claim it for Geonosis.

Note: These parameters are loose, other than weapon allotment. Feel free to develop a character however you want to.


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Profiles:

Name
Gender
Age
Affiliation
Position
Bio


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Rules
1. The game is all out war. However, money and weapons are scarce. No Supermen.
2. By killing another character in hand-to-hand combat only, you can take their weapons. However, creating enemies to slaughter and steal their stuff is not allowed. Furthermore, a Riders' steed is not likely to follow a new master.
3. Only one character at a time, unless they are together. For example, it is fine to have an Officer and a Soldier in his command, or two Renegade Sandpeople, but a Sandperson and a Geonosian will result in

 

Charecter #1

Name: Quaggle
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Affiliation: Geonosian
Position: Captin
Bio: Quaggle was the Captin of the downed Geonosian ship. He is the second in command of the Geonosian Army. The Geonosians stripped a sonic turret off the dowened ship, the lug it around with them, but it is really only of use against large armies, to suppress the charges (If Thats OK)

Charecter #2

Name: Jogal
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Affiliation: Geonosian
Position: Lieutennant
Bio: Jogal was the Lieutennant of the dowended Geonosian ship, he is the Lieutennat of The Goenosian Army

It's ok that I have 2 charecters like that right?

-Yoda

 

*cough*UP!*cough*

-Yoda

 

ya sure

 

Does anyone want to play?

-Yoda

 

Name: Ky'yla
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Affiliation: Army of Tallon-Kor
Position: Officer
Bio: abusive, prone to yell, flirtatous in her own rough way

 

2 more then we can start

 

ok we will start now

 

Name: Blondie
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Affiliation: Independent
Position: Drifter
Description: Blonde hair, a craggy face from long years of exposure, so he likes older than he is. Still moderately good looking in a beaten sort of way. Wears a long trenchcoat to keep the dust out and fedora to keep the sun's rays off. Under that is a well made flannel shirt, while his pants are made of ronto hide.
Bio: The man known only as Blondie has survived off of the chaos of Tatooine all his life. Long ago discovering that choosing sides only got you killed, he profits from bounty hunting, con games and scavenging what is left after battles. He'll work for any side, provided the pay is right.

He has heard about rumors of a crashing star, and plans on checking it out; it might be a big payoff, if he plays his cards right, no matter what.

Long years of surviving in a climate of all out war has taught him to be fast with his flintlock and judicious with his knife. He may only have one shot, but he usually makes it count, and before the other guy. Can speak a little Jawa, enough to sell them scrap. He's had enough contact with the Sand people to be respected by them, even if they occasionally still try to kill him.

Personality: He has a wry sense of humor, and knows when to cut and run. Knows when to keep his mouth shut.
Equipment: Flintlock pistol, sandproofed; ammo, powder, etc for pistol, and long, curved knife. Clothes, fedora, trenchcoat, two canteens filled with water.

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((OOC: I'm assuming there is ground travel by way of treaded vehicles and rudimentary technology such as pistols and such; and I'm assuming the Jawas have sand crawlers by now, as they wouldn't be too hard to build, as long as you found enough metal and had enough foundries. I'm assuming this level of technology because humans had to get to Tatooine somehow, and even if they've forgotten entirely how space travel works, they're probably decendents of some colony ship or other. So, I'm assuming technology regressed severely, maybe after the colony ships crashed horribly, and then slowly built it's way back up(kind of like Trigun, if you've seen it)))

Mos Issin was as dirty and loud as always, Blondie reflected. The people here could never get enough of the war, no matter how bad it hurt them. It was their only profit; moisture farmers coming in to sell their water and vegetables to the armies, smiths and crude factories making weapons and the occasional ground crawler.

The young men sold themselves to the armies, most of the time, until they were too chopped up to fight anymore. Then they sat around in these cantinas getting drunk for the rest of their lives.

Blondie had been smarter; he didn't plan on playing this game. Whenever the press gangs came round to grab some more fresh bodies for the grinder, Blondie knew to be somewhere else. He didn't have to worry about that today, though; it seemed like the Army here was in too much confusion. A massive star or something had fallen out of the sky, and Tydrel was massing his forces to check it out. Tallon-kor was no doubt doing the exact same thing in his city, and there would no doubt be massive fight for whatever had come out of the sky.

Blondie planned on being there first, though. Get there, get the loot, sell it to the Jawas. If not, play all the sides against the middle for a few barrels of water and fuel and come out ahead. Either way, whenever something like this came up, it was a chance to profit.

He got up out of his seat and finished the cheap alcohol he had purchased, tossing a few pieces of coinage on the bar as he left. It was time to talk to an old Jawa pal about a lift out there on one of their sand crawlers.

 

Ky'yla sat at a local outdoor cantina, surrounded by her men. The hot breeze ruffled her brown tunic and short brown hair.

Damn war, she thought. The people of Mos Erentan didn't seem to grasp the fact that people were dying. As long as they made money. They sold water and food to the opposing armies, making money off of this atrocity. Rubbing a tired hand over her now-tan face, she sighed.

She sipped at her whiskey, which tasted like fermented bantha sweat, and made yet another sour face. They can't even make a good whiskey, she complained to herself.

Watching with detatched facination as two of her men got into a drunken brawl, she let her mind wander.

EDIT: thanks, coota

 

((OOC: Edit: Not needed anymore; welcome, CorellianChic))

 

OOC: I will jump in
Lets see....
How about a Sand Person:
Name: A' Sharad Ghaz
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Affiliation: Sand Person Tribe Ghaz
Position: Chief
Bio: Born a raider, Ferociously loyal to family. Leads the Ghaz tribe as they wander the deserts of Tattooine after there ancestors were displaced by the colonists.

and His son:
Name: A' Israe Ghaz
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Sand Person Tribe Ghaz
Position: Adult
Bio: Having just finished his rite of passage he has returned to his tribe to fight the enemies that seem to be closing in upon them from all sides. He has just been married and gained his bantha steed. His father relies heavily upon him to help persuade the young men of the tribe.

 

Just a few miles outside of Mos Issin, the Sandcrawler sat, surrounded by a small bazaar worth of farmers, cityfolk and Jawas. While some Jawas were hostile, and occasionally attacked the towns to steal resources, more often than not they existed by trading with the humans. After all, the humans needed to get raw materials somewhere, and the Jawas knew exactly where to extract those materials from Tatooine, or where good scavenging spots lay.

It was even rumored that they had some mines in the mountains near the Jundland Wastes, mines heavily protected by great walled cities, so that the Sandpeople could not raid these important Jawa settlements. However they got their materials, though, both the armies, farmers and cityfolk were always willing to pay for them.

As it was, this particular Jawa clan was run by an old friend of Blondies, at least as much of a friend as a Jawa could be, named Tillik. Blondie had done him a favor a few years back by saving his sandcrawler from an assault by a raiding party from one of the armies, and he figured it was time to collect. Besides, the Jawas would immediately see the profit in the possibility of a huge motherload of scavenge.

He walked into the center of the bazaar and spoke a few words to one of the Jawas in their language, asking where Tillik was. the Jawa pointed off in the direction of a small group of haggling farmers and Jawas. Blondie just grinned and headed over.

"I'm telling you, this evaporator you sold me is useless! It malfunctions every few weeks! I can't survive off that; give me my money back, and I'll give you back the damn evaporator," the farmer yelled in an angry voice.

The Jawa who Blondie guessed was Tillik chittered back in the same angry tone of voice, something to the effect of 'no refunds.' As Blondie watched, the pair continued to haggle until they finally reached a decision when the farmer began threatening to talk to the army adjudicator in Mos Issin; the farmer got a different evaporator, plus a barrel of water to make up for any profits he might have lost.

When the farmer left, Blondie walked up behind the Jawa and commented, "This war doesn't seem to be all that profitable for you boys, Tillik; it looks like the farmers are taking you for all you're worth, now that they've got the armies backing humans."

Tillik turned around and let out an expression of glee, then chittered excitedly, <"Blondie! It has been long time since saw you last! How are you?">

"Good, good, my friend. And I've got a score that I'm gonna let you in on."

<"I am always interested in fresh scavange">

"Great; something big just came out of the sky yesterday and landed out somewhere to the west. It could be anything, but whatever it is, it'll be profitable. What do you say?"

<"I do not know... how much of the profit would you share?">

"You can have twenty five percent, and that's generous; afterall, you owe me a favor, unless your little rodent memory is failing you."

<"Oh, yes, I remember, but I need to feed my clan, and twenty five percent of anything small would be useless when compared to the cost of getting there... I would think forty percent would make my people happy...">

"It's not gonna *be* small. Twenty five percent. Remember you wouldn't be here haggling if I hadn't saved your miserable life. Not to mention that if anyone else is out there, I'm gonna be the only one protecting you little red eyes."

<"Yes, yes. Alright, thirty percent then.">

"You don't give up, do you? Sure, thirty percent, Tillik."

He reached out his hand and shook with the filthy little creature, grinning slightly. Blondie then said, "Alright, gather up your little traveling store here and pack it up; we move out now, or there's not gonna be anything left."

He strode towards the sandcrawler, walking up the ramp and into the machine, steeling his nostrils for the stench of the ride. The Jawas rushed around behind him, packing up and getting everything they could aboard as fast as possible.

Within minutes they were traveling towards the possibil

 

A'Sharad stood listening to his sons story of a massive explosion a half days ride to the East of their encampment. He found it hard to believe that something and crashed into the desert. Why in all the years of his father and his fathers father no such thing had happened. But there was the tradition that the "colonists," as they called themselves in their odd language, had crashed in a similar explosion in his father's father's father's time.

"We must send a few of our warriors to inspect." He said to his son. " You will lead them, do not go close to it until you have watched it from a distance for a day."

A'Israe was pleased with this and ran out of his father's tent to gather three other raiders. They would ride immediatly. His mind raced as he thought of who to choose.

In an hour he and three other young tusken men were atop their Banthas armed with Gaffi sticks macrobinoculars and the traditional long projectile rifles. Strapped to each ones leg was his long curved curved dagger carrying the markings of his clan and his family. Along with that they carried the supplies they would need ot survive for at least a week in a sandstorm in case of a disaster.

As they turned their banthas toward the crash site the shrillign cry of the Tusken women could be here hurrying them on to their destiny be it good or bad. soon the camp faded into the descending darkness of a tattooine night, and all that could be heard were the low grunting sounds of the Banthas and the tramp of their feet as they croosed the open sand...

Back at the village A'Sharad had called a council of the elders in his hut.

"You witnessed the departure of my son and your young men this day. They ride to investigate an explosion to the East of our village. We will know in a two days what has happened. I fear that the invaders have created a new weapon. If that is the case we must ride to war. Already other tribes have taken up position around the land between the two great cities and attack the armies that are assembled there. I feel it may be time to move our camp toward that location to aid the other tribes in an attack on the very heart of the invaders land."

<"A dangerous choice is before us indeed"> said the history teller. <"One not seen for many generations.">

"Come teller let us listen..." A'Sharad said in the traditional way.

And so the telling of Tusken history from the beggining began as the council sat and listened, some cleaned Gaffi sticks, others were lost in rememberance that the telling brought back into their minds, while others focused on the wisdom of their predecesors stored inside the vivid imagery of the telling hoping to find a key to what was now instore for their tribe...
OOC: here we go!

 

One of Ky'yla's scouts ran up to her, panting. "Milady, something has just crashed in the desert. It looked like a ship."

Ky'yla shook her head to clear it, then pondered the man's statment.

She turned to an officer next to her. "Sergeant, take a a squadron down there and investigate. Uulian (the scout) will lead you."

"Yes, milady."

tag: anybody

 

The oppressive day of Tatooine slowly turned to night as the twin suns began to set. The sandcrawler was making good time, but Blondie couldn't help but feel that there were others interested in whatever had come out of the sky. He had heard stories from the oldtimers about their ancestors and a great star flying ship that had brought them to Tatooine. If this was something like that... he could just imagine getting away from this planet and seeing what lay beyond the stars. Of course, whatever had crashed was probably wrecked beyond repair, but the Jawas could build just about anything if you gave them the schematics and enough metal...

But those were all dreams, and chances were this was just a stray meteorite of some kind.

Still, Blondie had climbed up to the top of the vast sandcrawler to get a better view of the surrounding countryside with a hand telescope borrowed from Tellik. The desert winds were still warm, but soon they would be frigid as night fell. As he waited and watched, the skies grew darker and his eyes became gradually accustomed to the darkness. He could see faint shapes moving in the far, far distance, shapes that looked like banthas.

Almost as if to confirm his assumptions, the night songs of the Sandpeople began to carry across the desert. Even stealth war parties sang these songs to drive fear into their enemies, as they could dissapear into the desert whenever they wanted to. With the vastness of the great night, it was hard to establish location with voice alone. Sure enough, the shapes he had seen dissapeared moments later; even on banthas, the Sandpeople were experts at concealment.

Still, there wasn't much to fear from them; they were only interested in water, weapons and food. The real competition for whatever they found would be the armies. Unless...

If it was a ship, someone would be aboard, and they might not be dead. Blondie climbed back into the open hatch of the Sandcrawler roof and went to find Tellik. It would be best to stop the Sandcrawler a few miles away from whatever had crashed and then investigate on foot. Still, it would be a day or two until they arrived there, and until then it was time to get used to the Jawas excuse for food and dirty water again.

 

Ky'yla shivered as a chill breeze began to blow through Mos Erentan. She entered her small quarters and sat on the edge of her bed.

If it was indeed a ship that had landed, there would be a good chance that they could escape from this sandy wasteland. But what if it carried hostile warriors? The ongoing war would be come a free-for-all slaughter.

She shuddered at the thought. Laying down to sleep, she forced her thoughts to drift, like the ever shifting sands...

 

"Grrrriiikkkk *Buzz* Shhhhiiikk *Click* Meeeerrrppphhh Chikeekk Psssssaawwyyyy *Buzz-Click*! (We Have To Get To That Cantina, There Are People There, And They Must Die!)" Said the Commander of the Geonosian Army Quagle.

"Crrrmmmnnnn *Buzz-Buzz-Click* mmmnnnnnteeee *Click-Buzz* Yoosssrrrllakk *Buzz-Click* Wmmmmeeeeuuutsssssss Geeto Mos Eretan, Annnbbbbbang Deeepssawway (Come On Men, Your Slacking, We Have To Get To Mos Eretan, There Are People, And We Are Hungary, Death Is Coming!)" Said the Army's Lieutennant Jogal.

"DEEEATTPSSAY ICSOMISG!!! (DEATH IS COMING!!!)" They Both Shouted. The Whole Army Began To Chant That!

OCC: Come On People, The Geonosian Army Wants You!

-Yoda

 

((OOC: How do they even know there's a town there, or that there's a cantina there? And if they know where the the town is, using their sensors or something, how do they know it's name? They just crashed; they don't even know where they are.))

 

OOC:
Name-Moru'tok
Gender-Male
Age-19
Affiliation-Army of Tallon-Kor
Position-Soldier
Bio-An average young man who has been drafted for the war

Also, what is the current status on bullets? Right now do we have weapons like shotguns, pistols, and assault rifles?

IC:Moru'tok was about to go on his first mission. He was to investigate some object that had the misfortune to hit this world.

Naturally, I get sent to go look at a rock. If I'm being forced into the army, I should at least get to do something interesting....

Ah well. He would make the best of it.

 

((OOC: I was wondering that myself Coota how do they know kungfoo_yoda?))

As He rode atop his massive Bantha followed by his companions as they made their way across the open sands. He could hear the sound of other Sandpeople chanting as they rode.
"Listen" he said to his companions and their Banthas immediatly stopped.
"They are riding to war."

Their were grunts of acknowledgement from his companions and then they were moving again. As they went this time they picked up their own chant, a chant telling the rich history of their tribe and of ages long gone by. They knew the others would here and that they would not be mistaken for enemies in the dark cold night of Tattooine...

Back at the Ghaz tribes camp
The women and children scurried about the camp preparing to move out. These tellings and councils often were followed by the moving of the camp. In the corral up the canyon from the camp the Banthas could be heard uneasily pawing the ground felling the nervous tension from their masters. But the tension was not to great for they knew the Telling would take at least a day to end...

Inside A'Sharad's tent
As the Telling continued A'Sharad thought of his ancestors. They, he knew, had faced their own hardships and come out victorios, he would to. Then something the Teller said stuck in his mind. It was the story I'larak the great. Who had lead a union of all the tribes against the B'ommar Monks in it they had found that their enemy could not be defeated by brute force. Perhaps he thought we are faced by a similar situation here. Maybe we must win by alliance...

 

OOC: yay! thanks, ornen. i needed some soldiers.

 

Day broke again over Tatooine, turning things from a dark blur of desert to a light blur of desert. The place certainly never improved much, Blondie reflected, night or day.

He had the spent the night huddled together with dozens of Jawas in their cramped living quarters; it hadn't been pleasant, but after a while his sense of smell had just shut down. Not to mention that all the body heat from the Jawas had at least kept him plenty warm in the cold desert night. Sleeping with a bunch of talking rodents wasn't as bad as most people would make it out to be, smell or not. On the plus side, it seemed like his clothes never retained any of the smells he was around, which was a plus; he didn't like the idea of any hostile fellows smelling him before they could see him.

He got up on the roof again with Tillik after the sandcrawler stopped. Sure enough, there was a glinting in the far distance, a glinting that spoke of a vast amount of metal. Or maybe it was just a mirage. Either way, it was worth checking out, but quietly.

One other puzzling thing were patterns that looked like a lot of half-obscured tracks leading away from the wreckage, in the general direction of Mos Issin; whatever had left the tracks had probably missed the Sandcrawler in the night. Then again, you could miss a whole herd of bantha in the Tatooine night. The really interesting thing about the tracks, though, was that the impression were irregular; as if whatever had left them had flown a little ways, then walked, then flown again.

Whatever had left them, even if they were gone, it paid to be cautious.

"Tillik, you got any weapons? Some kind of firearm or something? I'd like to have something extra, just in case."

The Jawa chittered in response, then led him down through the sandcrawler to his own personal quarters. After a little bit of rummaging around, Tillik came out with an ancient looking double barrelled, short barrelled shotgun in one hand, and three shells in his other. Blondie took them and gave the weapon a once over. It was obvious that there was a good chance it might misfire, and that the shells might be duds. But an extra weapon was an extra weapon; anyone he faced wouldn't know it didn't work. Besides, he always had his flintlock for one sure shot.

Tillik accompanied him as far as the exit of the sandcrawler, and shouted out a Jawa version of 'good luck' as he began his trek towards the object. He was going to have to be careful about this; there was no telling what the object might have attracted.

 

OCC: My bad, I could have sworn that somebody posted about a cantina, sorry, invaladate that last post.

-Yoda

 

As the scout lowered his binoculars his facial expression stayed fixed, a puzzled expression of surprise. "There seems to be something moving...." the scout said, before Moru'tok took the binoculars and gazed off into the distance.

Moru'tok gazed for quite a while at the "It seems to be.... Some sort of swarm.... Or something.... I can't tell much at this distance. We're going to have to approach it more if we want to get a good look at it.