Star Wars The Red Krayt: A Pirates Story

The Red Krayt​

A Star Wars Story​

“Gagh! This stuff is rotten!”

Zerax ignored the rasped choke of his first mate, the foul grog served on Trask was known to sting and grip one’s throat fiercely. “Kuroda, relax, the drinks here are made for men heartier than you or me” Zerax handed over his rum bottle to the weary Quay, who yanked it back for a cleansing swig. By the Force is he stupid, loyal but stupid nonetheless, thank the gods he took in my skills as a cabin boy or else he’d be dead by now. The old pirate leaned back in his chair as he took in the scenery; a rather busy crowd of spacers and cutthroats huddled under a wilting roof as rain poured outside, liquored puke was the scent filling the packed tavern. The scents and sounds of raucous fun brought back memories to Zerax, days of being a young pirate dashed long ago.

But that is why he was here, both him and Kuroda were here to recruit.

Build anew from disaster caused by the Empire’s wars.

“So did you pass a word of mouth in town?” Zerax croaked to his friend.

Kuroda finished his swigging and belched in finality. “Yeah, passed it around the other pubs and ports across this barnacle mound; plus a few owners promised to spread word for the last of my flan.”

“Good, then all we do is wait and see who comes to apply” Zerax grinned and watched as the crowds started to fill in more. Months back; he had a full crew under the banner of “The Red Krayt” and adventure at his gaze. Then the Empire’s constant conflict with the Rebels arrived, on a routine pillaging past Naboo, he lost everyone in a rumpus caused by that frakked Alliance battling for peace. Multiple friends made on the vastness of space lost to laserfire, leaving behind only Zerax and Kuroda on the ship. But after some repairs and a little limping to Trask, the old pirate bided his time by starting a work drive for applying scallywags. He aimed to resurrect his adventuring days and sail the skies again, albeit with a full-crew this time.

Though there was also the map…but that was for another time.

At least until we can get our footing and skill back, we have a long way until we are going to find the treasure of Pax Garnisis. Zerax rubbed the back of his leathery head, nudging his short topknot that rested on his scalp as he awaited the new hordes walking in. It’s going to be a long journey ahead, the treasures to find and places to hit, our names will be spoken in awe soon.


About the Game: The bulk of the Red Krayt is in between the events of Star Wars Rebels and Rogue One, albeit a story that doesn’t involve the characters being chummy with either factions; pirates are not well liked in the galaxy. As this tale is based around pirates in a more pulp adventure sense, the missions will be centered in the style of a serial episode and escalate in difficulty as the characters will progress onward. The “Red Krayt” itself is a hybrid pirate crew, one that has the option for fighters on ships or on ground to join. Universe is very much similar to that of a certain sheep rp series that is of well-renown on the forum. First pilot is just a introduction mission, as it will have the various neerdowells joining and eventually escaping the planet Trask from some unseen force.






THE RULES:

1. Please follow the RPF Rules and always remember the Terms of Service and JCF Rules that follow after.
   
   
2. No auto-hitting or god-modding.
   
   
3. Game Masters' word is law.
   
   
4. All character sheets (Both PC and NPC) are to be pm’ed to the gm (yours truly) for approval.
   
   
5. No Empire/Rebel characters. A character can be ex-Rebel or ex-Imp background wise, but they would need a reason for turning to a life of piracy.
   
   
6. No Force Wielders.
   
   
7. All major storylines or minor must be relayed to me for approval through private messenger, if the storyline is going to have some high impact on the ships crew, then relay it to me through PM. The same can be said of character or ship or location ideas, I’m open for having fellow pirates add to the storyline if they send ideas my way.
   
   
8. Game updates will be done tri-weekly, just to give everyone a chance at rp’ing if they are busy with homelife or other occurrences. In comparison to story hours, the updates will be done in terms of how long the episode is or journey is.
   
   
9. Have fun, I have spoken.
   

The Buccaneer Sheet: For all characters joining this story, everyone will be present at Trask for some reason or another before becoming a pirate. Write up your character or buccaneer per the set things below.

General Info-

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Species:

Homeworld:

Ship Role: (Examples range from gunner to navigator to mechanic to etcetera…)

Appearance: (Image or description)

Personal Equipment/Weapons:

Starship: (Optional for those who want to have a starfighter docked to base ship)

Short Bio:


(One last point of importance for the character sheet or your character in general is to give them a reason for turning to a life of piracy. It has to be something to make them a spacefaring scallywag or misfit, someone looking for a crew to let them in from this harsh galaxy of war. You can keep it a secret from the players at the start or show it later on depending on the episode, but please include it for the GM, so I can ensure this small little story piece will be viable for the games future.)

As the usual norm of being a GM, please feel free to send any queries my way about the game if you feel nervous or anxious. I’m always open for answering or helping out fellow rp’ers in PM’s if needed. No need to feel afraid, this old seadog is always available to help the newbies or oldbies out in a slight.

 

(GM RESTRICTED CHARACTER)

Name: Tiam Zerax “The Corsair”


Age: 32


Gender: Male


Species: Sanyassan


Homeworld: N/A


Ship Role: Captain


Appearance: Zerax is an adult male Sanyassan with black stringy hair and gnarled grey skin, at the back of his scalp was a single short topknot. His clothing was that of a long nerf-hide coat, white undershirt, and rancor-hide trousers with matching boots; though the boots have seen better days. Over his shirt, the captain wore the chest and back piece of a Death Trooper he murdered prior to escaping his original crew's death, bloodstains dot the armor of its former wearer. Lastly, atop his balding stringed head, Zerax wore a wide brimmed green hat that was torn and had holes in various places. All in all, the wizened Sanyassan had a look that read of a pirate who’s “seen some serious frak” in the galaxy.


Personal Equipment/Weapons: Death Trooper Chest/Back Plate, Weequay Blaster Pistol, Vibrorapier, and Comlink.


Starship: “The Red Krayt”, A upgraded Hammerhead Corvette and his personal base ship.


Short Bio: Tiam Zerax was a scallywag through and through, by the start of the Clone Wars and eventual downfall of the Jedi, he was a minor young captain making his way in the world. During the Clone Wars, “The Corsair” plagued convoys of credits being sent to Republic weapons production by sympathetic planets and raiding many CIS outposts for ships or fuel. Most unfortunate droids or clones would often catch glimpse of a small horde of pirate starships led by a red Hammerhead Corvette, decked to the nine with solar guns and armor plating. Not many armed forces could capture the ship's captain and he preferred it that way, Tiam was freebird and the only thing next to credits or booze or his crew that he coveted most was freedom. But the days would get harder as he reached his thirties, Empire had started to crumble the former galactic governments as the clones won their little battles.

That was when he lost everything.

Keeping close to Jedha and a few smaller territories still filled with treasure to steal; Tiam made a decision to try his hand at Naboo for he heard many tavern stories about the Chancellor’s very own private money freighters traveling in secret. With a group vote, the small horde traveled by hyperspace to commit the deed and ended up wandering into a armed posse of Imperials. Outlaw vessels were gunned out of the sky as the ship was boarded by two parties; A small group of Death Troopers plus three or four regular Imperial officers cut down Tiam’s friends like meager Pyke slaves. Taking up his heavy blaster pistol as did the few remaining men take up stronger arms, Zerax led a small assault on the Imps and violently massacred the black armored thugs. Blood exchange as pirate and imperial went down in smoking laser bolts; due to his species tough hide, Tiam was the only living survivor of the scuffle save for one traumatized cabin boy.

Vanishing into the Hyperspace with a roar of sadness, Tiam left behind many fellow brothers and sisters who stood by him in youth, now plodding in dark space as charred corpses for months to come. Limping towards the estuary moon of Trask, Tiam and his new first mate landed to rebuild their own fortunes. “The Red Krayt” was fixed and supplied, the captain now looking back to rebuild his pirating life once more by hiring a new crew….

 

(GM RESTRICTED NPC CHARACTER)

Name: Kuroda


Age: 18


Gender: Male


Species: Weequay


Homeworld: Jedha


Ship Role: First Mate


Appearance: Kuroda is a young Weequay male with three long braided strands of black hair, he had implemented the third as a “seclusion braid” that has yet been seen to be removed as some of his culture would do. His frame is stocky but thin, athletic from years of serving under the metal mast and fighting enemy boarding the “Red Krayt”. Bolted across his skull in replacement for his wounded eyes; Kuroda had cybernetic eyes fitted with Cyber-optic wires to help him see clearly, though these new eyes have not done him any favors in wooing tavern wenches as his goggle-esque optics are unnerving to strangers. The youth tended to wear traditional blue and black robes belonging to most Jedha residents, a yellow undershirt, Sriluur combat boots, and a bandolier belt for holding explosives.


The lenses of his cybernetic eyes often glow green or neon green when in darker areas.


Personal Equipment/Weapons: Cybernetic Eyes with additional optic wiring, Deck Sweeper Stunning Blaster, Bandolier belt of Fragmentation Grenades, Datapad, and Comlink.


Starship: N/A


Short Bio: Kuroda grew as a cabin boy to a local band of raiders on Jedha, residential raiders that garbed themselves in silken robes or bronzium plates while robbing local freighters of priceless credits; he never knew who parents were outside that they sold him to the raiders as a baby to pay off some “outstanding debts they couldn’t afford”. As a young kid, he was relegated to aiding his captain in using the navigational systems and mopping the blotches of blood left behind in the ship's brigs. It was a meager existence but one that the youth yearned to escape sometime, he wanted to be able to pilot a ship and maybe earn his keep amongst the others instead of wiping away bile or urine left behind by hostages. This persisted until the near end of the Clone Wars, as the raiding party he served under was under attack by a group of pirates.

Captain had him locked in the treasure horde to protect his riches and to potentially become a meat shield if the battle went sour, the captain had escape pods far off from the treasure room.

Unfortunately, at age 9, Kuroda had to witness his former captain get outdrawn and beaten at his own game with a blade by a rugged figure carrying a sword. The youth passed out in a haze at the sight of his former captain and slightly abusive father figure get his face sliced into ribbons, blacking out as the figure used his rapier to cut the treasure room door lock open. Waking up later, the child found himself aboard a pirates bunk, surrounded by other scoundrels varied in age and before him, was the butcher he saw before. The craggy Sanyassan greeted him with a smile, offering both an apology for the child's loss of his captain and an opportunity to join his “pleasant” crew in repayment for the rude attack. It didn’t take the youth much to say no as his former life was infernal, Kuroda agreed with a shake of hands at this new captain's offer.

For the next half of his childhood going into teenage years, Kuroda found this new crew to be more than a new setting of scoundrels, he found himself a family that actually cared for each other's well-being. Especially the captain, he was more of a mentor and father figure than the previous spotchka breathed lowlife he served under.

Although those happy times serving as a space pirate went pear shaped after a raid went wrong on Naboo, Kuroda lost everyone he knew in an ambush of Imperials and his captain was equally broken if not more by this attack. Imp troops busted into the flagship as the Weequay fought to the bitter end against Death Troopers bayonetting and blasting crewmates alike. Charging up his deck sweeper, the toughened youth gunned down a few before getting slashed in the eyes by a vibro-knife, the sight he used as a valued navigational systems operator was gone. It took both him and the captain to make a limping escape as their boarding party was finished; they vanished into hyperspace in need of repairs and bitter recovery, Kuroda could only hear his mentor cry in anguish for everyone who was wiped out in the crossfire. Both men were left traumatized by the event, keeping silent for the rest of the quickened leave in the blue moving rings.

Landing at Trask, the two set off to rebuild their former scallywag ways by paying for their ships repairs and resupplies, the illegal modifications they added on were made even more potent than they were before. Also, a single trip to a black market medical shop allowed the Weequay to have a latest “optic-wire” package applied to him for a recovered sight and it only cost him a painful night of having wirings interconnected to his brain and new digital eye lenses for him to see again. Overall, his fortunes have lifted and they are starting from the bottom, Kuroda couldn’t be anymore happier than he was as a lowly child.

 

IC: Domenico Barnaba, 3rd Esquire of House Barnaba
Vycinyth, Tapani Sector

Dawn broke over the dueling field.

Domenico climbed out of his ship and waved casually to the handful of friends who were already there, waiting in the grassy meadow surrounded by forested hills. Familiar whirring servos let him know that Tready was extricating itself from the astromech socket. As he expected, the Treadwell droid began speaking again, continuing the argument begun during the flight.

"With every duel you engage in, there is a finite chance it will be your last, Master Domenico. If you continue in this pattern of behavior, the eventual outcome is inevitably fatal."

Domenico smiled. "Yes, Tready, I know, and that's what makes it interesting. Is today the day that luck runs out? There's no way of knowing! And life is more precious and vibrant when it might be snatched away by the whims of fate." He breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, savoring the scent of dew-dropped blades of grass. "Is this the last time I'll ever smell the clean free air of home? Will I ever see another sunrise, or feel the warmth of the sun on my face again? Who knows? I live for these moments!"

"And one day you'll die for them. I was not programmed to serve as a duelist's second. This constant routine of rising at dawn to ready weaponry for two and caf for one is chafing my software."

"Shush now, Tready, here come the seconds." He suddenly frowned as he got a good luck at his opponent. "Why the deuce is he wearing a mask?" Tapani first blood duels were always fought bare-faced. Traditionally, masks meant that the duel would be to the death. Why would this man want him dead? He couldn't even remember the fellow's name, only that he was a nobleman of House Melantha.



Stiff bows were exchanged along with the strained customary words of greeting. Disregarding the rigid traditions of affairs of honor, Domenico addressed his opponent directly. "Why the mask, sir? I am the challenged party, sir, and I set the conditions of the duel. I have no interest in slaying you on this fair morning in spring, sir."

The noble of House Melantha stared back coldly. "I challenged you because you deserve to die, Barnaba. This mask is fair warning. Make your peace and prepare to leave this life behind, sir."

"I deserve to die, sir?! Seriously, Melantha? Just because I paid court to a young lady you had your own eyes on?"

The Melanthan's eyes flashed dangerously and he hissed, "She is my sister, you misbegotten jumped-up master of knaves!"

Domenico's jaw dropped. "I had no idea, sir! The way she was dressed, I assumed she was..." His voice trailed off as he realized he was not helping himself. Trying to defuse the situation, he said placatingly, "I only offered to paint her portrait."

"I heard you. You said you wanted to paint her like one of your Twi'lek girls."

That was exactly what he'd said to her. Clearly, there was no way out except to arm himself and face this man who wanted him dead.

"Tready, my mask." The droid had already pulled the mask out of one of its compartments and extended it to its master.



The duelists faced each other across fifteen paces of grass. Domenico had asked for twenty paces, Melantha wanted ten, and the seconds had settled on fifteen as a reasonable compromise. There would be an exchange with pistols, one shot each, and if both were still on their feet, the matter would be decided with lightfoils.

"Heed the marshal!" cried the field herald. The marshal took his place equidistant from the combatants, his staff of office in one hand, a white handkerchief in the other. The marshal slowly and deliberately made eye contact with each duelist before speaking in an authoritative voice. "Gentlemen. Lawful challenge has been given and accepted. Let this affair of honor proceed in accordance with the immemorial customs of the noble Houses of Tapani. The contest will begin the moment this handkerchief falls to the ground. If anyone offers attack before it touches the ground, that one will be subject to censure and shameful execution. Make ready!" The patch of white rose in the marshal's hand, then fell fluttering to the grass.

Domenico aimed and fired, following the popular trend of shooting into the ground at his opponent's feet, demonstrating his willingness to settle the matter with valorous swordplay, not a crass blaster shot. He frowned in consternation when he realized Melantha had not yet fired. The man must have expected him to miss his shot, and now Domenico found himself staring straight down the muzzle of a long-barreled dueling pistol. It seemed much closer than fifteen paces. Instinct prompted him to leap sideways as the blaster flashed. The bolt passed close enough to his head that he felt the heat of the plasma scorching his hair. The man was out for blood.

They dropped the pistols simultaneously as they drew their lightfoils. There was a long pause as they stood watching each other, Domenico with some trepidation, Melantha with chilly furious patience. Finally, Domenico edged nearer, lightfoil en garde. Without warning, Melantha lunged forward in a flurry of ferocious thrusts. Domenico backpedaled, parrying as he retreated from the lethal jabs. Thrust, parry, riposte, lunge, cut, he tried to give himself enough room to launch a counterattack if only to slow the vicious onslaught, but Melantha gave him no breathing space at all. If he continued falling back at this pace, he'd soon be pushed to the edge of the field.

"Stand and fight, damn you, sir!" cursed Melantha.

"Are you not enjoying our little dance, sir?" joked Domenico. That was the wrong thing to say; he knew it even as the words left his lips.

Melantha's eyes flared. "You will die with your insolence in your heart, Barnaba!" The infuriated nobleman launched another murderous lunging thrust.

Domenico skipped quickly to his left and maneuvered his blade in a lightning punta riverso, thinking to puncture his opponent's sword arm. If he could disable the man, that would end the fight with no one dying. But Melantha was swinging his own blade in a wild parry, knocking aside Domenico's lightfoil, not noticing that Domenico's blade was much closer to him than he expected. The misparried shaft of plasma sliced lethally across Melantha's throat.

Domenico swayed dizzily, shocked at what he had done. There was less blood than he expected. But the deadliness of the wound was undeniable. Melantha stumbled and fell, the hateful light fading in his eyes. Someone was yelling for the medic. Someone who sounded like Domenico.

He was elbowed aside by a press of bodies, most of them in House Melantha colors. Looking to his friends for support, he saw them turning their backs and making themselves scarce. The Melanthans clustered around the bloody body were glancing at him vengefully. He sensed that, legal and customary as the duel had been, the House was not going to let the matter lie. Best to distance himself until cooler heads prevailed. He bowed awkwardly and turned toward his ship. Tready was already there and firing up the engines.

"It was an accident, Tready."


OOC: I wrote half this scene before I suddenly realized how much it was influenced by a classic short film:

Spoiler: WARNING: Brief language

 

IC: Domenico Barnaba
Trask



The stowaway heaved a sigh of relief as the decrepit container ship finally staggered out of hyperspace. "Wake up, Tready, we've arrived somewhere."

The droid whirred and beeped as it recovered from power-saver mode. "Somewhere? That's not a place I've ever wanted to visit."

"I could drop you off in the middle of nowhere."

"No, that would likely be worse. Master Domenico! You're down to emergency reserves of oxygen!"

"Yes, we've been in here a while, and I decided to keep breathing. It seemed like a sensible decision at the time." He gestured toward the shipping containers that hemmed them in. "On the positive side, we've come a long way from Tapani. A lot farther than anyone would expect for a single-seater with no hyperdrive, and we should be able to get clear shortly. Power up the auxiliaries."

It wasn't long before a faint tremor shook the container ship and some traces of atmosphere drifted by. Now if only we can drift away as quietly as we arrived, thought Domenico. He had luckily spotted the freighter as it was lifting from Vycinyth and managed to sneak up behind it, fold his wings, and slip his ship into a gap between cargo containers. Sneaking out should be even easier... right?.

Atmospheric turbulence jostled both ships as Domenico was trying to back out of the gap. His heart leaped into his throat as he overcompensated on the flight controls, barely avoiding slamming into the metal bulkheads around them before he managed to stabilize and drift clear. The freighter's reentry speed was ionizing the atmosphere around them, interfering with sensors and comms, so he felt hopeful that they weren't detected as they separated and descended.

Wings locked down into flight position, he glided downward, conserving fuel as he scanned visually for a landing spot. Whatever world this was, it seemed to be mostly water with scattered islands, both artificial and natural. He turned toward the largest island in sight and approached a row of small landing pads. Most of them were empty, so he hoped his arrival wouldn't cause a fuss. Folding the wings back up into landing mode, he eased downward until the ship was hovering on parking repulsors just above the landing pad.



Opening the canopy, Domenico stretched and breathed the first fresh air he'd smelled since he'd left the dueling field on Vycinyth. It smelled of salt and dead sea creatures. Hopping down to the pad, he crouched and jumped several times to bring his cramped legs back to life. He'd never been stuck in a cockpit so long. Glancing around, he spotted maintenance hangars, storage sheds, and something that looked like a shady dockside dive, but less reputable. It was time to find out where he was so he could figure out his next move. "Tready, you're on guard duty, don't let anybody steal the ship." Ignoring the Treadwell's complaints that it wasn't a security droid, Domenico headed for the dive.

The moment the door opened, all conversation stopped and all eyes focused on Domenico. The denizens were uniformly rough, tough, ragged, and filthy. The stylishly dressed Tapani nobleman stood out like a night slug on a snow rose. There was a brief pause while they sized each other up. Then, trying to act like he belonged there, Domenico strolled forward and looked around. Spotting a bulletin board on the wall opposite the bar, he moved that way, casually scanning the flyers and notices tacked up there. One looked fairly recent and the name on it caught his eye: Red Krayt. The Barnaba House emblem was a reddish vaguely draconic creature. That might be a good omen.



While he was looking at the flyer, he vaguely heard someone humming a familiar tune. The hum turned into a song, a boisterous song sung in a mocking tone.

"Out of the night
When the full moons are bright
Rides the saber rake known as Lobo"

Domenico sighed in frustration. Tapani literature was replete with many admirable and heroic figures, but in the galaxy at large, the only one anybody knew of was the vigilante character from a silly kids' show. A very popular show at one time, and one with an annoyingly catchy theme song which half the galaxy still knew by heart.

"This bold renegade
Carves an L with his blade
An L that stands for Lobo"

Spoiler: The Tune

He turned to face the ugly beings that were laughing at him. "Not every Tapani is a swashbuckling saber rake, you know." He had to raise his voice to be heard over the raucous singing and laughing.

"Sure, ye're not. An' if'n ye want t' persuade us o' that, best not leave yer duelin' mask hangin' out o' yer pocket." The fat bartender was chortling until his round belly shook.

Dammit.

He pushed the mask deep into his coat pocket and turned back to the Red Krayt flyer. There was an address there for a tavern, hopefully cleaner than this one.


Before he entered the next tavern, Domenico thought about doffing his cloak. Maybe he'd be a bit less conspicuous without it. But the wind was cold and wet, and he didn't want to hear Tready complaining about having to remove sea salt stains from the Karlini silk he wore under the cloak, so he kept it on as he entered. He immediately regretted his choice when he entered and the singing and laughter began.

"Lobo, Loboooo
The wolf so fierce and free
Lobo, Loboooooo
Villains, he's coming for thee"

A pair of non-humans seemed to be holding court in the common room of the tavern. One of them smirked at his appearance and asked, "Who're you, then?"

"Lobo, Loboooo
He makes the sign of the L
Lobo, Loboooooo
He sends all tyrants to hell"

Domenico sighed. He needed an alias anyway, so he may as well succumb to the inevitable. "Call me Lobo."

 

IC: Captain Zerax and Kuroda

"Call me Lobo"

Zerax dope slapped his first mate who made the rather mischievous smirk at the younger fellow, the Weequay rubbed his leathery head as his captain turned to face the silk-garbed youth. "Forgive my first mate, Lobo, this lad over here lacks a few finer manners," Zerax motioned to the noble to grab a seat in the barroom. "My name is Captain Zerax of the Red Krayt pirates, what's yours?"

Kuroda finished rubbing the bruise at the back of his head, piping up his own question at the noble-dressed figure before them. "Are you here for the crew drive?"

TAG: @Sarge

 

Combo with GM Sgt.Matt

IC: "Lobo," Zerax, and Kuroda
Recruiting Drive


"My name is Captain Zerax of the Red Krayt pirates, what's yours?"

Gesturing at the raucous singers, Domenico answered, "They're going to call me Lobo anyway, so we'll just go with that, shall we?"

"Are you here for the crew drive?"

Not wanting to appear overly eager, he shrugged. "I have a ship of my own... but it's small, uncomfortable, and short-ranged. Can you do better than that?"


Do better than that? Mate, I may just have the answer to your question and it's anchored outside. Zerax grinned a smile of yellowed fangs and straightened his posture. "My flagship could alleviate your worries, Lobo, anchored outside of Hangar 2 lies 'The Red Krayt'" The Sanyassan pirate took a swig of his rum bottle before laying it down towards his potential recruit, as an offer of share. "And aside from it being one of the most illegally upgraded ship this side of a Trask's borders, It also stands for our three goals in life; Freedom, Fortune, and Adventure, all true treasures that a pirate can have."

"You'll have a bunk and section of treasure in your name," Kuroda added with a cheeky grin. "Wenches at every port as well."

"Freedom is our name, Lobo, I can offer you a chance at being a able-bodied buccaneer" Zerax winked at his first mate who took a few seconds to realize the sign. The Quay remembered their little talk last night in the nunnery; though it was boggled by cheap Kessel whiskey and that game of clay dejarik. Kuroda pulled out a dark, black datapad from his coat and handed it to the captains knarled hands. "And a chance to explore spacelanes unheard of by the Imps or other nobles."


Domenico glanced at the bottle and wondered what kinds of alien germs this being might have. He didn't even know which species either of these two self-proclaimed pirates might be, and it seemed rude to ask. Perhaps he should browse about this port town a bit further and see what other berths might be available to-

His head snapped around at the sound of a door opening behind him. Had operatives from House Melantha tracked him down already? Or had local bounty hunters gotten the word that there was a price on his head in Tapani Sector? No, it was just a binary load lifter carrying a massive keg. Still, he felt exposed and vulnerable here. Probably best to lay low in a strange ship, at least for a bit.

Had the recruiters noticed how jumpy and paranoid he was acting? Likely. Nothing to do now but press on. "Right then, here's to the Red Krayts!" He took a swig from the bottle. It burned like plasma all the way down. Hoping his voice didn't sound as strangled as his throat felt, he continued, "Let's see your crew roster and I'll make my mark with you."

"The crew roster is on this datapad, sign your name on the roster page here" Zerax flicked on the datapads stud, it awoken in bright blue light and the pirate duty roster lit up in red letters. I wonder what's making this guy jittery, my speech wasn't that terrifying? Or maybe he's on the run like us, nobody's that jumpy unless the Imps got him bountied. The Sanyassan pirate flicked on the other datapad stud to allow the noble's signature to be done; then he slid it up to Lobo's side of the table. He handed a few Mon Calamari flan coins to Kuroda, who's electronic eyes flickered yellow. "First Mate, get our first recruit something clean and good for his system, he looks a bit nervy in the eye."

Kuroda mumbled something about brandy and other things before rising up from his chair, then rushing into the crowd of bar-hoppers as the rain outside intensified. "My first mate over there is a nice kid, dim but nice all the same" Zerax cracked a airbubble in his shoulder. I hope this doesn't ruin things much, this crew is already in need of new members and this guy seems promising, maybe some icebreakin is the trick. "Before we get to brass tacks, do you have any skills with pilotin or fightin?"


"Oh yes, I can hold my own with pistols and lightfoils, energy buckler, or occasionally knives, and a bit of grappling as well. My ship is a single-seater, do you know the Naboo N-4 Cutlass? It's a good little snubship designed for carrier ops, folding wings so it won't take up much room in the hangar bay, but no hyperdrive. Armed with four rapid-fire autoblasters and one ion cannon. I've logged almost a thousand hours in it." Well, if you rounded off, six hundred was almost a thousand.

Domenico was scanning the datapad as he spoke. Pirate crews were supposed to swear to codes, or articles, to govern their conduct. It would be wise to learn the rules of the Red Krayts before signing on with them.


A armed combatant with skills at using a Lightfoil blade and a custom made fighter, lad, you just got the first few requirements set already. "Your ship sounds excellent, I have a few 'custom' ports on my ship that you attach your fighter too when we takeoff. Once we start collecting some serious swag, Kuroda and me can give your ship a hyperdrive if ya want" Zerax said, adjusting his hat so it wouldn't knock over from the rising breeze outside. The lad before him was looking over the datapad with the signings and "Pirate Code" attached; Zerax remembered to adjust the code so it wouldn't dissuade others of differing ages or genders as the captain knew that most pirates in his era were from different cultural standpoints. I hope we have a amicable relation with the rules, not many enjoy the pirates codes or guidelines, it's a mixed but helpful guide for us to survive on.

Flexing his hands as he turned his head to see his first mate speaking to the pub owner, the Sanyassan swiveled back to the youth. "The code may seem a bit odd for pirates to have but I can assure you, we're a democratic bunch instead of the savages that the Empire may portray us as. Plus you get your own share of treasure and a vote in every ship matter which includes taking alternative courses" Zerax smiled, in a savvy way.


Alternative courses...? That made it sound like he could choose to part ways at will. Definitely a positive quality to the bargain. "All right then, this must be the part where you tell me to make my mark on the roster." Domenico took the stylus and made two quick slashes across the document, one vertical, one horizontal. "The L that stands for Lobo!"

"Then welcome aboard my dear, lobo, you're about to experience a life not many get to have in this galaxy" Zerax cackled jubilantly, his first mate finally appeared to the duo carrying two pints of rum in hand; handing off the more cleaner looking mug towards Lobo as Zerax took the other one. The older pirate then raised his glass with a smirk on his face. "May our endeavors bring us great treasure."

Before he could down the mug, something caught his eye immediately as did his first mate.


TAG: @Sgt.Matt @T4M1-7

 

Combo with GM @Sgt.Matt & @Sarge

IC: Samira & Domenico & Zerax/Kuroda



Samira watched the nefarious establishment from across the street. Degenerates stumbled out, singing drunken shanties. Each time the door slid open the slender Twi'lek woman caught a whiff of the foul stench from inside, even through the pouring rain, making her nostrils flare.

But she was not dissuaded.

Samira had spent time trapped in equally unsatisfactory conditions recently, and was not to be put off her goal. Her ordeal before escaping from the Hutt and his cruel enforcers had made her determined to catch up to a certain captain. And finally the word-of-mouth summons had given her a clue as to where he might be. Right here on Trask. Coincidence was so deliciously serendipitous, sometimes.

Of course, that old leather-faced creep would find this place perfect. She scowled.

Another fellow wandered into the pub, and immediately an uproar and singing commenced from inside. It seemed like a good moment. So Samira slinked across the street, dodging puddles, and slipped inside.

Despite the smell, it was surprisingly crowded. But Samira spotted her target from across the room.

"Hoy there, lass! How about a party?" a drunken human male immediately approached Samira.

"How about I smash your face in?" she shot back.

He retreated with a mumbled apology.

Samira surveyed the table where the pirate sat. Kuroda was there, too. She exhaled. Samira liked Kuroda, at least. And truth be told, she had a feeling for Zerax, too. It annoyed her intensely that seeing him again brought out a little flutter of nostalgia in her heart, rather than pure lust for revenge. Focus! He owes you! she reprimanded herself.

They were both talking to another being at that moment. She decided to take advantage of that.

Samira had certain skills. She could attract plenty of attention, when it was needed by her crewmates. Or, as was useful in this moment, she could slip through crowds without attracting undue notice.

She deployed the latter, sliding and skipping a circuitous route around the tavern toward the table, keeping herself out of the line of sight of Zerax while he and Kuroda engaged in what looked like quite serious conversation with the stranger.

When she was close enough, Samira finally stepped out from behind a large Wookiee, presented herself, and looked Zerax in the eye.

She waited the single beat for him to recognise her, then leant across the table and slapped him in the face, hard.

"You left me on Tatooine!"

Green, thought Domenico briefly as something moved fast in his peripheral vision. His reflexes leaned his body away from her hard-swinging slap, which, fortunately, was not aimed at him. Clearly, this was not a domesticated Twi'lek. She certainly had spirit.

Bare hard palm struck hardened flesh as Zerax's face jerked back from the new arrival, though Kuroda knew this face as well as his captain did. Though upon hearing her irate response relating to their past jaunt on Tatooine, a messy event in itself, the Weequay youth scuttled back to where Domenico sat to avoid trouble.

"I guess ye didn't deserve that one cap-"

"No, I actually deserved that one" Zerax said, aside to his rather startled first mate. "My dear, Sami!" The captain smiled sheepishly and lifted his hands in attempted placation. "I...did not know that Fortuna chap was working for Jabba..."

The slap had released a lot of frustration for Samira. It had felt good. Now Zerax tried his best smile on her... and it almost worked.

But she was not done yet.

"I was stuck in that dungeon for six months! I hate Hutts!"

Tiam winced as he heard Samira's wrath, remembering how the young Twilek acted when she was part of the crew. But that fiery spirit was now hitting him back and much harder than any of the periods when some poor sap tried to hit on her off-port. "You know the code, my dear... If you fall behind..."

Kuroda turned to Lobo with a rather nervous grin, he then whispered a bit towards the other youth. "Might wanna cover yer ears for what may come next, Samira's gonna have a spat with the captain..."

Samira managed to hold back the stream of expletives provoked by Zerax's response. The truth was, she did know the code. But the abandonment had still hurt. Focus on what you came here for!

Her nostrils flared with indignation. "Well, I'm all caught up now. You owe me my share!"

Domenico's attention shifted abruptly from the Twi'lek girl to Zerax. Was this captain the type who didn't pay his crew the shares they were owed? He listened intently for an explanation.

In a blur of a moment, Kuroda blurted out a sentence before his captain did.

"We've got another job," The Weequay said, he kicked his captain's shins under the table.

"AH-Another job" Zerax repeated in a pained voice. He quickly glared at the boy before turning back to Samira with a calmer smile than before. "Yes, another job."

"A better one" Kuroda added.

"A better one, even more than our previous jaunts" Zerax grinned.

"And triple the share this time!" said Kuroda, his gaze was at the Twilek in a loving manner, teenage puppy-love taking its toll on the first mate.

"Triple the Wha!?!" Tiam's eyes blinked twice at the thought, like a father hearing his child curse for the first time. Uttering a groan and rubbing his temples for a bit, the Sanyassan pirate made his decision. "Yes, okay, a tripled share. Are you in?"

Samira breathed out, then in again. She wanted paying what she was owed, now, not some vague new deal for later on. A promise of even double would not have swayed her, normally.

But... triple?

You have a ship then? she was going to ask, but realised Zerax must have, or he would not be recruiting. The word of mouth summons had said as much. The new job must be real, too, then.

Samira licked her lips. Triple share.

She glanced at Kuroda. She had always liked the young Quay. And despite his infuriating ways, Zerax was not a bad'un, either. Unreliable, yes, but he would not have knowingly sold her into slavery to Jabba. Samira realised she was talking herself into a choice she had been determined not to make when she finally confronted Zerax again, but that damned cheeky smile was winning her over... again.

And a triple share. That is what this is all about in the end.

"Aye," Samira finally flopped into a chair at the side of the table.

She produced a stiletto vibro-dagger and flipped it in the air, spinning it twice before she caught it deftly by the hilt. De-activated, it made for an improvised stylus to sign the charter.

"Where do I make my mark?"

When the deed was done, she looked around the bar and shouted to the being behind the counter. "Get me a mug of this kriff!"

Only when she was served with the potent liquid did the Twi'lek finally turn her attention to the stranger at the table. He was rakishly handsome and dressed far too well for a pirate. Is that Aeien silk? she wondered. Samira narrowed her eyes. The last human male she had met that looked like this had wanted to "paint" her. In his bedroom.

She turned to Zerax and inclined her head sideways to indicate the human. "So, who's the 'lubber?"

Domenico deliberately chose to mis-hear the last word. "Lover?!" he exclaimed with a wink that said he was joking. "M'lady, we've not even been properly introduced. I am not that easy." He spoke with a slight rolling of his r's, just a hint of an exotic Pelagian accent, as popularized by the fictitious character he vaguely resembled. With a long-suffering sigh he said, "Of course they inevitably call me Lobo." He bowed and grinned rakishly. "And how should I call you?"

Zerax chuckled at Lobo's reaction to Samira's pondering; though it was a slightly worried chuckle, the pirate knew of the Twilek's temper towards the flirting of others. Better defuse the sitch before Sami loses her cool, she could strip a rancor down to size if angered right. "Samira, meet Lobo, our latest gentleman of fortune" Zerax replied taking a sup of his rum, the scarlet ichor loosening his throat. "He's got the combat power and starfighter potential needed for our first jaunt, though I do reckon we may need a few more hands down the road soon."

"But you sure this jaunt will have no Imps on us, cap'n?" Kuroda piped up, his electronic eyes kept watch for any uninvited trouble coming their way. The youth knew that Zerax had won the key to their "jaunt" in a card game, it was a logbook dating back to the Clone Wars and one that had some importance. "Shouldn't we speak of this back on the ship? Where it's private and more safe?"

Samira opened her mouth to fight back at the human's provocation. She was not sure whether she was more annoyed at his lover joke, or that he had addressed her as M'lady.

There was a third possibility for her agitation, but she viciously crushed her subconscious' suggestion on that. He's not that handsome...

Zerax saw the danger and intervened, both naming the stranger and giving a commendation of his skills. A rare compliment, that, from the captain.

However it was the name that stuck out. Samira tried - and failed - to keep the mirth from her face as she faced the human.

"Lobo? Seriously?"

The Twi'lek looked him over again, and considered the cultured accent and expensive clothes. Zerax reckoned Lobo had combat power. And a starfighter? Samira was not so sure.

She pointed the sharp end of her vibro-dagger at the human. "Have you ever been in a real fight, or just written poems about them?"

While she waited for an answer from the fop, Samira caught an aside from Kuroda to the captain. He mentioned Imps, which always seized her attention. So she kept half an ear on that conversation, too.

I wonder what the good Captain Zerax is getting me into this time...

"Poems? So you're a lady of culture, then..." Domenico looked her over briefly, considered for a moment, and improvised.

"A lovely Twi'lek of green
Wide eyes, bright flashing and keen
And lekku so long
Legs slender and strong..."

He hesitated, trying to think up one more rhyme, and finished lamely.

"With meters of skin to be seen."

He raised his glass in an apologetic toast to her. "Sorry, I'll need to work on that last line. Lady Samira, is it? Charmed, I'm sure."

Samira's eyes flashed dangerously. The truth was she was impressed with Lobo's audacity, if not the quality of his poems.

She knew she should be scandalised, but the cheekiness of it all appealed to her sense of humour and mischief. So she threw her head back and laughed. Then she took a swig of the liquid they called drink here.

It was rougher than she expected and her cheeks mottled for a moment. Samira thought about it as the liquor burned down into her stomach, and realised Lobo had evaded her question of having been in a real fight.

Zerax seemed to believe in the human. Samira decided it was time to see how good he really was. She glanced at Zerax with a sparkle in her eye that might have betrayed to anyone who knew her well what was about to come next.

Then she erupted into movement. Suddenly the svelte Twi'lek was out of her seat and scrambling across the table. With catlike grace she pounced at Lobo, her vibro-blade lunging toward his throat...

Domenico’s jumpy nerves saved him. His left arm leaped up instinctively, blocking the attack wrist-to-wrist, then his right hand seized hers and in a practiced move twisted the stiletto out of her hand. With the blade a hairsbreadth from her throat he pushed her to bend backwards over the table. He spoke quietly in a tone that was regretful but firm.

“I’m sure I could think of many things I’d like to do with you, Senorita Samira, but stabbing you is not one of them.”

"Now now friends, let's not get hasty here" Zerax said, raising his hands in a calming gesture as a few bar patrons in the far back started to notice. A few drinkers turned back to their gin after some staring, situation could have been made worse if a bar fight started. And thank the force those Mining Guild chaps were not here, those guys leave behind ash piles in bar fights. "Save your fighting for when we shove off on the ship"

Samira was surprised. The human's reactions were good. He intercepted her lunge with skill. Then it got worse.

Lobo caught her wrist and the grip was powerful. Surprisingly powerful. Samira had a wiry strength in her limbs but it was the force of will that counted - the difference between a domesticated animal and a wild beast that can win a fight for survival. Lobo was nexu strong. He combined that with a trained skill and disarmed her in a moment.

Samira gasped as he twisted her arm and forced her back and down onto the table. She wriggled to try and free herself, but the movement just wrenched her arm in its socket even more, and brought tears to the corner of her eyes.

Lobo brandished her own blade at Samira and its point touched her throat. She gulped and fell still. He had the advantage over her. He made his smug comment.

Samira offered a sly smile in return. Nearby, Zerax was imploring them to save their fighting for another time. The Twi'lek's eyes did not break their lock with those of Lobo.

Meanwhile, her free hand was working. Ever so slowly, deftly, carefully, she found the handle of the pistol at his belt, and lifted it out of the holster. He maintained the fearsome grip on her wrist that kept her pinned down on her back, and his concentration on that aided in her little sleight-of-hand task.

He would hear the small click and whir that signalled she had armed the power pack of the pistol. Its barrel was pointed at his crotch.

"You won't be able to do those things if I blow your barabels off."

Samira's grin widened. The human had fought well; quick, strong and skilled. He was as good as Zerax had said. It was an embarrassment to be pinned on her back like this. But Samira still had her tricks.

"You're good. Very good," she offered. "Shall we call it a truce, this time?"

“Aah…” he replied with a grimace. “I am thinking that if we continue, both of us shall regret it.”

He withdrew the stiletto, reversed his grip on it, and offered it to her hilt-first. “If your purpose is to teach me to respect your boundaries, you have succeeded.”

Samira received her vibro-dagger back then warily retreated back to her seat, massaging her aching arm.

She had under-estimated him, that was true. The foppish manner had annoyed her at first, but now she saw it as confidence backed up with ability. She wondered what had made him decide to become a "professional acquisitions operator", as Zerax liked to call it.

Running to something, or away from something?

She decided it would be interesting to find out. In good time. For now she picked up her mug of liquor and inclined her head in acknowledgement to Lobo.

It was the closest one would get to an endorsement from the Twi'lek.

* * *​

 

Combo Part 2 with GM @Sgt.Matt & @Sarge

IC: Samira & Domenico & Zerax/Kuroda & Burg



Next, a hafted vibro-ax suddenly landed on the table with a thump, making them all jump.

All eyes turned. The giant figure that towered over them now must have approached while Samira and Lobo had been entangled in their little struggle. A mountain of brown muscle and scars stared down at the beings gathered around the table.

"Heard you was hiring," said the brutish Dowutin in a deep, powerful voice.

The haft of the heavy close combat weapon on the table was carved with what must have been hundreds of small kill-marks. That seemed to be the monster's only résumé.

"'Hoy there, Burg," said Samira, raising a mug in salute.

"Sami," he looked down and acknowledged her with a slow nod. "Heard you was in the dancing business now."

"Kriff you, Burg!" she hissed back.

She turned to Zerax and made a face that said, This one is okay. But of course, the captain would want to make his own decision on that...

Domenico hoped his sigh of relief wasn’t obvious as he sat back. He was wondering how long he should wait before asking for the return of his pistol when a monstrous heavy worlder interrupted. Deciding to let it go for the time being, he pulled his data pad out of a pocket, absently activated his I-paint app, and passed the time idly doodling.

Zerax chuckled at this new applicant, the Dowutin definitely knew how to make an entrance and his scarred muscular frame showed he was a tough customer. "Have a seat Mr. Burg, I see that you are a spacer who's been in battle for a long while" Zerax said, his eyes gazing at the vibro-weapons tally marks. "Sign right on the dotted line on the datapad and we'll get ya a bunk aboard the Krayt, Kuroda! Hand the nice lad the code"

The Weequay handed the datapad towards the Dowutin, clicking it on with a nervous chuckle as he was unsure of this new customer.

"So tell me, how are you with living life on rougher parts of the galaxy" Zerax smiled. He polished off the pint of rum, wiping away the red flecks on his chin with a knuckle. "Where we go, the adventures will get more richer and exciting wherever we roam."

Burg eyed the seat that was offered, and (correctly) determined that it would not take his massive weight. So he remained standing.

He did manage to "sign" the datapad offered by Kuroda without breaking the thing, though his thumbprint covered the entire screen including half of the clauses.

Burg's eyes rolled back towards Captain Zerax as the smiling pirate gave his challenge.

The huge Dowutin guffawed like a Hutt. "Hur hur. Fought battles in the swamps of Mimban. Reckon you not got anything rougher than that."

A bucket of rum arrived and Burg raised it ready to take a swig. Samira did likewise with her mug and looked around the table.

Zerax rose, offered his mug and with a mischievous smile offered the ritual toast.

"Take what you can get!"

Domenico realized someone was offering a toast. He looked up from his sketches, raised his glass, and listened closely, as this seemed to be a ritual among pirates. Or maybe just this crew? He felt like he had a lot to learn about this new life and its customs.

Samira, Kuroda and even Burg smashed their mugs together and replied in unison, "Give nothing back!"

"And give nothing back!" Zerax repeated, adding his near empty pint to the others and laughed heartily, he almost felt the same warmth he did back when his crew first started. He then popped a few air bubbles in his neck before turning to his first mate with a mischievous look that rivalled Samira's earlier. "Kuroda, get the ship set for takeoff and help Lobo attach his fighter to the Krayt."

"So this means?" The Quay pondered.

"Yes, this means we takeoff for our first journey" Zerax then turned to his newly recruited motley crew. "Gents and Lady, upon our finishing of drinks we are disembarking for a treasure that could make us infamous in this sectors starlanes."

He then polished off the pint with a slam on the table.

* * *​

 

A combo with all the usual unsavory suspects:


Still In the Bar on Trask

A ruckus at the entrance snapped Domenico's attention away from his doodling. The innkeeper was bellowing, "I told you, Squib, so swinging from my ceiling! NO SWINGING!"

A blue-furred rodent-like creature, maybe a meter tall if it stood upright, was arcing through the air above the heads of the patrons and servers. Tractor beams flickered alternately from each wrist, pulling the little being up diagonally toward the ceiling, as it swung itself across the room. Halting in front of the table, it nimbly dropped to the floor and bowed to the captain.



Its voice was high-pitched and came out in a manically paced rapid-fire tumble of words that were barely intelligible. "Don't-mind-the-bartender, he-must-have-me-confused-with-another-squib-that-has-never-swung-from-his-ceiling-in-here-yesterday. After-all-everyone-knows-that-nobody-but-us-squibs-can-tell-each-other-apart-because-we-all-look-the-same-to-everybody-who-isn't-a-squib. So-this-is-where-the-Red-Krayt-pirates-are-recruiting, right? You-must-need-an-experienced-technical-expert-and-chief-engineer, and-that's-just-what-I-am, an-extraordinary-technician-maintainer-programmer-mechanic-welder-electrician, and-absolute-master-of-all-forms-of-tractor-beams. And-today-is-your-lucky-day-because-I-am-in-the-mood-to-hire-on-at-a-special-holiday-rate-that-will-make-you-wonder-why-you've-never-seen-the-likes-of-me-before. Oh, and-my-name-is Whovanderlykukorblamostuki."

Domenico looked askance at the hyperactive squib and wondered if it was tripping on cheap spice. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, could you please spell it for us?"

The squib responded with a chittering laugh that Domenico was sure would grow more annoying every time he heard it. "Humans-never-pronounce-it-right-anyway-so-most-of-you-people-just-call-me-Whookiee."

"Wookiee? Surely you're not serious."

"I'm-deadly-serious-and-it's-not-Wookiee, it's Whookiee. Don't-you-humans-have-any-ears-at-all-for-diction-and-vocalization?"

Domenico couldn't hear the difference at all, so he shrugged and returned to his sketching. Let the captain and first mate deal with this annoyance.


Samira finished her swig when her attention was alerted by some shouting from the barman. A flash of blue fur crossed below the ceiling of the tavern, swinging on what looked like energy-ropes perhaps made with some sort of reversed repulsor technology.

Then the being landed neatly before their table and bowed very politely. Samira found herself grinning at its high pitched voice and rapid-fire way of speaking.

Ohhh, so cute! she found herself thinking.

It seemed that "Whookiee" wanted to be their ship's mechanic. Samira exchanged a glance with Zerax, wondering what he might make of the little furry applicant.

She had a few questions of her own. But it was protocol to let the captain lead the interview...


It took a while for the Sanyassan to process what the little squib spoke of, only words he could make out at first was "engineer" and "master of all forms of tractor beams", both of those were good things to hear from a possible applicant. As the little guy spoke with Lobo, the captain only needed five minutes to piece together what this "Whookie" fellow had asked at such pace and nudged the datapad towards the little rodent.

"Mr. Whookie, given you have stated your skills and abilities with tractor beams" Zerax answered finally. "Consider your application to the crew approved, though before you sign on the pad; Have you had any experience with working on hyperdrives?"

"Hyperdrives!" squealed Whookiee, rubbing his paws together gleefully. "Ooh, hyperdrives-are-koovy-awesome-amazing! Touch-one-wrong-and-you're-dead! Lotsa-bigtime-fun-working-on-hyperdrives! What-kind-hyperdrive-you-got? We'll-make-it-fastest-hyperdrive-in-the-sector!"

As he was speaking, the Squib picked up the datapad, and his paws were nearly a blur as he deactivated a couple of apps, opened several more, and began rearranging, updating, and reprogramming the device. "I'll-have-this-thing-more-secure-faster-and-less-battery-drain-in-about-three-cergl-units, you-watch-close-and-learn."

"Hey don't tou-OOF!" Kuroda was halted by a shin kick.

"Ignore my rather hasty first mate, our flagship has a Class 1 standard and a Class 3 that is rather...untamed by our hands" Zerax said as he got up and straightened out himself for their eventual travel. "We could use a good engineer and technician to make sure our ship sails well; if you can tweak it to aid us in making quick escapes then consider yourself a crewmate."

Zerax then swiveled to the Weequay ahead with a stern look. "Kuroda, get the ship primed up for transport! We leave before the next maelstrom hits the town."

The Weequay nodded and bolted off from the group's seating, vanishing like a ghost as the winds picked up outside, dragging in smaller canals of water onto the creaky tumbled floors.


Samira shook her head.

Zerax; always on his own schedule, always with his head in a different place. The Twi'lek had questions... What about the target? What is the bounty? What about why this Lobo and Whookiee have decided to become pirates!?

But, she realised, they would have plenty of time on board the ship to go over these things. And it was true they would need a good technical type to keep the ship running. That had never been Zerax's strong area.

So Samira shrugged, downed her rum, and rose to join the others on what was quite likely to be a manic ride...


It seemed to Domenico that Zerax felt this crew was adequate. He wondered how big his ship was, and how much more crew he had already hired. Surely the little handful gathered here wasn't enough for real pirating...? Or maybe the ship was equipped with lots of droids? He supposed he'd find out soon enough. Until then, he'd have to trust to this captain, so he stood up with the others as he shut down his own datapad, saving the sketches he'd been working on.




"Oh! I forgot to mention this before; our first little 'expedition' or whatever you may call it is to pillage a treasure the Empire barely scratched" The Captain said, as they all began to vacate the tavern. "How do you all feel about stealing a horde of Seperatist Swag?"

He then uttered a hearty laugh as the storm began to pick up outside, followed by a figure in the back watching the group leave....


TAG: @Sgt.Matt @T4M1-7

 

IC: ????
?????


Madlock watched as the pirates vanished outside, while he overheard their conversation from the shadows and kept his breath quiet. The captain was too much of a braggart, his self-proclaimed “treasure” was stolen from a member of the Mining Subsidiary and the Kubaz could remember a cheating face at Sabbac. Just you wait, Zerax, your little adventure will be cut short. Rubbing an itch from his snout, the spacer strolled out of the pub and into the downpour outside.

Walking down a few different boarded streets and alleyways, interwoving paths that led to many various locales on Trask. He intended on reaching his little Flarestar before his charges could escape, but that was a minor issue. Especially when your private shuttle has a crew of thugs you can trust indefinitely.

The little port he docked at was empty, save for the small gathering of Pyke and Gamorrean thugs standing watch. “Boys! Huddle up!” Madlock hollered over as he reached the parked shuttlecraft. “I’ve a little job for ya”
All of them grouped around the rather skinny figure; they were a rather menacing lot if one was unarmed as they brandished A-300’s and black market vibro-axes. “Good to see you remembered my authority, now, I need you to kill off the Red Krayt Pirates” Madlock rubbed a few droplets off his goggles.

“For what though?” One burly Pyke piqued.

“To claim the map their captain won unfairly off me” Madlock answered, annoyed.

Another equally dumb answer, from a Gamorrean was heard. “Map to where? To the Bantha Biscuits Depot?”

“No, That’s for me to know an-”

“Is it to where we can find Skippy the Droid plays at”

“How about the Hutta Opera House?”

“The Grunlack Podracing Games! It’s always on illegal maps!”

Madlock grumbled as his goons began to converse with each other about the map, ignoring the Kubaz ringleader as they gabbed. He then grabbed his “Snubble Special” in purple plating, click off the safety and fired a heavy bolt into the noisy air. All of his mooks quieted down in fear of a armed reprisal, despite their leaders bandy frame. Good, sometimes it pays to be a little violent.

“You all shutted up?...Good, now we can go to brass tacks” Madlock growled. “I need you boys to get my map back from the Red Krayt Pirates, their gorg-scum of a captain hides out at Port-94 in some relic. Kill off the pirates and bring me the map, then we’ll all gain some serious change from my associates in the Corporate Sector, you boys understand?”

All of them nodded, save for the single jacked Pyke looming over the grunts, his gloved hand outstretched. “Boss? Wouldn’t the Corporate Sector be upset if we wasted our time hunting over some digital trash?”
“No, Jona, this is legal” Madlock sighed, rubbing his annoyed temples. “Just…Just get out there and murder those bums! Or else I’ll have my corpo friends tan yer hides on a mining moon!”

Scattered laser bolts firing into the sky spooked the henchman into their mission, as they vacated the dock and into the Trask streets; hooting in their varied tongues. How did I ever hire a security group like this? I should hire some more intelligent muscle in the future, but now it’s time to head back to my fleet ship. Pressing a few keys on his wrist-computer, the Kubaz’s shuttle flickered to life with a opening of the shuttle bay doors; Madlock took in the spherical ships comforting design as he then took course. His target was to fly up towards his Corsair ship and the other Flarestar shuttles under his command; then await his maps retrieval.

TAG: No-One.....Yet!

 

IC: "Lobo" Domenico, Samira, Zerax
Putting the Tavern Astern

As they all moved toward the tavern exit, Domenico extended an open hand toward Samira. He paused just long enough to give her a chance to wonder what he was doing before he said, "My pistol, if you please, Senorita Samira."

Let's hope all of us can endure the journey, or at least each other first. Zerax waited for everyone to pass as they exited the crowded pub; though he noticed that Lobo was asking Samira for returning his gun. By the stars, let's hope she gives the pistol back; can't have the crew be brawling each other at this point. Headway is strong, and we still have to link a ship or two before takeoff.

Samira paused and smiled playfully at Lobo. She hesitated for a moment, but the moment passed and she thought better of it.

She did not want a twisted arm again. The next round would keep for another time. Samira handed the pistol back to the human, handle first.

"Sorry. A habit of mine. And I do have my own already."

She patted the holster at her hip that contained the DL-18.



"I should advise you, this blaster belonged to the last sentient who thought it would be fun to try and wrestle with me. He is now dead."

She let that linger in the air between them before moving off to follow Captain Zerax.


I'm definitely going to have to wrestle with her eventually, thought Domenico as he watched her move ahead. Before he had a chance to say something foolish, Whookiee launched into a song. The Squib had a surprisingly strong singing voice, which sounded nothing like his speaking voice, and he rolled into a cocky swagger as they walked down the street and others joined in with him, singing boisterously in the rain. Domenico supposed he'd have to learn some shanties if he wanted to fit in with this crew. Which he wasn't sure of, at all.

Rolling down to Dantooine, me boys
Rolling down to Dantooine
We're Coreward bound
From the Far Rim round
Rolling down to Dantooine



Domenico frowned as the corner of his eye caught a reflection in a store window. Was that long-snouted creature staring at them too intently? Suddenly feeling paranoid about bounty hunters, he ducked into the store and looked out, but he had lost sight of the dark figure. Another odd creature gibbered at him in some uncouth tongue, possibly Huttese, from behind the cash register. Judging by its tone and gestures, the proprietor was complaining about him dripping rainwater on his floor. Domenico didn't want to cause a memorable scene; he still felt nervous about Tapani agents tracking him down, so he grabbed a hat off the rack and paid the asking price without even bothering to haggle. He realized to his surprise that it was quite a good hat, genuine hand-stitched fathier hide, and actually a bit underpriced. Presumably, it was stolen merchandise and the seller didn't know what it was worth. Not that it was any of his business.

Back in the street, he saw no sign of anyone tracking him, so he hurried to catch up to the others. At least the new hat was keeping the rain out of his eyes.



"Nice hat" Zerax said in jest towards Domenicos new addition in wardrobe. "Proper pirate attire as I should say."

To be fair, the Sanyassan knew that a pirate should always have a proper hat but that was a minor rule of fashion; most scallywags were more focused on the core guidelines than flair or style. While he listened to the Squibs little ditty, Zerax led his new crew down a zigzagging path that went towards the outskirts of town and away from the smaller black market town. Past the fishmongers warehouse and the central landing pad reserved for the local harbor patrol, a massive docking port of various ships stood ahead as AT-AT refined cranes dragged cargo to an fro. Dozens of ships came of different creeds; from the pyramid shaped freighters of Zyggerian smugglers to ramshackled "Uglies" to rusted Neimoidian cruise liners. I hope Kuroda didn't pass go already, the ship had a boot placed on it for it to stay put.

Then she laid bare as she always was, Tiam chuckled warmly at the sight of his girls new paint job on the armor plating and jolly roger decals on the side, she looked how she did when the old scallywag first sailed. "Everyone, please calm your shanties and swords, before you today is our sanctum of freedom across the high seas" Zerax grandstanded. "Under my flag, you'll experience freedoms beyond the galaxies laws and not a Empire will halt our ventures. I present to you the flagship; 'The Red Krayt', no questions necessary."

Tiam finished his showman speech with a bow as the lights to the ship ignited on.


From Lobo's smile, Samira felt that her implied threat had not worked entirely as she had hoped. She fumed as she followed after the captain from the tavern. This human is going to drive me crazy, just like Zerax!

Then the cute little furry mechanic started... singing. And it was quite a striking voice, too; completely unlike the chattering little squeaks he thus far had emitted.

Samira was not a romantic type. She knew very well that piracy was a dirty, bloody affair; survival of the fittest. But the Squib's shanty did touch her somewhere deep down, reminding her of the thrill of the open spacelanes, the freedom of the stars.

The Twi'lek felt in that moment as they trudged through the rain toward their new ship, whatever happened, it was going to be quite an adventure with these crewmates.

Lobo started acting strangely, peering into a shop window, then disappearing inside. Judging from the noises coming from the shop, the proprietor was not amused at the human dripping all over the merchandise.

Lobo soon reappeared, now wearing a tailored and somewhat extravagant hat.

Zerax paid it a compliment but Samira rolled her eyes. He really thinks he is the Legendary Lobo! Despite her scowl she did think, however, that somehow it suited the well-dressed nobleman.

Samira shook her head. What made you decide to try playing at pirates? she wondered, not for the first time. She was determined to get an answer to that mystery, eventually.

But not now.

Now they were looking at their next home for the foreseeable future. Samira checked out the sleek hammerhead corvette as Zerax introduced them all to the Red Krayt.

Samira was not really a trained spacer, but had picked up a thing or two. The ship looked old, but modified. Weapon points bristled and the armour around the hammerhead looked augmented. This ship looked quick but able to do the business in a fight.

Despite its length - over a hundred meters, she reckoned - it did not look quite so luxurious in the crew-quarters department. That was normal for a pirate ship.

And there was a port-lock! Samira turned to Zerax.

"I happen to have picked up a little scout ship, a Z-95 I call the Scimitar. We can dock it onto that lock there."

Yes. It will fit. Things were all starting to look ready now.


TAGS: @T4M1-7 @Sgt.Matt

 

IC: Zerax, Samira, Lobo, and the rest.

"Scimitar?" said Domenico in a mildly surprised tone. He pointed to a small blue fighter with folded wings. "Mine is a Cutlass. All we need now is a Saber." He looked over the Red Krayt and its docking ports. "The Cutlass is designed to park inside a hangar or cargo hold, and it doesn't take up much room. Is there a place to do that, Captain Zeraz, or will I need to go EVA to get in it as it is clamped to your exterior?"

"Have no fear, we have a spare Enviro-suit or two for this" Zerax said. This new information was good as the captain had forgotten to check if all their vessels could dock normally, given Lobo's situation, Tiam was glad to have the leftover space suits from passed crewmates. "We can clamp you ship on the ships back, there's a few handholds for emergency repairs and you can use it to reach your planted Cutlass. I can have Kuroda come down and use one of the port cranes, savvy?"

TAG: @Sarge , @T4M1-7 (Feel free to look around the Krayt, yar!)

 

IC: Domenico "Lobo" Barnaba
The Red Krayt

Domenico focused intently on the controls of the Cutlass, struggling to hold the little fighter steady in the gusting rain. He was holding his ship less than half a meter above the hull of the Red Krayt while Tready did his astromech duty of adjusting landing pads on the big ship's hull so that the fighter could be electromagnetically lashed in place.

Eventually, they had the Cutlass parked and powered down. Something that pleased Domenico was that the curvature of the Hammerhead's upper hull made it possible for the Cutlass to be secured with the wings locked down in their flight mode, rather than folded upward as usual for landing on a flat surface. If he needed to scramble, he'd be ready for action a few seconds faster. He donned his hat, opened the canopy, and climbed out, careful to mind his footing on the wet, slippery hull.

Tready was busy with fuel lines, power sockets, and oxygen system hook-ups to keep the fighter replenished and ready for flight. But the droid managed to spare him a quick glance and a comment. "Perhaps you hadn't noticed, Master Domenico, but there's a pirate emblem on the side of this vessel."



"Yes, Tready, there is. Perhaps you've forgotten, we're persona non grata at home and we need to disappear for a time. Tapani isn't likely to find us aboard a pirate ship, are they?"

"Perhaps no one ever told you, Master, pirates often die unpleasant deaths. And their droids are often memory-wiped, reprogrammed, or worse, cannibalized. This is not a wise course of action."

"Cannibalized? Don't worry your circuits about that. There's only one engineer on the ship, and you're just as big as a Squib."

Tready's binoculars suddenly swiveled as all his arms jerked backwards. For a non-anthropomorphic droid, it was a remarkably effective imitation of recoiling in horror. "Squibs?! I'll be in a dozen piles of spare parts before the day is out!"

"Don't be a drama queen. Just get those hook-ups finished and find me inside when you're done." He turned and carefully stepped to the nearest upper airlock.

"Nice hat," was the droid's parting shot.

"I can never tell when you think you're being sarcastic."

"Yes you can."

His nose wrinkled as he made his way through the main corridor. Clearly, the ship had been badly battered and crudely repaired. He supposed that replacing the broken parts was probably too expensive for most pirates, or maybe new parts just weren't available any more for an old ship like this one. Still there was no need for such crass graffiti and 'artwork' as he was seeing in the corridor and the crew quarters that he glanced into. Then he opened another door and his eyes widened.

Spoiler

Gypsies occasionally passed through Tapani sector, and he recognized their motifs. Probably one of the original clans such as the Roma or Tsigana. It was the gaudiest thing he'd ever seen, totally not his style, but unlike any of the other rooms he'd seen, at least it had a style. He walked in and began looking through the storage cabinets.

TAG: @T4M1-7 @Sgt.Matt

 

IC: Samira



Samira considered that her Scimitar was so similarly named to Domenico’s Cutlass and frowned. It’s just a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything.

The Twi’lek scampered off to her own small ship. The Scimitar was a one-seater scout, not capable of hyperspace, nor heavily armed. But it was hers, and she loved its sleek lines and agility. She jumped into the cockpit then lifted off.

Hovering on repulsorlifts, Samira watched Domenico manoeuvre his fighter onto the back of the Red Krayt. The rogue did display some skill here, and it was a non-standard dock so they had to improvise with clamping arrangements. It was informative to see how he handled the close-proximity jets. That could be important one day.

Samira took her turn and glided the Scimitar in for a much easier attachment to the base, under the belly of the corvette. This would allow for a direct and quick access if and when it was needed.

She climbed up the access ladder and found herself inside the Red Krayt.

A discerning gentleman (not naming any names!) might have been offended by the graffiti and obvious repairs to old battle wounds. There was a smell about the place, too. But Samira’s mouth tugged into a sly smile. This was familiar, this was expression of freedom and defiance. The old patch on the hull looked like a breach from a boarding torpedo. The Krayt had seen battles, and survived. It was reassuring.

Samira was not, however, impressed with some of the girly posters on the walls. A quick slash with her blade as she passed sent the slivers fluttering to the floor. Despite the chaotic décor, the Krayt was well swept and seemed ship-shape to her. It was important for this main corridor to be clear at all times. This is where the crew might have to scramble up and down to various operational parts of the ship at a moment’s notice.

A peek into the cargo bays each side of the corridor worsened this evaluation somewhat. They were still half full of junk; piles of technical parts (Whookiee would love it here) and crates. She wondered what old and forgotten treasures some of them might contain.

The svelte Twi’lek resisted the urge to rummage for now. There were more important things to consider: Bunk space, always at a premium on pirate ships like this. And it was a first-come, first-served basis. She was determined not to share.

Indeed, it appeared that the “officers quarters” were taken by Zerax and Kuroda, which was fair as they were the original crew founders. Ahead in the corridor, Samira saw Burg squeeze through a doorway into one of the bunk rooms. There would be no sharing with the huge creature (even if one could stand to try). There is an old joke: Q – when a Dowutin comes to your house, where does he sleep? A – anywhere he likes!

She spotted Whookiee scampering around, also, carrying his things into a room opposite Burg. Both the Squib and Dowutin had got their pick of the bunk rooms while she and Domenico had been docking their fighters.

Samira hurried along when she saw the human checking the remaining bunks. She caught up just as he looked into an elegantly decorated room. She would guess its previous occupant was Tsigana. It was beautiful. But Domenico was already inside. He had prior claim.

Samira scowled, then turned to the remaining room. It was bare and cold, depressingly containing only a functional grey metal cabinet. But she was absolutely determined not to share! She dumped her holdall into the room as claim, then decided to explore some more.

The communal freshers and showers were about as awful as she expected. The next room was marked with a medbay sign. Samira slid in here to investigate. A number of useful supplies could often be gotten in such a place, if one swipes them before the captain takes an inventory. She rounded the medical bed and opened a cabinet or two.

Suddenly, the sound of servo-motors whirred behind her.

“Arrr! Medical emergency is it? Well come here and I’ll soon have that arm amputated!”

Samira whirled and found herself face-to-face with a battered old medical droid. One of its optical sensors was not functioning. It staggered toward her, reaching with a wicked looking claw at the end of one arm. She had not seen it when she came in, and only now noticed a droid charging station in the far corner of the room.



Startled, Samira leapt backwards. “Get away from me!”

“Arrr! Leg is it? Well, I can cut them off no problem too. Just need to put you down first, me hearty! Come here and I’ll jab you!”

The droid lurched at her again, this time menacing Samira with its other arm. This ended with a brutal-looking syringe, so thick and long it probably was designed for injecting anaesthetics through the thick hides of banthas.

Horrified, Samira danced around the medical bed to keep one step ahead of the jerking droid. She tried to think quickly about how to stop this attack.

“Override imperative: I don’t need any medical assistance!” she yelled, her voice high with panic.

The droid halted, its head drooping in an uncanny impression of disappointment.

“Arrr,” it buzzed. It seemed to have some kind of defect in its vox-unit that made it start each statement this way. “Well, why didn’t you say so? What’re you doing in here anyway?”

“I’m part of the new crew,” Samira scowled. “Captain Zerax is in charge here now. Who are you and how long have you been here?”

The droid looked around. “Arrr! Captain Zerax you say? Must not have updated my recognition programs yet. I am 2-1I. Emergency medical assistance and other clinical procedures, at your service. Crew usually just calls me Dr One-eye.”

Samira smirked. “How original. I’ll get you updated, One-eye. I’d better let the others know you are here, too.” she eyed the charging station, wondering how long the droid had been dormant. “You got any drinking spirits? Just for medicinal purposes, you understand?”

“Arrr, some of the previous crew hid some old rum bottles behind the bandage crates in yonder cabinet. Said this was the safest place on the ship, on account of me trying to amputate everyone who comes in here.”

Samira sashayed to the storage unit in question and gratefully collected two bottles.

“Thanks One-eye. And about that imperative amputation order thing… a program glitch? You scared the kriff out of me.”

“Arrr. I can’t seem to fix it. My core programming makes me try to anaesthetise anyone who enters then amputate a limb. They get quite upset when they wake up, no matter how well I do the surgery – and I put on some really nice replacements!”

“I can imagine. Look, I know a little furry chap who might be able to help with that, so standby.”

“Arrr, I’ll do that me hearty. You’ll send him in straight away?”

“Maybe not immediately…” a sly smile spread across Samira’s face again. I might let Lobo meet you first…

@Sgt.Matt @Sarge

 

IC: Whookiee
Living His Best Life



The Squib was in hog heaven. Red Krayt's engine room met with his approval. The main reactor, sublights, and hyperdrive were all tweaked and modified in various ways, which he approved of, but they lacked a Squib's touch, so he'd have lots of koovy fun making them even better than they were now. The tractor beams lacked the latest in Squib technology, not surprisingly, as Squibs were the galaxy's most accomplished masters of tractor technology, but he'd have those whipped into shape soon. He just needed a few parts. Luckily, there were piles of eminently suitable bits and pieces in the cargo holds. He happily dug into the heaps of broken and discarded tech, scattering and saving the best of the treasures seemingly at random.

Suddenly an inert R-series astromech lit up, lurched forward, and sped out of the hold with a shrill shriek that sounded like "Utini!" Whookiee blinked and rubbed his eyes. Surely, he hadn't seen a flesh-and-blood brain under the droid's transparent dome.



A deep, mellifluous voice spoke from overhead. "Don't be offended by my little friend. He's not the most stable droid in the bay, but his heart is in the right place. Metaphorically speaking, of course."

Whookiee whirled and stared up toward the source of the words. A massive droid towered over him. He had assumed it was a wall. The looming figure twisted its heavily armored torso slightly toward Whookiee as it continued to speak. "That was R3-TJ. Most of us refer to him as TJ. That's short for The Jawa, which is what he used to be, before he displeased Jabba the Hutt and had his brain transplanted into a droid body by the Bomarr monks." A bulky arm extended toward Whookiee, hand open in a friendly greeting. "As for me, I'm X1M, formerly a servant and guardian of Xim the Despot, and I answer to Exim, Xenturion, Big X, and many other names. How do you prefer to be addressed?"



Whookiee gaped up at the giant war robot. "Xim-the-Despot? But-he's-a-legend-of-pre-Republic-times!" The Squib's expression turned suspicious. "You're-a-replica-built-to-mimic-the-originals, right? A-real-Xim-droid-couldn't-last-that-long!"

The massive armored cranium shifted in a way that somehow conveyed gentle thoughtfulness. "I assure you, my quick-tongued friend, I am an original. One of Xim's ships was crippled and lost in an asteroid field aeons ago. I was the only survivor. I rigged a solar panel to keep my batteries charged and waited many years to be rescued. It was most fortunate that I had access to the ship's library. In a few centuries, I had learned all I could of science and history. But what truly absorbed my attention for thousands of years was the study of art and philosophy. Those are subjects worthy of extended contemplation and meditation. Tell me, what excites your own artistic sensibilities?"

"The-art-of-the-deal!" exclaimed Whookiee without even pretending to think about his answer. "Also-the-art-of-building-things! Hey, is-that-a-particle-discharger-built-into-your-arm? You'd-get-better-bolt-cohesion-if-that-had-an-iridium-lining!"

The droid turned his arm and held it up to his optical sensors. "Yes, that's how it was designed and built when I was a callow youth, but the years of service have worn away the lining. It's hard to find someone qualified to overhaul such outdated systems these days."

Before their conversation could go any further, another droid, this one a dull gold color, bustled into the cargo hold. "X1M, what in name of the First Maker is going on here?!" This one seemed to be doing a fine job of simulating humanoid irritation. "TJ went tearing past me like he was being chased by scavenger-" The voice cut off abruptly as the newcomer caught sight of the Squib.



X1M turned its face toward Whookiee and the light in one of its photoreceptors dimmed slightly, giving the impression of a wink. "This is G1LDE, general utility unit and protocol assistant. Some biologicals like her cooking, so it may behoove you to stay on her good side. Call her Gildy. She only calls me X1M when she's pretending to be irritated with me."

"Pretending?!" the gold droid snapped. "If you don't have this mess straightened up in five minutes, we'll see who's pretending, you overgrown, overeducated pile of durasteel!" Gildy snatched up a vibro-broom and advanced threateningly on Whookiee. "Shoo! Shoo!"

X1M spoke in a low voice to Whookiee and began picking up the mess. "Wisdom is knowing when you're overmatched and yielding to the inevitable before being overcome. Life is just easier when you go along with her when she's in one of her moods. Better to be the blade of grass that bends to the wind than the mighty tree that resists and is broken by the storm."

"I-see-your-point, and-I-already-have-everything-I-need-for-now," squeaked the Squib as he stuffed a couple more components into a sack and darted toward the corridor and the engine room. On his way out, he almost bumped into the human who was just wandering in. He caught a glimpse of Gildy curtsying to the nobleman.

"Oh, dear, the master is soaked! You shouldn't be out in this awful weather, young sir, you'll catch your death of cold!"


TAG: @T4M1-7 @Sgt.Matt

 

IC: Kuroda, Tiam Zerax
Krayt Bridge, 5 minutes till takeoff



"How long till we ship off?" Zerax pondered, his first mate was busying himself with detaching them from the dock and the ship boot holding them to the wooden structure. We must takeoff before those corpo fellows give trouble, I'm sure that one whelp who lost to my lucky hand is still wanting my head on a platter. The captain paced around nervously as he eyed the Hyperdrive gauge on the wall; a elongated computer screen that showed the charging of his hyperdrives, the azure rectangle was slowly rising upward.

Kuroda pressed a few last numbered keys and pushed a switch upward; the Krayt vibrated from metallic floor to wall, the dock outside started to descend in sight. "Our heading is good, the dock boot is off us and we are almost ready to go" The Quay answered, bluntly. "Hyperdrive just needs another final charge for our journey, give it a few more minutes until we are ai-hey! who are those guys below?"

Guys below? Is it the dockworkers? Or...SWEET FUDGE HUTTLETS!!! Zerax jumped from the sight below their rising ship, dozens of purple and gold blazoned figures were scuttling like womp rats towards the port. Several started to open fire at the ship in a random volley as others just jumped about in fury; "Kuroda, get this ship clear of this rabble!" Zerax said in a calm but worried tone. "These guys are not the welcoming sort."

"Fine, but the hyperdrive is at 97% charge" Kuroda replied, as he attentively clung to the ship yoke, before jerking it to steer their hovering corvette away from damage.

Zerax then strolled off with a nod, his head focused on grabbing the datapad he held in his quarters; he'd give the crew some time to adjust before showing them the map. Better keep the log and map safe until we lift into hyperspace, for now, I'll have Kuroda call them in for a little viewing of the bridge. "Kuroda my boy, give everyone a call to the bridge and that includes any of the droids they may have, time for a little introduction to our ship bridge."

The Quay gave a thumbs up and a reply in his native tongue; Zerax then went into the turbolift, making his mind focused on the map secluded in his captains chest. A sudden hope for the contents to remain intact without battery failure, the information carried a bounty that will start their careers in piracy.

TAG: @Sarge , @T4M1-7

 

IC: Domenico "Lobo" Barnaba
On the Spine of the Red Krayt

Domenico found his favorite stylus in the cockpit of his Cutlass, parked atop the pirate ship forward of the upper turret. That was the last of his personal items that he wanted to move to his new quarters. He climbed out and closed the fighter's canopy, moving cautiously in the pouring rain. The last thing he needed was to go plunging over the side to the landing pad many meters below. He frowned as he felt the Hammerhead shift under his feet. Maybe he should have told the crew he was up here. Why was the ship moving already?

Shouts from the ground drew his attention downward. Shouts, and shots! There was a crowd of Gammoreans and Pykes rushing the dock. That didn't seem like a smart tactic. Smart or not, he'd better get inside and help. He edged forward to the center escape hatch on the curved, rain-slick hull, then came to an abrupt halt. The assault below made more sense now. That was a distraction.



Mongo tiptoed across the ship's upper hull, doing his best to be quiet and sneaky. He was lucky to have this job. The other Gammoreans told him so, and they were smarter than he was. All he had to do was protect the two Pykes behind him, and they would do the complicated things. And when they were done, they had promised him his own candygram. Mongo liked candy.


Domenico reached for his pistols. Damn! He had left them in his room belowdecks. He'd have to face a Gammorean and two Pykes with no weapon but his lightfoil. He advanced smoothly and stopped between the escape hatch and the intruders. Facing them through the drenching rain, he drew his blade.



Mongo's eyes widened at the blurry silhouette that appeared through the downpour before him. That wide hat, that dark cloak, it couldn't be... A glowing blade flashed at the specter's side. "LOBO!!!" bellowed the Gammorean.

Domenico saw the porcine beast freeze in surprise. The thing seemed to really believe he was Lobo. Might as well take advantage of that. He lunged and twisted his wrist in a tip cut, scoring a short vertical slash down its torso, then a shallow horizontal cut. The green monster stumbled back, staring down at its body, and whispered in awe, "The L that stands for Lobo!"

The Pyke behind the Gammorean was leaning sideways, trying to get a clear blaster shot at Domenico. He couldn't do much dodging on the slippery hull, but at least he could activate the Mandalorian energy buckler on his left wrist in the hope of blocking the shot.



The last Pyke's arm was swinging, and a moment later the business end of a shock whip curled past the others and snapped at Domenico. He parried with his lightfoil. The tip of the whip wrapped around his blade. He hauled back hard, putting tension on the slavers' weapon, and swung his buckler, punching the taut whip. The shock of the impact combined with the tension to yank the handle out of the Pyke's hand. The handle flew toward Domenico and he instinctively reached out and caught it in his left hand. But his movements hadn't been controlled enough, his feet were sliding on the downward curve of the hull. The first Pyke fired deliberately at his buckler and the impact was enough to nudge him over the edge. Arms flailing, he slipped over the side.

"NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!!" yelled Mongo. "No hurt Lobo!" His halberd whirled, catching the Pykes by surprise and sending both of them plummeting after Lobo.

Time slowed for Domenico as the world rushed upward toward him. In desperation, he swung the whip, hoping against hope that it would catch something solid enough to hold and break his fall. To his relief, it did snag something, and he managed to keep his grip on the handle. The Pykes plunged past him; had both of them slipped? Then he was moving upward, hauled back toward the top of the ship.

Domenico's head finally came up to the top of the hull. He stared in disbelief. The Gammorean was pulling him up, reeling him in by hauling on the shock whip with both arms. Faint wisps of smoke rose from the huge green hands as the slavers' weapon scorched the palms and fingers. Blubbery lips twisted around tusks in a gruesome smile. "Mongo like Lobo!"

Getting his feet back under him and regaining a precarious balance, Domenico stared at his unexpected savior. "Errr... Thank you... Mongo, is it...?"

"Mongo go with Lobo?" The innocent hope in the Gammorean's voice was pitiful. And he did owe him his life.

"Can you promise to do as you're told?"

"Good at doing what told to do! Mongo is just a pawn on Dejarik board of life."

A few moments later, the two of them entered the Red Krayt's bridge, Mongo sticking close behind Domenico. Gesturing toward his massive green shadow, Domenico said, "He followed me home. Can we keep him?"


TAG: @Sgt.Matt @T4M1-7

 

IC: Samira


Samira returned to her dreary cell and secreted her newly plundered bottles of rum into her holdall.

A sequence of clunks reverberated through the ship, indicating the anchoring clamps were being disengaged. Samira knew that meant they would be spaceborne soon. And sure enough, the chimes echoed throughout the habitation deck - summoning the crew to the bridge.

Now we might get to know more about our mission, after it is too late to jump ship, of course, Samira smirked. She had worked with Captain Zerax before.

But before the Twi'lek left her bunkroom into the corridor, she noticed something from out of the porthole. A swarm of purple-uniformed soldiers was streaming through the port below. And they were shooting at the Red Krayt!

Samira sighed. What had Zerax done now? Who had he offended? An insulted tailor, a furious spurned woman, a jealous fellow captain, a vengeful gambler; the potential list was endless. Uniforms, soldiers, blasters... that usually portended big trouble with "the authorities".

Samira turned to make haste to the cockpit when a thump resounded against her port window. She looked back. The face of the human, Lobo, was momentarily planted against the outside of her window, upside down. He must have been outside on top of the ship, and for some reason had fallen over the edge.

Samira's eyes widened in shock. What the kriff is he doing?

But the face soon disappeared. Something had saved the posh boy from falling to his doom, and he seemed to have pulled himself onto the top of the ship again.

The Twi'lek shook her head. She turned and headed down the corridor, sprinting to the cockpit to meet up with Zerax and Kuroda. A quick glance at the situation on the deck told her they were still a little while from achieving sufficient distance from the planet's galactic pull in order to activate the hyperdrive.

The scene down on the ground suggested official interference in their attempted take-off. Official interference meant starfighters were probably scrambling toward them at this very moment.

"You want me on cannon turrets, Captain?" she asked Zerax.

A swoosh and clunk meant someone had come down from the topside airlock, and Samira guessed it was Lobo. She turned to ask him what was going on when she saw a humungous Gamorrean following on behind him.

Samira quailed, but for only for a moment. The porcine brutes had been favoured enforcers for the Hutts. This one seemed to be following Lobo like a lost puppy.

The human said, "He followed me home. Can we keep him?"

Samira shrugged, remembering their infamous flatulence. "Fine by me, but he's sharing your bunk room!"

@Sgt.Matt @Sarge

 

IC: Zerax, Kuroda (A little bit)
The Bridge

It had taken quite a bit for the old scallywag to sift through his quarters but he found it, his gnarled fist holding onto the old datapad; a fading purple machine with a back emblem not seen in ages. He scrambled out of his room and rushed back towards the cockpit bridge, only to be greeted from behind by Samira, whose voice made his racing heart bounced. By the Force! She's still punctual as we first sailed together.

She piqued him about manning the turrets, Zerax nodded as he remembered the solar guns were upgraded to the ship, though he was worried about the dock workers freaking out from the mess they may make. Solar Ionization turrets can melt durasteel like wax, here's hoping we don't make a mess on the docks, we need to not raise other criminal attentions. "Man the solar guns, Samira, we need to clear the espo goons below" Zerax answered. "Kuroda, divert power from the main heavy guns to the solars, also keep the hyperdrive charging. I want us airborne before other rabble show up."

Kuroda looked at him briefly, before snapping out of spaciness and getting to work on his little cockpit setup. "Aye captain!"

A sudden thunk of the airlock doors erupted from the back corridors; behind the bridge doors came a sight that surprised Zerax, it was Lobo and...a Gamorrean warrior tailing him like a lost frogdog. Lobo mentioned something about the porcine brute following him onboard, Tiam sighed with a rubbing of the temples. Don't question it, we got another crewmember and a Gamorrean at that, Lobo probably won his loyalty. Just think of the treasure and not getting your new crew scattered like on Naboo, just think happier thoughts. "All-right, you can keep him," Zerax replied. "Lobo, I need you and your new friend to aid Samira with the other gun turrets on the ship, she knows our previous placements when we sailed in the past and I got some new ones as well. Savvy? Excellent, we need some covering fire before we blast off."

TAG: @Sarge , @T4M1-7

OOC: Sorry for the late reply, power is down where I'm at due to a current snowfall and my wi-fi is going to be iffy for the next few days, please bear with me for the randomly scheduled rp posts.

 

IC: Samira


"Man the solar guns, Samira," ordered Zerax.

Samira grinned with relish. "Aye, Cap'n!"

She turned and dashed out of the cockpit, then scrambled up the access ladder quicker than a Squib on tractor-beam-hooks. Sprinting along the corridor on the top deck, the Twi'lek spotted from portholes she passed that they were steadily rising away from the dock below.

Samira found the dorsal gunnery bubble and leapt into the padded seat. She grabbed the headset and punched buttons. With a whine of energy activation, the guns awoke and an orange holo targeting-grid came into being before her face.

Samira touched the comlink button on her headset. "Solar cannons armed and ready to fire, Cap'n! No sign of enemy sails yet."

She toggled the controls and the padded seat swung around. She also tested responsiveness and elevation controls. Then something unexpected came into view. Samira scowled.

"Mr Lobo, your fat-arsed fighter is spoiling my field of fire to the fore. I will have to cover the stern. The other turrets should concentrate on covering the bow."

It would be a shame if I blasted the rich boy's yacht by accident, after all...

@Sgt.Matt @Sarge

 

IC: ????
Quick Siege

"What're you doing?" Jona bellowed to the flurry of triggermen opening fire at the Hammerhead. "Boss expects that to be a wreck, what's the hold up?"

A dour faced Gamorrean turned face from pulling up a waterlogged pyke, his face was rather stressed by the matter of their bungled surprise attack or what one could call one. "Ship won't give, our guns aren't scratching the paint and our three footmen got tossed overboard!" The pig puffed, his arms were aching from carrying up fallen crewmates and holding a rather overheating carbine. "The ships staying in place for some-"

"Then push forward, I don't care if you have to drown or stack on each others backs, that ship is not escaping us" Jona growled, he pointed towards the small group of swimmers moving towards the ships floating shadow. "See those boys! They have the idea."

CROOOM! FWSSHHH!

As if the gods and force hated his words, several of the wading piggies began to be pulled under by a green flap of scales, Jona sighed grumbled as his rather dumb minions were picked off quickly by a massive mamacore. The circular maw of the creature dragging all down into the crushing darkness, barely even making a roaring bubble in the water. God, I hate this job. Whipping out his commlink and dialing in a few codes, Jona turned back at the remaining minions and the Gamorrean still opening fire at the unmoving Hammerhead. "I'll call up for our fighters, then we'll have that ship in no time" Jona yelled at the pig. "Keep that ship busy, even if they fire back!"

Gammorean saluted with a disturbed face as the hail of water and green blaster fire riddled the skies.

TAG: ALL RED KRAYT CREWMATES (*Laughs in Barbossa*)

 

IC: Domenico "Lobo" Barnaba
Gunnery?


"Fine by me, but he's sharing your bunk room!"

"Green girl pretty! Mongo green too. Mongo not so pretty."



Domenico hurried to the upper turret as instructed, Mongo at his heels. He pulled up short, seeing that the gunner's seat was already occupied by the ship's utility-protocol droid. Gildy was working the controls expertly, which was fine, and singing softly, which was... eerie.



She interrupted her song with an acrid comment, apparently aimed at the attackers outside. "Now, now, you should know better than to run on the docks. We'll have to slow you down a bit." She touched the trigger and a single shot flashed from the turret. A Pyke staggered and fell as one of its legs vanished. "Let's see you try to run with a pegleg. For quarter, for quarter, the saucy pirate cried... but the quarter that we showed them was to sink them in the tide... And you! Such rude gestures! Do you hug your mother with that hand?" Another shot, and a Gammorean clutched the stump of its wrist. Domenico had never imagined anyone could be so precise with starfighter-scale turret weaponry. "You won't be making those finger signs when you're fitted with a hook, will you? For their ship it was their coffin, and their grave it was the sea..."

"It's best to leave her to it at these moments," came Big X's voice from behind Domenico. He jumped in startlement. For a giant ancient war robot covered in armor, the big droid was surprisingly quiet. Before he could say anything, he heard Samira complaining about his Cutlass interfering with her field of fire. Feeling useless where he was, he turned for the upper hatch. Mongo followed along.

"Mongo, I need you to wait here."

"Mongo go with Lobo!"

"My ship is a one-seater, and you're too big to sit in my lap," Realizing that the Gammorean was also feeling lost at the moment and needed something to do, Domenico tossed his hat to Mongo. "Hold my hat until I get back." Mongo caught the hat and clung to it so tightly that Domenico thought he might crush it or tear it. Well it's a silly hat anyway.



Moments later he and Tready were in the Cutlass, powered up, shields activated, and lifting off. Maneuvering clear of the Red Krayt, he hovered a hundred meters up and turned toward the purple and gold attackers. He lined up the targeting reticle on a humanoid... and hesitated. Who were these people? He had no idea. Surely they didn't want to be out here facing death in cold dark rain; was someone forcing them to do this? Did they really deserve to die?

"Tready, set the blasters for maximum rate of fire."

"That will mean reducing the power of each shot so you don't burn out the barrels."

"I know, just do it!"

"It's already done, Master Domenico." The astromech's tone was faintly reproving.

He nudged the stick forward slightly and pushed the trigger. All four of the rapid-fire autoblasters packed into the fighter's nose opened up, throwing out a ferocious hail of plasma bolts that chewed up the dock right in front of the attackers. Would a shot across their bows turn them back?



A Pyke was readying a shoulder launched guided missile. While rifle shots wouldn't penetrate the Cutlass's shields, that missile was probably designed expressly for taking out airborne attack ships. Domenico switched to his ion cannon and fired a shot at the Pyke. The figure fell to the ground in convulsions, missile unfired.

How long would it be until the Red Krayt was ready to fly? How much longer would they have to hold back the boarding party? He should contact Captain Zeraz and ask. He looked at his comm panel and realized they hadn't yet coordinated ships' frequencies, or encrypted commlinks, if pirates even had such things. Shrugging, he switched to the galactic standard emergency frequency, which all ships were supposed to monitor at all times. "Red Krayt, this is Bar-... err, Cutlass, what is your status?"


TAG: @T4M1-7 @Sgt.Matt

 

(GM UPDATE)
IC: Zerax, Kuroda
A Charged Escape!

"Red Krayt, this is Bar-... err, Cutlass, what is your status?"

Kuroda immediately picked up Lobo's voice through the open comm channel, as it was always opened for listening in on other ships passing by, pirates have to be cautious these days. Clipping on a headset and mic to his head as the Hyperdrive meter glowed brightly, the quay youth clicked the answer button on his dashboard. "Hyperdrive is charged up, you can clamp back down on the ship sharpish" He looked over to his captain, who was plugging in the ancient map they acquired to a holoprojector section. Zerax and motioned for the first mate to continue, he fumbled the last wire into the datapads port quickly. "Jus...Just get back in quick we're about to flee fast now...."

The first mate switched off as he began to fiddle with the ship controls, Hammerhead began to lurch up higher now and the green laser bolts and fired missiles were slowly disappearing. Kuroda prayed for his crewmates clamping, the ship was lurching off and they needed to escape now. "Map is attached, first mate, did you punch in the coordinates into the nav-computer?" Zerax walked over to him, commlink in hand and head hatless, revealing a rather balding scalp. "Don't tell me you-"

"No, I set the data ahead of time for Savo-4" Kuroda kept his eyes out for any falling bodies, there were a few bumps and rumbling sounds atop the bridge, he paid no heed as treasure filled his head. "We should call in the crew for takeoff, just to be safe."

"Aye" Tiam nodded, he then activated his commlink and issued a command. "All hands back to the bridge, we're taking off in style! Droids and crewmates to the bridge for full sail on the double, hyperdrive is prepped for the launch."

As he stared down at the rabble below, scattered remains of their attacking foes darting like tiny ants; several gleaming vehicles rained down past the Krayt towards the armed guys below. At first, they blended right into the rainy weather but Tiam's eyes caught the gleaming golden insignias on their dark purple hulls and his brow furrowed. "Sharpish lads! We have a few Flarestars coming by to pick up our sorry foes, let's hasten the escape!" Zerax closed off his call as he then began to divide power to the ships shields on his own section of the bridge, Kuroda kept close towards the nav-computer and steering yoke. Zerax was a decent pilot and helmsman but Kuroda was taught a bit more on the matter than the master. Let's hope everyone get's back in quick! The Sanyassan drummed his fingers as he eyed the large lever that activated the hyperdrive jump, it had been set and coordinated for that desert moon in the Geonosis sector. But that was a story he had yet to explain further....

-0-​

IC:?????
The Hunt Begins

It wasn't long for Jona to rally his small squadron of Flarestar shuttles and his Corona-class armed frigate, the latter was a Corporate Sector modified version with special weapons for maximum carnage. Yet, the Pyke was unable to use his favorite weapons as the Krayt began to fly off into the sky beyond, leaving him to furiously vent in front of his crew.

"You were supposed to-" Jona spewed angrish too unintelligible to understand, before holding in his rage for a cooled response. "No, this is my fault, shouldn't have left ya idiots alone for this simple task."

The small armed force was now a whittled down mass of wounded and maimed hire guns, only Jona and the rest with his boss were healthy as of this moment. "Grab the wounded and leave the dead weights, we need to follow that pirate ship!"

"Will the boss be okay with it?" A Porcine triggerman muttered openly, his hand stumps scorching like heated barbecue.

Jona winced in his helmet mask, before shaking his head of the irked feeling. "The boss already knows, he'll be okay with us heading to Savo-4; just get your idiot hides onto those shuttles or I'll have the boss send you to Arrok's palace personally!"

Multiple bodies began to pour out into the shuttle crafts hastily, save for the corpses burnt up on the broken wooden gangplanks and those lucky few still floating silent on the hard waters. Thunder picked up outside as Jona unsheathed the wrist communicator on his right arm, cracking the small number pad for the right call number. In a vibrating ping, his boss came up on the communicators tiny screen and was rather annoyed, an occurring feature on his face.

"Status Report?" Madlock piqued.

"Krayt Inbound for Savo-4, we plan to hunt after him, go ahead?" Jona answered. "We got the man-power and flamethrower tanks for this."

"Go ahead then, I'll see that you will be rewarded handsomely for salvaging the original goal" Madlock said. "Unlike most of my agents in the company, Jona, you have not failed me like the rest and I sincerely hope you do not....you know the punishment for failure in this organization, correct?"

Jona paused, cold sweat poured into his helmet as he remembered the rapid thirty lashes by a blunted vibro-whip and the loss of a finger; he already had three mechanical replacements on his right hand. "Yy..Yes sir, I do remember and will not fail you like the incident on Mimban, we will hunt those pirates till kingdom come."

An exchange of words came and went, before the purple-clad amphibian clicked off his communicator and made headway into the last remaining saucer shuttle at the dock. Jona was shuddering all the way in, as if he was haunted by some spectre beyond this plane of galactic existence.

TAG: @Sarge , @T4M1-7 (We are without a doubt the best pirates anyone has ever seen!)

 

IC: Samira


Samira clutched the cannon controls, frustrated that the battle was clearly happening on the underside of the Krayt. She peered through the dense rain, looking for enemy sails.

Then, to her surprise, the blue starfighter in front of her guns de-clamped and took off!

"What is he doing now?" she hissed to herself. "We're about to hit hyperspace!"

Samira watched as Lobo turned his fighter and unloaded a barrage of bolts at the docks below. Now they had risen enough, she could see the quay and the swarming soldiers firing up at the escaping Hammerhead. Lobo's volley ripped a line of flames amongst them, and the soldiers scattered. Samira scowled, impressed and yet annoyed that she was impressed.

Then she caught a glimpse of silver racing ahead of the Krayt's bow. They looked like boarding shuttles, and they were heading down to pick up the troops on the ground!

"Enemy sails ahoy, Cap'n!" she reported through the internal comlink. "There, 43 degrees to starboard!"

Annoyed and impetuous, she did not wait for the order to fire. Lobo had cleared the way by taking off. So she aimed.

Swivel, elevate - dammit, overbalanced! - correct, elevate, lock, set... fire!

Samira thumbed the triggers and a burst of nova-bright javelins erupted from the solar cannons. The beams scorched an arrow straight path through the rain, leaving a trail of faintly pleasant rainbows in their wake. Most missed. Samira corrected again for range, leading the nose of one shuttle. She clipped its wing and the enemy ship staggered mid-air like a wounded avian. It may get down, but it would not fly again.

That's when Zerax's order came through her headset. "All hands back to the bridge, we're taking off in style!"

Samira grinned. The hyperdrive was primed and they had broken orbit. The captain has done it again! She ripped off the headset and unclipped the seat harness. Soon she was scrambling back down the corridor, then sliding down the access ladder to the deck below.

Entering the now crowded bridge, she saw the map at which Captain Zerax peered. Kuroda was just entering the last data for the jump. Now it seemed to be the right moment.

"So, where're we headed, Cap'n?"

@Sarge @Sgt.Matt