After more than a months since the last time we played, my players and I were finally able to get together to continue our adventures in our Star Wars game using the Black Hack rules. Aside: For the classes I used a mix of ones from my Black Hack: Cyber-Hacked and I converted classes from my Starrunner Kit as well.
John- Rodian Assassin
Liam- Twi’lek Bionic Soldier
Gene- Human Scoundrel
Nate- Human Tech Specialist
Omar- Bothan Mercenary
Fletch Mon Calamari Scout
A Little Down Time
We kicked off the session with the group getting a little R&R in their favorite watering hole, the Fried Mon Cal, which lies in Undertown and getting their share of the bounty job they completed last session.
Omar and Liam decided to stay at the bar with their captain, Ty’ven (human), and their Fencer and owner of the Fried Mon Cal, Gr’ack Vin (Mon Calamari) while John, Gene, and Nate went to explore a little of Undertown. John took a beating last session, so he needed some new Medstims.
Undertown is in a near constant state of twilight, built in the ancient ruins of the capital city of Phynol Prime, Phynol. During the day, sunlight only comes in through gas vents, sewage grates, and areas where the duracrete ceiling has been damage to allow more light to pour in.
The capital city was constructed around the capital spire in a circular pattern. Much of the under area is occupied by rubble, ruins, machinery and public works systems, and, of course, Undertown.
The group walked across the way to Dotty’s Healing and found Dotty and “Doc” hanging out in the front area, taking inventory of a newly acquired shipment of goods and medicines. After some quick banter, John obtained 1 medstim at discount (and promising he would help Dotty with a favor in the future). As they were leaving, “Doc” turned to John, “John- do not die. It is not a desirable condition for humanoids.”
John: Ummm. Yeah- thanks “Doc”.
The group made it to the bazaar in Undertown and took in the sights and smells when a scream rang out nearby. A man staggered out from between two kiosks, a vibroblade in his stomach, and fell face down into the dirt, dead.
The group took a quick scan of the area, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Nate patted down the man, found an ident card for a “Beeboo Morganson” of Courscant, a credstick with 40 credits, and an encoded message stick. Nate and Gene deliberated what to do with the body while John took another look around the area. Peering from where the man came, John saw a young woman clutching ripped clothing hiding in the darkness of an alley. When she noticed John watching her, she turned and fled deeper into the twilight. John let her go. Eventually Undertown inhabitants got tired of the group milling around the body and made their way over and began taking anything left of value from the body.
The groups communicators went off. Answering they heard Ty’ven’s voice, “I just got a message from my contact. We have a job. Get your asses back to the Fried Mon Cal.”
With nothing left to do, the group headed back.
A Mysterious Message
When everyone was back at the Fried Mon Cal, Ty’ven explained just he received a hail from an old contact on Hyssia. “My contact just told me that a ship was lost in the nebula while farming the gasses. Got in too far and took heavy damage from those damned lightning storms. Apparently, they radioed something right before their ship was destroyed, something of interest. Their signal didn’t go too far, only to the Nalgraph Processing Station near the nebula, and not many people know about it. My contact has offered us a bit of money (and he’s calling in a favor I owe him) to retrieve the communication from the station. Our point of contact there is the bartender of the cleverly named drinking hole, ‘The Cantina’, by the name of Zin. We are to an Overdone Squid, so we’ll know its us and give us the recording. After that, I’ll radio my contact and we’ll get delivery coordinates. Simple snatch and deliver.”
Nate: I’m totally all about this! This is one of those missions that NOTHING will go wrong! Let’s do it!
The group started discussing plans and deciding if they needed any supplies before heading to the spaceport. As the group are talking, the bartender Gr’ack Vin, who was mindlessly watching the holovid, points at the screen, “guys… Look.” He unmutes the holovid, and the sound of a female voice is heard.
Playing on the screen was the wreckage of an AT-ST on its side, laying on a single story metallic building. Smoke issuing from the head and one of its legs blown off. “This just in. Terrorist attacks against the Imperial Garrison. Explosions detonated on an Imperial All Terrain Scout Transport. The vehicle was badly damage and landed atop the Imperial Garrison. Both pilots were killed and several Imperial officers inside the garrison were injured. These vehicles are used in defense against enemies of the Empire and to protect its citizens. Again- a terrorist attack against the Empire—“
The group all looked at another, processing the news of actions against the Empire, when a commotion erupted outside. The group rushed out of the Fried Mon Cal and saw several hover droids carrying small rectangular containers whizzing high high overhead. The containers burst open and leaflets flutter to the ground. The leaflet shows a burnt and dinged up Storm Trooper helmet. The words, “Roam Free” written in red spray paint.