Rhijans Thanus pulls the truck over, and a few people disembark, ready to do some exploring, spelled: "snooping", to try and discover what is going on in the city.

After all, Imperial activity, especially unusual activity, is something that the Alliance might be interested in.

The truck, accompanied by the two swoops pulls away, leaving the recon team standing at the side of the street.  Overhead, above the buildings, the sky is starting to darken as dusk approaches.  Lights are coming on within the city though, adding more illumination to the glow of holodisplays.

One building stands out from the others, even though it is a little way off.  The medcentre, easily recognised because of the strobing beacons which mark it as an emergency facility, towers above the other structures.

There aren't many people on the streets, and most of those who are seem to be heading away from the medcentre, looks to be at the heart of the closed section of the city.

"Let's go." Mark stated as he headed towards the medcentre. He stopped a person that was walking away, "Where's the medcentre. My friend isn't feeling too well." Mark nodded his head noncommittally at Shisskurr or one of the others.



Mark Jacobs rolled 21 using 4 dice with the WEG Classic system with rolls of 3,3,{Wild}6(+3),6. Streetwise

The Force(Wild Die) is with me

The man that Mark questions seems to be in a hurry, and doesn't actually stop for more than a split second.  Instead he turns and keeps on walking backwards as he point in the direction he came from.  "Down there.  Big building.  You can't miss it."

He starts to turn to face the way he's going, then hesitates just long enough to add a bit of extra information, "But I wouldn't go there just now.  Area is full of stormtroopers." before continuing to move away.

"There's trouble brewing, and there'll be even more, if they find who they're looking for!" he yells over his shoulder.

After the man leaves, Mark turned to the others. "Let's go and try to find some answers."

Mark didn't know who the Imperials but he felt that he should try to learn what he could. If the information turned out to be helpful or not, he'd figure that out later.

Mark continued to walk towards the medcenter and looked for someone that might be willing to talk.

The recon team continue in the indicated direction, and soon reach a point where they can see an open area between two buildings.  Across that space, less than fifty metres away, is the entrance to the medcentre.  The structure seems to loom over them, far taller than any of the surrounding buildings.

Unfortunately, between them and the entrance are about forty troopers and an AT-ST.

A woman is there, dressed in dark coloured clothing, civilian styles.  She is talking to a couple of stormtrooper officers, and pointing first at the doors, and then at some of the higher floors.

Looking upwards reveals that there are enclosed bridges, connecting the main building to some of the nearby structures.

Then she turns away, and heads inside.  The stormtroopers follow her, leaving the AT-ST on guard.

Mark let out a low whistle. There certainly was a large imperial presence. He stayed for a few minutes before he finally turned and move out.

"Well everybody has been scared away. So we won't find any likely people around the streets."

Mark decided to head to the location where their transport should be. However, he kept an eye out for a local pub. Sometimes a drink might loosen up some lips.

"Bar is best," Shard mutters, glancing about in search of both a watering hole and watchers.  "We shouldn't be out and about, either.  With everyone keeping under cover, it's a safe bet we'll be noticed - by the wrong people, as well." 

Stormtroopers are as bad as clouds - they start gathering, things are definitely headed south.

"And a walker."  She shakes her head, bemused.  "What are they after, a mob of angry Wookies?"  The older woman rubs her forehead, struggling to massage away the tension.  "We need to find out what's going on.  Fast."

As the group turn to find somewhere less obvious to gather information, a faint hum reaches their ears from somewhere above, followed by a blaster shot, then an odd crackling sound, and a scream.

A moment later a shape falls from one of the connecting bridges and plummets to the ground, where it lays unmoving, only a few metres away.  The broken form of a stormtrooper, his armour damaged by the impact.  Since the bridges are entirely enclosed, it's clear that he must have been on top of it, for some reason.

Looks like now might be a really good time to get out of sight.

"Drek!" Shard hisses, a truly foul word from where she grew up (much to the amusement of the rest of the galaxy).  The situation has gone from bad to worse - much, much worse.  Shoving Jacobs, she urges him toward the nearest doorway.  "Movemovemove, we have to get out of here," the weathered woman mutters, her tone cracking on the edge of hysteria.

Laugh or cry?  Tough question.

At least we know what the woman was pointing at, she considers.  "Forty troopers and a walker," she growls, still shoving Jacobs (putting her back against him and shuffling if necessary).  "Not gonna be enough."  The imperials have a much bigger fish to fry than a small troupe of rebels - there's a killing machine in this city, empty-hearted and ruthless.

"And I don't want to meet it."

"Whoa. I'm moving."

Mark Jacobs moves as Shard shoved him. He didn't know where they were headed at this point. But it was as far as they could get in a short time.

"Let's find the nearest watering hole. We need to blend in quickly."

The bar is much classier than the last one they were in, with gleaming droids waiting on the immaculately polished tables, and a bartender whose smile looks to be genuine.  It doesn't even falter when he spots Shisskurr, "Hello there.  Welcome to Zaram's.  What can I get for you people?"

The menus of food and beverages look to be extensive, and not too overpriced.

Clearly this place is not your typical wretched hive of scum and villainy.  Everything is clean, for one thing, and it's all lit brightly enough that it would be hard to hide any serious imperfections.

All of which probably explains why there are a lot of people in here, most of them human, but with a few aliens mixed in.  None of them are openly armed.

Relieved to be away from the situation, Shard pauses for a moment to take in their surroundings.  "This isn't a 'watering hole'," she sing-songs quietly to Jacobs and Shisskurr.  "Stall.  Or something.  We have to know what's going on out there."

Taking a step back, she glances out the window of the bar, hunting to see if she can catch the reaction of the squad of troopers and their heavily armed and armored walker.  "Just what we needed," the woman mutters.  "More complications.  Complications we gotta know about."

Much as her own feelings scream at her to just leave, to run away and not look back, Shard knows this sort of thing can't be ignored.  The information could be valuable - critical - to the rebellion.  Or maybe it's someone from another Rebel cell out there...

Wouldn't that be just wonderful? she sourly considers.

Mark immediately felt disturbed. The weight of the blaster at his hip seemed heavier. He felt it was a black hole that drew all eyes to it. Mark tried to relax and smile. "A table."

Mark walked slowly to the table. He checked the establishment for additional exits. The entrance was obvious. But if they needed a fast exit, he wanted to be prepared.

Making their way to a table, the two humans and their trandoshan ally try to look inconspicuous.  One of the droids, seemingly modelled to remind a viewer of a human female, hurries across to them and lays a small stack of menus down on the table, before announcing in a cheery voice, "Welcome to Zaram's.  The special today is braised gorss steak in a fenti bean sauce.  There is thirty four minutes of Happy Hour remaining.  I shall return shortly to take your order."  She turns and speeds away.

"Give us a few minutes." Mark replied to the droid's retreating back.

He waited until the droid left Mark whispered, "This would have been a nice place for you to finally buy me that drink. But we need eyes on what's going on outside. Two doors that lead to the refresher, maybe they have a window. There's a door to the kitchen, and finally a fourth in the far corner that might be an emergency exit."

"Want to see if you can peek out the window of the refresher?"

Leaning against her chair's back, Shard crooks a finger, beckoning Jacobs over.  "If you take my chair, I'll do that," she whispers.  The finger pokes toward the window.  "Quick.  From here, I've got a dozen troopers on the roof, hunting."

Hunting a monster.  She doesn't envy them the task.

"You keep an eye on them from here, and I'll see what kind of angle I can get from the ladies' room."  The lean, hardened woman pushes herself up, wincing as a spike of pain runs through one knee, then pauses, cocking her eyebrow at Jacobs.  "Still on for that drink.  And the story." 

Quick steps take her across the room to the fresher; Shard first checks to see if anyone else is in the small room, then hunts for a window.  Jacobs made a good point - the more vantage points they have, the better the odds of spotting something important.

She shivers.  Or someone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:50, Thu 02 Dec 2010.

Shisskurr joins Mark Jacobs near the window, and from their new vantage point they can just make out the tail end of a group of stormtroopers on the roof of one of the covered bridges leading away from the medcentre.  Then they are hidden, as the corner of another building blocks the view of them.

Shiss wasn't feeling any better than Mark, though he got a basic sense of the human's agitation. He did his best to not replicate it himself, forcing the long-sought effects of routine threat analysis and intelligent thinking into action. He blinked at the troopers atop the covered bridge, counting them out with a tapping finger before they disappeared from view.

Despite his races' penchant for occaisonally working with Imperials, the Empire was notoriously xenophobic. Shisskurr himself had been the butt of too many spontaneous Imperial inspections and supposedly routine policing actions to tolerate this many Imperials in one place. The fact that Shard had acted even more paranoid and agitated than usual spoke volumes to Shisskurr.

He leaned towards the woman, his voice a low grumble. "What is your take on the Imperials' target?"

Hurrying back from the fresher - after only moments inside it - Shard seats herself at the table just in time for Shisskur's question.  "Gimme a heartbeat or two."  She ponders the sights seen from within the ladies' room.  "First off, there's an alley outside the fresher that kind of curls around the area where things are going down.  No point in watching it, unless we figure we're trying to catch sight of someone running."

They won't run, she knows.  At least, it's unlikely.  Not while there's someone to kill.

Her lips tighten and her voice lowers.  "I know the sound we heard." Like my own heartbeat.  "Lightsaber.  Either we have some idiot with more guts than sense who has trained himself to swing one without killing himself -" in which case it wasn't really a problem, for them or the Imperials "- or we've got ourselves a genuine Jedi out there."

And that would be a problem.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:59, Sat 04 Dec 2010.

Mark relaxed visibly after Shard explained what she thought she saw or heard. A smile came to his face. "Three shots of Corellian ale." He said to the droid to had come to take the order. He waved the droid off quickly.

"What a relief. There's no jedi. They've been wiped out." Mark said in a low whisper. "No one knows what a lightsaber even sounds like these days. It was probably a repulsor sled or something." A low chuckled escaped from Mark's lips as he tried to sound serious.

"How very complimentary," Shard states, her eyes going flat with irritation.  "No Jedi?  Nobody knows what a lightsaber sounds like, Jacobs?"  She snorts.  "It's a big universe, and you have no idea what I've seen or experienced in my years." 

She shakes her head.  "We could play the game of 'I say - you say' all day, maybe I could even show you some things that might help convince you I'm not a blathering drunk -" mostly "- or maybe we could just spare the waste of time, act like we believe I might actually have a point, and work under the assumption of Worst Case Scenario."

Sitting back, she throws a nervous glance over her shoulder, again checking out the window.  "Better safe than sorry, and I don't want to see any of us killed."  Now she jerks a thumb over her shoulder.  "Impies seem to think that way.  I counted an awful lot of troopers out there, and a walker, besides.  Seems a bit much to send after a repulsor sled."

Mark raised his hands in  acquiescence.

"Just saying that the jedi were supposed to have been wiped out, darling." Mark finally replied. "But your point is taken. Someone...er a jedi might be roaming about. If so, then we should help him." Mark glanced at the doorway. "Never know a jedi might be key in winning this rebellion. We might actually have a chance."

"So what's next? How do we find someone that cannot be found by the Imperials?"

Shard stares back at Jacobs, her face a blank mask.  Then she chuckles.  "Jedi and the rebellion?  Not a good thing, Jacobs."  Shard slowly shakes her head, about to speak then pauses, one eyebrow rising.  Darling?

Figure of speech, and probably a condescending one.  Still, at least someone thinks she's young, still, though youth is a long ways off for Shard now.  She leans forward, eyes continuing to flick back toward the window as she continues in a low, easy tone - not whispering, for whispers attract attention.  "Jedi attract attention.  Jedi have a big, fat bullseye painted on them, and when word they're around gets out, the Impies take notice.  Worse yet, a Jedi's idea of subtle is 'sneaking in, then killing everyone.'"

She slowly shakes her head.  "That's something to remember.  Jedi are all about killing.  They're a bunch of elitist warriors who look down their noses at anyone who isn't them for being unenlightened, while training themselves not to feel.  Anything.  No rage.  No passion.  No lust.  No desires.  Nothing, really, because if you strip away all the 'bad' emotions, what's left?  Life in a happy, blissful cloud?  Happiness can't exist in a vaccuum, and anyway, that's not the Jedi way.  Emptiness and killing, that's what a Jedi is about, Jacobs."

Shard settles back in her chair, her face a touch paler than normal.  "There's no balance to them, and that's not anything we want around us."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:08, Wed 08 Dec 2010.

A patrol of stormtroopers appear around the corner of one of the buildings near the medcentre.  Twelve of them.  They pause for a moment, seemingly discussing something, and then they split up.  Six head along the street, away from where the trio of rebels are observing them.

The other six start directly towards the bar.  Their movement manages to blend a military march with a cocky swagger.  Their weapons, blaster rifles, are held across their bodies - not pointing at anything or anybody, but very obviously present.

Two of them stop in the entrance, while the remaining four continue inside and make a direct line for the counter.  Their gleaming helmets turn left and right though, as they study the customers in the place.

Most of those customers are looking very nervous now.

Mark raised his glass to his mouth. He held it there and spoke in a low tone. "Got a bad feeling about this." He sipped his glass and held the liquid in his mouth. He allowed the Corellon ale to burn his throat as he slowly relaxed and swallowed.

"I've heard that before."  Shard peers longingly at the drink on the table.  So close, and it would probably help things for her greatly...

Help me what?  Screw up when they need me?  You know the rule, Shard.  Pull it together.

She makes certain the hood of her cloak is across her back, rather than over her face; nothing would attract more interest in a restaurant than someone with a covered head.  Then Shard glances up at the Stormtroopers before shifting her gaze out the window again, avoiding eye contact.

She doesn't have to fake looking nervous, and right now the entire restaurant is staring at their plates or at the walls.  She'll blend in with the crowd.

The troopers continue up to the counter, and work their way along it.  They don't stop to speak to anybody, not even the flustered-looking bartender.  Then two start to work their way back to the front of the bar, back towards where the rebels are seated.  The other two take up position near the freshers and the emergency exit.

From their posture, and the way they seem to be constantly scanning the room, they look alert.

The pair moving towards the rebels stop at one of the tables, and begin questioning a red skinned female togruta who is sitting there with a male human.  "Let me see your identification."  The human at the table waves a hand towards the stormtroopers, as if shooing them away, and says, "You don't need to see her identification."

The second trooper points a blaster at the man's head, and he falls silent, as the togruta reaches into a belt pouch for some ID.  She glances at her companion, "Don't aggravate them, Danykt." as she hands a small rectangle of plastic to the Imperial.

"Well, we have ID."  Shard's movements are oddly slow and deliberate as she searches her body - not an affectation, but almost as if she has managed to shoot back a few drinks when nobody is looking.  Just enough to render her a trifle dreamy, yet still smooth and precise.  "And I doubt it's us they're looking for."

Inside, her fear and irritation begin to dissolve into a swell of sensation.  Every nerve in her body tingles, her perceptions sharpen even as they slow, and her heartbeat is a bass thump in her ears.  Every breath carries a thousand flavours.  Every touch of air across her skin brings a dozen different sensations.  Colours brighten in her eyes.

But she holds onto her emotions.  I am more than a pure crystal, she whispers in her mind.  I am not transparent to the energies of the universe. I am part of them.  They flow through my different shades, and change me as I change them.

I am.

There is no emptiness.  There is no emotionless void.  There is only her - her fears, her irritation, her desires, and her joys, few as they now are.

And she still wants that drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:57, Fri 10 Dec 2010.

The stormtrooper examine's the togruta's ID, and then hands it back to her.  He hands it back to her, without a word of explanation or thanks.  Then he and his companion continue circulating around the bar.  When they reach the table where Mark, Shard, and Shisskurr are seated, they barely spare the trandoshan a glance, which is more attention than they pay the two humans.

They move on, passing within arm's reach of the rebels...

The uneasiness surrounding Mark was thick. Thick enough to cut with a knife, if he dared. When the stormtroopers moved on without asking for their ID, Mark let out a slow silent breath.

Mark kept an eye on the stormtroopers while he tried to show a sign of calmness. The human took a drink from his cup. The troopers were still in the room.

A curiously intent expression flowers on Shard's face, sharpening its planes and taking a good five years off her world-weary features. "They're looking for someone specific."  Probably a togruta, but that seems obvious enough.  The rebels aren't their targets in the slightest.

A good thing.  It means Shard knows what to watch for once they're out of this situation: roving bands of stormtroopers and red-skinned jedi, she assumes.

"We know what's going on, and I don't think anyone would blame us if we just left after the imperials vacate," she murmurs.  Reaching out, she takes hold of her small glass of ale, but only locks her fingers around it, almost as if around a lifeline.  For once, the liquor is unimportant.  It's the feel of the glass - smooth and rounded - that keeps her hands steady where they are.

The two troopers make it to the door, and start to leave,  The two near the freshers and the emergency exit move quickly across the room to join them.  They meet up with the pair standing guard outside the bar, and all six move on towards the next business - some sort of sporting equipment shop.

From the window, the rebels watch as the white-clad troops pause to check the identification of a female nautolan before moving on, leaving the alien glaring at their backs.

"Female, not human," Shard whispers, nodding her head.  "Troopers.  Can't tell the difference between one shape and another, only 'not us'."  Disgust laces her tone.  "Gotta admit, I'd take Jedi over them any day.  At least they don't care how many arms and legs you've got, and whether it's hair or scales."

They kill you dead impartially.

Abruptly her hands start to shake and she raises the glass of ale to her lips.  When the cup touches down again, it's two-thirds empty and Shard again looks every one of her hard-earned, two-score years.  "Right.  Think it's safe to get going?"

"Give me a minute." Mark took his time to finish his drink. "Want to see if any of the folks here are in a rush to leave before we head out."

Mark's caution seems well placed, even if only because it allows them to witness a brief dispute between the togruta and her human companion, centred on his attempt to protect her from questioning by the stormtroopers.  It ends when she stands, saying, "If I need your help in future, I'll ask for it."

Then she turns on her heel and stalks out of the bar.

Nobody else seems to be in an undue hurry to leave, though a few people look as though they will be finishing their drinks and meals soon.

Mark Jacobs set down the cup. "Let's go."

The recent outburst did seem a bit interesting. But the Stormtroopers didn't seem to act out of character to Mark. The jedi were dead in his mind, and with no proof of their existance there was nothing. Mark looked at Shard before he stepped outside.

Mark would have to be careful to avoid any additional Imperial entanglements on the route to the transports.

As the rebels leave the bar, they can see the door of the medcentre.  Stormtroopers are coming out of there again now, and with them a woman, the same dark clothed woman they had seen earlier.  Definitely not a prisoner... she seems to be giving them instructions or orders.  She points, and some of the troopers move away in that direction, double-timing.  Then she points in a different direction, and more of the troopers go that way.

She speaks to another trooper, and this one turns to face the AT-ST, which promptly starts to lurch away from its post outside the front of the medcentre, heading around the side of the building, its weapons tracking anything that moves (or looks like it might be thinking of moving).

The woman looks up then, studying the bridges overhead.  More orders, and she, together with most of the remaining stormtroopers move out, she at a fast walk, and the troopers hurrying to keep up, leaving only a handful of guards behind.

As the woman, and the accompanying troopers, disappear from sight it is clear that they are heading in roughly the same direction that the other group of rebels had gone - towards the space port's customs and cargo area...
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:21, Fri 24 Dec 2010.

"Bantha piss," Shard whispers.  She stands straight as if shot, then wobbles slightly back and forth, like a light tree in the wind.  Finally the woman blinks, turning a bland expression toward Jacobs.  Rather, her features are held in a carefully calm position.  Her eyes are screaming.

Did she see me?  Her stomach lurches violently as another though occurs to her.  Did she feel it when I prepared?  If the woman did, if Shard's suspicions are correct, her stupidity might have killed them all.

"Let's get the cargo and get off this world...assuming we still can." the normally tipsy and cynical woman whispers.  "Jacobs, we have to beat those troopers back to the others." 

It was apparent at the troopers and the lady were headed to the Cargo and Customs. It would be tight. They would have to hurry.

"Right. Let's hurry."

After a block, Mark wasn't sure that they'd make it in time. He'd risk using the open comlink. [Comlink: Rhijans, this is Mark. We're done sightseeing. Seems that the albino natives are headed your way. I hope your packed and ready to go."]

There was hardly a pause before the response came back.  [Comm: We're just starting to load now.  Had to pause a moment to answer a question from a curious stormtrooper...]

The trio of rebels move quickly, but it rapidly becomes clear that the stormtroopers, and the woman who apparently leads them, are heading in the same direction.

With the last of the troopers just ahead of them, the rebels turn left into a sidestreet, then right, now running as fast as they can.  By the time they come back out onto the main street, slowing to a fast walk, they are all breathing hard and fighting against stabs of pain from the exertion.

More importantly, they are about fifty metres ahead of the troopers, and the cargo terminal is only about a hundred metres away.

Running now would only attract attention. Mark glanced at his two companions, "Let's split to the side. We have to get out of here."

Mark took another side street. [Comlink] "Get Reldan and Jihon to pick us up. Get yourselves moving."