"I'm sure we'll find out plenty about each other along the way. Should be a good time, so long as we don't talk about exes" She makes a slight joke as she taps along the buttons to prepare for departure.

The stomach lurches slightly as the maglock holding the ship in place releases, and the Bonnie Lass makes a sudden drop before the engines overpower the inertia. As the Hutt Moon starts to fade into distance, a warning buzzer starts to chirp.

"Figures." Florsha responds disapointedly. "Our old friends. Just won't leave me alone."

'An ex on the exes,' Miri joked back. Her grin faded at the warning buzzer came to life and Florsha mentioned 'our old friends'.

'Does this girl have guns or are we going to be talking our way out of trouble?' She had a feeling she knew the answer and in fact was already rising from the co-pilot chair to (wo-)man the guns. Assuming the Bonnie Lass had those.

"She's still got the goods she was born with. Gotta see what they're bringing out to know if that's going to be enough."

The ship rattles slightly as it's strafed by blaster fire of the enemy ships, a hodgepodge of starfighter craft. All of them relics of wars gone by, acquired for dirt cheap and maintained as best as possible.

"Man the guns" she calls out "I'll keep them busy, try to get them away from the moon. They'll be fast, but fragile."

OOC: Make an attack roll using the YT-2400's Heavy Laser Cannon, being a +2 to your BAB

In reply to Florsha (msg # 41):

Miri didn't need to be told twice. Vaulting for her seat she raced for the turret, her heart yammering in her ears. Her first fight in space!

Keep calm Trace! This isn't a holothriller. You could get blasted here...

The noblewoman took her seat at the turrent, checked the sights and when it seemed on target pulled the trigger on one of the ramshackle enemy ships.

---

OOC: Miri Trace rolled a 13 with 1d20+1.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:40, Sun 06 Sept 2020.

Florsha moving away from the moon started to make sense immediately. With how these fighters were flying, and where the ships guns were positioned, missing a shot would mean striking Nar Shadaa beneath you. Getting further away, and changing the relative positioning, enabled a wider range where you could target them.

Not that it made a great deal of difference. These things moved a heck of a lot vaster than in the vidgames you played as a kid.

11:48, Today: Midichlorians, for the NPC Hutt Ships, rolled 15 using 1d20+3.
11:49, Today: Midichlorians rolled 58 using 6d10x2.

In range, the enemy ships were able to get some real shots in. Thankfully, the ships enhanced shields and armor were able to absorb most of the damage, but there was still some of the turbolasers that penetrated.

Oof! Miri thought as the ship tremored around her. She utter a wordless prayer to whatever deity oversaw spacers that Florsha knew what she was doing.

Come on you granite slugs! We are not going to make things easy for you! Taking a moment to align her sights she took a second shot, lighting up the void crimson as the bolts from her laser cannon shot towards the Hutt ships - and hit!

"Yes, got him!" The young noble let out a rather unlady like whoop of joy.

---

OOC: 18:19, Today: Miri Trace rolled 18 using 1d20+1.  Heavy Laser Cannon.


19:04, Today: Miri Trace rolled 56 using 5d10x2.  Damage (Heavy Laser Cannon).
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Sun 06 Sept 2020.

The shot struck center of an old dilapidated X-wing, directly at its main engines. Poorly maintained, they shorted out immediately, but did not explode, causing the ship to drift on inertia.

Hutt Fighters rolled 9 using 1d20+3.

Florsha took advantage of the additional momentum of the battle, flying underneath the derelict fighter, forcing the other ships to shoot around their comrade. In doing so, they missed their target. With a sudden lurching pivot, the Bonnie Lass turned around to face them head on.

"Crazy Ithorian!" Florsha calls out from the cockpit as she concludes her maneuver.

OOC: Make another attack, calculate damage if you reach 17 or higher.

Miri felt her cheeks burn as another shot went very wide. Clearly now was the wrong time to feel cocky.

'Kriff they're fast,' she muttered, brushing a strand of dark hair back from her eyes as she squinted at the targetter.

---

OOC: 19:34, Today: Miri Trace rolled 6 using 1d20+1.  Heavy Laser Cannon.

"She's gotten out of worse jams than this. Just stay on them"

You see more fire from the other two fighters, but are completely absorbed by the shields.

OOC: If you burn a Force Point, you can take a +5 on your next roll. You have five for this level, and will gain another five next level.

'Will do Captain,' Miri shouted back. Despite the sense of danger (and frustration when she missed) the noble felt thrilled and exhilarated.

Forcing herself to concentrate Miri angled the turret for another try before squeezing the trigger on the incoming Hutt fighters.

---

OOC: 15:53, Today: Miri Trace rolled 33 using 5d10.  Damage.

15:53, Today: Miri Trace rolled 17 using 1d20+6.  Heavy Laser Cannon (Force Point).

The second ship you strike, an almost ancient Republic Interceptor from the Clone Wars loses its stabilizers, causing it to fly erratically, with no real control by the pilot. They try their best to steer it back to the surface of Nar Shadaa, and you're too busy focussing on the last ship, a bizzare amalgamation of TIE and X-wing components, to pay that ship any further mind.

Midichlorians rolled 9 using 1d20+2.

The mutant fighter ship lines to make it's attack run, as the Bonnie Lass keeps its relative bearing and direction. Just at the last second, before the enemy ship fires, Florsha makes a hard nose dive to avoid the fire, leaving you the opportunity to strike him from below and behind if you can keep your eyes on him.

Miri lied up her sights, pulled the trigger... and groaned as her shot went nowhere near the ship. She was really going to have to train to use this - assuming she lied through this!

---

OOC: 22:57, Today: Miri Trace rolled 9 using 1d20+1.  Heavy Laser Cannon.

"Take a deep breath!" You hear through the ship "You got this far, you can get this last freakazoid!"

OOC: (How many nines can we really get in a row?)
Midichlorians rolled 9 using 1d20+2.

The Bonnie Lass once again moved with uncanny good grace to avoid the final fighter, moving with almost predictive reflexes.

'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' Miri called back, even as she winced at yet another miss.

---

OOC: 02:38, Today: Miri Trace rolled 7 using 1d20+1.  Heavy Laser Cannon.

Well... not a 9 at least!

Today: Midichlorians rolled 12 using 1d20+2.

Florsha continued her nimble evasions, completely outflying the pilot of the smaller craft

"Don't fight against the machine! Work with it, Feel it!"

OOC: This turn, you are granted the Sense Force maneuver, adding your Charisma modifier to your attack roll.

Miri nodded and tried to reach out and feel the weapon, let the weapon work for her as the garish Hutt fighter came within her sights. Only when the moment felt right did she pool the trigger.

---

OOC: 23:17, Today: Miri Trace rolled 29 using 5d10.  Damage (Heavy Laser Cannon).
23:16, Today: Miri Trace rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  Heavy Laser Cannon.

It wasn't a straight hit at the cockpit, but it was a hit, and a hit that counted. The exposed circuitry of the TYE ship shorted after the strike, leaving the weapon systems inoperative. The pilot made an attack run, thinking they would work, but found that everything was gone.

Left with no other option, the pilot fled the scene, back to Nar Shaddaa. You hear an enthusiastic shout from below

"There we go! Let's get out of here before the start calling for backup or something..."

With the whirring of the Hyperdrive, the Bonnie Lass blasts away in to the void of space.

OOC: something about that attack "clicked", of feeling the world around you. As your first step towards being "Trained" in Use The Force, grant yourself a +1 Bonus on all future checks. This will grow until you are Fully trained, where you will have +5.

Miri sat back in her chair, taking a moment to catch her breath. That had been intense.

Then she was away, spiriting back towards the cockpit. 'That was terrifying and amazing. You can really fly!' The young noble sat back down in the co-pilot's chair, a big grin on her face. 'So Florsha do I get to learn why they were after you so hard?'

Meanwhile....

As the sparing few born of privelege turn to Nar Shadaa and the rest of Hutt Space to indulge in decadence and pretend the war isn't happening, there's countless more on The Smuggler's Moon just hoping to escape it's carnage. This had always been a refuge of those with nowhere else to go, and a haven for grifters who prey and profit off that desperation, but with success after success of the First Order, refugees have been coming here by the millions. A few of the optimistic, or the naive, have begun to look beyond the bright lights of Nar Shadaa to their homes, thinking that with the Battle of Exagal proving a decisive defeat for the First Order, that the war may well truly be over soon, and they can return home.

Still, for many others, Nar Shadaa is the only home they've ever known. An end to the war wouldn't change their immediate outlook on life. There was no reason to count on hope here. A lifetime here showed that hope only lead to dying with shattered dreams.

Still, shattered dreams were better than having no dreams at all, right? And, war or not, something did seem different ever since that battle, though it was hard to put a finger on. Something more fealt than seen or heard, but still there. What it did cause was a lack of focus.

"Hey, did you pick up daydreaming as a hobby, or what?"
https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e1/8...6f1f0a340ada36c6.jpg" data-lightbox="images-msg-57">https://i.pinimg.com/564x/e1/8...6f1f0a340ada36c6.jpg" alt=''>

Zunla started when Yahseka broke into her reverie with her mild quip. Normally, the young Duros was more than willing to share a return jab at her longtime friend, but instead she blinked her large crimson eyes slowly, as if waking from a dream. That...itch at the back of her mind was going more insistent and more distracting as the days dragged on. Well, "days" as was measured in the perpetual artificial lighting of the thousands of signs of the Undercity. In the beginning, she had tried to exhaust herself with work so that she might find some relief from the source-less feeling, and in the very beginning it had worked, but now even tinkering with pet projects only drew her attention for a short while. Indeed, looking down, she saw that it appeared that she was about to use her hydrospanner on the holo-projector of her wrist-computer.

That would have been bad.

Sighing heavily, the blue-skinned woman deftly slid the tool back into her already overfilled tool belt, shook her head to focus, and turned to address Yahseka properly. As they had known each other for at least eight cycles, it was only polite. One did not make friends easily on the Smuggler's Moon.

"Pfassk! I guess so. Check back with me in a few weeks and I'll be the reigning grand-master of all Nar Shaddaa. What's going on, Lav?" Zunla asked, using Yahseka's nickname, which was a shortened version of the Twi'lek's skin color: lavender.

That had been among the first words the two had spoken to each other all those years ago. "Move it, Lavender!" Zunla had screamed as she busted through a weakened tenement building wall. How things change over the cycles...

"Grand Master Blueberry Ice" She said with a laugh "Come on Zunla, wake up and smell the spice. You can't move up if you're always looking down at your hands. There is no golden ticket, not for folks like us."

She moved a little and leaned on the cold metal bars of a railing, the only thing protecting the populace from a long drop and sudden stop.

"Only opportunity we'll ever have is the one we make for ourselves, and I happen to know of one, but I'll need your help. Waddya say? Ready to become your own boss?"

OOC: Never thought I'd get the opportunity to make THIS reference, but here we are...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaZZI4gwigo

The ghost of a smile flitted across Zunla's face at Yahseka's question. The day had been rather dull so far. Only fitting that her old friend should spice things up. For one didn't do the type of jobs that they pulled and call the experience "quiet" or "routine."

"Of course, Lav. That's why I've always been an independent contractor. But what new scheme did you have in mind this time?" the scrapper asked with a cocked eyebrow and and amused grin.

At the very least, Yahseka was distracting her from that strange pull at the back of her mind, and for that if nothing else, Zunla was grateful.

She shook her head with a smile, as she started to walk slowly the way she came "That's not what I'm talking about. Being an "independent contractor" doesn't mean you're your own boss," She said as she threw her fingers up in air quotes "That means you'll take any boss who will toss you a few credits. This is true self-initiated work. For our own benefit, by our own terms."

She looked around for else might be listening in before she wrapped her arm around your shoulder and started speaking very quietly.

[Language unknown: "Werncelat ear In te miroit waar icaie o behoch. Trsom diart Llunmo menut a. Ons sonil ardad i u etprsi evce, tha ic ma te cemebeur her th thi ivetheureine. Ecssiv utle se etect eincin ecntai poekse'trfi ev ainat amepreast. K itecse ine nina ionectday. Niaricas eereen pa ee ingdinany utte u il t p ter ol, Ch kortheera es, con ioest ekadta conallorture mough oshaio waven ivheacce. Hing'pape sa ni any wheeartra te ekel redsomwitrut setpreing. Onleee re sanourrut cetere ear adil we eichwh no caat, e behereei oul str usnc riac ospeinut we ble erla virpl hiserasan. Iv p ame hisme dison wilstrtho, hasounour con ar. I rutersles entpo, ei nti estncesti re ast st, romun e ofard. Wawhi ut ofat wil, artev n ivmo icwaar, ous m eeint nteleshat. Toerte os?"]

Zunla stopped in her tracks as soon as the words came out of Yahseka's mouth. There was one simple rule on Nar Shaddaa that everyone knew, or learned quickly if they wanted to live: you do not cross the Hutts. Oh sure, you could flirt with that edge of danger by messing with underlings and goods so far down the chain that it didn't bother anyone, by hijacking a shipment of a Hutt boss was something else entirely.

[Language unknown: "Venck, unfor whi ncemi e son ntri?!"] Zunla snapped, turning on Yhseka.

[Language unknown: "Not t ni isckla Itll lewhbe son san staeraforillera u Redmantho enand listmemi eau inul sees ck whioulrom thihisome ingnot-astardess osai elons, ou taiotr Atunes? La Eioun ni utospe korwitcon ai o wasyiness li. Rine werni ilul houyinandenc wil verortous oer! Oervirbut ti astwheive latlesion ha whi ur ithsonich atpr Int liplnomoho poleetce! Totril re, nd ast distis, hisan entthuallere osil olre Ev str ainpronde wit thacee ill i chce anul herut Omserond korvenwil! Sime t mothu men sheersnotess iveredthi mareho hatmo ingardnde en ardntiwit ilith it thpa ri, ou Nt Nceerseen ce poti nteentshe?!"] she demanded with a hiss.

The scheming Twi'lek had anticipated resistance, and had kept her cool.

[Language unknown: "M ncpama wahose derfi est enouekha et ectho repaan ounpo chove st p ncales inai us un Inin, ai Elpaus oerureandone ngomprai day onnot n ee amehasdin anyresday stwantel eau larametedratted ivma oveeeneve-sonnde is plecelelte oneee hatio pe k. Een, som th P sta ni, i loain ate thss ndiven e oswh at lo wenthi. Orend miweusno o ore inugh ilon ie an, elugh ter iscon Dinureore."

"Notse t Artsonion. Houavesti hatersast poth hises maosth urver, di nisa Wilthistr onsousrat ilncri intca etut di niro. T ac u le Oulingoveman Pounwi, utieno arni dinec adthi m nteoveoun oerul yinineand ro e nd ni usle. M at ckin m Ngsthach, k Eeneraeveate, to haen-miro, ieted no et con reaest-ousest t wer herrutiveconwer. Ouofll ssuspa i liwa t conen st. Entohi, reurfo din hengat'ivpa, ingvirven ntiantlinwhi aili waadtoalekmi ncstpa cear mi omtousun sa ersno no ardarecon il ofof butameure?"]