STAR WARS: DAWN OF DEFIANCE Episode I THE TRAITOR’S GAMBIT
It is a dark time in the galaxy. The evil Galactic Empire has spread from the Deep Core to the Outer Rim, and everywhere the Empire’s tyranny can be felt.
Fleeing from the oppression of the Emperor’s minions, agents of Senator Bail Organa have run to a remote space station above Brentaal. Known to be a vocal opponent of the Empire, Organa may be the last hope of freedom in the galaxy.
In the hopes of stopping these dissidents before they can reach the Senator, the Empire has alerted its forces on Sel Zonn Station, where the struggle for liberty rages on, and the first sparks of rebellion have begun to burn. . . .
Seemingly motionless among a sea of starships and satellites above the twinkling world of Brentaal, Sel Zonn Station grows larger in your view every second. A central pylon forms the bulk of the station’s mass, and three landing platforms leading to docking bays extend from the central section, equidistant from one another and jutting out into space. The dorsal side of the station features a disc shaped secondary structure, on top of which blinking lights indicate the presence of a landing platform reserved for wealthy patrons.
The Promenade, the commercial area on board the station, is filled with the bustle of revelry and commerce. Spilling out of the gambling halls are the sounds of victory and the moans of defeat, while the music of local bands issues from the cantinas. Only a handful of citizens mill about in the main areas of the Promenade, a few gazing out the massive windows at the planet Brentaal hovering below. Businesspeople hawk their wares to the passersby, and a few Imperial naval troopers make their way down the main avenue of the Promenade on their usual patrol at a leisurely pace. Non-humans are far and few between here, with tighter security and more 'supervision' towards them in the area, its been made clear it doesn't take much of an excuse to lock them up.
It is in the halls of Promenade that you, our future heroes, arrive, unaware of what is to come. The crowds here today are sparse, with those gathered here noticing any who look out of the ordinary or new to the area with a degree of ease.
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"Honor is a fools prize. Glory is of no use to the dead" Game/Dungeon Mastering in: Star Wars Dawn of Defiance Playing in: Three Sisters (The DM is currently MIA) "Everybody gets a nasty surprise one day. I'd rather take it standing up than when I'm laying down"
The young, plainly dressed echani disembarks her shuttle among a small crowd, and notes that everyone seems to know where they are going but her. She sighs, and looks around for her contact, willing them to suddenly appear and make things easier for her. When no one is forthcoming, she sighs again and adjusts her backpack over her shoulder, making sure her vibrostaff was secure, but easy to get to in an emergency. Blowing a lock of short, white hair from her face, she trudges on, keeping her head down as she warily glances the Imperials and heads to one of the nearest cantinas.
A towering Kel Dor dressed in simple robes and armor strolls through the thoroughfare. He does his best to be overlooked, but his height betrays him (as it typically does) and even with his slouch he is still easily seen over a crowd. He glances about, having come to the Sel Zonn Station as a stop on his way to wherever he ended up next but found that there was much he could do to help the people here. He glances around, trying to find where any sick or injured people would gather.
A young, and extremely slender, Nautolan steps onto the promenade, neatly, if conservatively, dressed, at which point he pauses to take a deep breath - his head tentacles twitching at the amount of tension in the air. His jet black eyes also quickly take in the imperial guards, at which point his tentacles twitch even further, before he spots the signage for the gambling halls, whereupon he adjusts the straps to his backpack and makes a beeline for the rowdiest of the gambling establishments...
Stepping off a modest cargo ship, a human man in his late twenties grips a large crate between his callused and work-worn hands. His scuffed, black boots make a subtle “clank” noise as he walks across the metal deck of the commercial docking bay. He holds the crate close to his chest and his bicep muscles can be seen bulging beneath his grey shirt with dark green sleeves. The three buttons at the top of the shirt are unbuttoned and the combat suit he wears underneath can barely be seen. Letting out a sigh of relief, the man sets the crate on a stack of other identical looking crates. After doing so, he brushes the dust off of his black pants with both hands and then runs a hand through his short, brown hair. As his hand continues through it, the hair falls back down into a messy part from right to left.
“Konnor!” A green-skinned Rodian calls out to the man, who smiles and approaches him.
The two shake hands and the Rodian continues, “Thanks for your help unloading. Here’s your payment, and good luck with…. With… what was it you said you were doing again?”
Konnor accepts a pouch from the Rodian and affixes it to the black belt around his waist.
“I didn’t say.” Konnor replies with a cheeky grin before continuing, “Nice try Hal. With any luck, I’ll see you again on the trade routes.”
With that, Konnor’s light brown eyes scan the promenade for the nearest Cantina and begins his walk there.
Standing in the shadow of an alley a lithe agile miraluka watches the crowds as they walk by, watching as a few sparks of blue and red move within a sea of yellows. She had come to Sel Zonn to give an important message to an up and coming smuggler gang, that the hutts wanted them to steer clear of their space or to pay the hutts a cut, and with the bodies dropped on their doorstep the smugglers had received the message loud and clear. Now with that finished Zayvera continues her people watching from the shadows as what most would call rays of hope intermingle with those that could become seeds of evil. It amused her, seeing not the beauty of the galaxy but its hidden depths that so few could see, such was the curse and blessing of her people.
With a deep sigh Zayvera decided it was time to move before she got too philosophical with herself leaving the alley to join the people of the promenade. The dark scarlet overcoat she wears over her simple combat suit flutters as she leaves the alley revealing for a moment the vibrodagger on her hip. Turning towards the nearest cantina it was fairly easy for Zayvera to blend in with the humans of the station, she was average height and what skin could be seen on her was on the paler side, the most distinctive thing about her was the solid veil colored similarly to her coat that covered the top half of her face leaving the bottom part of her noise and mouth free.
The echani enters and approaches the bar, glancing around each of the faces she could see at least once. Still no sign. She orders a small Corellian wine, something to settle her nerves, and sits in an empty booth with a view of the door, keeping an eye on those entering and leaving as she makes the drink last by taking tiny sips.
Konnor pushes open the front door of the cantina and steps inside. He pauses momentarily just inside as the door slowly closes behind him. He scans the room until his eyes fall on a comfortable looking seat at the bar. Pulling out the stool and sitting down, Konnor places both elbows down on the bar and motions to the bartender with one hand to get his attention.
“I’ll take a Corellian Spiced Ale.” Konnor says; and with a nod the bartender reaches down beneath the bar and sets a simple-looking mug in front of Konnor.
Reaching into the pouch affixed to his belt, Konnor pulls out two credits and sets them on the bar. The bartender quickly snatches them up and continues on his way to helping the other patrons.
Konnor takes a sip from his ale and lets out an audible sigh. I know I came here to make a stand against the Empire… I just wish I knew where to start. It’s not like rebellion comes with an instruction manual… Konnor thinks to himself before taking another drink of his ale.
Upon entering the cantina Zeyvera pauses for a moment as the sounds and scents of the cantina assault her scenes. She shakes her head, pushing past the assault, then walks towards the bar but her pace slows as her attention is drawn to a booth. While not a glowing beacon the figure that catches Zeyvera’s attention glows brighter than anyone else in the cantina, a small smirk forms on her lips before she turns her attention back to the bar returning to her normal pace.
“Tsiraki, if you have it, whatever is hardest if you don’t,” Zeyvera requests from the bartender as she takes a spot at the bar next to a male figure with his mug of something. Zeyvera gives the man a nod while she waits for her drink, once she has it she drops the credits on bar then makes her way to the booth.
“Mind if I join you,” Zeyvera asks the booth’s occupant with a smile. “I am new to the station and don’t have many friends but you seem like a…interesting person.”
Kita glances towards a cantina where he knows both local news and newcomers gather and begins striding towards it. He enters to see people at booths and the bar and he meanders over to an empty booth. As he sits quietly he listens for any chatter that might give him some direction to pursue in the Station.
The echani notices the seemingly blind patron enter the cantina, skilfully navigate the people and furniture to approach the bar and order a drink. She freezes momentarily as they lock on and make their way towards, her, without any possibility that they were heading towards anyone else. She double-checks the location and position of her vibrostaff, just in case. The smile is met with a look of mild apprehension.
Moving with a relaxed, graceful movement Shang heads towards the Gambling Hall he's chosen - 'The Wookie's Dilemma', an establishment that's seen better days, but has the air of opportunity. Reaching the door he places his hand as though to push his way in when he pauses, going pale as though he's suddenly become aware of something. Stumbling slightly he steps away from the door, turning and heading for the nearest cantina at pace...
...
Stepping through the door of the cantina, the slender Nautolan pauses for a moment to look behind him briefly, before heading to the bar, somewhere he can see the entrance. 'A large Dorian...' he says, knocking it back as soon as it arrives. 'Another...' he says, placing a few credits on the bar as he starts to relax a little, finally beginning to look around the bar...
(Anyone with Force Sight will note a gleaming blue aura around him, as he, in turn, is also Sensing the Force...)
Still lost in thought, Konnor sits at the bar drinking his Corellian Spiced Ale until a woman wearing scarlet blindfold over her eyes and the bridge of her nose approaches the bar and snaps him from it. He watches as this seemingly blind woman easily navigates to the bar, orders a drink, and then walks to a booth. Seated at said booth is a woman with silver hair. An odd pair… Konnor thinks to himself. He shrugs and turns his attention back to his drink.
This lasts only until a Nautolan enters and sits at the bar and orders a drink. Konnor watches as he slams the drink and orders another.
”Long day, friend?” Konnor says to the Nautolan while flashing a friendly grin.
Zayvera gives a light laugh at the woman's question then slides into the booth next to her, "Can't say I was expecting anyone, especially you. I was just on the station to do a quick job, job is finished so I came here for a drink. Your presence intrigued me, it is far different than those around here, so here I am."
As she takes a sip of her drink Zayvera notes the Nautolan that enters, "If someone is expecting you perhaps that one is the one you are looking for."
The echani nervously brushes a lock of hair off her face, and looks round to see who just entered, before turning back. "I'm not sure that... wait, what do you mean by my 'presence'?" She frowns, more due to her trepidation than anything else, and curls her fists into balls under the table.
Sipping his whiskey, the Nautolan attempts nonchalance when addressed, but his tentacles go into overdrive, twitching vigorously for a few moments. Whatever they determine, he relaxes then and nods towards Konnor..
'You could say that. Long day, long year...' he pauses to make sure there are no imperials around 'One struggles to relax in some places.'
“I hear that.” Konnor says in agreement as he raises his mug toward the Nautolan and then takes a long drink. Konnor sets the mug down on the bar and takes a look around just as the Nautolan just had; though he doesn’t know what he’s lookin for.
“I don’t see many of your kind around here. Been in Sel Zonn long?”
'Just arrived, picked the place at random, truth be told. I've been travelling for the past year or two - felt like Glee Anselm wasn't the place to be for a while after the battle there.' he sighs wistfully 'I am missing the oceans though, everywhere is just so dry.' then he pauses to take another swig of whiskey, gesturing for another 'Still, not the place for me right now...' He shakes himself a little, and changes tack 'Do you know much about Sel Zonn?'
Zayvera chuckles again then takes a sip of her drink, "I do not see the world as most do, I see what some try to hide."
She takes a long sip of her drink, turns her attention away from the woman and towards the bar, "Your training betrays you as does theirs."
She turns back to the woman, "You need not worry I am no real friend of the Empire so I don't plan on turning either of you in. I doubt I would make it out free if I was to turn you in." Zayvera leans back a smile on her lips as she enjoys her drink some more.
Konnor hesitates. He begins to pick up on the Nautolan’s visible uncomfortableness.
“Eh, I don’t know much of Sel Zonn; truth be told.” Then, in an effort to relax him, Konnor continues, “My name is Konnor. No friend to the Empire I assure you.”
The last sentence to escape his lips was almost compelled of him. Not something he purposely said, but something of an instinct that just flowed from within.
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable with himself, he looks away and takes another long drink from his mug.
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Seemingly motionless among a sea of starships and satellites above the twinkling world of Brentaal, Sel Zonn Station grows larger in your view every second. A central pylon forms the bulk of the station’s mass, and three landing platforms leading to docking bays extend from the central section, equidistant from one another and jutting out into space. The dorsal side of the station features a disc shaped secondary structure, on top of which blinking lights indicate the presence of a landing platform reserved for wealthy patrons.
The Promenade, the commercial area on board the station, is filled with the bustle of revelry and commerce. Spilling out of the gambling halls are the sounds of victory and the moans of defeat, while the music of local bands issues from the cantinas. Only a handful of citizens mill about in the main areas of the Promenade, a few gazing out the massive windows at the planet Brentaal hovering below. Businesspeople hawk their wares to the passersby, and a few Imperial naval troopers make their way down the main avenue of the Promenade on their usual patrol at a leisurely pace. Non-humans are far and few between here, with tighter security and more 'supervision' towards them in the area, its been made clear it doesn't take much of an excuse to lock them up.
It is in the halls of Promenade that you, our future heroes, arrive, unaware of what is to come. The crowds here today are sparse, with those gathered here noticing any who look out of the ordinary or new to the area with a degree of ease.
"Honor is a fools prize. Glory is of no use to the dead"
Game/Dungeon Mastering in:
Star Wars Dawn of Defiance
Playing in:
Three Sisters (The DM is currently MIA)
"Everybody gets a nasty surprise one day. I'd rather take it standing up than when I'm laying down"
The young, plainly dressed echani disembarks her shuttle among a small crowd, and notes that everyone seems to know where they are going but her. She sighs, and looks around for her contact, willing them to suddenly appear and make things easier for her. When no one is forthcoming, she sighs again and adjusts her backpack over her shoulder, making sure her vibrostaff was secure, but easy to get to in an emergency. Blowing a lock of short, white hair from her face, she trudges on, keeping her head down as she warily glances the Imperials and heads to one of the nearest cantinas.
A towering Kel Dor dressed in simple robes and armor strolls through the thoroughfare. He does his best to be overlooked, but his height betrays him (as it typically does) and even with his slouch he is still easily seen over a crowd. He glances about, having come to the Sel Zonn Station as a stop on his way to wherever he ended up next but found that there was much he could do to help the people here. He glances around, trying to find where any sick or injured people would gather.
A young, and extremely slender, Nautolan steps onto the promenade, neatly, if conservatively, dressed, at which point he pauses to take a deep breath - his head tentacles twitching at the amount of tension in the air. His jet black eyes also quickly take in the imperial guards, at which point his tentacles twitch even further, before he spots the signage for the gambling halls, whereupon he adjusts the straps to his backpack and makes a beeline for the rowdiest of the gambling establishments...
Stepping off a modest cargo ship, a human man in his late twenties grips a large crate between his callused and work-worn hands. His scuffed, black boots make a subtle “clank” noise as he walks across the metal deck of the commercial docking bay. He holds the crate close to his chest and his bicep muscles can be seen bulging beneath his grey shirt with dark green sleeves. The three buttons at the top of the shirt are unbuttoned and the combat suit he wears underneath can barely be seen. Letting out a sigh of relief, the man sets the crate on a stack of other identical looking crates. After doing so, he brushes the dust off of his black pants with both hands and then runs a hand through his short, brown hair. As his hand continues through it, the hair falls back down into a messy part from right to left.
“Konnor!” A green-skinned Rodian calls out to the man, who smiles and approaches him.
The two shake hands and the Rodian continues, “Thanks for your help unloading. Here’s your payment, and good luck with…. With… what was it you said you were doing again?”
Konnor accepts a pouch from the Rodian and affixes it to the black belt around his waist.
“I didn’t say.” Konnor replies with a cheeky grin before continuing, “Nice try Hal. With any luck, I’ll see you again on the trade routes.”
With that, Konnor’s light brown eyes scan the promenade for the nearest Cantina and begins his walk there.
Standing in the shadow of an alley a lithe agile miraluka watches the crowds as they walk by, watching as a few sparks of blue and red move within a sea of yellows. She had come to Sel Zonn to give an important message to an up and coming smuggler gang, that the hutts wanted them to steer clear of their space or to pay the hutts a cut, and with the bodies dropped on their doorstep the smugglers had received the message loud and clear. Now with that finished Zayvera continues her people watching from the shadows as what most would call rays of hope intermingle with those that could become seeds of evil. It amused her, seeing not the beauty of the galaxy but its hidden depths that so few could see, such was the curse and blessing of her people.
With a deep sigh Zayvera decided it was time to move before she got too philosophical with herself leaving the alley to join the people of the promenade. The dark scarlet overcoat she wears over her simple combat suit flutters as she leaves the alley revealing for a moment the vibrodagger on her hip. Turning towards the nearest cantina it was fairly easy for Zayvera to blend in with the humans of the station, she was average height and what skin could be seen on her was on the paler side, the most distinctive thing about her was the solid veil colored similarly to her coat that covered the top half of her face leaving the bottom part of her noise and mouth free.
The echani enters and approaches the bar, glancing around each of the faces she could see at least once. Still no sign. She orders a small Corellian wine, something to settle her nerves, and sits in an empty booth with a view of the door, keeping an eye on those entering and leaving as she makes the drink last by taking tiny sips.
Konnor pushes open the front door of the cantina and steps inside. He pauses momentarily just inside as the door slowly closes behind him. He scans the room until his eyes fall on a comfortable looking seat at the bar. Pulling out the stool and sitting down, Konnor places both elbows down on the bar and motions to the bartender with one hand to get his attention.
“I’ll take a Corellian Spiced Ale.” Konnor says; and with a nod the bartender reaches down beneath the bar and sets a simple-looking mug in front of Konnor.
Reaching into the pouch affixed to his belt, Konnor pulls out two credits and sets them on the bar. The bartender quickly snatches them up and continues on his way to helping the other patrons.
Konnor takes a sip from his ale and lets out an audible sigh. I know I came here to make a stand against the Empire… I just wish I knew where to start. It’s not like rebellion comes with an instruction manual… Konnor thinks to himself before taking another drink of his ale.
Upon entering the cantina Zeyvera pauses for a moment as the sounds and scents of the cantina assault her scenes. She shakes her head, pushing past the assault, then walks towards the bar but her pace slows as her attention is drawn to a booth. While not a glowing beacon the figure that catches Zeyvera’s attention glows brighter than anyone else in the cantina, a small smirk forms on her lips before she turns her attention back to the bar returning to her normal pace.
“Tsiraki, if you have it, whatever is hardest if you don’t,” Zeyvera requests from the bartender as she takes a spot at the bar next to a male figure with his mug of something. Zeyvera gives the man a nod while she waits for her drink, once she has it she drops the credits on bar then makes her way to the booth.
“Mind if I join you,” Zeyvera asks the booth’s occupant with a smile. “I am new to the station and don’t have many friends but you seem like a…interesting person.”
Kita glances towards a cantina where he knows both local news and newcomers gather and begins striding towards it. He enters to see people at booths and the bar and he meanders over to an empty booth. As he sits quietly he listens for any chatter that might give him some direction to pursue in the Station.
The echani notices the seemingly blind patron enter the cantina, skilfully navigate the people and furniture to approach the bar and order a drink. She freezes momentarily as they lock on and make their way towards, her, without any possibility that they were heading towards anyone else. She double-checks the location and position of her vibrostaff, just in case. The smile is met with a look of mild apprehension.
"Are you expecting me?"
Moving with a relaxed, graceful movement Shang heads towards the Gambling Hall he's chosen - 'The Wookie's Dilemma', an establishment that's seen better days, but has the air of opportunity. Reaching the door he places his hand as though to push his way in when he pauses, going pale as though he's suddenly become aware of something. Stumbling slightly he steps away from the door, turning and heading for the nearest cantina at pace...
...
Stepping through the door of the cantina, the slender Nautolan pauses for a moment to look behind him briefly, before heading to the bar, somewhere he can see the entrance. 'A large Dorian...' he says, knocking it back as soon as it arrives. 'Another...' he says, placing a few credits on the bar as he starts to relax a little, finally beginning to look around the bar...
(Anyone with Force Sight will note a gleaming blue aura around him, as he, in turn, is also Sensing the Force...)
Still lost in thought, Konnor sits at the bar drinking his Corellian Spiced Ale until a woman wearing scarlet blindfold over her eyes and the bridge of her nose approaches the bar and snaps him from it. He watches as this seemingly blind woman easily navigates to the bar, orders a drink, and then walks to a booth. Seated at said booth is a woman with silver hair. An odd pair… Konnor thinks to himself. He shrugs and turns his attention back to his drink.
This lasts only until a Nautolan enters and sits at the bar and orders a drink. Konnor watches as he slams the drink and orders another.
”Long day, friend?” Konnor says to the Nautolan while flashing a friendly grin.
Zayvera gives a light laugh at the woman's question then slides into the booth next to her, "Can't say I was expecting anyone, especially you. I was just on the station to do a quick job, job is finished so I came here for a drink. Your presence intrigued me, it is far different than those around here, so here I am."
As she takes a sip of her drink Zayvera notes the Nautolan that enters, "If someone is expecting you perhaps that one is the one you are looking for."
The echani nervously brushes a lock of hair off her face, and looks round to see who just entered, before turning back. "I'm not sure that... wait, what do you mean by my 'presence'?" She frowns, more due to her trepidation than anything else, and curls her fists into balls under the table.
Sipping his whiskey, the Nautolan attempts nonchalance when addressed, but his tentacles go into overdrive, twitching vigorously for a few moments. Whatever they determine, he relaxes then and nods towards Konnor..
'You could say that. Long day, long year...' he pauses to make sure there are no imperials around 'One struggles to relax in some places.'
“I hear that.” Konnor says in agreement as he raises his mug toward the Nautolan and then takes a long drink. Konnor sets the mug down on the bar and takes a look around just as the Nautolan just had; though he doesn’t know what he’s lookin for.
“I don’t see many of your kind around here. Been in Sel Zonn long?”
'Just arrived, picked the place at random, truth be told. I've been travelling for the past year or two - felt like Glee Anselm wasn't the place to be for a while after the battle there.' he sighs wistfully 'I am missing the oceans though, everywhere is just so dry.' then he pauses to take another swig of whiskey, gesturing for another 'Still, not the place for me right now...'
He shakes himself a little, and changes tack 'Do you know much about Sel Zonn?'
Zayvera chuckles again then takes a sip of her drink, "I do not see the world as most do, I see what some try to hide."
She takes a long sip of her drink, turns her attention away from the woman and towards the bar, "Your training betrays you as does theirs."
She turns back to the woman, "You need not worry I am no real friend of the Empire so I don't plan on turning either of you in. I doubt I would make it out free if I was to turn you in." Zayvera leans back a smile on her lips as she enjoys her drink some more.
Konnor hesitates. He begins to pick up on the Nautolan’s visible uncomfortableness.
“Eh, I don’t know much of Sel Zonn; truth be told.” Then, in an effort to relax him, Konnor continues, “My name is Konnor. No friend to the Empire I assure you.”
The last sentence to escape his lips was almost compelled of him. Not something he purposely said, but something of an instinct that just flowed from within.
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable with himself, he looks away and takes another long drink from his mug.