STAR WARS - The Clone Wars - Child of Prophecy FOLDED
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Dr Midnight
Explorer
As promised:
Pheleeni Air Tower
Class: Starfighter
Size: Tiny (16 m tall)
Hyperdrive: None
Passengers: None
Cargo Capacity: 70 kg
Consumables: 1 week
Cost: 130,000 (new), 70,000 (used)
Maximum Speed in Space: Attack (8 squares/action)
Atmospheric Speed: 1,000 km/h (17 squares/action)
Crew: 1
Initiative: +6 (+2 size, +4 crew)
Maneuver: +6 (+2 size, +4 crew)
Defense: 26 (+2 size, +14 armor)
Shield Points: 40 [DR 5]
Hull Points: 120 [DR 5]
Weapon: Laser canons (2 fire-linked); Fire Arc: Front; Attack Bonus: +8 (+2 size, +2 crew, +4 fire control); Damage: 5d10x2;
Range Modifiers: PB +0, S –2, M/L n/a.
Weapon: Concussion Missile launcher (6 missiles); Fire Arc: Front; Damage: 7d10x2; Missile Quality: Ordinary (+10)
Pheleeni Air Tower
Class: Starfighter
Size: Tiny (16 m tall)
Hyperdrive: None
Passengers: None
Cargo Capacity: 70 kg
Consumables: 1 week
Cost: 130,000 (new), 70,000 (used)
Maximum Speed in Space: Attack (8 squares/action)
Atmospheric Speed: 1,000 km/h (17 squares/action)
Crew: 1
Initiative: +6 (+2 size, +4 crew)
Maneuver: +6 (+2 size, +4 crew)
Defense: 26 (+2 size, +14 armor)
Shield Points: 40 [DR 5]
Hull Points: 120 [DR 5]
Weapon: Laser canons (2 fire-linked); Fire Arc: Front; Attack Bonus: +8 (+2 size, +2 crew, +4 fire control); Damage: 5d10x2;
Range Modifiers: PB +0, S –2, M/L n/a.
Weapon: Concussion Missile launcher (6 missiles); Fire Arc: Front; Damage: 7d10x2; Missile Quality: Ordinary (+10)
Last edited:
Dr Midnight
Explorer
Air strike is inbound, Fenz... I'm writing now. Gonna post a big chunk within the hour.fenzer said:
Dr Midnight
Explorer
The heroes were given a Pheleeni transport. This, like all Pheleeni constructs, was a large dome-topped glass cylinder. It had a pointed antenna at its top and four fins at its base.
They were wished the best and sent on their way. The ship lifted up out of Pheleen’s newly mineral-heavy atmosphere and flew into space.
Jaren leaned back in the pilot’s seat with his legs up on the console as he punched the coordinates into the nav computer. “Next stop, Coruscant,” he said with a crooked grin. “We should arrive in about two days’ time. Till then, everyone get settled in.”
The Jedi walked to the recreational area to relax. Y3-Ns stayed up front, as was his duty aboard a flying transport, though Jaren did try to convince him his presence wasn’t necessary.
“I assure you, sir, I am a full-service maintenance and interface droid. You will find my abilities most useful, should the need arise.”
“The need won’t arise,” Jaren said impatiently.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be sure of that.”
Jaren leaned back and closed his eyes. “Droids.” He muttered it like it were a curse, then fell asleep.
He was awakened several hours later by Y3, who was leaning over him and doing his best to shake the pilot awake. Only the nagging tone of the droid’s voice had proved worthy of rousing Jaren from slumber. “Sir, sir! Do wake up. Oh, won’t you wake up?”
Creel swam back to consciousness feeling very irritated. “What.”
“I beg your pardon, but…” The droid pointed to the console with its metal hand. A red light was flashing.
Jaren’s eyes widened in confusion. Why would the realspace prep light be flashing? Then, the ship lurched slightly as they came out of hyperspace. He sat forward, frowning. “This isn’t right, we can’t possibly be back at Coruscant already. It’s only been…”
“Four galactic hours and twelve minutes, sir.”
Jaren glared at the droid. “So what’s wrong?”
Y3 answered in a stress-wracked warble. “I don’t know, sir!”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Aren’t you a full-service maintenance and interface droid? Interface with the computer already.”
“That’s just it, sir- the computer isn’t there!”
“What?!”
“When I try to interface with the computer, nothing responds. It’s like the computer is dead- I can’t even get a signal. Still, our piloting systems seem to be guiding us somewhere, so I am unsure of what has happened.”
Creel began punching buttons on the console, trying to turn them from their course and put the ship aright. Nothing responded. “How, what…” He paused, trying to figure which insult to berate the droid with first. He then looked up to the viewshield. “Just where are we being guided to?” Through the viewshield, a large red planet loomed. The ship was heading straight for it. “What planet is that?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Y3 said, a bit defensively. “I haven’t got access to the nav computer.”
“Of course not, how stupid of me.” He leaned over and spoke into the shipwide comm. “Hey, uh, looks like our trip’s been cut short. We’re heading for some planet, it’s NOT Coruscant, and we seemingly have no control over the ship anymore. Otherwise things are fine.”
The Jedi rushed in and were told of the situation. They remained calm and tried to think their way through things. While Pock and Mikau offered suggestions, Magnus had a suspicion. He reached out with the Force and tried feeling about for another Force user. Beside Pock, Mikau, and himself, he sensed… another. He concentrated, probing for the location of this new presence. He felt it sitting right before him.
Magnus looked at Jaren Creel. The Jedi had suspected something hidden in the pilot’s cool demeanor. He’d never seemed quite qualified enough to be a pilot escort for Jedi, and he’d always seemed guarded in his intentions. Now, to learn he was Force-sensitive… what did it mean? Did it mean anything? Some people are born Force-sensitive and live their whole lives without realizing it on their own. Maybe Jaren really was what he said he was, but he would bear watching. Magnus said nothing and watched as Jaren explained the odd absense of the ship’s computer.
Mikau asked “Have you checked the wiring?”
Y3-Ns said “No, let’s try. Maybe the core circuit wire was lost.” A small screwdriver extended from Y3’s wrist and quickly unscrewed the main computer panel from the console. When he lifted it back, there was nothing there- at all. The wires from the buttons were snipped and loose, hanging into the darkness of the vacant computer housing.
A light was shined into the console, and it seemed all the panel’s instruments were gone, cut. There were wires on the ground, though, that led off to the right, through the crawlspace where small repair droids are meant to fit. There were scratch marks on the ground.
Mikau extended his long neck into the hole and looked about. “The computer was taken, shortly after liftoff, it seems. How can we trace it? This crawlspace is too large for sentients.”
“Not for me,” Pock said proudly. “I can fit in there, easy.”
Magnus weighed the idea and decided it would be best to allow him to try it. They didn’t know what planet they were coming in on, and they were almost certain to be safer on their way back to Coruscant. “All right, but be alert.”
Pock went down into the crawlspace and went to the right, underneath the console, in the dark. Only a few dim button lights lit his way. He eventually came to an access hatch. A large number of wires ran behind this hatch, and Pock pulled it open.
There, behind the hatch, was a small room lit in dull red that served as a docking area for the hardware repair droids. In it was the computer’s core, a cube of dense plates and wires that should have been seated beneath the console, two dozen meters to Pock’s rear. Above the computer, with a makeshift control panel across his knees, was a boy of about Pock’s age. He held a blaster toward Pock and regarded him with dark eyes.
“Don’t move, Jedi scum. I will kill you if you do. Believe that.”
Pock stayed still and said “I won’t move. What are you doing here?”
The boy was having none of it. “Out. Out.” When he said it, he gestured threateningly with the blaster. “We’re almost landed, so save yourself the trouble and get out of my way.” Pock considered pulling his lightsaber, but there was very little elbow room here. A blaster was a far more deadly weapon in such close quarters. He backed out and moved to the console’s removed panel, then stepped out.
“There’s a kid in there with a blaster. Looks like he’s got the computer and reset our course. He kicked me out before I could find out anything.”
Mikau’s large dark eyes blinked. “A stowaway… and he’s a child? Curious.”
“I could have taken him, but I remembered about ‘defense, never attack,’ and all that. Did I do good?”
Magnus nodded. “You did well.” He meant it, but still, he didn’t like the idea of touching down on this unknown planet. He half-wished there were some way to retake control of the ship from this child… the only way, though, was through Pock, and Magnus wouldn’t risk him.
“I guess we land.”
The ship came down through the red planet’s equally red sky, revealing a scorched crimson landscape beneath cruel dark clouds. Large cliff formations made up the large part of the terrain, and some ships were docked on platforms adjacent to steel doors set in the sides of these cliffs.
The ship moved over what looked like a large junkyard and began descending into a clearing. Around the landing transport, large stacks of piled, rusted junk towered. A toydarian appeared at one end of the junkyard, accompanied by a droid.
Jaren’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why are we putting down in some junkyard at the end of space? Pock, did the kid say what we were here for?”
“Nope.”
The toydarian approached the ship, his little orange body hovering in the air as his wings flapped. He regarded the Pheleeni ship with shrewdly appraising eyes and scratched his bulbous nose.
The heroes within heard a release of hydraulic air, and they knew the ship’s ramp had opened. Jaren, Y3-Ns, Mikau, Pock, and Magnus walked to the ramp and stopped there. Before they could say anything, their toydarian host asked “So what you come for, eh? Nice ship, you looking to sell or to trade?”
“We didn’t…” Jaren began, before stopping himself. “Uh, we just touched down briefly so we could affect some repairs.”
“Nice model. Pheleeni, eh? I ain’t seen one in years. I’ll trade you something nice for it.”
Jaren sighed. “Fine, trade, whatever. Hey, where are we, by the way?”
“Rattatak. You wanna trade, come into my office and we’ll work something out.” The toydarian floated away and his droid followed.
Jaren shrugged at Magnus. “We don’t have many options. Let’s just do what we have to and get off this rock.”
Magnus frowned and said “I’m afraid I agree. We can’t leave the ship here in the care of a hijacker, though- Mikau and Y3, stay here and see if you can’t capture the stowaway and set things right.”
Mikau nodded. “I’ll set an illusion to look like we’re walking with you away from the ship, so that the stowaway believes we’ve left him alone.”
“Good idea. Okay, let’s go.” Magnus, Pock and Jaren walked down the ramp, while Mikau used the Force to show an illusion of himself and Y3-Ns walking with them, while in truth they remained concealed and motionless on the ramp.
When the group were fifty meters or so from the ship, the toydarian turned with a smile on his face. “That’s far enough.”
All around them, figures stood from their hiding places atop the piles of scrap metal. They were perhaps fifty or so in number, and each held a high-powered blaster rifle aimed at the Republicans.
Magnus, Pock, and Jaren halted, glancing around. Jaren cried out in his frustration. “Ahh, c’mon… what is this? We don’t even know you!”
“Of course you don’t… otherwise you never would have taken a nice, shiny new ship straight into the arms of Yet Yash, the most notorious space pirate of the outer rim.” The toydarian grinned, and his henchmen on the junkpiles laughed and cheered. “Weapons on the ground. Now.”
Magnus muttered to the others. “There are too many of them. We have to play things their way, for now. We’ll figure something out. They don’t see Mikau, he’ll be our backup…” The heroes reluctantly dropped their weapons to the ground and kicked them over to the droid, who picked them up dutifully.
Yet Yash chuckled. “So. Why would you come here if you don’t even know what planet you’re on?”
“They didn’t,” a voice said from the ship. “I did.” The stowaway boy stepped into the light and squinted across the distance at the toydarian. “I’ve brought you this ship to pay you your ransom. You said if I brought you a ship of equal or greater value, you’d return what you pirated from me. Give me back my father’s ship, Yash. Give me the Slave 1.”
More to come…
They were wished the best and sent on their way. The ship lifted up out of Pheleen’s newly mineral-heavy atmosphere and flew into space.
Jaren leaned back in the pilot’s seat with his legs up on the console as he punched the coordinates into the nav computer. “Next stop, Coruscant,” he said with a crooked grin. “We should arrive in about two days’ time. Till then, everyone get settled in.”
The Jedi walked to the recreational area to relax. Y3-Ns stayed up front, as was his duty aboard a flying transport, though Jaren did try to convince him his presence wasn’t necessary.
“I assure you, sir, I am a full-service maintenance and interface droid. You will find my abilities most useful, should the need arise.”
“The need won’t arise,” Jaren said impatiently.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be sure of that.”
Jaren leaned back and closed his eyes. “Droids.” He muttered it like it were a curse, then fell asleep.
He was awakened several hours later by Y3, who was leaning over him and doing his best to shake the pilot awake. Only the nagging tone of the droid’s voice had proved worthy of rousing Jaren from slumber. “Sir, sir! Do wake up. Oh, won’t you wake up?”
Creel swam back to consciousness feeling very irritated. “What.”
“I beg your pardon, but…” The droid pointed to the console with its metal hand. A red light was flashing.
Jaren’s eyes widened in confusion. Why would the realspace prep light be flashing? Then, the ship lurched slightly as they came out of hyperspace. He sat forward, frowning. “This isn’t right, we can’t possibly be back at Coruscant already. It’s only been…”
“Four galactic hours and twelve minutes, sir.”
Jaren glared at the droid. “So what’s wrong?”
Y3 answered in a stress-wracked warble. “I don’t know, sir!”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? Aren’t you a full-service maintenance and interface droid? Interface with the computer already.”
“That’s just it, sir- the computer isn’t there!”
“What?!”
“When I try to interface with the computer, nothing responds. It’s like the computer is dead- I can’t even get a signal. Still, our piloting systems seem to be guiding us somewhere, so I am unsure of what has happened.”
Creel began punching buttons on the console, trying to turn them from their course and put the ship aright. Nothing responded. “How, what…” He paused, trying to figure which insult to berate the droid with first. He then looked up to the viewshield. “Just where are we being guided to?” Through the viewshield, a large red planet loomed. The ship was heading straight for it. “What planet is that?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Y3 said, a bit defensively. “I haven’t got access to the nav computer.”
“Of course not, how stupid of me.” He leaned over and spoke into the shipwide comm. “Hey, uh, looks like our trip’s been cut short. We’re heading for some planet, it’s NOT Coruscant, and we seemingly have no control over the ship anymore. Otherwise things are fine.”
The Jedi rushed in and were told of the situation. They remained calm and tried to think their way through things. While Pock and Mikau offered suggestions, Magnus had a suspicion. He reached out with the Force and tried feeling about for another Force user. Beside Pock, Mikau, and himself, he sensed… another. He concentrated, probing for the location of this new presence. He felt it sitting right before him.
Magnus looked at Jaren Creel. The Jedi had suspected something hidden in the pilot’s cool demeanor. He’d never seemed quite qualified enough to be a pilot escort for Jedi, and he’d always seemed guarded in his intentions. Now, to learn he was Force-sensitive… what did it mean? Did it mean anything? Some people are born Force-sensitive and live their whole lives without realizing it on their own. Maybe Jaren really was what he said he was, but he would bear watching. Magnus said nothing and watched as Jaren explained the odd absense of the ship’s computer.
Mikau asked “Have you checked the wiring?”
Y3-Ns said “No, let’s try. Maybe the core circuit wire was lost.” A small screwdriver extended from Y3’s wrist and quickly unscrewed the main computer panel from the console. When he lifted it back, there was nothing there- at all. The wires from the buttons were snipped and loose, hanging into the darkness of the vacant computer housing.
A light was shined into the console, and it seemed all the panel’s instruments were gone, cut. There were wires on the ground, though, that led off to the right, through the crawlspace where small repair droids are meant to fit. There were scratch marks on the ground.
Mikau extended his long neck into the hole and looked about. “The computer was taken, shortly after liftoff, it seems. How can we trace it? This crawlspace is too large for sentients.”
“Not for me,” Pock said proudly. “I can fit in there, easy.”
Magnus weighed the idea and decided it would be best to allow him to try it. They didn’t know what planet they were coming in on, and they were almost certain to be safer on their way back to Coruscant. “All right, but be alert.”
Pock went down into the crawlspace and went to the right, underneath the console, in the dark. Only a few dim button lights lit his way. He eventually came to an access hatch. A large number of wires ran behind this hatch, and Pock pulled it open.
There, behind the hatch, was a small room lit in dull red that served as a docking area for the hardware repair droids. In it was the computer’s core, a cube of dense plates and wires that should have been seated beneath the console, two dozen meters to Pock’s rear. Above the computer, with a makeshift control panel across his knees, was a boy of about Pock’s age. He held a blaster toward Pock and regarded him with dark eyes.
“Don’t move, Jedi scum. I will kill you if you do. Believe that.”
Pock stayed still and said “I won’t move. What are you doing here?”
The boy was having none of it. “Out. Out.” When he said it, he gestured threateningly with the blaster. “We’re almost landed, so save yourself the trouble and get out of my way.” Pock considered pulling his lightsaber, but there was very little elbow room here. A blaster was a far more deadly weapon in such close quarters. He backed out and moved to the console’s removed panel, then stepped out.
“There’s a kid in there with a blaster. Looks like he’s got the computer and reset our course. He kicked me out before I could find out anything.”
Mikau’s large dark eyes blinked. “A stowaway… and he’s a child? Curious.”
“I could have taken him, but I remembered about ‘defense, never attack,’ and all that. Did I do good?”
Magnus nodded. “You did well.” He meant it, but still, he didn’t like the idea of touching down on this unknown planet. He half-wished there were some way to retake control of the ship from this child… the only way, though, was through Pock, and Magnus wouldn’t risk him.
“I guess we land.”
The ship came down through the red planet’s equally red sky, revealing a scorched crimson landscape beneath cruel dark clouds. Large cliff formations made up the large part of the terrain, and some ships were docked on platforms adjacent to steel doors set in the sides of these cliffs.
The ship moved over what looked like a large junkyard and began descending into a clearing. Around the landing transport, large stacks of piled, rusted junk towered. A toydarian appeared at one end of the junkyard, accompanied by a droid.
Jaren’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why are we putting down in some junkyard at the end of space? Pock, did the kid say what we were here for?”
“Nope.”
The toydarian approached the ship, his little orange body hovering in the air as his wings flapped. He regarded the Pheleeni ship with shrewdly appraising eyes and scratched his bulbous nose.
The heroes within heard a release of hydraulic air, and they knew the ship’s ramp had opened. Jaren, Y3-Ns, Mikau, Pock, and Magnus walked to the ramp and stopped there. Before they could say anything, their toydarian host asked “So what you come for, eh? Nice ship, you looking to sell or to trade?”
“We didn’t…” Jaren began, before stopping himself. “Uh, we just touched down briefly so we could affect some repairs.”
“Nice model. Pheleeni, eh? I ain’t seen one in years. I’ll trade you something nice for it.”
Jaren sighed. “Fine, trade, whatever. Hey, where are we, by the way?”
“Rattatak. You wanna trade, come into my office and we’ll work something out.” The toydarian floated away and his droid followed.
Jaren shrugged at Magnus. “We don’t have many options. Let’s just do what we have to and get off this rock.”
Magnus frowned and said “I’m afraid I agree. We can’t leave the ship here in the care of a hijacker, though- Mikau and Y3, stay here and see if you can’t capture the stowaway and set things right.”
Mikau nodded. “I’ll set an illusion to look like we’re walking with you away from the ship, so that the stowaway believes we’ve left him alone.”
“Good idea. Okay, let’s go.” Magnus, Pock and Jaren walked down the ramp, while Mikau used the Force to show an illusion of himself and Y3-Ns walking with them, while in truth they remained concealed and motionless on the ramp.
When the group were fifty meters or so from the ship, the toydarian turned with a smile on his face. “That’s far enough.”
All around them, figures stood from their hiding places atop the piles of scrap metal. They were perhaps fifty or so in number, and each held a high-powered blaster rifle aimed at the Republicans.
Magnus, Pock, and Jaren halted, glancing around. Jaren cried out in his frustration. “Ahh, c’mon… what is this? We don’t even know you!”
“Of course you don’t… otherwise you never would have taken a nice, shiny new ship straight into the arms of Yet Yash, the most notorious space pirate of the outer rim.” The toydarian grinned, and his henchmen on the junkpiles laughed and cheered. “Weapons on the ground. Now.”
Magnus muttered to the others. “There are too many of them. We have to play things their way, for now. We’ll figure something out. They don’t see Mikau, he’ll be our backup…” The heroes reluctantly dropped their weapons to the ground and kicked them over to the droid, who picked them up dutifully.
Yet Yash chuckled. “So. Why would you come here if you don’t even know what planet you’re on?”
“They didn’t,” a voice said from the ship. “I did.” The stowaway boy stepped into the light and squinted across the distance at the toydarian. “I’ve brought you this ship to pay you your ransom. You said if I brought you a ship of equal or greater value, you’d return what you pirated from me. Give me back my father’s ship, Yash. Give me the Slave 1.”
More to come…
Dr Midnight
Explorer
Sure, here's your Star Trek RPG story hour right here! Okay, you're in a stupid looking ship wearing stupid looking outfits. Suddenly, stupid looking villains appear on the screen and say they're going to blast you. You get blasted and throw yourselves around stupidly to fake the idea of the ship rocking. Then, you and some stupid "red shirt" grab these stupid looking things called "phasers" and win the day, but not before red shirt dies stupidly. You've won the day!Wee Jas said:
Next session: a stupid alien consciousness or something stupid like that infects the ship, taking stupid control! What will our heroes do? Find out next time, stupid!
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