The time hiding F3-3T was able to finish the finer touches on the Selonian's blaster. It was quite an appealing aesthetic about the fire-arm that he had previously discounted as banal objects, maybe the female species found them attractive. F3-3T mentioned this to the Rodian youngling mechanic who was of little help in that department but offered up the last coiled spring to make the blaster work even finer.


"It should not stick any longer." was all the Rodain whispered as a reply to the question of females drawn romantically to large hand guns and blasters. F3-3T shook his head unit in dismay again he had learned nothing from another male of a species, maybe it was a question that loomed larger than even inter-species relations could fathom.

He offered it up to the furred aquatic mammal with both armatures. "Here your weapon has been modified, although take heed we will not be able to swim or frolic submerged very much if at all on this planet. Do take time to preen yourself if it is needed now before your muscular mouth organ dries out." With that F3-3T set his timer 10,080 standard minutes and counting not a second to lose.


O.O.C: 10:40, Today: F3-3T rolled 3 successes, 1 advantage using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1A 3P 1D 1C 1B.  Modify Blaster. Not sure what to do with advantage on modify result, a one die re-roll per session for accuracy?

Jess veiled her face in the same loose fabric that made up her blouse. She donned a soft brown cloak and drew up its hood. "Let's find this Boho and get out to anchorhead." 

During the trip, Seku talks at length with Petray about why he wanted to see more action and why he had joined the rebellion. She tells him a little about growing up on Ryloth during the occupation and about getting shot on the last mission. Neither seems to do much to dampen the kid's enthusiasm. She listens attentively to the plan that Captain Fields lays out, but she does look a little uncomfortable about the idea of being stuck in the smuggling compartments. She rolls her eyes at the codename for the Ithorian contact. Someone would have to talk to Alliance intelligence about getting more creative.

As the freighter arrives at Tattooine, Seku changes from her heavier space travel outfit into a light tan sleeveless top and a pair of very airy pants. Her boots are still quite sturdy in case they ended up having to hike anywhere and she wraps a long strip of linen loosely around her neck that she could use to cover her head in if she needed too.

She looks somewhat dubiously at the smuggler compartment before somewhat begrudgingly stuffing herself into one. When the team is finally released, she breathes a sigh of relief and takes a long drink from the water Nimeek offers. "You don't have to tell me twice. I remember how it goes." She heads down the ramp of the ship and into the heat of the planet.

"From here on, we're spacers looking for a break from the black." To Jess she says: "I think we need to start by finding this Chalmun's cantina and our Ithorian friend."

F3-3T makes a feeble attempt to steal and conceal water in his chassis as he worries endlessly about the seemingly endless possible ways to die of thirst for his more fleshy comrades. He rolls out into the blasting heat storing a quart of dirty oil in his chassis, believing it to be 100 credits worth of H2O with a mocking string of beeps. "Stupid Spacers....".

The he rolls quickly behind Dracmo, the information he has gathered is that the natives and nomadic peoples of this dusty forsaken rock are so thirsty they will strip down any moving automoton in hopes of salvaging enough wire and drive parts to keep them either highly inebriated and dehydrated or from dying of thirst before they die of hunger.

Either way for once F3-3T aims to keep quiet as possible for one of the first times since being activated by his maker and the Maker.

17:01, Today: F3-3T rolled 1 failure using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1A 1P 3D.  F3-3T attempts to steal water.

Stepping out of the docking bay, Jess glanced about as she got a feel for the place. The bustle of foot traffic and numerous languages besides basic would make blending in easy enough. She looked to her companions. "I'm going to see if I can get some information."

Approaching a vendor's stall, she began with a few pleasantries before asking for directions to Chalmun's cantina.

15:23, Today: Jess (Jessica) Swanhill rolled 1 success using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1a 1p 1d.  streetwise.

Nimeek watches F3-3T plug a little hose into the ship's water supply and fill his chassis storage with it. "Good for drinking and fire suppression, yes?" the rodian comments. He produces a cloth and gives F3-3T's dome a quick scrub.

The team steps out into the streets of Mos Eisley. The suns are bright and the day is warm. There is a strong scent of garbage that the heat isn't helping, but a breeze keeps both from being too intolerable. The buildings here are low to the ground, with translucent windows. The streets are covered in sand, making it difficult to tell what areas are designated for pedestrians or vehicles. Nothing here uses wheels; everything is either repulsorlift-mobile, or beast-drawn. A variety of beasts of burden seem popular, from large lizard-creatures to furry banthas.

The people here are as broad a variety of different species as you have ever seen in one place. Humans and jawas, the little robed humanoids, are the most common. However, they are merely the largest minorities. Klatoonians, gamorreans, sullustians, and of course duros are plentiful. You spot a shistavanen, a devaronian, a talz, and a ranat. A dozen languages are spoken, or shouted.

There are Imperial Stormtroopers here, too. Although you have been assured that the Imperial presence here is light, they patrol in tight white-armoured knots. They are mostly patrolling just to patrol, paying little mind to anyone who gets out of their way. You are a little concerned that they will stop someone heavily armed, so you take a few side-streets.

Jess asks around and finds Chalmun's cantina. It is a sunken building, the recession into the earth doubtless keeping it cool inside. There is only one entrace that you can see, forcing you to walk into a dark room and be silhouetted by the light. Surely intentional; anyone inside will be able to get a good look at you while your eyes are still adjusting.

"Not the swankiest place I've ever worked," Jess murmured as the door slid open with a hiss. Stepping into the dim, she moved to one side and allowed her eyes to grow accustomed to the low light and her nose to the variety of scents. "The brochure boasted it was a wretched hive of scum and villainy, I guess we're about to find out-but be careful, this place could be a little rough."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Fri 08 Feb 2019.

F3-3T understands where he is at, he scans the perimeter before passing through electronic purview machines, and stops abruptly spinning toward Jess. "Let it be known I can not enter this establishment." He places a closed com-link port into her had before they go any further.

"Please do not mention my cowardly appearance to Seku, or the rest of the team. I will patrol the perimeter and be listening to your convo with our agent and give my intel to the com-link button you can place in your ear." With that F3-3T rolls out of the seedy den of iniquity and back into the blast furnace environs of the Port.

Rolling Outside F3-3T beeps into Jess's ear +++ZIPPOPCRINKLEZINGDONGCRRRRTZZZZZ[Private to Jess (Jessica) Swanhill: This may work to our advantage you now have a private line to my data storage and we can possibly find out more about our handler or any spacer looking to pull a fast one on us as they say, our code for positive is not Rodger but "Wizard Baby." And Negative reads "Utini". Copy? ]++++"

O.O.C.: 22:32, Today: F3-3T rolled 3 successes using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 3P 1A 3D.  Modify Comlink for Eaves Dropping Audio Codecs and Outer Rim Telephony.

Seku pats F3 on the head as she walks past him into the cantina. "Keep an eye out for Imperials F3. Let us know if anyone interesting is about to come in." Rather than stand in the doorway attracting stares, Seku makes her way towards the bar which she can make out from the back-lighting. After she reaches it, barely managing to avoid bumping into a couple patrons as her eyes adjusted, she leans forward and waits for the bartender to ask for her order.

Jess lingered a moment, listening over the murmur of barroom chatter and murmurs. She looked to discover if she recognized anyone or if anyone had recognized them.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCGPt3XFxJk

13:05, Today: Jess (Jessica) Swanhill rolled no successes, 1 advantage using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1a 1p 1d.  perception check.
13:03, Today: Jess (Jessica) Swanhill rolled 1 success, 1 advantage using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1a 1p 1d.  knowledge underworld.

10:49, Today: Jess (Jessica) Swanhill rolled no successes using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 1a 1p 1d.  streetwise.

Realizing that his big boom stick might not be welcome, even in such a lawless establishment, Drac decides to keep F3 company outside, taking up a sentry position in the shade of a neighboring building.

That decided, the team splits off. Drac and F3-3T stay outside, keeping an eye on the street, while the rest go inside to find...

Your eyes adjust to the dim light. The air is smoky and warm, although it is the warmth of bodies in a close space rather than the beating heat of a sun. Although it is midday on the planet, the cantina is crowded with patrons. There are very few humans, and no more than two of any other species. The clothing is more uniform than the patrons. About half to two-thirds are in spacers' wear, from coveralls to flight suits to, in the case of an ammonia-breathing Gand, a sealed environment suit.

The bartender is a surly-looking human male who makes your drinks with the aid of the ugliest droid you have ever seen. It looks like an astromech that was haphazardly 'upgraded' with random pieces from a junkyard by someone trying to recreate a nightmare. At least the drinks are tasty.

https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/C2-R4

Seated in one of the booths at the side of the cantina is an Ithorian and a human male. If there really is only one on the planet, this must be your contact. The dark-skinned, dark-haired man looks very much like the holo you have seen of Boho Shayed. They are both poring over something on the table.

Jess flicked a glance at Seku before carefully moving through the crowd. As she drew closer to the table and their contacts, she tugged the veil down below her chin and provided them with a crooked smile. "All this heat parches a girl's throat, perhaps one of you gentleman could recommend a drink and provide some conversation?"

22:16, Today: Jess (Jessica) Swanhill rolled 2 successes, 2 advantages using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 3a 1p.  charm.

Seku passes a cred stick over to the bartender and takes the drink that he presents in return without a word. She turns around in time to meet Jess' eyes for a brief moment and then watches the other woman approach the contact. Seku surveys the cantina for dangers or anyone who appears too interested in Jess.

Seku Bondara rolled 1 success, 1 advantage using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 3A 2D. Perception.

Looking for any threats in the room or anyone, other than the Ithorian, who's watching Jess. I'll spend the advantage to avoid any interruption at the bar.

The patrons of the cantina are almost all dangerous types. Most of them are armed, and most of them look like they've lived through a few fights. However, no one seems terribly belligerent right now. Everyone is keeping their noses in their own business. The only one that really sets Seku's skin crawling is, perhaps, the most unassuming one there. A human, or at least a human-looking male, is seated near the bar. He is not drinking, but taking long, luxurious pulls from a hookah. He doesn't look armed, and seems engrossed in his own smoke clouds. Seku finds herself tensing and clenching her teeth.

Jess approaches the table where Boho and 'Hammerhead' are chatting. As she approaches, she sees that the table is covered in documents and maps. Boho quickly covers the pile with a messenger bag.

"Not here to make friends," mutters Boho in a low, gravelly voice. He doesn't look up at her. Hammerhead holds a gentle hand in front of Boho, as if to restrain him.

"Let us be polite, my friend," he says. An Ithorians' mouth doesn't look anything like a humans', but he speaks Basic well. His voice is sonorous and elegant, the product of his four tandem throats. He raises his voice slightly, to be heard over the hubbub of the bar. "Wuhur, a pitcher of juri juice for my table, please."

The bartender nods without looking up. Hard to ignore a voice that clear, especially delivered in tones that are polite but commanding. It puts you in mind of a professor addressing a classroom.

Boho reluctantly slides over, allowing Jess a spot to sit down. He carefully piles his papers and puts them in his bag without showing them. Up close, Boho's features are more clear. He is in his late thirties, well into adulthood for a human but still in his prime. His dark skin resists suntan but he still looks weathered, as if years of wind and sun have taken their toll. His short black hair has some grey in it. He looks like he would prefer to be doing something productive instead of sitting here talking to strangers.

Outside, F3-3T and Drac stand vigil. They are probably the worst choices to remain outside. Drac's outer coat has natural oils that resist water, dirt, and insects. It seems positively magnetic to sand, though, and he is sweltering in the dry heat. F3-3T is cycling coolant at an accelerated rate, and he is finding that sand is getting caught in his wheels as he ambulates. The two find a nearby awning for some shade and shelter where they can still keep an eye on the cantina. The awnings owner, a shopkeeper who sells desert clothing, takes their presents as interest in his Wares.

"Thank you." Jess slid into a seat. "It's quite dry on this planet, I imagine it needs all the moisture farmers it can get." She gave human a penetrating look with her doe-like eyes.
"I'm called Jess," she said in low tones. "I understand there's a slug problem near Anchorhead."

Boho's expression turns from stern to quizzicle, and then understanding dawns. When he looks up at you, into your eyes for the first time, he looks much less grouchy. There is still an undercurrent of grumpiness that you suspect is permanent, but you sense that he is grateful you are here. He reaches out to take your hand and shake it. "Boho Shayed," he introduces himself.

"Now that you are acquainted, I will take my leave," drawls Hammerhead as he stands up. "I would be little aid in this sort of business and it is better if we avoid a visible connection. I will return to my home outside the town. You are welcome to visit, but please be discreet when you arrive."

With that, the ithorian rises from his seat. The hideous droid is arriving with your beverages, and begins using its tentacles to serve Jess and Boho. Hammerhead places a stack of credits on its tray and takes his leave.

Once Hammerhead is gone, Boho looks at Jess and then around the room. "Is it just you? Aren't there any others?"

"There are more Mr. Shayed," she said quietly, "but I think we would be better talking where there are fewer eyes and ears." She poured herself a drink, taking advantage of the opportunity to hydrate.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:58, Mon 11 Feb 2019.

Boho narrows his eyes and looks at her, then sighs. "Fine. Let's start. How much do you know about the situation?"

Jess sipped her drink and remained hunched over to keep her remark difficult to hear beyond the table. "I've been told you're a hard working moisture farmer that has created a profitable business that was attacked by a hutt crime lord. You don't know what he wants but he has forced you off your farm and you want it back. Does that sum it up?"

Boho shakes his head. "Not quite. First, I didn't build the business, my father and grandmother did. Not really important but let's give Nana the credit she deserves. And, as it happens, I have half an idea of what the Hutt wants.

"You see, I'm not just a regular moisture farmer, and my farm isn't a regular moisture farm. I use the water my vaporators produce to create sterile water and saline solution. People hear 'water' and think about drinking it or feeding plants. They don't think about fluid rescusitation for medical patients." Boho is beginning to look proud of himself.

"At first, I thought Jabba wanted to take my farm because I'm the only producer of this product in the region, and he wanted to take it over for himself. However, since he took my farm, my customers have stopped getting their orders. The farm hasn't been shipping out any product. My business is worth thousands of credits a month, just from local clinics. They're having to buy imported saline at five times the price.

"I know it's still operating, so they must be producing. Now, here's the strangest part. Jabba has actually been bringing supplies onto the farm. Much more parts and personnel than I needed to run it as it was. He's bringing in people and building more buildings and who knows what else to expand operations. As for what it's all for?" Boho shrugs. "That's the half I don't know."

"I have a lot of intel on the farm. I even went around there a week ago. Not close enough to attract attention, but just to look through the macrobinoculars and get a few holos. Where do you want to start?"

"Hm, spice or some other drug?" she speculated softly. she glanced around. "Do you have a place that is quieter?"

"I don't live around here. I'm only in Mos Eisley because Momaw invited me to stay with him while we waited for you to arrive. We could go to his place. As long as we don't attract attention while we go, I don't think he'll mind."

F3-3T has been tuned into the conversation and is relaying the transmission to Dracmo's comlink as well. Something doesn't add up in the droids head, maybe its the dust in his motor compartments itching his sequences but he would like to make sure this "source" is on level. The Hutt's being known for layers and layers upon their spy networks, even double agents working with double agents. It is a fine line between genius and paranoid delusions out in the Rim.

F3-3T transmits to Jess's ear. "Move the next meeting's location. At least to where you want to have it instead of him. Dracmothor and myself can secure a place at a cheap hotel under your name, this will let us survey the meeting even allowing us to track the "source" from his route from this meeting to the next. Copy? Advise us on the next move as you believe most effective. Wizard?".

The droid beeps out at Dracmo wondering if the aquatic mammal has any spin on the next move...

F3-3T uses his little knowledge of Mos Eisley and passes on his meet-up spot to Jess. An antiquated sleezy hotel on the fringes of the city, placed in his memory banks by his creator. A once favorite place for his to bring all sorts of illegal deals and worse, a bad place even locals don't dare go at night. "The Bald Bantha."


14:46, Today: F3-3T rolled 3 successes, 5 threats using the Star Wars Edge of the Empire with a dice pool of 4A 3D 1S.  Locate Proper Secret Meeting Place Mos Eisley.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Mon 11 Feb 2019.

Seku has also been listening to the conversation from her place at the bar. She leans deep into her drink before weighing in. "It's a good idea. F3, Drac go scope the place out while Jess gets the farmer to agree. Jess when you're ready, go ahead and accompany him there. I'll wait to see if anyone follows you. Victor, you keep an eye on me when I leave. Just in case." She continues to check in on the human who sets her on edge, but doesn't let him dominate her attention and instead lets her gaze wander around the cantina.