(Star Wars d6) #64 - Under a Black Sun

Our Heroes, currently trapped in a gunfight

Ne'vets Aharo - an exotic animal broker, both legal and otherwise, majority owner in the Pretio.
Tarrie Prolek - Human pilot "under contract" to fly the Pretio, and drive the Piscopo. Brother of potential terrorist, rebel Latorna Savvn. His climbing skills are suspect, but his dance moves are above par. Edging a dangerous lifestyle of drugs, booze, and loose women.  May have a a Beaked Monkey on his person.

Duk'k - Sipsk'ud Bounty Hunter, recently rescued by the crew. Offering his services in order to get off this barely existing hunk of mud. His warning shots are dead center mass kill shots.
"Sid" - A peculiar woman with some knowledge of their missing ally, Evus, Sid has been allowed to tag along for now...

Evus - Twi'lek male, former slave, then associate of Ne'vets, currently working for Crom-Crom the Gungan on Naboo.

Against All Odds

Already searching for Nikto bounty hunter

Kaa'tos Leeachos, the crew of the Pretio 

Scour his frequent haunts for any leads.

While patronizing a Black Sun gambling hub, 

A lieutenant in the crime organization 

Shot fame exotic animal broker Ne'vets Aharo

Aharo's associate, the eccentric and quixotic Sid

Shot at the the Black Sun agent repeatedly,

Probably killing him on the first shot. 

Blasters have been drawn and fired from all direction, 

And the other crew members are pondering 

If a proper exit strategy should have been 

considered before entering the establishment.

No matter what, it's time to leave...

After a high stakes game of Sabaac with a supposed Black Sun crime boss went awry, it was as good a time as any for the crew to cut their losses and leave.  Duk'k the Bounty Hunter had already grabbed a dying Ne'vets and used his jetpack to exit through a skylight in the bar area, but the others were not as fortunate. 

Outside of two armored individuals with power staves, acting as bouncers, and a pair of obvious Black Sun lackeys still pre-occupied with the carnage in the Sabaac room, it was a bevy of well-armed patrons actively fighting, perhaps, attempting to capture the crew.  Even the more pacifistic patrons had their hands on their holsters.  

Tarrie scanned the scene, in between random blaster shots.  A Rodian somehow had snuck up to him, pistol half-heartedly pointed towards him.  "No funny business, okay?"  

Tarrie looked incredulously at the Rodian, then yelled to Evus, "We're leaving, right?"

Evus, carrying Sid over one shoulder, holding his blaster rifle in the other, just kept moving around the corner and towards the front doors of the Spyder.  The only person in his immediate path was the Bothan barback,  hold-out blaster pointed down, and his left hand raised just enough to motion the Twi'lek to stop.

"Hey... this is going to end worse if you shoot your way out."

Evus stumbled to a halting stop, "But I've got an injured woman.  She needs medical attention!" 

"Injured woman?  She's the one who caused all these problems!"

Tarrie pushed the Rodian into a crew of hostile patrons, turned around and shot at he bartender and tried to make a break for it.   The bartender was wounded, but managed to dive back over the bar.

Tarrie brushed up against one of the armored bouncers.  Purple energy crackled from the end of the staff, but Tarrie was able to deflect the blow, allowing him to scramble closer to the door. 

The other defending patrons turned the corner and started firing on the trio.  Evus was lucky.  Sid's body afforded him extra cover and protection.  Unfortunately for Sid, the shots hit true, and the awkward pilot was closer to death. 

With blaster firing overhead, Evus charged out of the Spyder and plead his case to the growing crowd. 

"It's crazy in there, I've got an injured person!" 

A few passers-by grabbed the Twi'lek and his dying friend, found a concealed spot, and gave him time to provide life-saving first aid to the quirky and violence-prone human.

Tarrie had stumbled away from the encounter with the bouncer, dodged some fire, and landed behind the bar.  The Bothan bartender was on all fours in front of him, holding a blast cannon.  Tarrie only had enough time to see the flash of energy coming out of the barrel.

Above the Spyder, Duk'k had immediately landed on the roof to the club, in hopes of stabilizing Ne'vets enough to drop back into the fray and help his friends escape.   But Ne'vets proved far worse than even the pessimistic Skipsk'ud reasoned.  A lone Medpack was all he had to help Ne'vets, and it seemed to not only save him from death, but give him a jolt of energy.  

Ne'vets awoke, in pain and uncomfortable, 

"Did you get my winnings?"

"Wait a second, the shooting stopped."

And then, the firefight below went silent.  Duk'k scurried to the side of the roof, trying to see if any of their compatriots were among the numerous bystanders along the streets.  

"You stay here, I'll go back in.  I'll get things cleared up in a matter of seconds."

"A'light," was all Ne'vets could muster.

Duk'k dropped through the broken skylight.  A quick blast of his jetpack, and a barrage of blaster fire could be heard from below.

Ne'vets rolled back against the parapet of the roof, and stared up at the sky.  

"It might be time to retire.  Maybe find a safer passion to wor....." 

Ne'vets passed out, last hearing the continued volleys of blasters.... 

GM Notes:  I had no clue what I was going to do when the group brought up monkey pants.  I figured a little improv, and a little intrigue, and using an published adventure as fenceposts to their activities seemed like a winner.    I really didn't anticipate Tarrie sitting at the light, while the Piscopo was taking fire, and adding the Black Sun to their enemies list.  

We might return to this scenario, but for a bit, we'll make an odd side-quest for the holidays.  An adventure of subtle intrigue, gregarious gluttony, and sad nostalgia to remind everyone what a complicated profession everyone is in.  

The adventure Under a Black Sun, is still available in pdf on the Fantasy Flight Games' website.

Next:  #65 - A Complicated Profession