Meant to keep this thing up to date but you know…life…alcohol…people trying to shoot me. I had grand visions last time after rescuing the wheelchair guy that we might be working with the resistance, fighting for ideals and making serious cash. Turns out the resistance was a bunch of ragtag nobodies, who tried to stiff us on our payment. Admittedly they are less amateur than we are but still, there is a reason they are a resistance and not in power.
They even offloaded one of their rejects on us, who admittedly endeared himself to us by getting us a good deal. Seems like a nice…fish…kid, a touch green about the gills maybe (har har!) but he brings something to our motley crew that we were missing (the ability to talk for more than 5 seconds before resolving an issue with a blaster).
Its not so bad living our life I suppose. On the way back home, we followed a bogus distress call but didnt fall for it. Turns out a trap dont work so well when your ship gets a claw sized hole in its side. Now I suppose that in itself should make for a tale of high fantasy but its part of our daily existence. Collectively we are sort of like a wounded rancor that has been shot full of stimulant, lumbering from one fight to another, ripping heads off and shitting in inappropriate places. It works for now but its hard not to long for more, ideally before the rancor trips over its own feet and impales itself on a spike. I have a whole load of bad karma to balance out and blasting pirate assholes into space only counts as a minor positive.
The boss was pissed we were late but I dont think Naz really cares too much. Pacified the boss by heading off to some salvage co-ordinates just in time to run into some other lowlifes like ourselves. Cue some metaphorical dick waving and the salvage was split. Got some interesting stuff. Weird looking droid that had Naz all excited in case it was a real mechanic. As long as it does more than smack things with a wrench, it will be better than Naz. We might even get a functional ship eventually.
Time to go home. The smell of unholy chemical reactions, rust so rusty that its rusted, the sound of jawas gibbering and scumbags scheming. Yay?