The Jedi Iroh
“Jalarren. Nothing but desert and mining towns. Not even enough water in atmo to make moisture vaporators possible. Salt flats. Underground mines. Barely enough rations to make it livable. But as the saying goes, harsh lands make for harsh neighbors. Well, turns out it’s true. We need your help. Please. I know we can’t pay much, but it’s all we have.”
Such was the plea made by two humans, skinny and dirty, that led a motley band of Judges and do-good gunslingers to a two-bit town in the wastes of Jalarren. Wind whipped across the salt-flats and scoured barely two dozen run-down prefab shelters clean of any paint they might have once had. A few humans, heavily robed and covered, wound their way between the buildings, heads ducked against the sand.
Blaster marks pepper the buildings and a handful of fresh graves sit atop a nearby hill. At the sight of the approaching outsiders, the few visible inhabitants duck inside their homes and the hiss of sealing doors echoes across the desert.
“Sorry,” Nayva Wyndara, an aging human, said as she gave an apologetic shrug. “Last time a band of armed strangers came through, they killed five of us and stole half our food supplies. We been wary ever since Jax found that aurodium vein. Been lots of corp scouts poking in and out, making offers, insinuating threats. ” She turned and spat. It evaporated before it touched the ground.
A deep frown etched itself across Tiland’s face and he ran a hand through his beard. A gnarled finger tapped his chin. “Do we know who they are?”
“Nah,” Hak Trebok, a much younger Zabrak replied with a grunt. “Could be a rival corp. Could be a pirate band. Could be the neighbor village especially hard hit and desperate. Probably forty or fifty of them, I reckon. Nasty ones. Blasters, vibroweapons. Strong and willing to use violence. Might have some armored speeders too.”
“Hmm,” Tiland said, turning to look behind them and scan the horizon, as well as the faces of his companions. “I will do what I can, but I am no tactician. Nor one skilled in the art of planning a defense.” His voice rumbled through the desert air. “I leave this in your capable hands and will assist to the best of my abilities.”
“There’s about twenty of us total,” Nayva said, “We know how to work. How to use heavy machinery. And we ain’t leaving our land. Tell us what we need to do and it’ll be done.”
Tiland turned to assess the village again, nestled against their ridge of stone, with the narrow streets radiating out in a spiral from the central common where they all stood. Four streets, roughly four meters wide. Single story prefabs built atop underground tunnels and chambers. It could be turned into a warren of defense. Or perhaps there was another way. They needed something to hold back the swoop bikes and raiders when they next arrived. Which judging by the nervousness of the locals when they had been spotted, Tiland suspected the next attack could come that day. Likely at dusk, but perhaps even earlier. He rested both hands on top of his staff and assessed his motley crew of compatriots from the Outer Planets Alliance. "Well friends, shall we begin?"
Such was the plea made by two humans, skinny and dirty, that led a motley band of Judges and do-good gunslingers to a two-bit town in the wastes of Jalarren. Wind whipped across the salt-flats and scoured barely two dozen run-down prefab shelters clean of any paint they might have once had. A few humans, heavily robed and covered, wound their way between the buildings, heads ducked against the sand.
Blaster marks pepper the buildings and a handful of fresh graves sit atop a nearby hill. At the sight of the approaching outsiders, the few visible inhabitants duck inside their homes and the hiss of sealing doors echoes across the desert.
“Sorry,” Nayva Wyndara, an aging human, said as she gave an apologetic shrug. “Last time a band of armed strangers came through, they killed five of us and stole half our food supplies. We been wary ever since Jax found that aurodium vein. Been lots of corp scouts poking in and out, making offers, insinuating threats. ” She turned and spat. It evaporated before it touched the ground.
A deep frown etched itself across Tiland’s face and he ran a hand through his beard. A gnarled finger tapped his chin. “Do we know who they are?”
“Nah,” Hak Trebok, a much younger Zabrak replied with a grunt. “Could be a rival corp. Could be a pirate band. Could be the neighbor village especially hard hit and desperate. Probably forty or fifty of them, I reckon. Nasty ones. Blasters, vibroweapons. Strong and willing to use violence. Might have some armored speeders too.”
“Hmm,” Tiland said, turning to look behind them and scan the horizon, as well as the faces of his companions. “I will do what I can, but I am no tactician. Nor one skilled in the art of planning a defense.” His voice rumbled through the desert air. “I leave this in your capable hands and will assist to the best of my abilities.”
“There’s about twenty of us total,” Nayva said, “We know how to work. How to use heavy machinery. And we ain’t leaving our land. Tell us what we need to do and it’ll be done.”
Tiland turned to assess the village again, nestled against their ridge of stone, with the narrow streets radiating out in a spiral from the central common where they all stood. Four streets, roughly four meters wide. Single story prefabs built atop underground tunnels and chambers. It could be turned into a warren of defense. Or perhaps there was another way. They needed something to hold back the swoop bikes and raiders when they next arrived. Which judging by the nervousness of the locals when they had been spotted, Tiland suspected the next attack could come that day. Likely at dusk, but perhaps even earlier. He rested both hands on top of his staff and assessed his motley crew of compatriots from the Outer Planets Alliance. "Well friends, shall we begin?"
