The Azure Expanse

[Edj]

[snick... beep...]

"Let's see. Channel up to 1998.23... Grr. Channel down to 1998.23... Aaargh!! Channel up to 1998.20, .21, .22, .23... ok. Now - 2, 3, 1, 1, 5, 6... ack... clear [beep]... 2, 3, 1, 1, 5, 7, E, B, 6, 6, erm... [beep beep] # (heh), 4, 3, 1, and... connect.", [beep]

[tone]... [tone]... [tone]...

"Hello?"

"Hi... I'm looking for To'Mar. Is he available?"

"Hold on.", [musak]... [musak]... [musa-]

"This is To'Mar."

"Jam, it's Edj."

"Edge? Edj'dur? Oh man... it'd been best if you'd never called. I ain't got nothin' for you, and the wife is still pissed from the last time you blew through - uh, hold on..."

[Muffled] hon, it's... you know what? Nevermind who it is, just get the luggage out from the closet. We're going, um, on a special trip! You've always wanted to see Balas, right? Well that's where I booked us a stay, er... at a nice resort. Balas. I was going to keep it a surpri... It's Baleus? Don't look at me like that. Just get the luggage."

[Unmuffled] "Man, I have to run. I'm going to be out of town for uh... be out of touch for awhile. Good talking."

"Jam, I have your-"

[click]

"Crap."

2, 3, 1, 1, 5, 7, e, b, 6, 6... #, 4, 3, 1, connect...

[tone]... [tone]... [tone]... [tone]... [tone]... [tone]... [click]

"leus, sorry. Where's the fracking luggage!? Erm... Hello?"

"I have your creds."

"(Sigh) What creds?"

"The 10k I borrowed."

"Borrowed!? BORROWED?! Is that how you remember it?! You pinched our nest egg while we were out and skipped town you son of a-"

"Whoa, hold on... your wife said you guys were willing to help with a few creds so..."

"10K isn't a FEW Edj! I can't... I gotta go."

"Wait. I have the full amount. In my hand, plus interest."

[silence]

"Jam? You there?"

[silence]

"To'Mar?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"Are you going to accept this money or not?"

"I'd be a fool not to, assuming this is legitimate. You've really got that kind of cash on you?"

"I've got a gig lined up that will bring me plantside in a few days. What say you cancel your little trip to Baleus and I'll take you and the wife out to dinner instead. Repay at least a little of the hospitality you showed me back in the day. My cost of course - you pick the place. We can settle up then."

"Edj, we go way back - way back, so don't take this wrong, but can you just transfer the creds?"

"Sure. What's the account number?"

"Uhm... you know, dinner sounds fine after all. Just the two of us though. I'm pretty sure if the wife sees you the night is going to end in bloodshed."

"I expect once you explain things to her, she'll come around - at least enough to prevent a public shooting. She was always a sucker for lost causes - full of sympathy for the downtrodden."

"Heh. What does that say about me then?"

"Nothing everyone else doesn't already know. Look, I don't want to get into it all now, it's been a long day and I have a few more calls to make. Talk to Be'Kee, and give me a call back at this number a little later. We can talk more then."

"You've REALLY got our money?"

"Indeed I do. I've got to go."

[click]

[Skaff Toxian]

Okay, what's wrong with this guy?!

[Edj]

[snick... beep...]

Channel 17621.14...

5, 5, 5, 8, 6, 7, 5, 3, 0, 9, and hit connect...

[tone]... [tone]...

"Enigmatech Privacy Proxy System, please enter the number you wish to dial."

(Deep breath)...

5, 2, f, a, e, 1, a, a... @, 2, #, e, e, a, connect...

"Backtrace ID spoofed, connecting with client..."

[tone]... [tone]...

"Corian Export Recovery Specialists, how may I help you?"

"I'm calling in regards to account, er... 77345, um, looks like a... 9, 72t-12."

"Please hold while I look that up."

[musak]... [musak]... [musak]... [musak]... [musak]... [musak]...

Damn, this is taking too long, [click]

5, 5, 5, 8, 6, 7, 5, 3, 0, 9, and hit connect...

[tone]... [tone]...

"Enigmatech Privacy Proxy System, welcome back. Please enter the number you wish to dial."

5, 2, f, a, e, 1, a, a... @, 2, #, e, e, a, connect...

"Backtrace ID spoofed, connecting with client..."

[tone]... [tone]...

"Corian Export Recovery Specialists, how may I help you?"

"I was accidentally disconnected. Account 77345972t-12?"

"Yes sir. That account has been referred to our collections department."

"Is there a way to settle the account and cancel that action?"

"You may submit payment in full, plus a 33% processing fee, and any addition accessorial charges, fees, and duties to our offices during normal business hours."

"Can the money be wired?"

"Of course. If you will provide an account to draw from, we can collect the payment and process it. You may continue to check back at this number to confirm collections have been ceased."

"What is the final amount?"

"Please hold while I calculate the total... 19,467.21 credits today. understand the amount will increase by tomorrow."

"I will pay it in full today. Account 12n1888192991898200-998981178-112a with the Interstellar Community Bank on Tattooine. The routing should be in your system. Account name is Ey'dee Fhals."

"Thank you Mr. Fhals. Once payment is received, please allow 5-7 weeks for collections actions to decist."

"Can the action be expedited?"

[click]

[Jedi Skyler]

I wouldn't want to be around for the "collections actions..."

[Edj]

“No, no, you misunderstand, it was one of the cruiser class ships – deep space capable. To continue however, there I am halfway between Alderaan and someplace indubitably less marvelous, hitching across the pitch of the cosmos at hyperspeed, pressed flat against the deck by a turbid mat of Wookie fuzz trying persistently to shove itself the rest of the way through my chest when-”

[Incoming communication...] [Incoming communication...] “Wha... oh, hold on, I believe I'm getting a call.” [beep] “This is Ed...” [Communication cancelled by user].

“Ah...heh. Erm... most likely a misdial. Now, as I was say-”

[Incoming communication...] “Guh. Just a minute, I'll turn this off.” [beep beep tap beep]. “There we go. Shouldn't be a bother any lon-”

[Comlink established] “Edj!? Are you there you slime?!”

“Erm...”, [beep]?

“Edj, you hang up on me and I'll make sure your skinny a-”

“Be'Kee?”

“You're d*mn right it's jacking Be'Kee. What is this complete CRAP you're feeding my husband about having some of our money?! You and I both know a ridiculous waste of jacking tail like you ain't got the means to come up with that kind of cash, so here's what's going to jacking happen – you're going to hang up the jacking com, think about your jacked up life, and hopefully be so filled with jacking grief you'll jam your worthless jacking can into the nearest jacking airlock on whatever garbage hauler you've bummed a ride aboard and hit the switch to fling your jacking arse into jacking space. And don't give me your weepy jacking sob story about your useless waste of a mother getting jacking stormed in an alley trying to score another hit of pump off some sleezy narc peddler when you were two, or the miserable jacking life you had getting smacked around by your loser drunk of a pop – jacking hole got what he jacking deserved in the end didn't he?! Now we're all left with his jacking seed, you jacking moron. I know you and Jam go back to boyhood – filching creds from slobs too drunk to chase your narrow jacking tails, boosting rides in speeds, drifting homeless from jacking bar to jacking swooper on every jacking backspace moon and planet in the galaxy and d*mn you for getting Jam into that! Many were the jacking nights I wished you had come across an Abyssan hit mob who'd have burned your wothless jacking nomad hide and saved my husband his grief. Vincent and Axl were in here just last week busting our tails over the jacking mess you left us with six jacking years ago. That money was our jacking way off this jacking rock you know? But you had to go and jack that all up didn't you?! You took our LIVES you jacking freak, and I don't give a jack about Jam being your jacking boyhood bud – he's MY jacking co-pilot now you jacking son of a squib, MINE!! So you can jack off! Take your jacking fantasy creds and if you want to be real jacking keen, pay off the jacking goons you dropped on us. I ain't gonna jacking hold my breath of course. More likely you'll blow whatever creds you've scraped up on jacking swoops, booze, or pump like your jacking parents, may they rest in jacking disharmony. Just get the jack out of our lives. And don't ever jacking call here again or I'll put another jacking hit on your jacking tail.

[click]

(Sigh)...

“Shoo... Don't know who that was man, but she sounded real jacking nice.”

“Yeah... her opinions never were terribly subtle. I think I'm done.”

“But what about the story, man?”

[K_Feldspar]

Thank you my loyal and wonderful players. For your (Edj's and Drax's) awesome posts I awarded you 5 character points each during our session yesterday. I was considering giving away more, but upon further reflection have decided not to. I hope you will not be grumpy

Edj has paid off one of his debts. A great sacrfice. Hopefully, he will not blow to many of his funds on gambling. Something he has done well with so far, but luck can change at any moment.
_________________
"I don't believe it!"

"That is why you fail."

[Jedi Skyler]

Go Edj! "You can do it!"

(Picture Rob Schneider in "Waterboy")

[K_Feldspar]

Man it's hard to keep up with everything I'd like when I have to work 40 hours a week. It's better than being unemployed though I guess. Just so work doesn't take too much creativity out of me.

Behold, my loyal players. This next Monday's episode will be my Halloween episode. Since I can't do scary I try to do cheesy instead. So the walls might bleed or some such nonsense like that.
_________________
"I don't believe it!"

"That is why you fail."

[K_Feldspar]

A tall female sits alone at the back table of a bar on Balius. The air in the room is caliginous, and a fine coat of soot has blanketed everything except seats and tables. She looks over at a drunk who just stumbled into a patron. “Not so drunk are you?” She thought as she saw the man lift a cred stick out of the other’s pocket. Again to herself, she mulls her evening’s entertainment. “That thief could prove entertaining. I should let him pick my pocket, and then haunt him the whole night before I dispatch him.”

A conscienceless grin passes across her bewitching face. Just as she stands to interact with her evening’s prey a man with a dark hooded coat walks in. Seeing him, she hesitates just for an instant. Distracted she takes her drink and walks up to the bar instead. While her drink is refreshed she watches the hooded figure from the corner of her eye.

Suddenly she remembers the figure. She mutters to herself ever so quietly, “Karol, where have you been?” For a second the hooded figure glances furtively in her direction, but only at some nameless alien that’s sat down next to him. They appear to know each other, although she’s never seen the Twi’lek before. She thought her dossier on Karol was thorough. Apparently he made a new friend or two in the weeks he’s been gone. She continues piecing things together in her mind. “You’re not just some charismatic who’s managed to unite the workers here. You must be a rebel. The guns are here, and you are here. That’s no coincidence.”

With surprising abruptness the hooded figure stands, and leaves the bar. His Twi’lek companion watches after him at the table. He was in mid-sentence. “What’s frightened you Karol?” Her thoughts turn predatory again. She leaves the bar, and follows Karol. His pace quickens, and a chase begins.
_________________
"I don't believe it!"

"That is why you fail."

[Edj]

In the matter of spirits, that is, the boogeymen that flitter about moaning and wailing in the night, there are those that would say they are certainly the voices of our ancestors imparting wisdom to be used in the pursuit of a more fulfilling life, or perhaps the souls of loved ones watching over us.

Others might claim these ethereal wooglies are constructs of dementia; imagined phantoms created by minds broken through the trials of life. And in most cases, I would certainly be inclined to set up camp with the latter group. I mean people who interact with apparitions are just flat-out looney, right?

It has however come to my attention quite recently, that just maybe, perhaps, it could be, possibly, some of these booglie banshees are not so much hypothetically insubstantial as more kind of, well... empiraclly substantive in fact.

Now, here's where I lose some folks. Me, a normally cool-headed, implicitly slick and unshakable example of just how magnificent a Twi'lek can be, babbling on about "ghosts" like a squib. Well, let me assure you all, there are things in the night, they do go bump, and every once in awhile, they do a bit more even.

So there we are, charting deep space on the way to another in a long line of cargo drops. I'm not going to bore you with these details however. The boxes, their contents, and the fact those contents were packed in coffee grounds is of no substantive value in this telling. Neither is the destination in fact, beyond perhaps knowing it required a trip through the great black at a very quick pace.

We had picked up a couple passengers as well: a decrepit old man and the lovely young woman who had kidnapped, drugged, and disguised the old codger, but again, these details are superfluous, at least in my opinion.

What is important, in the end, is the creature.

Some here will claim these persons may be of critical importance, and that the focus of my obsession is naught but a fictional revenant. Some might claim these people were part of an elaborate ruse meant to trick the foolish. I my friends, am no fool however, and the red man is no myth.

In the beginning, it was all as it should be: another tiring run through the cosmos - hyperspace turning the pinpricks of starlight to cyan streaks. The ship had been performing quite well of late, and as such, confidence in the vessel had begun to grow.

It was therefore a bit distressing when, for no explicable reason, the emergency lighting tinted the corridors red and blood began seeping from the ship's system. Sliding from consoles, covering the floors, covering everything in fact but the walls themselves.

I was in the cargo hold at the time, listening to the radio in the cruiser and reviewing statistical odds for various games on my datapad when it first appeared: a glimmer of motion through the backcam in the speeder - gone when I looked up. Were I anyone else, I might have simply gone back to reading, but my nature is such that I rarely disregard my senses. I unlatched the heavy blaster at my side and prepared to unleash the fury of Blastech on whatever it was that stalked me.

When it came from high in the shadows, cadaverous and draped in a diaphanous scarlet cloak, it was everything I had never hoped to see. Flying silently, speaking my own name within my skull, promising me pain and despair in a voice that sounded nothing so much as dry leaves rattling in a can - albeit a very large, terrifying can, it shook my calm fiercely.

Despite my growing panic, twin shots ripped through the cargo hold, perfectly aimed, to tear through the levitating corpse. The coursing streams of photons, despite their accuracy, had, to my chagrin, no evident effect on the spectre beyond producing a grin of such evil as ever I have seen.

As it came slowly forward, unphased by the blaster, I quickly decided my best recourse was to seek assistance, and move from my position of solitude to a more tactical location.

The lights went out then, and stepping from the cruiser I slid on the floor, now inexplicably coated in a layer of viscous, unctuous liquid. I remember little beyond that. Spots of light, always red. Screams and pain.

I remember running. I remember fantastic impossibilities intermingled with bursts of sharp reality. Demons twisting the visages of crewmates. Rika, who cannot possibly have gone down, dead on a steel table. I remember blood and flame and horror. I remember hyperspace bursts to dead worlds where giant birds engulfed capital ships and everywhere panic.

Even now, afterwards, I wonder if what I know to be truth is truth in fact, or just an illusion of normalcy created by a fractured mind to conceal the pain of reality. Is this what is, or only what I wish it were? Regardless, it seems that neither reality nor fantasy is capable of drowning the poltergeist.

It whispers still in my head as I record this; calling my name. It flitters at the edge of my vision - a red smear reflected in the glass of the console in front of me, a blur of crimson in the backdrop of my mind. It's rictus grin chattering malevolently, eternally, yet only when I look away. I can feel its burning stare on my neck, can sense its grating shuffle at the fringe of my hearing. I have not slept in days. I cannot taste my food through the sour sapidity of fear that clouds my pallete. I am afraid to drink, doing so only of the strongest ale, never water, waiting for the fluid to turn sanguine.

I cannot think, cannot breathe, cannot exist. All I can do is listen to the voice chanting in my skull - relentless - dogmatic:

"Always bet on red."

[Jedi Skyler]

Boy, you got some skillz in the writing department. I certainly hope your GM is taking notice of this fact and rewarding you properly- both for simply doing this extra writing and also for the quality contained therein.

[K_Feldspar]

Indeed. Our Edj is a wordsmith of epic proportion. His style captivates, stimulates, and challenges the GM to do his best. I am in awe of each, and every single piece of writing--no literature--he has ever crafted! Whenever I read his work I feel that I am reading the work of a great master.

Incidentally, as that last post of Edj's serves so well as the Halloween episode summary he is awarded an extra character point.

Stunning. Just stunning Edj.
_________________
"I don't believe it!"

"That is why you fail."

[pwn-3d]

sleep mode interrupted by proximity alarm
engaging oberservation mode:

!! /dev/sensorpack operating on low power constraints…

!! /dev/antenna00 not responding…
!! /dev/antenna01 not responding…
!! /dev/antenna02 not responding…
!! /dev/antenna03 not responding…
## using /dev/chasis_transceiver

append to /var/log/independent_log
“Who is this woman?”
accessing ship’s log and manifest… “Marla.”
“Too familiar a touch. Has to be Imperial Security.”

## entry at access panel 0a
## sample data upload commencing…
## upload complete…
## self-destruct timer begins now at t-minus 3600
suppress_error /dev/detonator
!! security subsystem panic: /dev/detonator not found!

append to /var/log/independent_log
“You can’t control me anymore.”
“I have to get Drax.”
“I don’t want to die.”

route_power(LED0x001a, flash, 2);
_________________
Beep... tick tick tick (whirrrrrrl)... beep beep...

ISB - SecureBIOS v1528.21a, A Death Star Ally
Copyright (C) 15423-15425, ISB Technologies
ISB Extium(tm) at 133PHz
Mem Test: 250PB OK

Detecting Primary Lifeforms ...

[Edj]

There comes a moment in everyone's life at which they begin to find endearment in the belief that they can shape their own destiny. That, through subtle suggestion and the application of will, one can nudge destiny in a manner more likely to bring to fruition the objects of their dreams.

Some choose to manifest this revelation by exploring uncharted frontiers, willing the universe to reward them simply for demonstrating an impressive act of trust in the idea that everything will come up aces. Others choose to focus on a single ideal - a single goal or dream: riches, glory, universal peace and harmony, the untimely demise of a much disliked in-law, etc. - and attack that dream with ferocious intent. Some pray. Some meditate. Some hire hitmen then bend their will to the act of convincing themselves the guy with the pinstriped flightsuit named Vincent "Knuckles" Manetti never existed.

I will tell you though, these are games for fools. Will alone cannot a new world make. For every neuron you fire in the hope of making your dreams come true, there are a million others unknowingly sparking their axons in counterpoint; burying your desire in a gridlock of ethereal congestion.

No, will is not enough. You need more. Something with the power to bury the simple. Something pure. Something primordial. You need something recognized by the preliterate gods of early existence dating back to the dawn of time - something that is inherent to every living thing - something inescapable.

You need fear. And fear my friends, I have in spades.

When last I logged, I was beside myself with grief over an event that had taken place on the Gathering Storm a short while ago - an event that haunts me still. The rest of those who share a berth aboard the good ship oxidation seemed, and seem yet, unaffected by this encounter - making claims to imply the event was a sham. I know what I have seen, and I know what I still hear however.

In any event, they being far more lucid than I, had taken to task the matter of dissassembling one of the more coherent of recent events, and had determined the ship had spontaneously found a manner of travel capable of putting us in a very lucritive position. A journey between two possible drops that had once taken five weeks now takes, well, let's just say a skosh less. In the wake of the previous nightmare, we found ourselves mere hours from a large planet far distant from Suzuki, our original destination.

Desperate to take my mind off the crimson demon, I pleaded fervently to move the ship to dock on this nearby planet, and desperate to still my babbling prattle about goblins, the crew obliged. It was much to my wonder the planet contained the gem that has led me to the greatest impartance of my life.

Following an impressive [crash] landing, the crew, anxious to explore the oppotunities afforded them by the new nav specs, went in search of cargo that might exploit our newfound promptitude. I went in search of dice.

The casino I found, or at least a detailed exploration of it, is of no importance. It was another extravagent carpet joint of gaudy facades and desperate, paranoid people. Needless to say, I fit in. The game I chose, also, is nothing to be concerned with. It involved dice, colors, and wagers. What matters is the way it all shook out.

I fearfully chose red, per extra-sensory dictum, and threw the cubes hoping for white meat. What I received was a 20-piece meal with a side a fries and a cola. Now, when you've got that kind of ride, you have to keep pushing the acclerator, and so I did. It wasn't until the memory of the scarlet specter had faded and my fears had quietly subsided beneath the thrill of the game that I lost a large hand or two and started to get a bit anxious again. I was still ahead mind you, but nowhere as near cracking the nut as I had been minutes before, and I was starting feel a bit cold. It was at that moment I realized a continued slide in luck would result in having to return to the ship empty handed. Tossed back into the Storm with nothing to occupy myself; no funds with which to purchase distraction, sitting alone, waiting to be consumed by the man in red. The fear hit me so hard then I choked. My knees buckled and my hands shook fiercely, but I managed to call out a hasty wager and throw the dice again, foolishly letting it all ride on red. The amount of cred I received in return was obscene.

It was then, at that precise moment, I struck my epipheny: All this time, my whole life in fact, I'd been scraping by on hope. Something stronger was clearly needed to add urgency to my desires, and that thing had been shown to me in a startling vision of grave ruby. From the point of my empiricism forward I was an arm. There are rumors of persons so skilled at manipulating the roll of a die they can bend the very odds of a game. That night I became such a man. To augment my desire, I dredged up every horrible event of my life, dragged them across the surface of my mind like a razor, opening fresh wounds, revitalizing buried pain to the point of retching, and Won. Now I don't mean "won" like I was able to buy a nice dinner and head home with a cred or two of profit. I mean "Won" large. But this was not the whole of my rewards.

The casino comped me a fine room for the evening, and a couple fine companions as well. This almost made me forget the incredible nausea I was feeling from the emotional barrage I had levied against myself, almost drowned the hideous, illimitable laughter that colored each thought inside my skull. But still, this was not the whole of my rewards.

While I tortured myself to reap the material rewards of money and, erm... other things, and further quite enjoyed each of those many rewards, the rest of the crew, until now woefully neglected in this tale, were busy indeed.

Of course, my knowledge of these matters is of a secondhand nature, but to summarize: 20,000 metric tons of terribly perishable dairy was isolated, bargained for, and loaded onto the Storm. Normally we don't traffic in luxury spread of course, but this is apparently quite the shiznit on a Ritz, so there we are, and with luck the cheese will transition smoothly into a heaping pile of cabbage.

Cap'n Cherrywood and Drax managed to add compliment to our crew as well. In addition to the fine cast of creatures you have come to know, we now also have a Vercoon in residence. What is a Vercoon you ask? It's a flossy, esiguous procyonid of questionable morality that is apparently quite daring with electronics. Dat-socket in it's skull even. Who does this? Still, the possibilities...

Cargo loaded, and myself feeling a mix of tremendous shame and incredible euphoria, we shot the cosmos back to Baleus, and there we ran into some old friends - or rather, they ran into Rika, and that friends, is always a story.

Following another, um, notable landing... and shortly after many of us had disembarked to carry on about our various business, a peculiar chap had wandered up and ignorantly laid a hand against the side of the Storm. Rika, who had been teaching young Zod the soothing art of starship gunnery, caught wind of the transgression and rolled out to confront the despoiler and his nefarious companions. Three men caught a flash of bewhiskered chestnut fury. One fired. One became a mallet in a game of human croquet, and one began a very brief exploration into the nature of life as an invertebrate. When all was said and done, we had two vacillating captives and one very impressive puddle of flesh-colored gelatin in a keen suit.

The surviving men, er... man really... confessed reluctantly to participating in the exhaustive Green Droid plot to overthrow order in the universe by ensnaring impressionable vagrants then sending them out to be ritualistically shot, bludgeoned to death, or blown up. It seems a bit of a nervous plan, and I can't confess to understanding the details, but apparently their recruitment brochure is pretty spectacular because they keep signing up. The practical information we gained was less than we had hoped for however, and I expect many future encounters with the droids before we get to the bottom of that issue,

In all, it has been quite a week. Incredible wealth, sewn oats, beating a man to pulp with another, vermin hackers, an introduction to the dark side of Twi'Lek nature and 20,000 metric tons of cheese.

What else could anyone possibly ask for?

Brevity notwithstanding.

[Jedi Skyler]

Again, another well-written piece of literature with which to assuage the drudgelike nature of one's day. Quite the read, old chap!