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Jarmon Kell Thread
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Pel
Line Captain
Line Captain


Joined: 10 May 2006
Posts: 984
Location: Texas

PostPosted: Tue May 28, 2019 11:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

[Droid Repair: 18, with 1 on Wild Die - other dice are 4,6,3,4]

Kell peruses the articles, mildly amused at the more outlandish suggestions. He tries the suggested solutions in order.
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Bradwardine
Sub-Lieutenant
Sub-Lieutenant


Joined: 09 Nov 2016
Posts: 59
Location: Coatesville, Pennsylvania

PostPosted: Sat Jun 08, 2019 8:39 pm    Post subject: The results of Jarmon Kell's efforts are as follows: Reply with quote

Knowing full well that no repulsor is involved, you nevertheless heave the treaded lifting droid over on its side, and open up some panels beneath, just to ensure that nothing similar damaged a power flow junction. The small, blocky rectangular component is as good as new. Brushing your head on the alcove's low ceiling in the process, you heave the weighty machine back upright. Rubbing a now sore left bicep, you move to the next possibility.

Tired of heaving the droid around, you would like to avoid shaking it, let alone turning it upside down. Your intuition guides you to one of the servomotors in the droid's "shoulder": it has spaces the mucus could have entered, and they can be easily gotten to. The shoulder is opened, a master connection unhooked with a snap, and the servomotor smoothly slid off its shaft for your intense scrutiny. No mucus is revealed under the high-power optic you are using.

The motor and its trailing wires are slid back on and reconnected, and the shoulder closed. Hunched over like a being with a deformed spine, you remove a plate from the droid's side, then a second one, exposing a row of gears and pawls. You reach out for the caller with a stretch, then, settling back into your squat, you turn the droid on and watch the components intently. A surge of triumph fills you as one of the pieces spins uselessly, slapping against its neighbor. Pulling on some friction gloves, you pull three of the well-lubricated parts one after another, putting each back in a different attitude from its prior attitude. You press the caller's button, to be nearly chucked on the chin by the rising piston arm. As the droid warbles again, and lowers its piston arms, Rayshield comes to your notice out the corner of your eye; a nearly finished earthy-smelling baked item is in his hand, and a ferocious grin on his face.

"You looked like the "Droid Dwarf" there; I half expected you to say, 'We have ways of making you function.' Lemme put those plates back; I'll take them into the hold to set that pile straight. Tell me afterward what it was; I don't want to go through that again."
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