The galaxy is at the brink of civil war. Groups of rebel cells have rose up against the Empire's military stranglehold of the galaxy. At the center of this conflict is the timeless battle between the Jedi and the Sith. The Emperor has outlawed any force sensitives, like the Jedi. Capturing and eliminating anyone who would oppose his rule.

A group of recently imprisoned individuals have endured days of torture. Each one strapped to a chair inside of a solitary room. They are continuously visited by probe droids who inject liquids, silent stormtroopers who use the prisoners as punching bags, and every so often Imperial Officers. One of the last visits came from a high ranking Moff named Tarkin.

The doors to the holding cell open quickly to reveal a slender elderly man with high cheekbones in an officer's tunic. He waves off his escort and enters the small room. Looking around in disgust, he murmurs, "Awful, primitive techniques."

He looks directly into the prisoners eyes and introduces himself, "I am Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin. You have been accused of being a force sensitive, an act illegal to the highest degree."

Tarkin walks slowly around the chair and places his hand on the prisoner's shoulder, "We can end all of this nastiness, if you simply confess your crimes against our Empire."

In the first room, tarkin's interrogation is singularly unproductive, eliciting only feral snarls and howls from a shistivastan clearly damaged by the techniques. His beastial sounds penetrate even the normally soundproof cells, curdling blood of all that hear.

A waste of time, and slated for execution.

Enduring round after round of torture, Rylkiden stood strong despite the pain. Looking over the officer entering the facility, "Pickle Rick" interrupts him: "Are you here to finally ask a question? Your lackeys beat first and extract information never."

After explaining his crime, Rylkiden laughs. "What the **** is a fork-sensitive? I'm a mechanic! My crimes include boosting speeders, stripping vehicles for parts, and occasionally committing some commercial sabotage for overly competitive clientele. I'm an *******, certainly. Even a criminal. I can point you to all sorts of small-time crooks and even some gun-runners operating out of Alderaan, but I can't help you with any sensitivity."

Tarkin probed the mechanic for all the information he could provide on the gun-runners, then probed further on the Force-sensitivity. When the Grand Moff was sufficiently appeased of the mechanic's ignorance, he sent the Chadra-fan to death row, as a cleaner-prisoner (under close scrutiny). If the fool was among the Force-sensitives, he could be used to crack any break-outs. If he wasn't, then he would just be executed after the cells were cleaned fully.

A useful tool, slated for cleaning duty, then execution.

Kilimar drifted in and out of consciousness, between the beatings, and the drugs that robbed him of his sense of reality. His precog was fuzzy, showing him events of his upcoming beatings, a particularly annoying bit of pre-torture, but the players would change. At times he was being questioned and beaten by Stormtroopers, who would then morph into the older armor from his childhood, during the tail end of the Clone Wars. Other times, he would find himself being questioned by members of the Order, all long dead. The most torturous was when it was Zett Jukatta, the young boy standing in front of him, a blaster burn through his chest from where they shot him in the back. Only to have Zett's clothing morph into that of an Imperial Moff, his expression one of cold cruelty that was never on Zett's in life.

"I told you not to go." He said limply, Zett pacing back and forth in front of him, hands clasped behind his back. "Now you're dead, just like all the rest of them." He cried at that, this wall of pain that he'd erected years ago, finally breaking with his resolve. "All dead, dead and gone. Didn't see it coming, didn't see this coming. Too close to the storm's eye perhaps. Master Yoda always told me always in motion, always in motion. " He lost memory of events after that, though it was hardly the end of things for him.

Tarkin left the cell and spoke to an adjutant awaiting him. "We found one, apparently it slipped through the purge back at the Founding, though it knows of no others." He sneers at the closed door. "It didn't know anything that would lead us to any other pockets, but it will be a loose thread that will be good to tidy up. I will make a report of this at once, and then prepare it to meet it's friends. It will join their ranks soon enough in death."

The adjutant nods and salutes smartly, and Tarkin marches down the hallway to his next issue.

Valem Sabir had known privation in his lifetime, but the agonizing pain as the chemicals were introduced into his system, coursing through his veins, was something new. The passing of time blurred, and he could no longer tell if hours had passed, or weeks. The beatings had become routine, cowards in white masks, seemingly bored with the tedious task of beating him. Surprisingly, his frail frame withstood the physical torture with a level of stoicism; but the terror of discovery had truly broken him.

" You have been accused of being a force sensitive, an act illegal to the highest degree."

The Pau-an's thin lips drew back, exposing the sharp incisors of a carnivore. "We are educated individuals, Moff Tarkin. The distinction between being force sensitive, and committing an illegal act , should not be lost on you. I can no more help what I am, than you can." With some effort, he wills himself to hold the human's stare, despite the man's obvious disgust with him. To this man, I am a thing to be exterminated...

"I was young, then. I helped in the library, shelving books, mopping floors. Perhaps they saw something in me, that I did not. Perhaps you see it, too? I operate a small curiosity shop, as you well know. In it, you have undoubtedly discovered some relatively innocent contraband. Stories from an age of heroes. Congratulations. You have finally caught up with me. Valem Sabir, janitor of the lost archives."

The Imperial Moff tilts his head slightly. "Your junk shop has been seized, of course, and will be used to lure sympathizers and others of your ilk. Thank you. I do appreciate your candor."

With that, he turns sharply, and exits the confinement cell. "We have turned up a surprising number of these creatures, this time. This one may be of some use, yet. Or not. Two more, is it?"

Reesh was not faring well under the seemingly endless torture. He was no stranger to hardships, but dedicated efforts to hurt him like this was something that he had never encountered before. ****, he'd only had minimal interaction with anything other than the beasts he hunted! Now he was being tortured by strange looking droids and these men in white armour. There was little he could do to resist their torture, and spent most of his time fading in and out of consciousness, only to be awoken for another session of vile drugs and cruel beatings. He was convinced he would die soon, and began to make peace with the cryptic religion of his people. The drones and clicks he would emit during this would only seem to bring more punishment from the men in white.

Finally the beatings and the poisoning drew to an end, instead they were replaced with a sinister looking human. Reesh unsurprisingly did not like the look of this individual, his compound eyes squinting suspiciously at the newcomer. Then he laid the charges before the Gand, and Reesh shook his head slowly. His response of insectoid clicks did not seem to impress the Moff, but the arrival of a silver protocol droid changed the odd noises to words. Yet even with the translation of the strange language it was still odd to hear. 'This Gand has heard people talk of force sensitivity. This Gand has heard people say Gand have a connection to the force. People are wrong. The Gand do not have connections to the force as people say. It is Gands religion that guides them, not your force. This Gand wants to be free, but cannot admit to what you want this Gand to'.

Regardless of what the Moff thought of these words, Reesh honestly believed what he was saying. His people believed in the mysticisms of their religion, not the force that so many people spoke of. Whether it was true or not, this is what all Gand were taught since their childhood. The Moff would leave soon after this odd response, Reesh left alone once more. He did not hold high hopes for his release, he went back to preparing for the end, as he could not see anything else happening.

On 8/21/2017 at 4:22 PM, killerbeardhawk said:

Tarkin walks slowly around the chair and places his hand on the prisoner's shoulder, "We can end all of this nastiness, if you simply confess your crimes against our Empire."

"Please, I have committed no crimes!"

Asa's choked cries were made less intelligible by his bloodied lip and bruised jaw. "At least, not against the Empire! I s-swear, I have only ever served the public. And I've only been off of my homeworld for a matter of w-weeks. I spent my youth studying under the masters of my order, and the whole purpose of my life had been t-to protect those who are unable to protect th-themselves. I c-couldn't have committed a crime even if I had wanted to. I haven't had the time or the opportunity!

"Please, you have to b-believe me," he implored, wincing as he moved slightly in his chair. He was apparently trying to adopt a conciliatory pose, but it looked equal parts gruesome and pitiable with his swollen eye, matted hair, and shaking limbs. He inhaled, then coughed up some blood-flecked spittle before continuing. "The Force chooses whom it will. I cannot be guilty of being chosen by something outside myself, can I?"

It had all been too much for Asa. As the Moff simply looked at him, it was obvious that anything he said would not change his fate. He decided not to reveal his planet of origin or the order of Paladins he had served—despite his exile, he did not want to bring ruin on his homeworld.

"I have nothing else for you, your excellency."

After what seemed like an eternity of staring, the Moff smiled, stood up, and walked through the door. Asa sank back into the blackness of unconsciousness, where at least the pain was gone.

After their meeting with Grand Moff Tarkin, the prisoners were escorted out of their solitary rooms and moved to a larger holding cell block. Most were unconscious and had to be dragged by two stormtroopers each. An awake Shistivastan had to muzzled to keep him from attacking the guards moving him. The trip took several minutes and used elevators to go down into the lowest floors.

This Shistivastan and a Gand were the first to arrive at the new holding block. It was a large circular room that held six cells, each with an force field to lock the prisoner inside. Four more prisoners were moved inside the other open cells along the walls.

In the center of the holding block was an elevated guard room. As the first prisoners were brought in, they could see a single officer walk down the external staircase that lead to the room above. This officer marked on his data pad for each arrival through the large bulkhead door leading inside. This bulkhead was one of two, the other on the opposite side of the circular room.

Once all of the prisoners were safety inside of their cells, the escorting stormtroopers exitted and the bulkhead door sealed close. The officer made a few rounds checking on the unconscious prisoners. They had been laid on the thick slab which would be their bed inside the cells. As a silence fell over the holding block the officer returned up the stairs to his guard room overlooking the large room. It wasn't long before his attention was turned to his datapad as he sat in a chair.

The cells were dimly lit and made almost completely out of duracement. The few notable exceptions included the air duct vent set high along the outside wall, a large drain in the middle of the room and of course the impenetrable force field that blocked the doorway.

The wolfman gave a muted yelp when he touched the force field, and the smell of burnt fur emanated through the room. Trying again, he pressed the muzzle against the energy barrier, attempting to burn through his bindings, the force field buzzing with the increased load.

Smoke arose around the muzzle and in a moment it was damaged beyond repair. The Shistivastan was able to pull it apart with some effort. It landed on the floor of the cell, a mangled mess of its former self.

Reesh would not dtruggle as he is dragged to the cell, tjough he did not make it easy either. His short squat frame would drag heavily along the floor before being thrown into his new cell. As the cell was sealed he would slowly clamber to his feet, brushing himself down as he took in what little there was to see.

At least they hadn't been summarily executed, they must want something more from them perhaps? It did not matter to him, he did not want to find out what this people had planned.

He would wince slightly at the yelping noise from the other cell, deciding to definatly not touch the shimmering force field.

Taking another look around the cell, his gaze would fall on the grate in thr floor. would go to lie prone on the ground to examine the grate more carefully. Perhaps there was some way that it could be move?

His muzzle free, the shistivastan let out a long howl, resonating throught the cell block.

Scathing Tirade : 1eP+2eD 1 success, 2 threat

1 strain to the guard, 2 strain to me as I nurse my forcefield burn scars.

Reesh would glance up sharply from the grate at piercing howl. Once more he would shake his head as he turned back to his investigation. In his arrogance he had written the Shistavastan off as being any help in escaping. His contact with the species had been minimal at best, and he had written them off as being more brawn than brains. The irony considering his appearance was completely lost on Reesh.

If Reesh could smirk beneath his respirator he would. It appeared that the grate although heavy was not fixed into the ground! A plan began to swirl around the insects head as he tried to lift the grate. He doubted it went anywhere that would let him escape, but perhaps he could convince the guard that was exactly what he was trying to do. If that guard entered the cell to try and contain him, then perhaps he would have a real chance to escape.

Moving into a crouch, he would wrap his hands around the grate and go to give it an almighty tug. Slowly but surely, the grate would begin to shift with a low grating noise. As Reesh struggled with this heavy wait he would emit a rapid amounts of chittering and clicking, making what he was trying to do fairly obvious to anyone watching. Finally the grate would be pulled free, and Reesh would let it drop to the floor with a loud clunk. He was panting heavily after this doubled over from the effort. He would glance gingerly into the gap where the grate once was, hoping the officer had taken notice of his work.

(( Athletics check ( : 3eD+3eA 3 successes, 2 threat

+2 strain for athletics check))

Howls echoed through out the holding cell block. The piercing noise put a chill down the spine of the lone officer on guard. He hesitated at first but after the continued howls, he left his room and heading down the stairs toward the source of the noise.

"Prisoner! You can make all the noise you want, it will only be three more hours until your execution." The officer began to chuckle to himself, but heard a distinct clank of metal which drew his attention.

Reesh climbed into the opening where the drain grate was. To his surprise, it was quite large and for the most part dry. He was able to crouch and be completely inside of the opening. As he did, he could see two paths heading in opposite directions. Another howl rang out and Reesh could hear it through the large pipe to his left.

The officer started to search each cell to see what that noise he heard could possibly be. He turned on a small glowrod and aimed it's light inside of Reesh's cell. Clearly the drain cover was moved and with the light illuminating the opening the guard could see Reesh crouching inside.

"Prisoner! What do you think you are doing?! Come out of that drain and return the cover to its original position.", the officer yelled through the force field.

Reesh would look around this new place that he found himself, surprised by the size of the drainage pipes. He didn't have long to consider this apparent design floor in the prison though as the guard had spotted what he was up to. The command to return to the cell was met with the Gand equivalent of laughter, as Reesh had no intention of going back to sitting idle. It seemed his prayers preparing for the end had been premature.

The howling of the other prisoner rattled down the tunnel to his left, and he gave himself a small nod as if to confirm the next step in this hastily made escape. That Shistavastan may not strike Reesh as a thinker, but he'd wager a fair amount of credits on the gamble that he could dismember the guard.

Reesh would pop his head out of the grate and offer the officer a little jaunty wave as his clicks and hums punctuate the air. He couldn't tell if the officer could understand what he was saying but it would translate as 'this Gand welcomes you to come and make him!' With that he would duck back into the grate and go to scamper up the tunnel from where the howling had been heard. He had top hope the guard would follow, or failing that perhaps he would need the help of the Shistavastan.

The wolfman grinned down at Reesh, below his drain. Letting his howl trail off, he reaches down, wrenching the grate upward with a tearing of metal. While the guard was still disracted by the gand's escape, he drops down as well, looking around for the grates under other cells.

athletics to remove drain cover : 3eA+1eF+2eD+1eC 1 failure, 1 threat, 2 Light Side

Use a destiny point and take 2 strain to use light pips as successes.

"This is your last warning Gand!", the officer continued to yell through the force field of Reesh's cell. No reply came from the drain pipe. The officer signed heavily and pulled his datapad off of his hip. He began to type an emergency message, but stopped before completing it.

His heart raced and he knew the consequences of his failure would be devastating. He decided that he would need to handle this himself. After returning the datapad to his belt, he pulled his blaster pistol from its holster and held it tight in his right hand. Using his left hand to press the "open" button, he entered Reesh's cell and pointed his pistol down the opening. Nothing. The scrape of metal again rang out in the holding block and the officer ran to chase it, making sure to seal Reesh's cell as he left.

As the Gand came from his right, the wolf man lead the way to the left through the drain pipe. It wasn't long before they were under another cover. Even in the dim light, the wolf man could see the narrowing of the pipe past the cover, eventually turning ninety degrees downward. With both their strength the Gand and Wolfman had no problem lifting the drain cover. They both peeked their heads out of the cover to quite the surprise of the prisoner inside the cell.

Asa became dimly aware of his surroundings...was there a wolf howling? That was strange.

Suddenly the drain cover in his cell lifted off the floor and Asa jumped to his feet. Adrenaline coursed through his veins for a moment before he saw the faces of two odd-looking aliens peering up at him.

He seemed at a loss for words.

"Umm...hello?" He said, tentatively.

An eerie howl disturbs Valem's exhausted torpor, rousing him back to the edge of consciousness. More noises nearby, followed by an obviously agitated guard.

"...three more hours until your execution..." The last vestiges of his restless slumber dissipate with these words, and the Pau'an opens his red-rimmed eyes. Now or never...

Taking in his surroundings, he finds his containment cell is flanked by another with an Iktochi on one side, and a Chadra-fan on the other. Both are also beginning to stir. Across the room, Valem spies the cause of the distraught guard's worry: two of the cells lie empty, while the third contains a confused human speaking to the escapees in his drain.

Valem reaches out with the Force to the lone officer on guard, sensing his growing distress, feeding it, compounding it: (inflict 2 Strain)

Description	Influence (1 pip to increase range to short; 1 pip to inflict 2 strain on guard)
Results	1eF : 2 Light Side [1eF=LS/LS]

https://orokos.com/roll/545067#

After getting a slightly better sense of his surroundings, Asa realized that these two must be fellow prisoners.

"Wait—does that drain lead to an exit?" He asked the pair. "Sewers? Storm drains?"

He felt his body for his gear. Nothing. He reached behind his head for his weapons. Nothing. His prison garb was identical to what the others were wearing and his gear was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't suppose either of you speak Basic? Or know how to fight?" He asked hopefully.

Kilimar wakes up at the howling and clanging of metal, and the shouting of Imperial guards. Before he can make sense of what's going on, the leftover trauma from the drugs and interrogation fuddle his mind. "Zett! No! Don't go out there!" He sits up quickly after that, looking around for a person long since gone. He blinks, wobbling a bit as he tries to orient himself to his surroundings. Where the **** was he? He thought. Oh, right, imprisoned. Feeling a sense of panic rise up along with the ominous deja vu, he sees the guard distracted by the other cells, and makes his way for the door. He tries to find a panel to rip off and get to some wiring or something to open the door, but all he proceeds to do, is pull loose a useless fixture, and fall on his butt. The resulting clamor momentarily distracting the guard to look at him. (thus causing the 2 boost for someone else) "Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" The Imperial yells at Kilimar, who responds with a rude gesture, and flinging the small bit of metal at him through the bars in pure spite. The guard ducks momentarily out of reflex, the throw wasn't a genuine threat though.

After taking stock of his surroundings, Asa bent down to help the duo out of the oversized drainpipe.

"Would one of you like to give me a boost up to that air duct vent?" He asked. "If we work together, I think that might provide us a way out. We can bother with introductions after that!"

@Rabobankrider @Rakaydos

The shistivastan tilted his head in a curious look, then turned toward the air vent and huffed. A leap and scrabbling of claws failed to attain purchace on the air vent, and with an annoyed growl he turned back to Asa and cupped his paws as an improvised step.

athletics to reach and remove air vent : 3eA+1eF+2eD+1eC 4 failures, 1 Dark Side

Force pip as advantage, to give a blue die to the next check to escape the cell through the airvent.

Climbing through the air duct : 4eA+1eB+1eC+2eD 2 successes, 1 advantage

Asa took the leg up and easily reached the vent. He scrambled inside, and reached down to pull the others up.

"Quickly now," he said quietly. "No telling how long that guard will be distracted."

(Can I possibly use the Advantage to notice something important in the scene?)

Kilimar continues to shake off the lingering effects of the drugs, the chaos around him, the shouting, all of it a great discord in his head. Then, he feels it, that single thread. He quiets his mind, and opens it, letting the probabilities flow through him. He sees all the immediate possibilities begin to tumble away from his awareness, like dominoes in a pattern. They fall, over and over, leaving only one path, a path he's seen many times, and hates every time it appears. The Imperial has made a choice, and it isn't one they will like.

He hunches over into a feral crouch, a low hissing sound escaping his lips, and permeating the room. His eyes locked on the Imperial with the intensity of an animal ready to strike, despite his confinement. Anyone noticing him at that moment would see the supernatural intensity of his focus.