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trifoliate-undergrowth · 5 years

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Episode 7: No Bigger Fish

WELL IT HAS BEEN A WHILE but we’re getting the group back together tomorrow and so I want to try to catch up on some of the old episodes I never posted! They may be a bit shorter because it’s been so long and I’ve forgotten stuff so I have to rely on my notes, but I hope to hit the highlights. This session in particular was one of my favorites. Basically, our characters make a Walmart run, but instead of Walmart it’s the planet of Naboo.

The DM introduces us to the spectacle of Theed City, capitol of Naboo. It’s temperate in climate, standing majestically on a forested mesa.

We’re contacted by Theed air traffic control.

Me: As usual, Taveau is gonna look to Grif to do the talking.

H: As usual, Rralwarr can’t talk.

ATC: confirm number of passengers and planned duration of stay.

Grif: Uh hey there, we have 3, planning on staying overnight.

ATC: Copy, Blindsider... be prepared to show IDs to customs.

Grif, quietly: oh

(The players all sit back and give each other the :/ face for a minute)

Rralwarr: Well, we don’t need to stop here...

Me out-of-character: can we do a galactic lore roll to see how bad it would be if we landed without IDs? I mean Taveau’s not gonna know what to search for necessarily, he’s not familiar with landing LEGALLY... But maybe someone else who knows more about this?

Grif: hmmm well sounds problematic.

Grif to ATC: OK we don’t have time to stop here bye.

ATC: Copy, please exit Naboo airspace within 5 minutes.

There’s a pause, then:

DM: OK, WELL, I’LL JUST PULL THIS ENTIRE PAGE OF METICULOUS NOTES OUT OF THE BOOK AND EAT IT, NOW.

Everyone: uh

Everyone: do we uh

Everyone: was... were we supposed to land on Naboo....

Everyone: do we not have a session plan now??

DM: MMMMMYEP.

M: oops.... oh, well, we already did that so I guess--

Me, out of character: AAHGHSDFJK. OK HOLD ON ONE SEC--

Taveau: H, hold on, are we... where are we going if we’re not stopping here?

Grif: To meet up with Mij?

Taveau: But we were supposed to meet up with him in a couple of days. We’re going to be there way too early if we stop here.

Rralwarr: We could always just wait there. Maybe scope out the area.

Taveau: Have you looked at the coordinates he gave us? That’s in the middle of Separatist airspace and I don’t want to be just sitting out there for two days!

Grif: Well...

Taveau takes out his datapad, does a thirty-second Space Wikipedia search, and shoves it in Grif’s face--showing that we can easily get tourist visas on the planet.

Grif: OK, you really want to go to this planet don’t you?

(Me out of character: YE)

Grif: Listen, OK, let’s make a deal... We’ll make this stop and I’ll subtract 10% of your pay.

Taveau:

Taveau: What

Taveau: What is my pay?

Grif: ...OK yeah let’s go ahead and establish that.

Taveau: Uh-huh, so what do you think is a good--

Grif: *FAST TALK MODE ENGAGED* Well listen I feel like we’ve got to find a price that’s reasonable for our means without devaluing the great help you’ve given us. You helped us in battle as well as with flying this ship. You’ve changed the direction of my entire life, and I hope you’ll be there for a lot of it, because you’re a pretty cool guy. However, as far as payment goes, well, I mean you weren’t flying for the whole time you’ve been with us, and a lot of that time the ship was on autopilot anyway--

Taveau, breaking out of his overwhelmed haze: OK but you say this like programming autopilot is EASY. Could you do it?

Grif: ...Probably? I mean I’m guessing there’s a button you press.

Rralwarr: You’re the type who’d push the self-destruct button instead.

Grif, uncomfortable: Thehrhyhe haaa theyyy don’t HAVE self destruct buttons??? do they???

Taveau: *chuckles* .... nah.

Grif: Ah, good, great. So how much do you want?

Taveau, who has no idea what a reasonable price actually is, just kind of bluescreens for a few seconds and then goes “.....10,000?”

Grif: OK, sure. I’ll get that to you as soon as possible. ...You really wanna go to Naboo?

Taveau: Do you have a better idea??

Grif: ... ...well... no... but...? ...OK but let’s go to the other side of the planet, I don’t wanna talk to that guy again, he seemed grumpy.

(DM: Ooh...

H: I know what his punishment for us is gonna be.

DM: The Gungans have also been making a killing off of tourism, and have built a spaceport outside of Theed to allow access to the underwater city. Yes, THIS IS WHAT YOU GET for making me eat my notes.)

Grif, researching the area, notices the Gungan city, and goes: Ooh, an underwater city! Now, that I could get behind.

Taveau: OK? Glad to see you excited about something.

Grif, reading from his datapad: ooh they took out an entire orbital dropship, they must be great warriors!

Taveau: Huh. Interesting.

DM: So you fly in to Gungan Space and you get a uhh.. a new buzzer on the commlink... it appears to be Gungan traffic control.

ATC: HEDOOOH! YoU-sA wAnT lAnD iN GunGAn cItY??

HEDOOOH! You-sa want land in Gungan City?

(Players: oh...

DM: THIS IS YOUR PUNISHMENT.)

ATC: wE-SAAAA be hApPy to WelCOmE YoU! YoUUu-sa, be lAnDiN iNNnn, ah... DoCkInG bAy 36!

Grif: All right, sounds great!

ATC: ThAnK yOuS!

Grif: he sounds friendly.

Taveau: yeah, they sound pretty chill.

Grif: they must have a very interesting and deep rich culture if their speech is so hard for us to understand... I think it’ll be a very interesting experience.

DM: You land, and are greeted by Gungan Customs, which seems to work on a different organizational scheme than Nubian customs.

Gungan Customs Officer: Hello-sa!

Grif: Hi! :D

GCO: Welcome to Naboo, we-sa very happy to have you here! But-ah, there is una small matter! The landing fee is 500 Republic credits!

Grif: OK, uh, shoot! Well, I can cover that one. (M: I’ll swipe my cardy-boii)

We get our visas and ride down towards the underwater city in a small sub shuttle. Rralwarr is not happy about being crammed into a small space, or about being underwater in general, but it’s otherwise a very nice ship. The pilots points out interesting features of the area as we glide downwards.

Taveau: Huh... I’m starting to enjoy myself.

Grif, staring at the pilot’s eye-stalks: .....huh.

The water grows darker, but ahead is a dim glow of light which slowly becomes many different points of light, coming from a system of oddly bulbous pods linked together: the underwater city of Otoh-Gunga.

Grif: Wow! This is impresive!

Pilot: It is very nice, yes? We-sa like it here.

Grif: So, like, how do you get in without, like, letting water in?

Pilot: Ooh, we-sa have membranes! It keep the water out, but the ships go through!

Grif: Amazing! But isn’t that a security risk? Can any ships go through, or only yours?

Pilot: Oh, we-sa don’t worry about that. We-sa very peaceful, no have soldiers here since the invasion.

Grif: Oh, good, I always like a peaceful planet. I come from one myself, it’s called Alderaan.

Pilot: Does it have oceans?

Grif: Oh, yeah, lots of oceans! But I don’t think there are any underwater cities. \

Pilot: Sound lovely. Maybe we visit sometime.

We arrive in the city, and Rralwarr immediately runs to the most open space in the area and takes a slightly panicky breath of air.

Taveau: Doing OK Rralwarr?

Rralwarr: *tiny Wookie noise* underwater....

Grif: OK, let’s figure out how we’re gonna do this! Rralwarr, I know you want medpacs. Taveau, what about you?

Taveau: Booze.

Grif: ..That’s all? You made us come down here for booze? Alright, fine, I’ll get you some booze.

Taveau: You’re paying? I wasn’t aware that was part of the arrangement.

Grif: Oh, sure, yeah. I’ll get you whatever you need on this trip, it comes out of your pay, is all.

Taveau: I can buy my own groceries. But I will let you buy me a bottle of rum.

The party splits: Rralwarr goes off to buy medpacs, and Grif and Taveau head to a liquor store. DM asks what I’m looking for. I say just a cheap rum.

DM: Just... complete rotgut? You’re looking for the Star Wars equivalent of Everclear.

Me, ooc: not QUITE that bad.

DM: So, space Jim Beam.

Me: Yeah.

DM: OK, you find that.

The DM introduces the cashier lady, the store, and an impressive array of space booze to choose from: a number of Mon Cal grades, one which is 1000 credits (Taveau: oof. that’s unnecessary), samples of imports from other planets--the cashier notes that a few are becoming hard to get, thanks to the Separatists taking over the planets of origin.

DM: There’s also a novelty bottle of bright green alcohol that comes in a bottle shaped like Yoda’s head. You’re pretty sure this was not authorized by the Jedi. 75 credits. The label reads “Feel good you will, hmmmm.”

Grif: !!!

Taveau: I’m not sure I trust this, but OK?? We can share it, it’ll be interesting.

We get the novelty Yoda booze and 1 bottle of 95-credit (fairly cheap but almost respectable) Mon Calamari black rum for Taveau’s personal use.

As they leave, Taveau takes the rum out of his bag, takes a swig straight out the bottle, and then puts it back in his bag.

DM: That’s very white trash of him.

Me, OOC: You assume Taveau is white? He’s just... space trash.

(DM argues that I showed him some pictures I found on pinterest as references and they looked like white trash. And OK they fit the general aesthetic and appearance which is why I sent them, but they don’t supersede the character description that’s on my sheet.)

DM: So you continue walking along, noticing the tourists and the Gungans looking out across the city. It’s so pretty, you think you have to take another drink of rum to appreciate it, so you do. (Minor irritation from me having my character played for me, but it is, in fact, extremely in character, so I roll with it) Grif, you crack open that Yoda head. It is very sweet and very fruity, with a bit of citrus. It’s basically 170-proof Mountain Dew. Some of your nervousness about being underwater slips away. You decide to give Rralwarr some when you get back.

Taveau: How’s that?

Grif: Weird! It’s sweet, try it?

Taveau: ...ooh. I like that more than I thought I would.

DM: Taveau, you find yourself feeling like you’re almost ready to talk to people. It’s weird, and you’re not quite sure how you feel about it.

Next, we head to Otoh Gunga Metalworks. Naboo, being so peaceful, does not permit the (legal) sale of weapons for anything other than decoration, but Taveau wants to add to his knife collection. He’s planning to collect a knife from every planet he visits.

We enter, and the Gungan asks what we’re looking for. Taveau, being Taveau, just goes “Knives.” The Gungan chuckles.

Cashier Gungan: Who-sa you want to stab?

Taveau: Depends on the day.

CG: Me-sa kidding! We-sa no sell sharp blades, but we-sa do have good collection pieces.

Grif: Well, that would be perfect *elbow jab* sINCE YOU’RE A COLLECTOR, Taveau!

Taveau: Yep.

There are, actually, a wide variety of knives, mostly elaborately wrought decoration pieces, but down in the “historical section” are knives and hunting tools, replicas of the distant past. They have dull edges and are made of the same dark metal of the city-bubbles’ frames. There are spears, slings, and some small, almost stiletto-like knives.

Grif: Wow, it’s so tiny!

The Gungan chuckles: You-sa must be delicate, thesa not be for gooberfish. ...We-sa have spears for those.

Taveau picks up one of the small knives and examines it. It’s a bit heavier than he would expect for the size and is made of one piece of metal, with the hilt wrapped in a tough green leather of unidentifiable source. It’s a stiff, non-flexible blade, very slender, the balance point towards the hilt.

Taveau buys two of the plainer ones.

Next, I want to find a vox box, a device which (I had learned from the manual) is readily available across the galaxy and speaks a range of phrases in Basic, and, with a good computer skill, can also be customized.

All we can find, the DM tells us, is a novelty vox box that speaks in a Gungan accent.

(Me: Is this really the only one?? I was gonna give it to Rralwarr as a gift, I thought it was a good idea...

DM: That’s the only one.

Me: I’m a little angry.

DM: SO AM I)

Grif thinks the box is hilarious and encourages Taveau, who was wavering, to buy it anyway. Taveau figures they can always try customizing it to be less annoying later. And then--

Grif: Bookstore! Do you like books? I like books.

Taveau: Uh. Sure

Grif looks through the selections on galactic cultures, trying to find something on Mandalore. There are very few mentions of it, aside from a sort of cheesy fiction book title “Tales of the Mandalorian Raiders,” a story about the Old Republic. The cover shows a black-and-red-helmeted mando in old-fashioned armor--it’s more square, and the T-visor is contoured differently--stabbing his sword through a Jedi’s heart, with the wreckage of a city overrun by armies of battling Jedi and Mandalorians in the background.

Grif seriously considers buying this book. Taveau picks it up and flips through it. It claims to be written in Mando’a blank verse, a claim which doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense, but whatever. There are a few words of Mando’a flung in for flavor. They’re hilariously misspelled. It tells the story of an ancient Mandalore who once allied with the Sith. He’s portrayed in a fairly unflattering light, and the book focused on his creative ways of slaughtering people.

Taveau cackles at this a bit.

Grif: ....Had enough to drink?

Taveau: Yeah yeah. *shakes the book* is this what you do in your free time?

Grif: It is now.

Taveau: Why??

Grif: Well--okay, here’s the thing, I just... My life has been changing a lot lately, and I’m not really sure where I stand, you know? And I want to believe that Mij and his people are the good guys, you know, and I really think it’s so cool what they stand for, the--the freedom, and honor, and stuff, and fighting Death Watch, but I just... I’m new to this, and I don’t know them very well, and if I’m going to become a part of this I want to be sure I’m doing the right thing. So, I guess I just want to understand more about the culture because I hope it’ll help me understand Mij.

Taveau: ..*chokes* hgnsf. Huh, OK. Well, I don’t think a book about the far past is going to tell you anything about Mij, but I think I get what you’re saying... *suppressed chuckle* Huh, well, how about this. Would you like me to cook for you? You said you wanted to learn about Mandalorian culture, hm? *Cackling* I mean--you’ve got me, I’m right here. You, uh, don’t need. *dismissive shake of the book* ...This.

Grif is enthusiastic about this, despite the fact that Taveau is still cackling devilishly. They go grocery shopping. There’s a lot of fish, some seaweed-type wraps, and “a rather interesting sauce”: the sando-aquamonster hot sauce, with a label reading “there is no bigger fish.”

Taveau grumbles about the lack of spices, but buys the ingredients to make a fish wrap of some sort, along with that very interesting hot sauce. Grif follows everything eagerly. He does not protest the purchase of the hottest sauce in the store. We go back to the ship and reunite with Rralwarr. There’s a smallish cooking area in the ship, basically just a counter and a space microwave. Taveau tastes the sauce while he’s making the wraps.

Me, OOC: So how spicy is it?

DM: To YOU? Not very spicy, but you think it’s pretty good for an aruetiise approximation.

Let me pause here to share with you, my dear readers, some fun trivia I learned in my study of Mando’a. Mandalorian culture is full of very spicy foods. They have a special word (hetikles) for the “noseburn” you get from really really spicy foods, the ones that basically just set your entire sinus system on fire--it’s a prized sensation. Taveau was, of course, raised to have a healthy appreciation of hellishly fiery foods. Grif was not, and Taveau kinda suspects this.

Now, Taveau (fortunately for Grif) does not have access to real Mandalorian spices, but this sauce comes close enough to earn his respect.

He makes some fish wraps and sticks them in the space microwave for a minute so they’re warm, then drenches them in hot sauce. Grif is excited.

Taveau: Chill, this isn’t anything like authentic, I used what I could find.. it’s just some space-microwaved fish wrap with hot sauce on it... the sauce is pretty good, though.

Grif: Oh, awesome, cool, great! Is there, like, a traditional way to eat this or

Taveau: Just. eat it

Grif: OK!

M: Grif takes a big forkful and stuffs it in his mouth.

DM: CON SAVE!

M: (6)

DM: You would let loose with every foul word that you know, except that your mouth hurts too much and you can only get out an incomprehensible sound of pain.

Grif: WREEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Taveau, at this point, is on the floor, just choking with laughter.

DM: Grif, you scramble for the closest liquid--which is the bottle of Yoda liquor. It cuts the burn a bit but you do not feel well and you run off to the refresher to rethink your life. Taveau meanwhile is just losing it with laughter and calls after Grif “Kandosii!”

Rralwarr: What did you give him?!

Taveau: Just hot sauce. Try it!

DM: CON SAVE! (high pass) Yeah, you’re fine. It’s good sauce. You think Grif is just kind of a wimp.

Grif still hasn’t come back. Taveau feels a tiny bit bad but also he’s still laughing. Rralwarr pretends to feel bad. He is also laughing. We eat two of the hot-sauced wraps and Taveau puts one plain, not at all hot one aside for Grif, when he feels better enough to eat. Taveau also gives Rralwarr the vox box which speaks in a Gungan accent.

Rralwarr: ...This was Grif’s idea wasn’t it.

Meanwhile, Grif is lying spread-eagled on the tiles in the refresher, trying to absorb all the coldness from the floor. He feels like he’s on fire and his stomach probably won’t settle down for a while.

Taveau spends the next couple of hours sharpening the two knives he bought. He tapes one to the underside of his pilot seat so that it’s hidden but easy to whip out if needed. He’s completely finished sharpening both by the time Grif stumbles out of the refresher.

Taveau: Hey, Grif! I left one of those wraps plain for you. It’s in the kitchen.

Grif: hhhghhthanks uhhh I’m not really hungry right now but thanks tho

Taveau: Are you okay?

Grif: *sniff* hhghhhhyes ‘m fine just uhhhhghh. gonna uhh. go to bed now I think. g’night Taveau.

Taveau: I, uh. Didn’t realize it would be quite that rough on you.

Grif: huhhh nno it’sss fineeee m just a lil tired that’s all just. yea. ‘m totally fine don’t worry about it. g’night

Taveau: Oh, hey, before you go. This is for you. I sharpened it.

He gives Grif the other knife he’d bought on the planet, the slightly nicer one, now razor sharp, and tries to show Grif some grips he can use to fight with it.

Grif: uhhh that’s nice but uhh maybe show me this when I’m more awake maybe. tthank you.

He stumbles off, and Taveau settles down in his pilot seat with his knife collection. For now, it’s quiet in the ship.

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