Steam Vents of the Undercity
Cap'in lay in her bunk, the low hum of the ship's systems a constant companion. Though it had been a couple of weeks since their last encounter, the aches lingered - phantom reminders of blaster burns and hard landings. Her body was mending, but the soreness hadn’t quite faded… and neither had the memories.
The intercom chimed, its sharp tone pulling Cap’in from her thoughts. With a groan, she swung her legs off the bunk and tapped the receiver.
“Cap’in here. Go ahead.”
5E’s voice crackled through. “Apologies for the interruption, Cap’in. I’ve just finished running a full inventory on the weapons we recently acquired.”
She already didn’t like where this was going.
“They’re junk,” 5E continued. “Blasters built from scrap - faulty power cells, mismatched parts. Nothing serviceable.”
Cap’in exhaled through her nose, weariness hardening into frustration. Why is it never simple?
“I’ll be down shortly. Let Brains know too.”
“Aye-aye,” 5E replied.
She descended into the Wayfinder’s hold, the familiar scent of metal and machine oil greeting her. Below, 5E and Brains were locked in a pointed discussion, voices rising before cutting off abruptly as she approached.
Brains gave a curt nod. “5E’s right. I double-checked everything. They cobbled together a few working pieces just enough to fool a basic scan, then filled the rest with junk.”
Cap’in crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Maybe they figured we’d be halfway across the sector before we noticed.”
Brains snorted. “Or maybe they thought we wouldn’t risk going back into the depths of the undercity to find them.”
Cap’in was quiet for a moment, then gave a slow nod.
“Let’s prove them wrong. 5E, round up the crew - we’re going back.”
Without a word, the droid turned and headed toward the comms console.
Cap’in looked to Brains and arched a brow. “Let’s see what our new Quarren crewmates can do when it counts.”
Background
This scenario is inspired by the Stargrave mission of the same name.
To bring the scenario into alignment with the Fistful of Lead: Galactic Heroes ruleset, we adapted elements from Stargrave to better fit the fast-paced, cinematic action of Galactic Heroes.
One key environmental rule we translated involved the hazardous steam vents:
Original Stargrave Rule:
“At the start of each turn after the first, randomly select one steam vent and place a new cloud over it. If a figure is within 1” of the steam vent when it releases a cloud, they suffer a +3 attack. If they are under or in contact with the cloud, but not within 1” of the vent, they suffer a +0 attack.”
Our adaptation:
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Each turn (starting from Turn 2), one steam vent is randomly selected to vent.
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Any figure within 1” of the vent is targeted by a Short-Range Ranged Attack (representing the violent burst of scalding steam).
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Any figure in contact with the cloud but not within 1” of the vent is instead hit by a Long-Range Ranged Attack (representing residual heat and pressure).
We also reworked the rule governing the movement of the sewer-dragon and applied it to our setting’s Rancor encounter:
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Whenever a player plays a Wildcard (an Ace) for the first time during the turn and the Rancor is in play, their opponent immediately gets to move the Rancor up to 4".
This created a tense tactical decision: powerful Wildcards came with the risk of provoking a dangerous beast.
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| The Playing Area |
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| Left to Right Talz, Super Battle Droid, Durga Besadii Kalro (Leader), Super Battle Droid, Gorga Besadii Kalro (Specialist) |
Cap’in and Brains crouched low behind a stack of rusted conduit piping, their boots half-submerged in the grimy runoff that pooled through the cracked undercity floor. 5E remained standing, unmoving except for the slow, deliberate motion of his head - sweeping left to right, then back again. The only sounds were the hiss of steam vents and the faint hum of ancient generators buried somewhere below.
Cap’in’s voice came as a whisper. “Something’s wrong. It’s too quiet.”
5E tilted his head slightly toward her. “My scans detect a single lifeform in the vicinity. Large. Stationary. Possibly resting.”
Brains furrowed his brow and lifted a pair of battered macro-binoculars, their lenses fogging slightly from the moisture in the air. He scanned the hazy corridor beyond the steaming vents, straining to make out shapes through the swirling mist.
“I’m not seeing anything… too much damn vapor from those exhausts - wait, hold on.”
There was a pause. A thick, audible swallow.
“Oh no,” he said quietly. “There’s something out there. A Rancor. Not full grown, but big enough to rip a droid in half - and not politely either.”
Cap’in eased up beside him, pushing a few coils of cabling out of the way to peer through the haze. Her eyes narrowed.
“Well, that explains the lack of guards. Who needs security when you’ve got a half-grown Rancor doing the job for you?”
Brains lowered the binoculars. “I guess sneaking in got a lot more complicated.”
Cap’in gave a wry smile. “No, just more interesting.”
She pulled her blaster, checked the power cell, then glanced at the others.
“We’re going to have to do this the quiet way. No shots, no noise. We ghost in, find that bastard who sold us junk, and ghost out.”
5E replied flatly, “I am not optimized for ghosting.”
Cap’in smirked. “Then stay close to me, shiny. You’re about to get a lesson.”
From somewhere deeper in the steam-choked corridor, a low, guttural growl echoed - slow, menacing, and much too close.
Brains whispered, “We really don’t want to wake it.”
Cap’in nodded. “Then let’s move. Nice and easy.”
The crew slipped into the mist, shadows in the gloom, every step bringing them closer to danger - and maybe, to payback.
Turn 1
The crew of the Wayfinder seized the initiative, drawing an Ace to activate first. But victory came with a price, as the Kalro Clan, by rule, gained control of the Rancor. Without hesitation, they pushed the beast forward, its guttural roar echoing through the steaming vents as it lumbered in the direction of the Wayfinder crew.
Cap’in snapped into command mode.
“Scatter! Don’t give that thing a clear line!” she barked.
She directed 5E and Choppa to pivot left, making a break for the loot on that flank. The rest of the crew scrambled between stacked shipping containers, using the cover to limit the Rancor’s path and keep out of the Kalro Clan’s line of fire.
Across the field, the enemy made their move. The rhythmic thudding of Super Battle Droids advancing stirred something in Brains - a sharp flash of memory from the Clone Wars. His posture stiffened.
Meanwhile, the newly hired Quarren proved far less composed. Panic took hold, and rather than follow Cap’in’s command to fall back, they stood their ground and opened fire on the advancing Rancor. Blaster bolts lit the fog, striking true - but the hulking beast barely flinched, suffering only a single wound. Worse, it let out an enraged bellow and charged even faster.
“Stop shooting the damn thing!” Cap’in shouted, diving behind a container. “It’s not a fight we win head-on!”
On the other side of the chaos, the Kalro Clan moved with tactical precision.
The massive Talz, cloaked in shadows and caution, crept toward the central loot token. Every step was deliberate as he wasn’t about to risk drawing the Rancor’s attention.
Further back, Durga Besadii Kalro used the swirling steam clouds to his advantage. The Hutt slugged forward under the cover of vapor, using his bulk and guile to stay hidden.
On the far flank, Gorga Besadii Kalro spotted an opportunity. His visor locked onto the exposed cluster of Quarren recruits. With a satisfied grunt, he raised his rocket launcher and fired. The missile streaked through the air, exploding in a concussive blast.
The effect was immediate - no casualties, but the psychological toll was immense. The Quarren dove for cover, hearts pounding, their earlier defiance replaced with sheer terror.
And amidst it all, the Rancor roared again - louder, closer, and more furious than before.
Turn 2
The steam vents hissed again, belching clouds of scalding vapor that danced across the rusted floor of the undercity. Through the haze, Durga Besadii Kalro slithered forward, his massive bulk surprisingly silent as he glided over a tangle of old pipes. Beneath him, nestled amid the grime, sat a data loot token - unassuming, but valuable. Durga’s slug-like gaze locked onto it. Next turn, it would be his.
Meanwhile, at the heart of the map, the towering Talz reached the central loot token. He knelt and scooped it up, his white fur bristling slightly as he scanned the shadows for movement. Finding none, he let out a low, rumbling laugh - the kind of sound that sent a chill down the spine. Victory, it seemed, was within reach.
Realizing the Rancor was the greatest hazard on the field, Gorga Besadii Kalro barked an order. His Super Battle Droids pivoted in unison, their servos whining, and unleashed a barrage of firepower at the hulking beast. The air filled with the hum of blaster bolts and the acrid scent of ozone. The Rancor staggered - wounded, but not yet finished. Its bellow of pain shook the shipping containers.
Among those containers, Cap’in crouched, watching everything unfold through a cracked tactical display. She tapped her comm.“Spike. Brains. Right flank. There's loot in the open. Move quiet. Move fast.”
The pair complied, slipping through the maze of metal and shadow, stepping over loose cables and ducking under ancient conduit lines. Meanwhile, a couple of the Quarren mercenaries, still reeling from the earlier rocket blast, held their positions and offered up erratic covering fire. Their shots fizzled against container walls and steam clouds - more noise than threat.
But on the far side of the battlefield, 5E was already two steps ahead.
The droid crept forward, silent and watchful. Through the steam, he spotted movement - a familiar shape, grotesque and overconfident. Durga Besadii Kalro, distracted by the loot at his feet, hadn’t seen him approach.
5E raised his blaster slowly, methodically.
Target acquired.
The shot rang out. A single, precise blast. It struck true. Durga let out a gurgling roar before crumpling to the floor with a thud that echoed through the vents.
First blood to the Wayfinder crew.
Cap’in’s voice crackled over comms: “Good shot, 5E. Let’s keep up the momentum.”
Turn 3
The battlefield shifted with the fall of Durga Besadii Kalro. A hush seemed to settle for a moment - quick, uncertain - but it didn’t last.
With a frustrated grunt, Gorga Besadii Kalro stepped forward, assuming full command of the Kalro Clan. His cold eyes swept across the battlefield, assessing the unfolding chaos. Durga was down, the Rancor still rampaging, and Wayfinder numbers were beginning to surge. But Gorga was no stranger to adversity.
He pointed a stubby finger, issuing sharp commands to his Super Battle Droids.
“Spread out. Secure what’s ours.”
The droids responded with mechanical precision. One stomped over the twisted wreckage of pipes where Durga had fallen, scanning for the data loot he had been moments from claiming.
Another advanced along the flank, hydraulics hissing as it closed in on an exposed loot token.
But Spike was watching.
From his cover behind a fractured crate, he squeezed his trigger. A precise blaster bolt streaked across the field and slammed into the advancing droid’s chestplate. Sparks erupted, followed by a violent shudder. The machine collapsed mid-step, its metal frame clattering to the ground.
One less threat on the board.
Meanwhile, near the centre of the map, Cap’in moved with the cool resolve of a seasoned skirmisher. From behind a scorched cargo pod, a wandering Ruffian lunged - probably drawn by the sound of the blaster fire or the scent of blood.
Cap’in didn’t hesitate.
A swift sidestep, a flash of blaster fire, and the Ruffian dropped before he could even register the mistake. She didn’t even break stride.
Despite their tactical prowess, the Wayfinder crew was still dancing with death. The Rancor - massive, furious, and now badly wounded - continued to stalk the battlefield. Its roars echoed between the shipping containers, shaking rust from the overhead struts.
Pinned by its presence, the crew had been forced to scatter and delay their advance. Brains, ever the cool marksman, led the counterattack. Flanked by the still-nervous Quarren crewmates, he poured blaster fire into the beast, coordinating the barrage with logical precision.
The Rancor reeled, its body scorched and bleeding. One more volley from Brains - and a final searing blast from the Quarren - and the creature let out a thunderous groan. It toppled with earthshaking finality, collapsing in a heap of flesh and fury between the containers.
A stunned silence followed.
Then Cap’in’s voice crackled over the comms: “Nice work. Push forward. We’re not done.”
Though the Wayfinders now held the numerical advantage, the toll of battling the Rancor had slowed their momentum. Every second counted. Every move mattered.
Across the field, Gorga narrowed his eyes.
The fight was far from over.
Turn 4
The screech of hydraulics filled the air as a Super Battle Droid approached a data loot terminal, its clawed fingers twitching in anticipation of the download sequence. The air around it shimmered with rising steam, the battlefield a maze of shifting heat and obscured sightlines.
Then - movement.
From behind a twisted heap of scrap, a Quarren mercenary sprang up, eyes wide and blaster already raised. The shot rang out, catching the droid square in the upper chassis. Sparks flew as it staggered backward, systems overloaded. The hulking automaton crumpled into a slump—disabled, but not destroyed.
"Target down, but not out," the Quarren muttered over the comm, ducking back behind cover before the smoke even cleared.
On the far side of the arena, momentum shifted. With the Rancor finally vanquished and the fog of battle thinning, the Wayfinder crew began a coordinated push. Cap’in led from the center, her silhouette darting between cargo crates, issuing crisp commands.
“Keep the pressure up! Kalro’s wounded - this is our opening.”
Choppa and 5E flanked to the left, advancing with weapons primed. The Quarren squad, now regaining confidence after their earlier missile-induced panic, moved with purpose, fanning out to cut off retreat lanes. The roar of boots and the hum of charged blasters filled the corridor of shipping containers as the Wayfinders closed in on the fractured line of the Kalro Clan.
But amidst the chaos, one figure remained eerily calm.
The Talz, quiet and methodical, had slipped away unnoticed in the confusion. While battle raged and machines fell, he had carefully weaved through steam vents and cover, clutching the central loot token close to his chest. His white fur, now streaked with grime and heat, shimmered as he disappeared into the undercity shadows.
And just like that, the Kalro Clan had scored big.
The Talz’s escape sent ripples of frustration through the Wayfinder ranks.
“Damn it,” Cap’in hissed, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the empty field where the Talz had been.
Still, not all was lost. The Rancor was down, Kalro’s leader was out of the fight, and the field was shifting in the Wayfinders’ favour.
But every decision mattered now. Every token, every shot, every step.
And the battle was far from over.
Turn 5
Amid the debris and scattered fire, one of the Super Battle Droids finally completed its objective. With mechanical precision, it reached down and clamped its claw around a physical loot token, hoisting it skyward like a trophy. Its photoreceptors glowed with renewed purpose as it began the slow trudge back toward the Kalro Clan’s lines.
Not far off, Spike ducked behind some half-collapsed cargo, blaster trained on the droid. A Quarren mercenary, crouched beside a droid, mirrored the pose. They nodded to one another and opened fire in unison - bolts slicing through the humid air.
Both missed.
The droid kept moving, undeterred, a slow juggernaut marching through chaos.
Gorga Besadii Kalro watched the Wayfinder crew maneuver. His single eye narrowed as he spotted Spike and the Quarren attempting to cut off his advance. But it was the figures further ahead - Cap’in and Brains, orchestrating the Wayfinder assault - who caught his ire.
He hoisted his shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, its targeting reticle flickering through the mist. He fired.
The rocket screamed across the battlefield - a fiery streak of vengeance. But almost instantly, it veered wide. A malfunction? A miscalculation? It didn’t matter. The missile arced off-course, slamming into the ground between Cap’in and Brains just as they were advancing from cover.
The explosion was thunderous. A shockwave tore through the lane of shipping containers, throwing the two Wayfinders off their feet. Metal groaned and buckled. Flames licked at the edges of a smoldering crater. When the dust settled, both Cap’in and Brains were sprawled against the rusted steel walls - alive, but dazed and reeling, their ears ringing and vision blurred.
Over the Kalro Clan comms, Gorga let out a grunt of surprise, followed by a low chuckle.
"Didn’t mean to hit them," he muttered. "But I’ll take it."
For the Wayfinders, the turn had taken a brutal twist. With two of their most vital crew members momentarily incapacitated and the Kalro Clan making progress on the loot front, momentum hung precariously in the balance.
Turn 6
The low, hissing groan of the undercity’s aging infrastructure was a familiar sound by now - but this turn, it took a more treacherous form. New steam vents erupted with bursts of scalding vapor, billowing out into the already chaotic battlefield. One plume in particular swallowed a nearby data loot token, the fog turning the glowing console into a dangerous mirage, nearly inaccessible to either crew. Any approach would risk burns or worse.
Spike, bruised and breathing hard, steadied his aim from behind a twisted support strut. The Super Battle Droid carrying a physical loot token was in his sights, lumbering confidently away like a walking vault. Spike took a breath, focused, and fired.
The bolt found its mark. Sparks flew as the droid's servos spasmed - it staggered, then crashed to one knee, dropping the loot with a loud clunk.
"Yes!" Spike hissed, a brief grin on his face.
But the moment was short-lived. A glint caught his eye - one of those cursed Wildcards. As the next activation flipped, a Queen of Hearts emerged. The mechanical monster whirred back to life with an eerie chirp, hydraulics hissing as it stood tall. Without hesitation, it stooped and reclaimed the loot, as if nothing had happened.
“Damn thing won’t stay down,” Spike muttered, ducking lower behind cover.
Across the battlefield, steam and fire danced among shadows. One of the Quarren crewmembers, emboldened by the Rancor’s earlier defeat, crept forward to support the flank. But a wounded Super Battle Droid, its plating scorched and limbs jerking with damage, pivoted with grim efficiency.
It fired.
The shot hit center mass. The Quarren dropped instantly, blaster clattering against the floor as smoke curled from his armor.
The Wayfinder crew had numbers, but the Kalro Clan had tenacity - and their droids, even when broken, were proving terrifyingly hard to kill.
Turn 7
One of the remaining Super Battle Droids zeroed in on a Quarren crewmember caught in the open. With clinical precision, the droid raised its arm-mounted blaster, servo-joints whining - and then nothing.
A sputter. A low-pitched whine. The blaster fizzled, then sparked out, a malfunction leaving the droid momentarily weaponless.
But it did not pause.
Unfazed, the droid surged forward, its heavy legs pounding across the cracked duracrete. The Quarren barely had time to raise his blaster before a durasteel fist slammed into his chest with a sickening crunch. The blow lifted him off his feet, and he crumpled to the ground - out of the fight before he could scream.
Nearby, a desperate push was unfolding. The Battle Droid hauling the physical loot was making its slow, deliberate march toward the table edge. Cap'in, bloodied and bruised, ducked behind a scorched crate and leveled her blaster—only to hear the unmistakable click of an empty power cell.
She cursed under her breath, smacking the receiver. "You've got to be kidding me!"
Beside her, Spike and another Quarren opened fire in unison. The air lit up with crimson bolts that sliced through the haze… and missed, again.
The loot-laden droid, seemingly invincible, pressed forward undeterred - its armour scorched, one arm twitching from earlier damage, but its grip on the crate unshaken.
Cap'in looked around, seeing her crew bleeding, scrambling, falling. Her jaw tightened. This droid was going to make it out unless they found a way to stop it - fast.
Turn 8
One of the last remaining Super Battle Droids, battered but unrelenting, made its final push toward the edge of the zone. Despite multiple attempts to bring it down, it lumbered off the field, loot token clutched in its mechanical grip - another hard-earned point for the Kalro Clan.
But the tide was turning.
From the maze of scorched crates and tangled cabling at the heart of the table, Brains emerged like a ghost from the undercity gloom. His veins pulsed with adrenaline as he knelt, resting his blaster against a scorched metal crate for stability.
Through the mist, his optics locked on a bulky figure - Gorga Besadii Kalro, exposed and issuing commands to the last of his forces.
"Time to end the slug’s day," Brains muttered.
He took a breath - purely out of habit - and squeezed the trigger.
The shot punched through the haze like a lance of red light. It caught Gorga squarely in the chest, the Hutt’s eyes widening in shock before he toppled like a collapsing tower. Out of the fight. The Kalro Clan’s last true leader was down.
But Brains wasn’t finished.
Pivoting with swift precision, he turned his blaster on another damaged Battle Droid limping through the smoke. A second shot cracked out. Sparks flew. The droid staggered and collapsed in a heap of fried circuits and twitching limbs.
Turn 9
Spike, newly focused and finally regaining his combat rhythm, spotted the twitching form of the damaged droid trying to reboot.
"No you don’t," he growled.
A single, clean shot followed and the droid's optics went dark. Out of the fight for good.
Now, only one droid remained for the Kalro Clan - its chassis blackened, its servos whining under strain. The battlefield had shifted dramatically. What had begun as a confident advance by the Kalro Clan was quickly descending into a desperate scramble for survival.
And the Wayfinder crew, bruised but unbowed, was still in the fight.
Turn 10
With smoke rising from the scorched battlefield and steam clouds hissing from fractured vents, the Kalro Clan found themselves teetering on the brink. Only one battered Super Battle Droid remained active—its metal plating scorched, servos whining, and optics flickering. It was crouched by a data terminal, desperately attempting to extract what little information it could from a half-fried loot node.
But fate - and initiative - favoured the Wayfinder crew.
From behind a wall of stacked cargo crates, 5E emerged like a ghost of war. His photoreceptors scanned, locked, and calculated. The target was clear. The threat minimal. The shot? Inevitable.
"Target acquired," 5E said flatly.
The blaster crack echoed sharply through the now eerily quiet industrial district. A single bolt streaked across the distance - unerring and merciless. It struck the Battle Droid square in the back. Circuits fried. Limbs stiffened. The machine collapsed, smoking and inert.
The battlefield fell silent.
The skirmish was over.
With Kalro Clan defeated and no enemies left in play, the Wayfinder crew quickly regrouped and assessed the field. Though battered, they were still standing.
Final Outcome
Following the agreed scenario rules, the team now had the opportunity to claim any unclaimed loot left behind. The dice clattered across a makeshift table - one for the data node, one for a forgotten crate of physical goods. Both rolls were successful.
Two additional loot tokens secured.
When the dust settled, the Wayfinder crew had claimed:
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1 loot token during gameplay
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2 unclaimed tokens post-battle
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Plus their Legendary Team Trait bonus
Total: 6 Renown Points
The Kalro Clan, though bloodied and leaderless, walked away with 7 Renown Points thanks to the loot they managed to secure during the height of the conflict. A narrow margin, but a victory nonetheless.
Back aboard the Wayfinder, the crew made a collective decision. Knowing another confrontation was all but inevitable, Cap'in authorized the recruitment of a second squad of Quarren Grunts, spending 3 Renown Points to bolster their ranks.
The next battle would be bigger. Meaner. More dangerous.
And this time, they'd be ready.
Wow -- what a fight! Our Galactic Heroes games never seem to be as bloody as that!! Lots of characters taken out of action. Close game. Looking forward to the next one...!
ReplyDeleteThat game was an all-out, no-holds-barred spectacle - like a space opera with extra chaos! It was gloriously intense, packed with action, and had just the right level of dramatic flair. And of course, the pew, pew of Star Wars was alive and well! You could practically feel the blaster fire zipping past, as if we were caught in an intergalactic showdown.
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