Ghosts of the Clone Wars
The Wayfinder tore free of the pirate-choked trade station, hull scorched and shields flickering - a battered victor limping into the void. For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then fate struck like a disruptor bolt.
Brains was locking in the hyperspace jump when the console erupted in crimson light.
“Contact!” he barked.
The scans told a grim story: hull plating peeled like old armor, molten edges yawning into vacuum, blast scars etched deep. Yet - against all odds - sensors whispered of breathable pockets and a reactor barely clinging to life.
Cap’in leaned in, eyes narrowing at the scan.
“That’s… Separatist tech.”
The words hung heavy. A relic from the Clone Wars. A droid carrier that should’ve been dust decades ago. A phantom adrift beyond forgotten battle lines.
Brains let out a low whistle.
“Those nav cores and tactical banks? Locked military-grade. Worth a fortune. Enough to buy a fleet.”
Spike folded his arms.
“And enough to paint a target on us. Every scavenger in three systems will smell it once it stabilizes.”
Cap’in smirked, sliding her blaster back into its holster.
“Exactly. Which is why we move first. Strip the best tech and vanish before anyone else gets close.”
From the common room doorway, Jugro’s voice rumbled - bandaged but awake.
“And if something’s still alive in there?”
“Then we remind it the Clone Wars are over.”
The hyperspace countdown died on the console.
The Wayfinder banked hard toward the drifting hulk.
The race had begun.
Background
This scenario is inspired by the Stargrave mission "The Derelict Warship".
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.
At the end of every turn, we will roll on this table.
Derelict Warship Event Table
|
Die Roll |
Event |
|
1 - 3 |
No Event. |
|
4 |
For the rest of the scenario, roll for Unwanted
Attention as well as rolling on this event table each turn. |
|
5 |
Part of the ship suddenly decompresses before emergency
shields plug the leak. Select one side of the wall, and a random table edge
on that side. All figures on that side must make a Hard Task Roll. If
they fail, move them a number of inches equal to the amount by which they
failed the roll straight toward the randomly selected table edge. They will
move over any terrain 1” or shorter. Any larger terrain or the edge of the
table will stop this movement. |
|
6 |
The lights go off for a second, before emergency
glow-lamps kick in. All line of sight is reduced to a maximum of 12”.
If this result is rolled again, the lights come back on to full power and the
line of sight rules return to normal. |
|
7 |
All of the doors suddenly slam shut. Any figure even
partially in a doorway suffers a physical attack. Doors can be opened
again as normal. If a loot token is in a doorway when this happens, move the
token 1” to one side of the doorway or the other, determined randomly. |
|
8 |
The player with the fewest figures on the table may place
a damaged Super Battle Droid anywhere on the table they wish, so long
as it is at least 2” from any other figure. This droid has already suffered 2
Wounds. |
|
9 |
Localized explosion. Each player may pick one point on the
table. Every figure within 2” of that point suffers a ranged attack. |
|
10 |
Reactor Core meltdown. Starting with the next turn, start
counting down the turns from 7. When the countdown reaches zero, the
warship explodes and any figures remaining on the table are automatically
reduced to 0 Health. If this result is rolled a second time,
immediately reduce the countdown by 2. |
Both crews breached the derelict carrier’s main hangar through opposite airlocks, divided by a blast-wall that cut the deck in two like an old scar. Half the chamber drowned in shadow beneath flickering lights, while the distant groan of tortured metal made the ship feel alive or in its death throes.
The Wayfinder crew fanned out, weapons ready. Winnwakka sniffed the stale air: oil, rust, and something fouler lurking beneath. Spike’s attention, though, was elsewhere - a faint glow pulsing from a half-buried data-node near a collapsed doorway.
“Well, look at that,” he murmured, sliding his pistol away just long enough to pry it free. “Guess luck’s finally on my side.”
A low rumble rolled from Winnwakka’s throat. He jabbed a claw toward a crate balanced on a cargo container. A battered case sat atop it, stamped with Republic clearance marks. Physical loot. Priceless.
Across the divider, the Crew of the Wayfarer’s Edge moved in. Juro Takk crept toward a tangle of cracked coolant pipes where a lockbox lay wedged in the wreckage. The Twi’lek smirked.
“Looks like payday.”
Rethan Vok and Vel’dan Kreel flanked him, blasters raised, their stance honed by too many bad jobs.
Two crews. One ship. A hangar full of riches.
And no one willing to fire first… yet.
Winnwakka didn’t bother with stealth. With a single, powerful leap, he landed atop the cargo container, metal shrieking under his weight. His eyes locked on the Republic-marked case. One swipe, and it was in his grasp. He raised it high and bellowed his triumph across the hangar.
“RRRAAARGH!”
Cap’in winced. “Subtle as ever, furball…”
The roar carried down the divider like a beacon. The Wayfarer’s Edge leader snapped to attention. Tey’la Sorrin spun toward the sound, twin pistols flashing up in a blur.
“There’s our jackpot - standing on that box!”
Two shots cracked. Both bolts slammed into Winnwakka’s chest. The Wookie staggered, stunned for a heartbeat before collapsing atop the crate with a thunderous crash.
“W–Winnwakka!” Brains shouted, panic in his voice.
Over by Tey’la Sorrin, KX-9T didn’t flinch. The droid calmly pulled up beside a cracked data-node and began slicing its interface.
<<ACCESSING… STAND CLEAR.>>
Spike cursed under his breath, sweat slicking his palms as he fumbled with his own data-node.
“Come on… any idiot can do this. Why not me?”
“Because you are ‘any idiot,’ that’s why,” Choppa muttered, striding past without slowing. He shot the data-node a glance. “Try not to break it before I get a turn.”
Across the hangar, Juro Takk scooped up his loot case with a smug grin.
“One step ahead, as always,” he bragged, loud enough to sting.
But Rethan Vok had eyes on something bigger - a sealed, reinforced crate dead center by the main hangar doors. The kind worth fortunes.
“Primary objective,” he growled, sprinting. “Cover me!”
He never made it.
The ship screamed as pressure alarms erupted. Red strobes bathed the deck in panic.
EMERGENCY DECOMPRESSION IN PROGRESS
A deafening WHOOOOSH ripped through the hangar. Loose debris, crates, and anyone unlucky enough to stand upright were hurled toward the buckling wall.
Cap’in’s voice roared over the chaos:
“Hold onto something! NOW!”
The derelict was waking up… and it wasn’t happy.
“You picked the wrong Wookiee to shoot, sleemo,” he snarled, lining up the shot.
Tey’la Sorrin barely had time to blink.
ZAAK-CRACK!
The leader of the Wayfarer’s Edge spun backward with a cry, crashing to the deck - stunned, bleeding.
Behind the crates, Winnwakka twitched, groaned… then exploded upright as if nothing had happened. With a guttural roar, he snatched a crate of loot and vaulted into cover.
Brains blinked. “Was that luck… or pure Wookiee rage?”
Winnwakka snorted.
(Truth? The Queen of Hearts.)
Across the hangar, Rethan Vok edged toward the central vault, eyes locked on the real prize. Cap’in spotted him first.
“Oi, 5E! Look sharp - striped head-tails over there thinks he’s getting rich!”
5E’s optics narrowed. “Probability of shared ownership: zero percent.”
Both raised blasters:
PEW-PEW!
Rethan staggered, spun, and collapsed, clutching a smoking wound.
Cap’in pumped a fist. “That’s the Wayfinder discount: half off your limbs!”
But alarms were climbing, crates vanishing, and Spike’s voice cracked through the chaos.
“Uh… guys?”
From the shadows beyond the hangar doors came a mechanical rumble. Red optics flared.
Two Super Battle Droids strode into view, heavy arms locking into firing position.
A metallic voice boomed:
“HOSTILES DETECTED. ELIMINATION PROTOCOLS ENGAGED.”
Cap’in grimaced. “Yeah… they’re not here to negotiate.”
Winnwakka hugged his loot tighter.
Pressure doors along the dividing wall slammed shut without warning.
5E was a fraction too slow. The main door crashed down across his chassis with a brutal clang.
“Statement: This is… suboptimal,” the droid muttered as sparks danced across his frame.
Spike stared. “You good, bucket-head?”
“Clarification: Functional. Merely inconvenienced by catastrophic design flaws.”
Winnwakka, Brains, Spike, 5E and their newest recruit, Momaw Nadon, (a towering Ithorian hefting a blaster rifle the size of a printer) were boxed in with their hard-won loot.
Across the sealed doors, the Wayfarer’s Edge was down to two:
KX-9T, still locked in a furious dance with the data-node’s security protocols, and Tey’la Sorrin - bleeding, staggering, but refusing to fall.
She spat blood, eyes blazing.
“You Wayfinders are dead men… just a matter of minutes.”
Winnwakka hefted his stolen crate with a rumbling growl.
Cap’in and Choppa were knee-deep in a chaotic firefight, blaster bolts ricocheting off bulkheads like angry hornets. The echoes shook the steel around them.
Cap’in’s voice crackled over comms:
“Oi! Anyone on the other side still breathing? Please say no - makes me feel less guilty!”
Brains and Momaw Nadon froze as two Super Battle Droids emerged through the smoke, heavy cannons glowing with lethal intent.
“Threat classification: Severe,” 5E intoned.
“Severe?!” Brains barked. “They’re walking tanks! That’s beyond severe!”
Both raised their weapons - PEW-PEW! FWOOOSH!
Momaw’s massive rifle thundered like a starship engine, the blast tearing straight through one droid’s chest. It staggered, sparking, then crashed to the deck in a heap - down, but not dead.
Brains’ volley shredded armor from the second droid, but it barely flinched.
The surviving droid’s head swiveled, crimson optics locking on them.
“PRIORITY TARGETS IDENTIFIED.”
Momaw rumbled in his deep Ithorian voice:
“I do not like the way it speaks.”
Brains checked his ammo, grimacing.
“Get used to it - because it’s not done talking.”
The ship shuddered, metal groaning like it was reliving a war it barely survived. Then the lights flickered… and died to a sickly glow, drowning the hangar in shadows.
Spike muttered under his breath:
“Perfect. Now it’s spooky.”
Visibility collapsed to a few meters - just silhouettes and muzzle flashes in the gloom. Against all odds, Tey’la Sorrin dragged herself upright, blood streaking her side (the Queen of Hearts card again).
Through clenched teeth, she hissed:
“Nobody… steals from my loot…”
Her gaze locked on 5E, who was seconds from securing the main loot.
“Statement: Please do not shoot.”
Two blasts ripped the dark - BLAM-BLAM!
Both slammed into 5E’s chest plate. The droid convulsed, sparked, and crashed to the deck with a hollow clang.
Spike gasped:
“Five-EEEEE! …He owes me money!”
Brains spun, shouldered his rifle, and barked:
“Hey, lady! Pick on someone who doesn’t have warranty issues!”
He squeezed the trigger - CLICK.
Brains stared at the dead weapon.
“You’ve GOT to be kidding me. Out of ammo?! NOW?!”
In the dim light, Tey’la smirked - a slow, smug curl of her lips.
Momaw Nadon stepped forward, his deep Ithorian voice rumbling like distant thunder.
“I will resolve your… inconvenience.”
He hefted his massive rifle - FWOOOOM!
The blast lit the hangar like a flare. Tey’la Sorrin flew backward, slammed into the deck, and stayed down - this time for good.
Brains exhaled hard.
“Thanks, hammer-head.”
Momaw calmly replied, voice steady:
“You are welcome, short-tempered one.”
On the far side of the sealed wall, chaos raged - blaster fire sparking off steel. Cap’in’s voice roared over comms:
“Choppa! I don’t think these guys LIKE us!”
Choppa barked back, firing wildly:
“Then they shouldn’t leave all this free stuff lying around!”
Back on the south side, the surviving Super Battle Droids advanced - brutal, precise, relentless.
Twin arm cannons flared - DRAKKA-DRAKKA-DRAKKA!
Blaster bolts ripped across the deck.
Brains dove behind a crate, yelling:
“NOT MY FACE! I USE THAT!”
Momaw was a heartbeat too slow.
A blast slammed into his chest. The Ithorian toppled with a thunderous crash.
Spike froze, horror in his voice:
“He just joined the crew!”
Brains winced.
“Well… technically he was still on probation.”
The droid’s optics burned brighter, locking on.
“ELIMINATION CONTINUES.”
The lights flickered a second time, then snapped back to full power with a harsh, sterile glow. What they revealed made the situation painfully clear:
Loot wasn’t the problem anymore.
The droids were.
Both crews snatched whatever crates, data-nodes, and salvage they could carry. The scramble for treasure was done - now it was about survival. Those who weren’t hauling gear stayed behind, raising weapons and firing to buy precious seconds for their comrades.
Spike threw his hands up at the stubborn data-node, frustration boiling over.
“That’s it! I’m not dying for a file format I can’t even open!”
He bolted for the blast door, slipping through just as blaster fire erupted behind him.
“Good luck, suckers!”
Brains slammed a fresh power cell into his rifle - the click echoing like a death knell. He leaned out to fire… and froze. He was standing in the open.
“Oh. Well that’s… unfortunate.”
Before he could move, a shadow lurched through the smoke - a B1 battle droid, blaster jittering in wild bursts.
“Roger roger! Initiating random suppressive protocol!”
Bolts scorched the deck as Brains ducked and cursed.
“Oh COME ON! Who programmed you?! A toddler?!”
Then came the deeper hum.
The Super Battle Droids.
One strode through the haze, heavy cannons glowing, optics burning crimson. It ignored everything else and locked on Brains.
“Target acquired.”
Brains’ eyes widened.
“Hey now… let’s talk about this”
DRAKKA-DRAKKA-DRAKKA!
The impact hurled him backward. He hit the deck hard and didn’t get up.
Spike’s voice crackled faintly over comms, breathless:
“Brains? …Buddy?”
Only static answered.
The droids kept advancing.
“Ugh… I’m getting real tired of being shot today.”
(Once again, the Queen of Hearts had her back.)
She spotted a B1 battle droid clattering toward them, blaster raised. Her hand went for her pistol - then froze.
Not the blaster.
The lightsaber, given to her by Ahsoka Tano.
She thumbed the activation stud.
VVVRRMMMM!
Blue light burst into the gloom, humming with raw power. Kreel stopped firing. Even Choppa froze mid-shot, stunned by the weapon’s sudden appearance.
Cap’in charged. The B1 barely had time to speak:
“Oh shi—”
The blade carved through it in a single sweeping strike. The droid collapsed in two molten halves.
“Ha! Still got it!” she grinned.
Her smile faded.
A shadow loomed behind her - heavy, cold, merciless.
She turned.
A Super Battle Droid stood inches away, cannons primed.
“Target: Jedi-like combatant. Terminate.”
Cap’in’s eyes widened.
“Wait - let’s talk abou-”
BRRAAAAM!
The blast hurled her across the deck. She hit hard and didn’t move again.
Blaster fire lit the gloom and multiple hits scored, but the droid didn’t even flinch. It stood like a durasteel wall, optics glowing crimson.
Spike snarled:
“Why won’t you die?!”
The droid’s voice boomed, cold and mechanical:
“Resistance: Ineffective.”
Then it fired.
DRAKKA-DRAKKA-DRAKKA!
Bolts slammed into Spike. His armour sparked, failed and he crashed to the deck, groaning.
“Statement: Cease evasion. It is statistically pointless.”
Kreel ducked behind cover, muttering:
“Pointless? You haven’t met me.”
He tried to rise, only to collapse again, out of the fight.
Choppa, either brave or stupid, roared and charged the droid - halberd raised high.
“Come on, tin can! Let’s dance!”
The droid didn’t hesitate.
WHAM!
One brutal strike sent Choppa sprawling. He didn’t get up.
The hangar fell silent except for the hum of weapons. 5E and the Super Battle Droid faced off - blaster fire trading in a storm of sparks.
5E growled:
“Prediction: Victory is mine.”
The droid replied without emotion:
“Prediction: Incorrect.”
BRRAAAAM!
The last shot tore through 5E’s chassis. The droid stood victorious, smoke curling from its cannons.
Vel’dan Kreel, seeing the carnage, whispered to himself:
“Not today…”
- and slipped away into the shadows.
What looked like a sure victory for the Wayfinder crew flipped at the last moment.
The Wayfarer’s Edge snatched a narrow win, claiming two loot tokens (1 data, 1 physical) for 3 Renown Points, while the Wayfinders managed only one physical loot token (1 Renown Point).
In truth, neither crew claimed bragging rights. The real winners were the wandering horrors: the Super Battle Droids, shrugging off blaster fire and carving through anyone foolish enough to stand in their path, Wayfinder or Edge alike.
The campaign ledger now tells a mixed story. With 5 renown already banked, +3 from their Legendary team trait, and +1 from this match, the Wayfinders rise to 9 Renown Points.
But the crew roster? That’s another matter. Six Wayfinders were knocked out of the fight, each with consequences:
- Cap’in rolled a 10: “It’s the airlock for you.” Normally dead - the Luck rule was invoked, granting a narrow escape from certain doom.
- Brains: “Call the Medic.” Misses the next game; returns with 1 wound.
- 5E: simply misses the next game.
- Choppa & Momaw Nadon: Full recoveries; ready for next game.
- Spike: “Shot full of holes.” Misses next game and gains a new negative trait on return.
On the bright side, Jugro returns from medical leave next match, but even with him, the crew will still be down two operatives.
Recognizing the situation, Cap’in authorized emergency recruitment: one new Specialist and three hired Quarren grunts. After this sudden spending spree, the Wayfinder Renown stash drops from 9 to 1.
Epilogue
The Wayfinder peeled away from the derelict, engines rumbling like a wounded beast. Smoke still curled from the vents as the scanners pinged. Multiple scavenger crews diving toward the wreck they’d just barely escaped.
Cap’in watched the screen, jaw tight.
Let ’em have it, she thought. Maybe they’ll bring bigger coffins.
The ship rattled as it hit sublight. In the common room, the remaining crew slumped around the battered table. Burnt wiring and scorched armour filled the air with the charred smell of hard lessons learned.
Cap’in entered, datapad under her arm, hair still frizzed from the near-explosive incident. She didn’t sit. She read. She winced. She sighed.
“Alright. Quick recap. We lost the haul. Brains, 5E, and Spike will be stuck in the medbay when we get home. The droid’s recharge port is smoking, Spike’s armour melted into him, and Brains won’t stop yelling in his sleep about strategy.”
“So. We regroup. We recruit. And next time...”
She paused, remembering the blast that nearly sent her into the void, the lightsaber kicking alive in her hand like it had a destiny of its own.
“...next time, we bring enough firepower to turn those walking tin cans into decorative mugs.”
Choppa, leaning back with his halberd balanced across his lap, nodded thoughtfully.
“Mugs are nice. But I still stand by snacks. A crew fights harder on a full stomach.”
Jugro immediately chimed in, without looking up from his datapad.
“Statistically, snacks do not increase combat efficiency.”
Cap’in smirked.
“Statistically, neither do you in melee, but we keep you anyway.”
Jugro raised a finger in protest, then slowly lowered it. No argument.
"Right. We’re getting repairs, we’re getting reinforcements, and yes - we’re getting snacks. Frozen ones. So they count as weapons.”
A weary laugh circled the table. It wasn’t victory, but it was defiance. And for the Wayfinder crew, that was enough.
They stood, limping their separate ways, ready to patch armour, stitch wounds, and burn every cred they had left preparing for the rematch.
Wow -- quite the bloodbath for your crew. Fun read, Simon! Of course, I get Wayfarer confused with the Wayfinder...ha, ha! Any reason you named them so confusingly close to each other? I may have forgotten from earlier reports. :)
ReplyDeleteThe last few games have been pretty brutal for the crew – it definitely keeps everyone alert!
DeleteI understand the potential confusion between Wayfarer and Wayfinder. Wayfarer's Edge was among our top 5 name options, and it seemed like too good a name to let go to waste.