Solo Traveller Sessions #13

We pick up the action with Chad Solo, laying low while waiting for his ship to come in.  He has to survive seven days on the mean streets of Innsmouth Station, and on any one of the latter half his potential employer will contact him.  This means seven random encounter checks and wouldn’t you know it, on Friday night Chad walks into the wrong bar.  It seems the local sport of choice is water polo, and there’s a big tournament going on this weekend.  Of all the synthigin joints in all the station, he walked into one filled with fans of the rival corporation’s team, the Whalin-Soonami Limpets.

After the requisite record scratch, the rowdies (armed with clubs and wearing jacks) hauled him in front of a diving bell which they plopped on his head and challenged him to hold his breath for as long as he could.  A quick Endurance check (passed with flying colors thanks in part to an A-level Endurance) gave him a +2 on their reaction check, and with a high roll, they taught him the words to “I Wish I Was A Fish” so he could cheer along.  Apparently they didn’t know he was most recently a Blackreef man, and only recently divorced and currently sailing as a logoless citizen.

The good news is, Chad would have a dozen or so rowdies at his side for the rest of the weekend.  The bad news is, he faces Monday with a bad hangover and the possibility of suffering a job interview in such a state.

Them heretics ain’t right.

Early Sunday morning, still on their way through an epic celebration of the Limpets handily winning the tournament title, the dice turn up a second random encounter.  This time Chad and Pals are accosted by a dozen religious types – men who follow the Church of Dag’gone, whose head his Hank Hillsong (pictured) – who boil out of the local salvation and salvation accessory shop to object to the boisterous noise of the water polo fans.  They also take exception to the hooligans drinking fire water on a day when one is ordered by Dag’gone to drink only the distilled and purist water which is available at a low cost right inside the temple if you gentlemen care top step this way?

The reaction dice turn up VIOLENCE, and the religious men draw knives to emphasize their point, which the hooligans greet with an excited cheer.  A fray erupts, and Chad slips out the back, pursued by a couple of the Limpet faithful, who want to express their disappointment that Chad should take his leave just as things were getting interesting.  Too late, Chad gets away with his noggin in one piece, but with the exactly the wrong sort of reputation with Whalin-Soonami.  Word will get around, and his future reactions from anyone flying the WY Banner will be at a heft -2.

Hat tip to Saint Dewd.

Even worse, the dice indicated that Captain Munder Doose (source) would choose early Monday morning to swing by Chad’s hotel room.  He opens the door unshaven, wearing only a robe, boxers, and a few mudges of Limpet face paint, resulting in a -2 modifier. Combine that with a low roll on the reaction check, and the Captain storms off in a huff, shouting that he wouldn’t let Chad within a hundred yards of his ship.

Which leaves Chad stranded on Corvinus with a lot more enemies than prospects.  Which, let’s face it, is exactly what you would expect from an underwater noir story like Chad’s.

Oh, for what could have been.

Editor’s note: Go give Dunder Moose a follow on YouTube.  He’s good people.