The prince blinked awake, confused. His bedchambers were still dark, no candles were lit. The curtains had been drawn, though, allowing in light from the yellowed moon. Thin clouds arched above and below it, giving it the look of a monstrous, glaring eye. A disapproving look from God.
"Get up, Athalus," said the low voice again. The prince turned to find the wizard, Salazar, leaning over his bed, his gaunt face framed by black hair streaked with silver.
"What are you-?" asked the prince, but the wizard grabbed him by the nightshirt and dragged him upright with surprising strength.
"We don't have time," said Salazar, "We have to get out of the palace."
The prince felt a prickle of fear crawl up his neck.
"What has happened? Where is Ranar?" he asked.
"Ranar is dead. And the rest of your guard," said the wizard, "Your father will be dead before long. You must come with me."
"How?" gasped the prince.
"Your uncle has returned."
Basic idea here is a the legitimate heir to the throne is on the run from his usurper uncle. Players will form the party around the prince- his body guard, advisors, friends, etc- as he flees from the assassins of the usurper and plots his next move. Raise a rebellion? Contract with mercenaries to take back his throne? Ally with a foreign power? Court the Dark Powers in a quest for revenge?
This would be an original fantasy setting we'd flesh out as we'd play.
I'd like for a player who is not me to play the prince himself (or princess herself, the scene above is not set in stone, just window dressing. This RP can be called crownless queen!). I'd also like to work out backstory between many of the characters as part of the process of creating Character Sheets, since some- perhaps most- of the characters would have been in the orbit of the royal court in one way or another.
Xen's office door gave a pneumatic hiss as it opened, revealing Syn Dumarr. Wearing a hood over a durasteel helm, the bounty hunter cultivated a purposeful air of mystery and menace. With durasteel plate over his traditional garb, it was clear what sort of combatant he was. It was strange, though, that his shoulders and arms were free of any protection.
"Welcome, welcome," said the admiral, gesturing to a chair before his desk.
Dumarr said nothing. His every step, every stride possessed the controlled violence of a soldier. No remnant of the Jedi he had been remained to the visible eye. He wore a looted Mandalorian carbine across his back, the blaster at his hip was a relic of the Clone Wars.
Syn stopped ten feet away from Xen's desk. "What's the job?" he asked, his voice gravelly. The helmet gave his voice an electronic quality, static fraying the beginning and end of each word.
"I have a problem I need solved," said Xen, "An Imperial Inquisitor. He thinks he's headed here to cause me considerable problems. He thinks that because he, not unreasonably, thinks the late, great Jurys Juryth of Nar Shadda knew where here was. Fortunately, Juryth's personal pilot worked for me and kept our true coordinates obscured from his employer. As a result, said Inquisitor is now in hyperspace to the Outer Rim, far from us, headed to an old Trade Federation mining colony in an asteroid field not unlike the one we find ourselves in now. If you leave soon, you'll be able to intercept the Inquisitor. Kill him, and I give you a million credits."
Syn remained silent.
Inquisitor. Jedi Hunters. He had yet to meet one in the flesh. They were also known as Red Blades, since according to the rumors they carried Sith blades. Syn had been skeptical of talk of some shadowy organization of Sith apprentices in the Empire, which always preferred brute force to subtlety in his experience. But Xen's concerns gave the rumors credence, and despite his appearance of half-drunken affability, Syn knew the Admiral to be a dangerous and cunning man, not one to start at rumors or shadows.
If the Inquisition was real, their data on Jedi, techniques, and perhaps training in the Force would make them far more dangerous than the likes of the CIS Jedi killers in the last war, Xen's old comrades like Cad Bane.
Dangerous enough to be a threat to Syn's plans.
"Any resources at my disposal?" Syn asked, his tone unchanging. Professional confidence mixed with cold apathy.
The admiral took a drink and smiled at the rogue Jedi, "The mining colony has a contingent of my battledroids already waiting for the Inquisitor, two hundred of them, and they will answer to your orders. I'll also give you 10,000 up front to hire any additional muscle you think you'll need. Xasur can help you with that, I assume you know who he is."
Zejinn Xasur. Crime Lord. Second only to Adamantius Xen. Notorious for his whimsical nature. Dangerous but not unreasonable. Syn recalled mechanically. Though he'd neverr worked for the crime lord, Syn knew Zejinn Xasur to be reliable. Syn nodded in the affirmative to Xen, his countenance never faltering.
"10,000 credits up front to hire any additional muscle..." Syn echoed. A plan began to form. With droids and mercenaries, he could make short work of the Inquisitor. The risks were being mitigated to work in his favor. "I can make do with two hired guns and the droids you have supplied. Provide me with coordinates to the colony, and schematics, I would like those as well. Your problem will be solved before too long."
"That's the spirit," said Xen, with a lopsided smile, "That'll be all, Dumarr."