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The Perilous Tales of Harnabus Clod, Professor Floon, and Kitza Rinsby!

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posted by Sam alias sam00ferrell on Friday 4th of September 2020 10:52:12 PM

Made for Factions on Eurobricks. Original Post: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180067-j... The Hololog of Harnabus Clod, Captain and Explorer: My name is Harnabus Clod. I am a brave adventurer. I also have the face of a real ugly hound dog. I’m proud of both of those things, but with one of them I have to try. I’m a hyperspace scout by trade, but that job takes me to out of the way places and I could always use a windfall, so I do a bit of treasure hunting on the side. It’s good work, though a bit tedious: tracing hyperspace routes to make sure they’re up to date and that no one is going to crash and die while using them. I run a lot of the side routes, like the Braxant Run, but I’d love to get to the Deep Core. That’s the cash prize, right there. The Deep Core is a shifting maze of routes that’s near impossible to get around without dedicated, up-to-the-day information. Some say Imperial Remnants hide out in there. I bet the New Republic would pay out the nose for a way to get to them. That’s the dream, anyway.  My crew is small. My people who were crazy enough or living-enough to stick around. Most of my manpower is interns from the academies looking for a first work experience, which I’m honored to provide in exchange for their free labor. It’s what’s called a mutually beneficial relationship. Maybe you’ve heard of me. I had a few articles written up after I broke into that Imperial vault on Wayland and found those weird artifacts. They didn’t put a lot of pictures in the article. I’m sure it’s not because of my face. Anyway, let me tell you about my most recent adventure. I was at the end of the Hydian Way on this nowhere planet called Imynusoph. We had to land to make repairs, and had a bit of a run-in with the natives, who wear colorful capes and big hats. There wasn’t a fight or anything, everyone eventually calmed down, but there was an accident and one of their guys got hurt. Now, I don’t know a scapel from a hyper-spanner, but I had some bacta stims with me (because I’m not an idiot). A few of those had their guy right as rain in no time. I thought it was a waste of supplies, but then the natives got all interested in how I’d done it. They didn’t have anything like bacta stims. They wanted me to teach them how the rest of the galaxy did medicine. They even showed me their famous treasure and offered to give me some of it if I did. You can bet that got my attention. Like I said, I don’t know a thing, and I wasn’t going to scam them (not because I couldn’t get away with it, but because they all had huge spears and they’d probably kill me if I did. Besides, they seemed like nice folks). With what little communication we could manage, I told them I’d bring them someone who could teach them, as long as the treasure was really on the table. Their priestess or matriarch or CEO or queen or whatever agreed. Now, a trip like this requires money. Cash. Creds. I figured for a prize like this, a little out-of-the-way investment was the smart thing to do. First I had to find investors, and at that point I’d bring on whoever I had to. Like I said, Imynusoph is at the end of the Hydian Way, way outside the New Republic jurisdiction, so there’s not going to be any grant money from them. I knock on the CFS’s door instead, pull a few strings and call in some old contacts. After some negotiating (pleading), it’s agreed: I’ll bring along a research fellow and ask the locals to let us set up a CFS Research Station. If they agree, I get a grant stipend, but only on the backend. That will work. It’s not exactly money, but at least it’s the promise of money, and that will keep my crew around for at least a few extra months. It was my idea, so they want me to do all the work. I’m supposed to find and present a candidate for research fellow. I was scrolling through a few modern scientific journals and fell on a headline: “Chandrilian Academy Professor leaves Tenured Position for Multi-Year Research Journey”. I read the article, too. This guy was enthusiastic, knew his stuff, had the credentials, and would probably be scared enough to follow my orders. He was my guy. The CFS people thought so too, I think they might’ve been surprised/impressed by my choice. I usually present some discredited Ithorian conspiracy theorist or a pirate engineer, best I can find by short notice (short notice being a few months) and they suggest their own guy who I know for a fact is gonna get in my way. This find was a diamond in the rough. We shook on it. Professor Floon is a happy medium for us all. My next stop is the Galactic Gazette. I manage to make a convincing case that there’s a story here, and they embed a reporter. It’s risky; if something goes wrong or I have to make a choice that makes me look bad, they might report the truth. But they pay up front and on the backend, and I can’t say no to that. She’s young, not quite human, talks about ideas. Made a joke about my face already, not that that’s unusual. Reporters are vicious. They treat everything like a secret to uncover and expose. But bringing her along is buying the fuel. Now we're trekking through the Imyni jungle, looking for those natives. I'll be straight; I didn't think about drawing a map until now. We could really use a map. Professor Floon's Journal: Dear Reader, My goodness! I've been contracted by a man who requires a researcher along for an expedition! I, of course, said yes immediately. What an honor, and a great chance for me to learn more about the wider galaxy. There is no wider in the galaxy than the end of the Hydian Way, the legendary planet of Imynusoph, said to be a treasure world of great renown. It was partially immortalized by the hyperspace opera, the Kallea Saga, though I must admit I'm not much of a theatre-goer myself. We are going to meet the locals, and I am going to study them and establish a research center, with their permission, on behalf of the CFS! An extremely exciting time, dear reader. I'm in quite a rush, so my quill is flicking furiously across the page. I must be packed and off in the morning! This is where I leave you, dear reader, but just wait! I'll return with exciting tales soon enough! Stay curious, Professor Floon Kitza Rinsby's Personal Notes: I must have got my nose into something big with that corruption story in the Core, because next thing I know I've got a new assignment: accompanying some bad-smelling dog-man to the literal furthest reaches of the galaxy. My editor told me it had the chance to be a big story; jungles, humidity, a slim chance of some kind of treasure. I know very well that I'm just here because it serves the purposes of two people; the dog-man who needs the Gazette's money, and my editor who doesn't want me digging into the Ubrikkian corporation obvious and transparent corruption. It's absolute bull roar. They're going to regret it. I'll be back, and with a vengeance. Believe you me. I'm going to do a good job on this insane goose chase, of course. I don't know how to do anything else. But I'm not going to be happy about it. They'll get an excellent story about how nonsensical this all is and then I'm going to tear- (censored for public viewing) The only smiling I'll be doing is the wry, sarcastic kind. Smark, his ship is a pile of garbage. It's run by a bunch of kids? What in the Force is going on here.



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