Serenity

Welcome to your campaign!
A blog for your campaign

Wondering how to get started? Here are a few tips:

1. Invite your players

Invite them with either their email address or their Obsidian Portal username.

2. Edit your home page

Make a few changes to the home page and give people an idea of what your campaign is about. That will let people know you’re serious and not just playing with the system.

3. Choose a theme

If you want to set a specific mood for your campaign, we have several backgrounds to choose from. Accentuate it by creating a top banner image.

4. Create some NPCs

Characters form the core of every campaign, so take a few minutes to list out the major NPCs in your campaign.

A quick tip: The “+” icon in the top right of every section is how to add a new item, whether it’s a new character or adventure log post, or anything else.

5. Write your first Adventure Log post

The adventure log is where you list the sessions and adventures your party has been on, but for now, we suggest doing a very light “story so far” post. Just give a brief overview of what the party has done up to this point. After each future session, create a new post detailing that night’s adventures.

One final tip: Don’t stress about making your Obsidian Portal campaign look perfect. Instead, just make it work for you and your group. If everyone is having fun, then you’re using Obsidian Portal exactly as it was designed, even if your adventure log isn’t always up to date or your characters don’t all have portrait pictures.

That’s it! The rest is up to your and your players.

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Crew!

Good afternoon fellow adventurers! I am excited to begin traveling across the galaxy with you all. I am sure that we will make names for ourselves and build a reputation that precedes us where ever we may go. As we move forward, I suggest that we put forth a vote on a name to call ourselves and those that come to our cause. I humbly put forth a few options for you all to consider. Keep in mind that these are in my native tongue of Mando’a.

1. Aliit Be Verda
- This means Clan of Warriors.
2. Tsad Be Vu’traat
- This means Group of Special Forces
3. Evaar’la Vu’traat
- This means Young/New Special Forces.
4. Dral Verda
- This means Strong Warriors.

My personal favorite would be the fourth, for we are all warriors at heart, though our methods of approach and appearances may be different. I also feel that we are not close enough to call ourselves a Clan at this point. Maybe i the future we can contemplate a name change. Please reflect upon these options and respond with your votes, or any other suggestions you may have. Also, any combination or variation on these can be suggested as well! Thank you, vod! (brother, sister, comrade)https://serenity-6.obsidianportal.com/previews

-Dra’lor Skirata
“Aliit ori’shya tal’din”
“Family is more than bloodline.”

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Dral Verda!

I say Dral Verda. It’s what describes us wookiees best.

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Those were not the droids we were looking for...
Bek's Journal

Talk about a surprise. Here I thought we were going to check a mine and collect some cash for one of the Huts. We get there, it’s just about deserted except for some droids. It smells of sweat and dead bodies. I’m thinking there were space pirates who raided the place, which were going to pop out at any second. Every time we opened a door I was expecting someone or something to attack. Thankfully, there was a protocol droid who helped us out a bit.

By the time we got to the room where the entrance of the mine was, my guard was down because it seemed whoever had raided the place was gone, or so I thought. We got to the room and there were battle droids, unarmed, carrying boxes. The rest of the team went into the mine. I hung back, just in case. I had this uneasy feeling after they entered the mine. The droids were staring at me or watching me as it were. My guard went back up and I waited. Something wasn’t right.

Bang!

I heard shots fired and soon over our com-links I learned Grot was shot. I ran into the mine entrance and got into one of the carts. I met up with the team. It was the miners!! They were protecting themselves from the droids. The droids went rogue! Before we knew it, we were fighting those droids who we thought didn’t have weapons. I hate liars like that.

To make matters worse, they about killed all of us. The minors sprang into action at the perfect time before we all were done.

The minors brought us back to health and explained to us what happened. We got half the money and took it back to the Hut. We explained everything to him and he understood, thankfully. I didn’t want to deal with him after that.Lizbeth Morton/Bek

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Really?!
Bek's Journal

After what it seemed like forever, we still couldn’t get in to the Hut’s party for the Gun Dark Open. You would think my womanly charm would work but alas, no. Which really doesn’t make sense to me knowing how any hut can be.

We are still trying to figure out a way in. We have a guy on the inside, sort of. I’m not sure if I trust him yet. Our droid some how made this contact and it’s not panning out. We need to get that spice!

I over heard a group of thugs, and my guess is they want it too or something. I’m glad they believed my story after they found me hiding. I’m not sure if I’d be writing this today if not.

Anyways, it’s frustrating that everything thing we tried to get into this party seemed to fail. What’s up with that?! It’s like the universe is against us. I’m fed up. Yeah.

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A new home

Gort settled into his chair, taking a slow drag on his new pipe, recently acquired from a ramshackle marketplace on the ring.

The base in Valaar V had come together without a hitch. Indeed, a smuggler couldn’t ask for a better berth than among his compatriots in less-than-upstanding businesses.

He glanced over his todo list on his datapad. It was his responsibility to fix up the Rampant Standard and – more importantly – turn it into the finest vessel a crew could ask for. Gort took great pride in his vessel and the equipment of it’s crew. Secretly, he missed the days with his former captain and crew, but these youngbloods might yet turn out better than the former! His expertise would be a boon to them for sure.

Still, all that work for the future that could wait for the morning and instead Gort brought up his favorite Falruvian Saga, an epic tale in complex verse, and began to read.

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Imperial Bile
repayment will be forthcoming

Race, I will remember you:

Oh my dearest idiot brother! Your blood forever rendered spent at the hands of the Empire. Oh if mother had not sullied your brain with tales of great family lies to the gain of her own vile schemes. Oh how you and I might have once more enjoyed adventure on the distant moons of the galaxy in search for treasure and random hunting explorations. Alas, never again will I withstand your raucous revelries. The empire will pay dearly, no matter the lengths I must reach to uncover and dispel the darkness that has so long veiled our lives with frequent death and whispers wretched of truth. I blame mother and her foul ties to various Imperials over these last four years. Her so called friends she erred in melding the transportation guilds on Teyr with have given up much of their hands as my contacts through the Governor’s office have revealed. Uncle Revane has equally shared a disturbed interest keeping me abreast of these blood money trades running down her deeply soaking fingers. She thinks she knows she’s being watched. But she does not not know by whom. Her most recent frivolities have engorged my Naive brother Race into wiles of riches and gain with simple brainless tasks, unaware of her true motives. It ended in his death at the hands of yet another vile Imperial who will be brought to justice as I see to it he chokes on the stench of his own bile brought to fullness of light before the courts, exposed for all the galaxy to see! Brother I mourn thee! Mother I see thee! Empire, your own fodder will bury you!

My new found friends:

I am ever grateful to have stumbled into Hammer Time. Nothing pink and black should be consumed at once, let alone black! My skull was scraping for the ringing to end the following week thereafter! However, I find that by some coincidence I managed to connect with the crew who last saw my dearest dumb Race alive. The story was what I would have expected, blunt. That was Race of course. Yet, things seemed to always somehow turn out for him, but not this time, it was almost as though it were fixed.

Thank you my new found comrades for your hospitality, and kindness in mourning this loss. I will not forget this great act of uncommon brotherhood and respect for those who will never return in this life! I know truly, that along side these brave souls, we will travel, we will fight, and we will triumph together in this unraveling of mysteries!

Signing off-Javrece Moz Rilson – personal log 5257

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A strange Dream

Ever since meeting Javreece the other day I have been feeling a bit under the weather. At first, I thought it was something I ate, but now I’m sure it’s more than that. Last night, I had a strange dream that affected me greatly. I dreamt that I was just sitting in a chair in a cantina and all of the sudden everything in the room started floating. As I arose from my chair to go get a drink everything started to move. I went over to the bar tender to have him pour me a drink and I sucked that drink down like none other. I slammed the glass down on the bar and as I did so everything that was floating immediately fell to the ground and I was jolted awake. I am confused as to what is going on in my body. Could I be feeling the pain of my father’s sickness? Or is there something more to this?

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Force Sensitive Panthers
Bek's Journal

So, I’ve know about the force a while. A lot from the past and many stories from people I’ve come across my adventures who are older than I. I know that the force is a thing with many different intelligent species through out the universe. However, I have never heard a single story of FORCE SENSITIVE PANTHERS!! Yes, believe it or not, they are a thing.

Fighting them was no small matter, though it was like fighting other large animals in the past. They have the same pack in sights that normal cat like and dog like animals have. I’m not sure how the force works with them. Or how they use it.

Anyways, our job is to get one… one that isn’t fixed. I’m hoping it doesn’t need to be alive. I don’t want it waking up and killing our team.

Speaking of which, I’m liking our group. And I don’t like a lot of or trust people so… I guess thats a good thing. My mentor would be proud. There are too many shifty people out there.

Time to rest. If I’m punching the air in my sleep, wake me up. I don’t want to fight these force sensitive panthers again.

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Unusable

Gort sat in the quiet and the dark on Valaar V. On the table in front of him, a ghostly figured gave lessons on the nature of the Force, the philosophy of the Jedi order, and basic tenants of meditation. Gort wasn’t really listening – he could recite the entire holocron word for word – but the quiet peace of the speaker instilled in him a sense of serenity and sadness for the days past.

In his younger days, flying the lanes in freighters, he had envied the glory and power of the Jedi and yearned to join their ranks in protecting the galaxy. But, day after day went by, riding the same outer rim spaceways, growing older, traveling with other people’s goods to make a living. Then the entire galaxy changed.

The Republic collapsed and the Outer Rim, already mostly ungoverned, became the haven for those seeking respite from the tyranny of the Empire. The difficulties the dispersed, unaffiliated worlds presented turned into an unexpected blessing.

Still, the reach of the Empire was long and it didn’t take long for the legal jobs to dry up. Smuggling was the only option and, by chance, Gort found the right man to follow.

Then, out of nowhere, in a seedy pub, on a far out colony, he found the Holocron. He had heard tales and could barely contain his excitement as the backwater locals puzzled over the overly generous bargain he made in exchange for the parts he needed and the curious cube.

It had been painful to see it back then. The slaughter of the Jedi had passed some years ago and a grave despair had settled in across the galaxy. The dreams of his youth, lost in the daily grind of work and survival, coupled with that gnawing hopelessness had driven him to tears.

Still, so many years later, he carried the cube everywhere. He couldn’t admit that he hoped it might be of use, that it might be a part of something bigger. The holocron: a dream made solid.

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