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Welcome to Misfits of Space!  Time to follow a band of bad-ass miscreants with hearts of gold as they travel the Procyon Sector playing gigs and staying one step ahead of the Hegemony.

This live action roleplaying podcast uses the Scum and Villainy setting powered by Forged in the Dark mechanics in our latest campaign.  If you'd like to check out our first campaign, which used the Fantasy Flight Games (now Edge Studios) mechanics in the Star Wars galaxy, all of those episodes are still available for your enjoyment.  

We look forward to hearing from all of you as these adventures begin and hope you enjoy the ride!

Republic Transmission - Breathless on Coruscant

May 6, 2018

As everyone is aware, Chief of Staff Stevet Brentaar has made his entire career keeping information away from the people of the Galaxy.  And it falls to those of us fighting to restore the Republic to ensure that this information is made available to all.  To that end, we've just received a piece of a novel that Stevet Brentaar has been trying to suppress.  For the people of the Republic, read what the Empire wants to hide away.  Perhaps you can see the secret that lies within these words.

The shadows of dusk began to creep over the stately buildings of Senate Plaza.  Where once the metal had gleamed and shone like gems floating in midair, now everything appeared dark and murky.  This was the time that Sentev liked the most.  Darkness served him well, allowing him to creep unnoticed in his flowing robes down the mostly abandoned streets.  Even though the Imperial curfew kept most that would be on these streets securely hidden behind locked doors, he couldn’t be too cautious.  While the content laws prevented most unwanted secrets from getting out, scandals of the flesh were still ready fodder for the holonet shows that kept the masses distracted and entertained.  A high profile man such as himself was far too delicious a target to risk even a moment of indiscretion.

After a few more minutes of skulking down disused alleyways, Sentev reached the service entrance of Mercantile Prime, once the home of favorites of the Trade Federation; it had been seized by the Empire and sold off through a series of backroom deals to a corporation under the thumb of Sentev.  Pressing his thumb to a small plate by the service entrance, he looked up with a smile and saw the security cameras turn off as the door slid open.  Nobody needed to know that he was here and with what purpose.

Sentev stepped off of the elevator on the penthouse floor, his navy robes billowing as he walked.  Even though there was but one residence on this floor, he still stole a few furtive glances as he walked down the corridor.  His gait grew quicker, a mix of anticipation and nervousness, longing for the safety of his private sanctuary.  At the end of the hallway, Sentev pressed his hand against the plate by the door, anxiously waiting those few seconds more as his identity was confirmed and the door slid open.

Within, the darkened room is suddenly awash with light.  Sentev slipped inside and closed the door, waving his hand to turn on the lights as he did.  Once inside, he finally allowed himself a moment of rest, pausing to catch his breath.  The strain and rush of getting here unnoticed had taxed his pale and doughy frame, leaving him a touch breathless and his skin with a slight flush.  Sentev slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a small clear box filled with Ryll.  Taking a hefty snort from the box, he felt himself become giddy and unfocused.  Finally beginning to relax, he lay down on the bed, allowing his robes to spill open slightly.  Suddenly, the door opens and his heart begins to race with anticipation.

Standing in the doorway stood a woman seemingly built for secret rendezvous.  Shoulder length hair colored blonde and red hung in loose curls around her face, a few strands catching on the single thick stripe of purple painted across the center of her lips.  Her ice blue eyes scanned the room for a moment before landing on Sentev.  Licking her lips, she closed the door and sauntered toward the bed with the pace of a manka cat surveying fresh prey.  She ran her hands over the tight dress hugging every curve of her body as she approached him, making sure to draw his attention exactly where she wanted it.  “Well, hello Mr. Brentax.  Have you been behaving yourself?”

Stay strong. Keep fighting. The Republic will be restored.