Bake Travnor, the grey-bearded leader of Whiskey Squadron, reluctantly reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his glasses. As soon as he put them on several smugglers at the Steamline Space Tavern chuckled.
“Laugh all you want,” Bake said as he motioned for a fresh drink – whiskey on the rocks. “If I’m going to get Lew the Hutt’s Whyren’s Reserve delivered here I’ve got to learn to fly a K-Wing.”
When Travnor’s refill arrived he resumed studying the flight manual for the assault starfighter. In his many years as a Rebel and New Republic pilot the fifty-something Travnor had flown X-Wings, A-Wings and Y-Wings but had always avoided the bulky K-Wing.
Now Lew, the Steamline owner, had secured 10 cases of Whyren’s, the rare Correllian Whiskey. He’d also rented a K-Wing that he’d charged Travnor with flying to deliver his expensive stash. Unfortunately for Travnor Lew had spent so much on the whiskey and starfighter rental he had no money to pay for any other vessels. Travnor would have to pick up the booze and make it back on his own, knowing full well that Lew’s rival in the Tavern Wars, Elmer the Argy’s space tavern owner, would be sending ships to shoot him down.
“Oh well,” Bake said as he finished his drink. “For Whyren’s, it’s worth the risk.”
Continue reading “Mission: A K-Wing whiskey run”
(Updated squad point totals for Second Edition)
A half dozen pilots clustered at the far end of the bar at the Steamline Space Tavern waiting to hear more from Bake Travnor, the leader of Whiskey Squadron. Bake caught the eyes of Dans, the two-headed Troig bartender, and motioned for another round for the crew. A glass of Correllian Whiskey, on the rocks, was placed on the wood bar before Bake. He scratched his beard, which was as grey as a T-65 Snubfighter, then took a sip.
“What’s the best shot you ever saw Bake?” asked Morto Lesky, a young smuggler recently recruited by Bake to work for Lew the Hutt during the Tavern Wars. Bake, who flew missions for 25 years for the Rebellion and New Republic, appreciated that his reputation preceded him with the youngsters but knew that part of the reverence was simply because he was old. He downed the rest of his drink.
“I didn’t see this, it happened before I joined Wraith Squadron,” Bake said as the pilots leaned closer.
Continue reading “An X-Wing mission inspired by Wraith Squadron”
The smugglers and other assorted riffraff at Argy’s space tavern gripped their drinks nervously. Elmer, the elderly human owner of the joint on the edge of the Aturi Cluster, was smiling. The Argy’s regulars were used to many things – surly service, bands that didn’t play in tune, clouds of cigarette smoke so thick that sometimes the bar itself was veiled behind choking fog – but a happy Elmer was not something they were prepared for.
Finally a particularly bold Abyssin, who was the first mate on a transport that ferried bar food to Argy’s, spoke.
“Good news Elmer?” the green, one-eyed creature asked.
Elmer, who was rail thin and hunched over, opened his bloodshot eyes nearly as wide as an Ion Cannon.
“I’ve laid a trap for Whiskey Squadron,” Elmer explained, chuckling in a way that reminded the Abyssin of the sounds a malfunctioning hyperdrive makes. “I’ll get the best of Lew the Hutt in the Tavern Wars yet.”
Continue reading “Mission: Whisky Squadron flies into an ambush”
The lumbering space freighter grew ever larger as the two T-65 X-Wings sped toward it.
“It seems a shame to destroy that thing since it’s filled with beer,” said Arlo Durkan as he assessed the YV-666, which looked to him like an angry whale.
“Stay focused Whiskey Two,” said Bake Travnor. “If we blow that bucket out of space we’ll be drinking for free at the Steamline Tavern and Lew the Hutt will pay us handsomely.”
Bake was the leader of Whiskey Squadron, employed by Lew the Hutt to help wage the Tavern Wars. Lew owned the Steamline and his rival Elmer, owner of Argy’s space tavern, had a huge shipment of kegs aboard the YV-666. Whiskey Squadron was tasked with making sure it never made it to the thirsty Argy’s patrons.
“Roger that Whiskey One. But you know, most squadrons have 12 ships. We scrambled so fast it’s just you and me against this big ugly.”
Bake checked his sensors then cast a wary eye around their target.
“Stay on my wing Whiskey Two. We need to concentrate our fire. And be alert. I bet a bottle of Correllian whiskey this guy has a small fighter nearby flying escort.”
(Updated Squad Points for Second Edition)
Steamline (Whiskey Squadron rules*): 75 squad points. Must have two small ships.
Argy’s: 70 squad points. Must have 1 YV-666 and one small ship (Suggested list below**).
Continue reading “Whiskey Squadron versus the YV-666”
Bake Travnor sipped his Corellian whiskey on the rocks and surveyed the scene at the Steamline Space Tavern. Travnor, a former Rebel and New Republic pilot who had spent 25 years flying X-Wings, A-Wings and Y-Wings on missions across the galaxy, smiled as he noticed the several hundred other patrons at the Steamline were also enjoying the name brand booze. Bake had helped escort the freighter carrying the spirits to the Steamline, a remote watering hole just outside the Aturi Cluster.
“You humans do love Corellian whiskey,” Dans, the two-headed Troig bartender, said from his left head. “When we announced the shipment had docked I thought I would go deaf from all the cheering – and I have four ears.”
“Lew the Hutt wants to see you,” Dans said from his right head.
The veteran pilot finished his drink, setting it back down on the large, horseshoe-shaped wooden bar carefully. Why would the Steamline owner want to see him? His tab was paid and he didn’t think he’d done anything recently to offend Lew; people who upset Lew didn’t last long, especially now as the Tavern Wars raged.
Continue reading “X-Wing Whiskey Squadron is born”