saberforce

The movement seemed calm for the most part, as the group was packing and loading cargo into the two main ships the small House was starting off with. Swift Justice and the Trident were being loaded and cleaned up for their voyage, a destination that Tros had yet to reveal to the rest of the House. At least not yet. Vulios came up and stood next to him, without saying a word, looked at Tros, gave a nod and placed his hand upon his shoulder. He let out a sigh and looked at the ground for a second before lifting his head. “Rumor of the Sith Empire raging war on the Outer Rim territories has increased. The Rebels are fighting back, but they may need an extra push to win. If we play our cards right, we could easily side with the Empire and give them a few victories here and there. The battlefield would swing heavily towards the Sith Empire.” Vulios scanned the crew working hard to get the two ships ready. “And in turn you hope that such a move would allow for us to find a new forged home and way of life amidst the conquest?” A slight head nod to his left and right, a sign of showing his own lack of confidence. “That’s a small part of it I guess. Word will spread of the Mandalorian’s aiding within the Sith Empire’s victories. Our numbers will grow from that of traveling vod and those seeking a home. The Sith are not stupid, they will know how dangerous a growing House of Mandlore can get. They won’t risk opposition as we aid, so long as we prove we are worth the stories they’ve heard.” Tros now turned and did what the equivalent of locking eyes would be for two Mandalorian’s wearing a buy’ce. “And within that is the key. We’ve both served under many different leaders. This is our best chance to establish exactly what we long for.” Vulios nodded his head. “So be it.” He now turned and looked at the crew. Sarpo and Kot’dral now stood looking at the two. “So where is our heading, Mand’alor?” Tros kept his eyes narrowed, even behind his own buy’ce, for few should ever share what his own feelings and thoughts are. He learned that lesson from watching others lead before him. After Vulios finished speaking, it seemed like the number of those watching doubled. He looked at everyone before him, slowly taking in what he could read from them. “Qat Chrystac is our heading. There, we will create a home and build a base of operations. From there, we will seek out the Sith Empire and see what sort of alliance we can potentially form.” Tros then turned directly towards Vulios and gave a head nod. Without much of another word, he quickly moved himself down to help everyone load the final stuff on the two ships. Within thirty minutes, both ships were lifted off the sand covered planet and headed towards potentially a new home.

There was something stirring in the air, and Tros could feel it. He sat at the table of the booth and stared out at the movements of the newly formed squad. He watched as every member moved and interacted with each other, including Larkin. Atin and Avao sat with her, discussing different skills needed to forge a new path to greatness. Sarpo and Vulios sat with a newcomer, Grurt Zelbaur, a young man with dark hair and sharp eyes. They all seemed merry and happy, even more so now that the group had settled back in Bestine after getting their pay Chal Bum. The capital city made quite a nice home for the small group of Mandalorians, but even in their short time being here, Tros and Vulios knew they couldn’t remain here for long. They needed a better location and sturdier home. Kot’dral Duvul walked up after getting a few drinks and set one down before Tros and then sat down next to him. Placing his own buy’ce down on the table next to Tros’ own, he picked up his drink and took a swig before looking at Tros. He had near jet black hair and long sideburns. Narrowed eyes locked directly with his own. “I’ve never been one to feel such a strange affinity to another before. No alor has ever shown such a strong resilience before, a desire to keep going forward. I’ve fought with many under Clan Vuuko. The houses we’ve served have always been many things. You’re something new I haven’t seen in anyone before…” The words he spoke held a deep conviction to them, such a conviction that Tros knew what was about to come from the man before him. The man looked away for a moment to finish his own thought without looking into Tros’ eyes. “... You are the very definition of shereshoy. I have talked with Vulios already about this, but I want to change my Clan... “ The man turned now to fully face Tros. “But not simply to pledge myself arms and strength to you. Maybe not now, maybe when I have fully earned your trust as well. But I want to fully change to Clan Ardell through riduurok. “ Tros now took a drink from the glass given to him by Kot’dral. He looked again at the group before him and wondered what sort of condition the Mandalorian culture was in that he was such a worthy follow. Taking a huge sigh, he leaned back further and held onto the mug with both hands. “I would say that I’m at a loss for words, but that just simply isn’t the truth. I know exactly what to say. You have a long way to prove yourself. Through both battle in changing of Clans and through the shoes you’d have to live up to in order for me to accept a potential riduurok again. I am sure Vulios has told you of everything I have gone through under both recent manda'lors.” Tros then took a huge drink, Kot’dral slightly lowered his shoulders, trying to not show his disappointment. As the other man took a drink himself, Tros finally continued. “But I welcome your heart and company. I’ll give you two months to change my mind Kot’dral.” Tros now turned to fully face the man. Both eyes locked, a small spark of hope filled Kot’dral. “Continue to prove yourself, adapt your signet and share battle with me.” Tros held up his glass to Kot’dral. The man returned the gesture and let his own glass clang upon Tros’. He then shouted rather loudly. “Vor entye.”

A quick look through the scope showed exactly what Vulios wanted, a Bando Gora captain walking alongside a few Ronto’s attempting to keep them safe. Slowly and surely, Vulios kept scouting the entire area to see what sort of mess they may be fully getting into. “Scope shows at least 6 plus the captain. But from this range, it’s becoming impossible to get a good reading.” Still, Vulios attempted to see more and tried to lock down an official number. There was a click and a message that came across his HUD from Tro’solus. It was simple. :Don’t waste your efforts. Return.: It was enough for him to acknowledge and look away from the scope. Slowly, he crawled himself backwards away from the ledge that he was on, as they were still attempting to not be seen. The movements of the group were quiet and well hidden for the most part. Tros kept his own eyes focused more upon his HUD and where the entire group moved. Larkin was with Atin as the two moved in from the west side of the Rontos, while Avao and Sarpo moved in from the east side. Kot’dral was about seven feet from Tros as Vulios came slowly next to them. As he watched his HUD, he felt what could only be described as a shiver run down his spine for a quick moment before Vulios spoke. “I can remain here and provide sniper support. I’d say watch your back, but I believe that Kot’dral is already doing that.” Tros began to move forward, but then paused at the words. They were only spoken between the two, so he took a quick glance over at Kot’dral to see that the man was indeed hanging behind to keep a watch on him. Kot’dral Duvul made no point of hiding his admiration for Tros since he aligned himself with the small Clan that Vulios had put together. He didn’t put much weight on the thought and instead pushed forward towards the target. He moved quietly with Kot’dral until the two came upon their desired position and began to scope out the next move. He waited until he received clicks from every team member that they were in position before he double checked on his HUD that they had the right vantage moving forward. As he looked around, he took a moment to check out Kot’dral. His body in greyish green armor with outlines of gold and red and the lone mythosaur art on his vambrace. A quick look into his buy’ce told him that the man was ready. Looking back at the field, he looked through his scope before activating his comlink to everyone else. “Look sharp. Take your shots and leave no room for recovery. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur. On three…3!” On cue, 6 shots went off, knocking 6 bodies to the ground almost instantly. The shots rang off in the canyon causing a slight stir of the Rontos, followed by what sounded like maybe 12-14 more shots that went off, dropping all of the Rontos to the ground. The lone Bando Gora captain drew his weapon and began to look around. “Ke nu'jurkadir sha Mando'ade!” “Cut the chatter Sarpo. Everyone move in. Vulios, give us the proper entry.” As he spoke, Tros stood up, slinging his weapon over his back and began to walk down towards the now messy canyon that was just created by the group of Mandalorians. As they walked down, a shot or two was fired off from Vulios, who kept the captain on the ground and unable to stop the group moving in around him. As they all arrived, Tros stood over him and officially disarmed the captain. “Greetings from Chal Bum, although he is unaware of what we know and our compensation as such.” About three hours later, Vulios, Kot’dral were with Tros as they burned the bodies in the desert as the rest finished collecting everything from the Rontos, which included a small amount of pure beskar. As the group gathered around the fire, Avao held up the beskar for everyone to see. “The damn Jawa knew it was there the entire time. What shall we do with it?” Tros looked at the fire where the bodies of those who worked for the Bando Gora burned and wondered if such a small amount was even worth holding onto when Vulios spoke. His voice was strong and loud, almost making a declaration. “Forge two vambraces for Tro’solus. Today marks the day, Clan Vuuku chooses to stand behind him, for he has earned our trust and respect. No longer shall the lone wolf roam the galaxy and hunt alone. He now holds the trust, faith and respect from all Clans here. Under one banner shall Mandalore and Mandalorians arise again. We choose to stand under a new house. House Solus, with Clan Ardell as our head and leader. All hail Tro’solus!” With that, the company all held up their blasters and fired them into the air. Tros pondered such a declaration to himself for a moment before he responded. “Together we’ll rise. Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it.” Almost immediately, everyone present also repeated the words spoken.

Standing upon a cliff side, Tros looked out at the rising twin suns. Without his buy’ce, the rays of light made him squint ever so slightly as he attempted to focus upon the region that the small Mandalorian camp overlooked. There was small movement behind him as Avao worked on some gear at a special request from Tros. To his left stood Vulios who kept his buy’ce as they looked out at the cursed sand planet before them. The silence between the two was something of an unspoken thing. Words were being processed by both, but nothing was being said. The long silence would have been beyond awkward for anyone else who would be near them, but for the two, it held no such negativities. As sounds began to die off from behind where Avao was working on gear, Vulios spoke to break the silence. “If she’s correct, we’re going to have massive run-ins with the Bando Gora. Last I checked, death sticks were their primary focus of late, which was helping feed slave trades. Minor workings here and there, although recently had a small war with Black Sun on both Irdonia and Dubrillion. Both attempts had them flee to Bogden. Black Sun still controls Yarrock from what I understand.” Tros slowly nodded his head. “Minor dealings at best. The Bando Gora are deadly when in larger numbers. But since they’ve outsourced some stuff here on Tatooine, they won’t be a problem for us. Get everyone ready to move. We’re going to hit the ridge pretty hard. Send Larkin.” Vulios nodded and turned to walk away. As he did, Avao walked up and handed him the gear that he had requested to be made. Without much of any words spoken, just simply handed them over and then walked away. He was beginning to appreciate the small group of Mandalorians that Vulios had collected and made into a small family of sorts. Is it this that I have been missing in my life for a while? That sense of aliit? The thought lingered on his mind before he turned to see Larkin approach. He looked her over for a moment and wondered if he was doing the right thing, but as he looked past her, he could see Vulios give him a slight head nod of his own approval. “You’ve handled yourself fairly well these past few days. Impressed my fellow vod.” Larkin raised her eyebrows. “That’s an unusual compliment to give a rival of yours. But if I’m honest… I’ve enjoyed having a purpose again. Life during these wars have made it difficult for anyone within the guild to find work, let alone to stay active. Too many regional leaders and not enough bounties.” Tros nodded himself. It was very true. He happened to get lucky with the uprising of Mandalorian clans going to war and fighting here and there, which gave him something to do. Whether or not it was purposefully filled or not wasn’t really a strong arguing point. But they needed to move, and he had something to do before then. He turned towards Larkin and extended his arms towards her, which held a chest piece, two pauldrons and helmet made of Alum and Duraplast. “If you want it, we would like to extend an opportunity to join our family. Under one banner, we are looking to establish a new house with many clans. A new Mandalorian way of life. There are some codes you’d have to follow, but for now I’m more curious to see if you even want in…” Tros felt slightly silly asking her. He had never taken any foundling in before, nor offered up an outsider to join his clan. This was a first for him. He wondered as he looked directly into Larkin’s eyes if she was even willing to take on a new identity. Fighting alongside, yes. But to fully join a Mandlaorian clan?... After a very long pause, she spoke. “... I accept…”

For the first time in years, Tros felt like he was home. Or rather, more closely back to the sense of family he had since his time on Concord Dawn. Ever since the deaths of so many, he always felt like he was on the verge of waiting for the blaster that would eventually end him. Much like any other time preparing for an attack, this time was no different with the lone exemption of him not feeling like he would be facing that blaster today. There was a soft thud of boots walking up next to him and he didn’t have to turn to know who it was. “So why here Vulios?” Granted, Tros felt like he knew the answer, as it would most likely be close to his own. With his buy’ce under his right arm, he looked at the man next to him, who also held his own buy’ce the same way. Vulios seemed to ponder a bit before answering. “I guess the reason was simple. Credits offered up were good enough and the style of which we would be doing things was close to what was comfortable to me.” Vulios now looked directly at me. His eyes burned behind the emerald color of his iris. “Not quite how intense it was under Terra, yet far more comfortable than under Fett.” Tros slowly nodded his own head. “I guess all roads eventually lead all Mandalorians back to the battlefield.” Tros looked out at the B’omar flat and wondered what sort of trouble they really could expect. He then felt a hand upon his shoulder. “Cin vhetin.” The hand lingered for only a moment before it was withdrawn. Then Larkin approached the two. “Not to break up the reunion, but…” She pointed back towards a Mandalorian named Avao. ”She, Ava-Avio, or something said that the time to move has drawn to under five minutes. We need to be ready for the strike you two planned.” Vulios looked at Tros with an expression of knowing, almost like a secret shared between the two. He then put his buy’ce on and walked away. “Pack up the caf, we’re going to need it.” Tros then put his own buy’ce on and patted larkin’s shoulder twice in a very upbeat manner. ******* 20 Minutes Later ********* The speeder he rode upon was quickly coming up upon the Ronto’s that were moving slowly through a small rocky pass. There were about 7 of them, moving rather slowly and taking up a lot of room, making the passage between them tight and a perfect spot for an ambush. Pulling out one of his blasters, he quickly took aim and fired directly into the back of one of the Ronto’s. It roared and began to lurch itself a bit forward, but it caused a few others in front of it to stop moving entirely. As he came barreling down on the narrow passage, the shot came, striking the dead center of his speeder and launching him into the air. As he reached the height above the Ronto’s, he activated his jetpack and began to slowly lower himself down, not wanting to tip his hand yet, began to pour fire directly at the Ronto’s. As the beast began to move and thrash about, it was then that the Raiders showed themselves, two upon the cliff side taking some shots at him, four that were hidden amongst the Ronto’s, and about 5 from behind. It was clear to Tros just how much work the raiders had put in. Luckily, the plan of springing their ambush to spring one on top of their was about to prove just how skilled they were in taking on a small group of Mandalorians. As he landed in the mists of what would soon be a chaotic scene, the roar of speeders came near the narrow passage and then broke off to either side. As they broke off, four jetpacks came flying into the air and also began to pour fire at the rear raiders. Tros turned and used his right arm that had his dart launcher and shot a Ronto that at least one raider was using as a shield of sorts. After shooting the beast, he pulled out his other blaster and began to force the fire at the Ronto’s on his left side. As he did so, he knew that he was now ground zero for the chaos. Vulios and Atin came landing with some hard fire on the very far side of the narrow passage while Avao and Sarpa went up high onto the ledges of the passage, to help provide equal leverage of the situation. Meanwhile Kot’dral and Larkin were the ones on the speeders who raced around. Their end goal was to force a complete encircling of the raiders into a far more vulnerable position. Because of that, Tros needed to keep as many eyes drawn on him so that everyone would be able to accomplish their own objectives. Using his blasters, he kept up a steady stream of fire at the direction to his left, trying to force them to retreat ever so slightly backwards. They were after all, due to Avao and Sarpa, would lose their higher ground support. So he kept a steady stream. He didn’t have to wait too long, as shortly after he made a strong push forward, the Ronto’s behind him began to swirl around and panicked more as Vulios and Atin came up, leaving behind a few dead bodies. To his right, Avao and Sarpa came flying in, blaster rifles causing a scene and now making the Ronto’s panic and attempt to stomp and run, but with nowhere to go. Kot'dral and Larkin quickly closed in from behind the raiders, forcing them to move into the chaotic Ronto’s. There was no longer any upper ground support, but with the fire being poured down from all sides, the four remaining raiders clearly were feeling the pressure to get out from under fire. Suddenly two Ronto’s dropped behind as Vulios took them down, sealing off a retreat for the Mandalorians. But between the constant fire from himself, Avao and Sarpo and the pushing of Kot’dral and Larkin, the chaos finally reached a peak and the raiders lifted their hands and threw down weapons, wanting out of the mess that had ensued. With the act of surrender, Tros gave the signal and Avao and Sarpo began to have the Ronto’s flushed out in a run towards the main exit as Kot’dral got Larkin out of harm's way. It was then that the rest of the crew quickly rushed the raiders and took them prisoners. The Mandalorians then quickly started to make camp and quickly arranged for their new guests to be held down. ***** 20 Minutes Later ********** Tros stood watching the group of three Raiders who remained. They squirmed as each Mandalorian passed by them, wondering when someone would talk to them, or if they would die or be released. Vulios stood beside him and watched as well. After about a good few minutes passed, Vulios spoke. “They’re hiding something for sure. The question is…” Tros and Vulios looked at each other. “Can you get one of them to talk?” Tros smiled behind his buy’ce. “I can get one of them to dance, but it’s going to cost one of them their lives.” Tros returned to staring at the Raiders for a moment before he started his walk towards them. As he came to standing right next to them, he leaned down and looked at three before pointing at one, whom Sarpo quickly pulled him out in front as Tros stepped a few paces backwards. “You have two options before you. You can talk or you can be put through immense pain at your own whim. Why did Chal Bum put such a large bounty on the Ronto’s to be returned?” The raider shifted slightly, and gave a look at the other mandalorians before returning his own gaze back to Tros. “Legends of your people are nothing more than legends. You guys got lucky in us being unprepared for such a counter strike. I doubt that you have the ability to scare us as much as you think you can.” There was a moment of silence before Tros removed his buy’ce and handed it over to Sarpo. He then took another moment to look down upon the man before he knelt down to get to his face level and leaned in to whisper. “You may think you're tough. But let me make this simple promise to you. Within the hour… You will beg for death. And when you do… I’ll make the pain worse.” Tros then stood up. “Larkin, make sure the caf is good and hot. I’m going to need lots of it before the day is over.” Tros walked over to Avao and received from her a vibrodagger and walked back towards the main raider he picked out. He leaned down and slowly cut a medium size cut into his right arm, followed quickly by another. “Now that you’ve warmed up your tongue and I’ve warmed the dagger, lets begin… What’s so special about those Ronto’s?” The pain was evident within the man, as most interogrators don’t open up with such a deep cut. It was Tros’ way of letting him know that he was in for something different. His voice went deep in an attempt to hide the pain. “Ronto’s or Bantha’s? They all look the same to me.” With a soft almost hidden smile and a soft head shake, Tros grabbed the man’s left hand. “Wrong way to start things off.” Forcing his hand flat, Tros chopped the man’s index finger clean off from the knuckle. Amidst the muffle screams the man made, Tros spoke rather calmly. “I want to be able to make this hand last. What’s so important about the Ronto’s?” Pain was evident on the man’s face, but he was attempting to fight through it. “... Maybe… their meat?...” Tros pulled his lips together and gave a disappointed head shake. “Two more maybe?” This time, he made sure to slowly cut the middle and ring finger off from the knuckles. The screams were no longer muffled and almost screeching at this point as the slow cutting made the pain worse. “Why did Chal Bum put a bounty to return Ronto’s?”

Tros loaded up a speeder with some useful supplies as Larkin moved around the front, attempting to make it more multipurpose than it’s original intent. As he put a box of explosives into the back, one Jawa that he was talking to approached him and began to speak to him about some final details. Larkin looked up for a second and then put her head back down and listened in. After a moment, he walked away and Tros simply climbed into the speeder. Larkin was quick to jump in. “What did he say exactly?” Tros fired up the speeder and pushed the throttle to the max to speed up out of town before responding. “The Ronto’s we’re after have a few other hunters pursuing them. Sounds like a few rival Jawa clans are fighting over them. A few speeders from Bestine have gone out after them as well.” She didn’t verbally respond, but she mouthed the word Bestine and began to focus upon what she felt like she needed to do. As they moved rapidly out of the city range, Larkin pulled up a map and began to detail some of the details of which they would need. “It looks like we may want to camp out on the Mesra Plateau for the night before we head on to the B’omar flat. If these Ronto’s made it out to the Northern Dune Sea, we’re going to be in hot druk.” The fact of the matter is, they both knew the Ronto’s haven't made it that far, as they were taken by rogues posing as Tuskens and attempting to draw people in. From the story of Chal Bum, the Jawa who hired them, what they were looking for is something that many didn’t return back from, which meant that they were killed while out. “Keep your eyes on the scanner, we don’t want to be ambushed while out.” They made it to the Mesra Plateau before the suns fell and set up camp shortly at the far east of the plateau. Larkin was cooking some food as Tros slowly moved around and surveyed the area. When he came back, he removed his buy’ce and sat down to eat, pulling up a map. “The entire lower ridge is filled with opportunities to ambush. There are about two to three other groups out there. Two or one, I can’t really tell from this far away. There is one group about twenty miles to the west of us. Far enough away to not be a problem, but close enough to count that it’s a group of no more then ten. From this high up, they’re observing the B’omar flat like us.” Larkin stared at the fire and let her own thoughts drift deep. “Do you think it’ll be a firefight?” He didn’t answer her. Instead he focused on eating. How could he tell her that he thought that such a thing was possible, but he intended to strike a deal? It sounded stupid to even him. “Eat and sleep. We’re better off well rested and ready to go. We need to survive to get paid.” Larkin raised an eyebrow and then went back to eating. It allowed for Tros to think more, and to even ponder upon what the future held for him now. Things have indeed greatly changed since his last time here. He wasn’t an independent bounty hunter, his vod had all died off leaving him alone, and his lover perished needlessly to defend Mandalore along with his childhood friend. Now, here he was working as an ally with someone whom he once considered a rival. At the very least, he admired Larkin in her ability to adapt quickly to new things. She processed things the way he did, internally and almost rarely spoke out loud. The last thing he remembered thinking before he slept was that he hoped to see anyone of his own kin soon. ********************************** “Chit! Those Banthas are going to make it difficult to spot anything from this range...” Larkin was tracking down a single Ronto she spotted from her vantage point as Tros kept an eye open and swept through the area that they had moved towards, which was only three miles more north-west on the plateau. He looked down at her for a second before turning his attention to what he was already focusing on. “Shoot one. They’ll scatter.” “If I shoot one, they’ll scatter, the Ronto’s will scatter, and every other group out here will know that we’re up here.” Tros narrowed his eyes as he scanned the area. “Then why complain? You told me, 'I pride myself on tracking’” She let out a sigh. “I’ll eat those words fully by the time we get paid…” No sooner had the words left her mouth when Tros spotted something that neither wanted at this present time. “Larkin- weap-” The blaster fight had erupted before he could finish his own words, let alone his thoughts. The first bolt struck his upper left pauldron, the next two struck almost deadly close to Larkin’s abdomen area, but only hit the sand, causing a very lucky cloud of cover for her to roll over and move out of harm's way. He had started to produce his own blaster pistols before he even finished speaking, so he quickly began to take shots back in the general direction of the oncoming raiders. His own return fire made it clear that whomever they were up against were indeed more skilled than just average raiders, as the group was attempting to cut him off from moving towards cover and isolate him alone. Fierfek! The maneuver was something he would have done and it made him slightly upset that he didn’t anticipate it. “I can’t get a good sight on them- what do you want me to do?” The first thought Tros had was for her to not be shouting in the middle of a firefight. The second was to cause a distraction of some sort that would allow for him to gain better cover, as for the moment he was stuck in the open absorbing fire and being the prime target. He never got the chance to tell Larkin though, as the oncoming fighters seemed to anticipate that maneuver as well and began to have a small concentrated effort to pin Larkin down where she was, making it almost impossible for her to alleviate him. They’re good. It was the next move that tipped Tros of whom they were dealing with. Two grenades went flying into the air, easily spotted by him, yet not in a position to handle them outside of slowly moving away from their path. But they never made it to the ground, as they were shot at and exploded mid air, causing flashes and debris to get thrown everywhere making it beyond impossible to pick up movement on the other side. It was a tactic famously used by Mandalorian clans on Concord Dawn. Not many clans had even survived the recent purges there, except a few. It was then he knew who was leading the others against them. “Ke'pare! Tomad vod!” Tros made sure to shout it as loud as he could. It took about two seconds before all fire stopped. It took a moment before a few figures emerged from the dust and sand smoke that had been created from the quick onslaught of fire. It was then that the all too familiar armor of Vulios Vuuku came into sight. “Su cuy'gar! Tro’solus, Lone wolf.”

The yellowish orange blur that was Tatooine loomed and overtook the main viewport of the Swift Justice. Tros sat within the pilots chair and flipped switches to take his ship off of cruise control features used during hyperspace travel. As he worked, Larkin began to move her head towards the main viewport from the copilots chair and squinted her eyes. It was the first time in a long time that Tros had anyone sit next to him as he piloted, as the last few times he was in a different ship and worked primarily alone. Since getting his new ship, only Vulios Vuuku has been within the main hold, and he was the one flying, not Tros. He had thought he would be annoyed by her being up here with him, but it felt good to have someone else, even a rival now present. "Not too much activity... Whatever happened with the Hutts and the old guild really sent this place to hell." Tros couldn't tell if she was worried or just simply speaking her mind out loud. "Lifeforms are camped out here and there... Looks more like Tuskens have moved in closer to the main cities. Mos Eisley has the most dense populations around it. That may be where we pick up more desperate people..." With a flick of his wrist, he quickly pulled up the heat shields and began to take them planet side. As he did, Larkin continued to eye the screens to see whatever new information she may be able to pick up. "Looks like we're being directed to land at docking bay 7. Air traffic was quick to pick us up. I'm guessing low traffic in the system." Looking towards his left, the HUD on his ship showed the direct path towards the docking bay. "I'm guessing with the Hutts gone and Black Sun moved on the more core worlds, there isn't much of an interest in scoundrels to visit this place now." Larkin stood and and nodded her head. "I'm going to get prepared." With that, she left the cockpit. It didn't take him really long to get the ship settled in place. As he began to lock the ship down from the pilots chair, he stood up and walked back to the main hold where Larkin was. SHe had helped herself to some old armor pieces, namely a matching set of gauntlets and shin guards. He normally would have cared, but since she didn't take anything else of higher value from his fallen vod he didn't care as much. A chest piece of buy'ce would have gotten him a bit more upset. He walked past her to lower the ramp. "I hope that you are at least armed with your own weapons, or do you need to take my people's weapons as well?..." She walked up to him and swung her own heavy repeating blaster to be carried upon her back. "I like my own-thank you." She clearly ignored the tense words and instead now pushed past him down the landing ramp. I hope someone shoots her. After the thought crossed his mind, he then followed her down. As he reached the bottom of the ramp, Larkin had already moved to pay to docking fee, which it looked like the docking bay was rather unattended and unkept. Seeing as she had a grasp on things with squaring away their payment, he decided to walk out and see how much of the city had changed he was last here, which was a good 12 years. He had been on Tatooine since then, but not Mos Eisley. Outside, the city looked about the same colorwise and the amount of attractiveness of the city. Mos Espa and Mos Entha were always more glamorous and attractive when it came to outsiders, regardless of whomever was in control of the system. Although the majority of the former guild operated out of Bestine now. There were far more Jawas running around then the last time he was here before. Quickly two right outside stood up and began to talk to him. Their languages were confusing to most, but his background allowed for him to understand and deal with them. After about a ten minute conversation, Larkin finally showed up. Tros glanced at her. "What took so long? They didn't like our credits?" She looked and felt aggravated. "No, I was just harassed. They feel like our best bet was another system for work." She walked out into the middle of the pathway looking flustered. "The locals have more resources. The Jawas have a need of us. Their promised payment isn't exactly high end credits. But I feel like it's a good start... are you willing to take this job?"

Tros found himself on his back under the pilots station of his ship, Swift Justice attempting to reconnect the main circuits of the sublight engines and deflector shields to be somewhat operational again. From the main hold, he could hear sparks fly followed by curse words from Larkin. “I know it’s damaged, but if you damage it any more, I’m going to push you out into the vacuum.” There was a distinct pause followed by “I know you’re joking, as this ship has seen much better days.” He could only roll his eyes as he moved to stand up now that he officially connected everything underneath. Luckily, Larkin was only working on the mainframe of communication, which was truly needed for what she wanted them to accomplish. He slowly walked into the main hold to see her sitting awkwardly upon the small food prepping station as she was closing up the panel above her head. He allowed for himself to study her for a moment. Blonde hair with dirt through it, her own armor was that of a modified power suit that she had collected from a variety of sorts. Echani, Zabrak and other cultures were clearly mixed in. She somehow pulled it all off. In all of the years Tros knew her, Larkin had always been a great sniper but lacked heavily in hand to hand combat. Her weapons of choice were always bigger and better than what anyone else would have on a mission, almost as if she chose to buy the latest and greatest tech to say she was on top. She turned and looked at him, letting her greenish eyes speak that she was trying to read him. Luckily, he still had his buy’ce on. “Review the mission again.” Larkin didn’t look pleased that he was quick to push off any form of questions to come his way, but she clearly decided that it was better not to push it. Letting out a sigh, she let her shoulders fall. “Tatooine, Mos Eisley spaceport has a few locals requesting muscle, as the Hutts and Black Sun have almost left it alone. We go in, take the contract they give us, meanwhile helping set up a new guild front out there.” She then shrugged her shoulders as if she didn’t have much faith in her own plan. “I know it’s not a lot, but right now the guild across the galaxy has been hurting. Credits are sparse and fewer people are willing to exchange currency from Empire to Republic. Unfortunately it’s just where we’re at.” Tros tilted his just slightly. “Unless we pick a side and take only their credits…” Larkin looked directly at him. Her face was slightly unreadable. “Just speaking options out loud.” Larkin nodded her head but didn’t say anything. It was weighing upon their minds, clearly both had considered if things had come to that. Why else would two rival hunters join up to find credits and work. The two then worked quietly for the next hour before they were off and headed towards Tatooine….

Darkness. It surrounded him and made him feel welcomed. He was used to it, yet there was a coldness that accompanied it. Somehow, Tros didn’t remember anything that had transpired over the past few weeks - or was it just hours. It couldn’t tell. As he looked around, there were soft glimmers of lights, very soft and distant though. He could tell he was still within the armor suit, yet it didn’t seem to be functioning. It was heavy, so he had to really focus and put his concentration into moving his arms to get the helmet off his face. The armor was beginning to smell the same way it did when he discovered it on Savareen. He felt like he needed to try to get the AI to wake up. “Aegis…. “ No response. “Di’kulta tech. I bet some Beskar’ad designed it.” A few more bangs and clangs as he tried to move his arms through the heavy metal. “Do you want any help?” The voice shocked him, but any movement wouldn’t have shown, as he couldn’t move it without any power to the suit. He remained still for a second before he decided to speak. “If you’re offering…” He had already spoken Mando’a, so whomever was with him knew he was a Mandalorian. There were some loud sounds of movement, and then heavy grunting as Tros could feel the helmet begin to shake slightly. After a moment, the helmet cracked open, revealing that he was in his own ship. The air was stale, but with low lights illuminating the cabin. He turned to see a figure stand up after prying the helmet off. Armor was neutral, but there was no mistaking a female was underneath. She slowly took off her own own helmet. “Larkin... “ His rival bounty hunter gave him a smile. “I would ask for a reward for helping you, but something tells me you don’t have anything of value anymore.” Tros could only stare her down, as he refused to give her anything that she could use. But it took him only a second to realize he did have something that could help her out in return to helping him out. “You can have the armor suit. It’s connected to an AI of sorts. You help me get out of it, it’s yours to scavenge, whether you sell it or get it running for yourself.” Tros locked eyes with Larkin. He could tell that she was heavily considering her options. After a very long and awkward pause, she slowly nodded. “Alright scumbag. I’ll get you out. But I also want for you to buy me a drink.” “Deal.” About two hours later, Tros sat in the majority of his own Beskar’gam with his buy’ce sitting next to him at a table in the Respite with Larkin opposite of him. She was sipping on a drink of some kind, he was busy eating food. He chose to remain in the darker part of the table as to hide his own face a bit more, which would be unrecognizable anyways with the scars and drying blood from whatever had transpired since his time on Savareen. “Fierfek Tros, ever since Fett called all of the Mandalorians to him to have that stupid war - your life has become one giant mess. The Guild has broken up, small Guild leaders like Chalchiir have either died or been overrun by the now expanding local governments. Black Sun and the Sith Empire are the only ones still putting out bounties, making it harder for anyone to have competitive contracts to go after.” Tros looked at her, knowing full well what she was implying. He didn’t care for what she thought. He knew the paths he had taken were slowly moving him away from the life of Bounty Hunting. Those paths began ever since he discovered he had a half sister. He took a bit of whatever was in front of him and looked up and surveyed the cantina. “Guild masters will continue to thrive on outer rims. It’s too massive there for any government establishment to even think they can control them. It's why and how Black Sun has always survived, along with the Hutts. It's a lifestyle that will always remain in the galaxy.” He now pushed the plate away. There wasn’t anything on it that was actually helping him now. He then picked up his buy’ce and put it on. He leaned forward towards Larkin. “But you let's be honest… You have something brewing, and there aren’t many left that you trust. What’s the target?”

Great, I’ll just have to get use to this thing for the moment. The thought of having to adjust wasn’t something Tros wanted to deal with, but circumstances didn’t really give him that option. In fact, life seemed to be handing him nothing but more complications with the comm that came through. Shit- the single word that explained the day so far and how he felt about this new voice he’s never heard of before on the comm system. Quickly, he began to move more rapidly towards the exit even as the AI spoke letting him know that it also favored an escape at this point. Although his movements felt like he was better off running through mud, he did his best to push through. As he moved, the AI threw up the tactical readout of the armor, which included repeating blasters built into the armor. Why the hell am I using these then. He quickly tucked them into the armor in a way that he would be able to keep them, as for some reason he felt fond of the new blasters. As he moved, he saw from the HUD that there was indeed movement incoming, yet life signs near his own vessel seemed to be… empty. Letting out a quick sigh that most likely his own team was wiped out, he decided that pursuit of his ship would be the best means of escape by this point. As he moved in the general direction, the armor resisted, or rather felt like it was resisting the entire time, but slowly, whether through his own body getting used to it, or that the system as able to pick up exactly what Tros wanted and needed, movement began to seemed to get slightly better. As he got himself into a position over a hill that allowed for him to see his own ship, Swift Justice, he could see two figures both with his eyes and on the HUD coming in at a ninety-degree angle. They could now clearly see him and were beginning to make an attempt to cut him. Let’s test the weapon systems… Lifting his left arm to have the repeating blaster fire, he was truly struggling to get it firing as he ran towards the ship. It was beginning to fluster him, and he said out loud – “Help!” And he couldn’t tell if the words were enough for the AI to help, or if he finally figured it out, but he almost fell backwards upon the weapon springing to life, blasting off many shoots in the direction of the two hostiles trying to cut his approach off.

This hissing sound of the suit sealing itself made his own heart spike, in nothing else but sheer fear of not being able to get out. It calmed down upon seeing his own heart rate on the HUD before him. The smell suddenly quickly became the least of his worries as the AI spoke, giving slight reassurances and even picking up a threat, to which he could now see on the HUD. He tried to see if he could study the movements, but soon had what felt like shocks in his upper calves, which was once again followed by the sound of the AI's voice within his head. For some reason, he tried to turn his head to find the voice, but did so in vain. Realizing that he needed to act, he bent down and picked up both of his DE-10 blaster pistols and began to move towards the exit of the crashed ship and slightly towards a far better tactical location to take on the oncoming hostiles. On his way towards the exit, a single figure appeared within the opening, weapon drawn in a scouting mode. Most likely trying to make sure that everyone else could enter. Upon the HUD, he could see that there was at least one other on the outside waiting for a single to enter as well. He was fast to analyze that taking the one on now would result in a tighter fire fight that could have him ending up like the Wookiee. With the split decision, he moved to hide behind a fallen panel and readied one of his blasters. Luckily for him, the HUD still showed the position of the hostiles entering, which was now both of them entered the main opening that was his way out. Now, he would have to wait for them to come to him. It didn’t take too long, as one of the hostiles approached and Tros already knew what his move was. He made a quick lung at them to turn the hostile around and use them as a shield to shoot at take the other out. But for some reason, he didn’t compensate fully for the new weight of the armor, so instead of doing what he thought he would, he ended up failing around with the one towards the ground. Upon both hitting the ground, Tros decided that he still needed to shoot the other one, and lifted a blaster to shoot, only to have him miss by a good five meters. Shit. It now turned into a full out trigger-happy situation and all Tros could do was keep the blaster going until the other fell to the ground from getting hit. The other kept trying to elbow him to release the somewhat tight grasp he held over his neck/shoulder. It made his accuracy much worse, but now that he took one down, he needed to deal with the one he was holding. With the way the armor felt, he didn’t think he would be able to get his blaster turned around in time to shoot him accurately, at least not without hurting himself. So, he used the butt end of the blaster to slam it over and over again into the hostile’s head until the life signs stop showing on the HUD. Pushing the body off of himself, he knew that the blaster fire would have drawn attention to himself, so he needed to get up and moving now, but it was a slow process as he still wasn’t able to get a feel for how the armor would react and move with him in it. Saying his thoughts out loud, he hoped that the AI would respond to him. “Isn’t there something you could do to help me move better?”

Tros turned his gaze back towards the armor as the commlink was silent. It seemed to be moving on its own, but then distinct words came out, making the request for Tros to put on the armor. The very fact that there was radio silence made the sense of urgency even more heightened without the armor speaking. He made the decision quick, he would do as it asked. Being far from careful, he began to remove the body that was currently residing within the armor and was just as quick and careless in putting it on in a hurry. He would worry about his personal effects later, for the moment, survival was far more important. The smell within the armor was rather disgusting, the body of the wookiee did not make things easy. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at removing his own beskar’gam, but much to his own thoughts, he could easily get it back later. Upon taking it all off, he quickly hide it within the ship and then moved rapidly to get himself into the armor the must have held an A.I. of some sorts to be able to speak and communicate to him. Parts of fur from the wookiee remained, as did some blood, but being a veteran of war and a bounty hunter himself, such things were nothing more than a small inconvenience to him. As he finished putting in on, the weight of the armor felt so much more than what he was used to, but he would find a way to manage. Maybe the AI would allow for him to use it without the drag of the weight upon it fully activating…

Tros felt slightly off, almost torn between two objectives. To race out and help and to stay and find a better solution to the mess that was currently being created outside with his fellow vod. But the fact that the ship… it felt alive somehow, almost trying to get his attention. Lights flickered for a moment, but seemed to fade itself into a guiding light of sorts, pointing him on towards what looked like armor. It was then that the armor itself seemed to blink on and off, a code. Tros was used to seeing such codes when he would scan and hack messages over the Holonet. He didn’t catch all of it, or if he did, he didn’t understand it. Remove foreign object? What the hell does that even mean? Leaning in, he began to fumble around the armor to see if there was something that maybe he was missing or just simply couldn’t see. It looked like basic armor that was connect to a device of some sort. Letting his hand move around, which was slightly difficult with the body that still occupied the armor and the blood that seemed to be oozing everywhere from the body, he did manage to feel something that felt off. Could this be it? It feels jammed or locked in…Starting to pull heavily upon what he had grasped with his hand, he wondered how stupid he looked if someone else was simply watching and waiting to kill him at the most opportune moment. After a few hard pulls and removing a small part of the armor to get a better angle, he was finally able to remove a device. He tried to look at it, but it was still covered in the oozing blood and didn’t look like something he had seen before. He then heard a sound that sounded like it was still far off in the distances, but wanted to confirm. “Anyone on Swift Justice, report… Again, report…”

Tros suddenly looked towards the sky upon the loud thundering sound of an explosion. His eyes caught a glimpse of what looked like a chunk of metal falling towards the ground not far off from where the crew were currently at. Vrax immediately looked at Tros with some hesitation. “Dimaal’s doing?” Behind his buy’ce, he narrowed his eyes. “I doubt it. But it could mean trouble regardless…” He quickly scanned the surrounding area to see what was present and to think through what was happening. If it was going to be a trap, this could complicate things. “Better get everyone up there. I’ll scout out the clunk that fell. If Dimaal is up to something, we better keep as many advantages as we can. Go make the deal. I’ll give support if that turns out to be nothing.” Tros didn’t wait for a response, as he knew that Vrax would give none anyways. So instead readied himself to move out quickly towards the crash. Deep down, there was something in the back of his mind that told him something was up. Whatever was going on, he needed to be prepared. Even as he walked away, he was checking on his DE-10’s to make sure that they were ready for whatever might be found over the small hill. Upon reaching the top, he looked out and observed the wreckage through the scanner within his buy’ce. There didn’t seem to be any sign of hostility, and his scans were showing no signs of life. Linking up his comm to Vrax - “Vrax, it could be nothing. No signs of life. I’m going to go in close to check it out…” There was a sound that began to fill the air. Almost like another ship approaching. When he looked up, he couldn’t see anything. “Keep your eyes peeled. I’ll keep this frequency open until I’m done scouting.” Tros began to pick up the pace. He wanted to check it out quickly and get back. If Dimaal was trying to pull something over them, he would want to be present to help his small crew in the fight. As he got closer he could make out that it was a ship of somesort. Wrecked and burned up. His buy’ce began to pick up a very weak distress signal. “It’s a ship Vrax. Badly damaged and emitting a very weak distress signal. Still no signs of life. I’m going to see if there is anything worth purging then I’ll head your way.” There was a quick click followed by the sound of rapid breathing. “Hurry- Dimaal is playing us for sure. Looks like a second crew of some sort. I have no doubt a firefight is going to break out soon.” Under his breath, he let out a curse as his pace went into a flat out run towards the downed ship. Making almost a slide towards the ship, he pried the door open and began to walk through. Smoke and debris made the entry almost hard. There was little on the ship that seemed to be worthy of purging at first glance, some weapons here and there and a few power sources caught his eye, but nothing worth him lingering over. Then he spotted something… It was small and faint, but his buy’ce picked it up rather quickly. A suit… or maybe armor of some kind that looked much more complicated than anything he had seen before. Almost after taking three steps towards it, his comlink went frantic. “Ardell! Vrax and Bex are down, Dimaal is down. They have the rest of us pinned. Please adv-” The link went dead. Chaavla! He had a feeling that Dimaal would be the downfall of this short lived crew. He was already down Vrax, Bex and Vulios. Who knew who else was still alive or would be by the time he got out of there. He needed to do something and fast.

Tros simply nodded his head towards Canderous and began to walk himself off the ship. He was ready to get this all over with. The amount of fuss that took place from the beginning made it difficult for him to feel motivated to work and deal with The Zann Consortium. He would deal with everything that Dimaal was doing at the time that it needed to be dealt with. Stepping off the landing ramp, he was hit by wind from the sea and the smell of sand and salt filled his nostrils. He stood at the bottom of the ramp and looked around. He waited for about thirteen seconds before Vrax and Canderous both made it to the bottom of the ramp with him. "Dimaal wants cargo loaded there, and us the get paid there... Which means he already has people in position to do a cleanup sweep when he goes to claim everything. What are your thoughts?" He knew that Vrax would't waste time, and of course was the very next voice he heard. "Monilar will be able to hold the cargo with Bex. Although now that I said that out loud, I have a strong feeling you don't really want to hold onto the cargo. So have Bex stay here and keep the ship ready for take off?" "Monilar can take the cargo himself as we finish up business with Dimaal. The goal will be to identify who is second in command and keep them alive when Dimaal turns on us. Any input Canderous?"

The arrival of Swift Justice over Savareen was rather uneventful compared to its arrival and departure from Kessel. The planet looked dirty from space, and that was about as far into Tros’ own imagination that he would allow for himself to go. He stood behind Vulios as his own buy’ce sat upon the floor. Bex sat within the comm officer’s chair staring rather blankly between Tros and the planet. There was a very distinct awkward silence that hung within the air of the cockpit, which was broken by Vulios. “You’d be more comfortable sitting in the co-pilots chair… or the pilots chair- it is your ship after all al’verde.” The very words made Bex go from looking at Tros to the planet with the intent of trying to keep his focus there. He let out a breath he was unaware he was holding in, which forced him to speak. “Our ship vod. We’re a crew now, much like we’re going to get paid together. Just take us in to the coordinates given to us by the Zann Consortium.” Tros then picked up his buy’ce and walked out of the cockpit and into the main hold. He quickly found Vrax who was simply standing in the middle of the hold waiting for him. He didn’t have his buy’ce on, and his face made it clear he was waiting to talk to him, so Tros gave a simple nod to give him the okay to talk. “Dimaal wants to cargo loaded in a different spot from where we get paid…” Vrax’s eyes were cold and locked in to his commander. His voice was also very stern, yet Tros knew better, he was worried. “I know Vrax. He altered the exchange details. The Zann Consortium has been known for not paying out contracts in order to keep credits themselves. It’s why I’m altering how many are supposed to collect the credits.” Vrax nodded his head and put his buy’ce and looked over to Monilar. “Will he join us then?” “No, he will.” Tros lifted his finger and pointed towards Canderous. “Get him prepared.”

Movement from everyone on his team seemed to flow rather quickly and silently. No one held any orders though to kill on sight, so Tros figured he wouldn’t hear much blaster fire anyways. He was also aware that in the fanning out, Canderous remained close to him. Within his own mind, he believed that maybe it was due to the fact that both were broken in some form. But such a trivial thought didn’t have a place to be occupied during this time, so he pushed it aside. Turning the corner, a crew member was working at a console trying to find a way to restore power or systems to the downed ship. Using every muscle he had, he raced forward and used his left hand to drive the poor man’s face into the screen. His head struck it hard, cracking the screen to be completely unreadable immediately. Even with lights down, his HUD gave enough light to the situation to show him that he had successfully cracked the man’s skull, and it was now bleeding out on the floor. Tros leaned down and observed the man’s uniform for a quick second and then stood up. Using his comm system within his buy’ce. “Heads up team, the crew has ranks. We need the upper crewman alive. Better to take everyone into the main hold- alive.” Tros turned towards Canderous, whom he knew was standing near him and gave a quick nod of his head. “We need the systems up to go through the cargo and fetch what we need.” He then used his foot to move the body for more movement for the two. He put his own blasters away and leaned down to rip off some of the hull plating to allow for him to begin to rewire the system. As he did, he sued the HUD comm system again, but this time only this time directly to Vrax. “Vrax, have Bex begin to setup containment protocol, use strill methods.” He quickly shut off the comm system and began to work hard on getting the systems of Mute Decree back up and running. It didn’t take him terribly too long. He was getting updates throughout the process, which also included having Bex bitch about some systems were not as identifiable as others. After about four minutes and thirteen seconds, Tros finally rewired the system to get all of the systems back up. Standing back up, he looked down at the man, whose own blood was spilling everywhere, causing a massive mess. He slowly began to walk towards the main hold, as he already received word that all of the crew had been rounded up. As he walked in, there was about twelve crew members all knelling down in a circle. All of their hands were bound and their mouths gaged from being able to speak- all except one. Tros recognized him from the contract as the captain, red skin and all. Bontin. He slowly walked to him and bent himself down to be eye to eye with the Zeltron and the two locked eyes. He was the only one who did not have his mouth gaged. “Stealing from me will have the wrath of Zann Consortium fall upon you Mandalorian!” The Zeltron then spit on Tros. All he could do was look down ever so slightly at the spit and then picked his head back up to Bontin. “Well you see… that’s the thing. Zann Consortium has hired us to handle you. While you may have been a good smuggler for them, your own greed has caught their attention.” Almost as soon as he finished the words, Monilar – one of his own crew walked in and practically shouted. “al’verde- both Spice and Coaxium have been located. Bex is finished as well.” At the very sound of the words had Bontin swallow hard. Tros then stood up, as there was nothing left for him to say to the Zeltron. Vrax walked up and whispered to Tros. “Remember reputation.” It was a soft reminder for Tros of what he needed to do next. His head slowly moved over all of the crew, taking each one in slowly as he figured out his next move. After a good long 11.5 seconds passed, he lifted a finger and pointed towards the youngest crew member. “Him.” As if on cue, Vrax grabbed the collar of the boy and began to drag him towards the escape pod. Tros slowly followed and stopped upon Vrax throwing the boy in the pod. After he did, he handed Tros the distress signal. He then bent down again and stared at the small device. “If you are found…” Tros then tossed the device into the pod and then with his other hand produced a small token. It held the mark of the Mandalorain wolf, which also was upon Tros’ own left pauldron. “… Seek out the Wolf.” He then stood up and drew one of his blasters and shot the bindings that held the boys hands together. After the shot made contact, Vrax had the pod launch into space. Turning around, the rest of the crew that remained began to stir. Taking a small inhale of breath with his nose, he turned towards Vrax. “Get everything on our ship. You have two minutes to have everyone off this ship.” “So, you’re just going to leave us here to be found by someone who might be wandering?!...” Tros now slowly turned to look directly at the face of Bontin and began to walk towards him. No one else remained still, as his own crew understood what was at stake. Standing about a good 3 feet from him, Bex entered the room and quickly passed him a small device and walked out of the room to join the rest of Mandalorian crew. Tros never once looked at the device. “…No. I’m going to give you a chance to survive.” He now looked down at the device and entered something on it before tossing it into a room that was just off the main hold. “3 Minutes. This ship is rigged to blow. If you can get to the control- you can stop it and survive. Otherwise…” He let his words hang as he began to walk away towards the door and quickly shut it. After it shut, he used his flamethrower to seal the door. After he could tell it did indeed melt slightly- he turned his flamethrower off and walked out of the room towards the hatch that Vulios had docked the Swift Justice at. After about 45 seconds had passed, Tros was in the cockpit standing over Vulios as they were beginning to pull away from the Mute Decree. Tros stared at the ship for a moment before barking out his orders. “Use strill protocol now.” As he finished his words, he took his buy’ce off as Vulios opened fire on the fuel containers placed on the hull of the Mute Decree by Bex. The explosions began as Tros watched his own eyes as the ship quickly became no more…

Swift Justice emerged out of hyperspace near the final marker for the Kessel run. Vulios quickly moved and engaged the sensor mask as the ship slowly began to move in a stalking position over the exit marker. “If you’re information is correct, the Mute Decree should be coming out of the channel shortly. Prepare yourselves for boarding…” Tros, who was standing behind Vulios simply gave a quick pat on the shoulder and then turned and left the cockpit. Walking out, he looked to Vrax, who had already moved the majority of the small crew towards the airspace lock on the port side of the ship. “We’ll wait on the outside until Vulios disables the ship.” It wasn’t really and order or suggestion to Tros, but more of a statement of the best move. There wasn’t a point in saying anything, so he nodded his head and allowed for the team to start slowly moving out of the airspace hatch. As he stood and waited his turn to go out the hatch, he could feel the anticipation begin to arise within him. There was a thrill about this contract they picked up. Normally his time working contracts were always alone. To do so alongside his vode seemed somewhat more important and exciting. He took a final look back at the cockpit, which was now sealed off leaving Vulious alone to be to backup if needed. The cold air was rushing still into the ship, which felt relaxing against the face. Even with his buy’ce sealed, the coldness could still be felt within, and it was enough to remind him that death was always waiting for him to mess up. Today wouldn’t be one of those days either. He had a group to lead, and a job to collect on. With that fact secured tightly within his mind, he allowed himself to climb out of the hatch. He took a look around to see a few flashes of something from within the Maw, but since it wasn’t his first time to this sector, he shrugged it off and moved towards the front of his vode, whom were all gathering and preparing for the Mute Decree to show up. From his angle, which was now near the top of the cockpit of his own ship, he could see the marker for the channel to Kessel, which was below him. It meant that Vulouis had put them in the correct position to take the Mute Decree by surprise. As if on cue, the Baleen-class heavy freighter shot itself out of the channel moving at a slow pace, clearly on the lookout for any capital ships that may try to enforce laws. The slow movement made it easy prey for the Mandalorian band, as Vulious at the helm of the Swift Justice opened up fire of ION blasts towards the large freighter, quickly disabling it. Tros knew that was the cue for them. He jumped off the ship’s hull and activated his jetpack and began to move towards the disabled freighter. He couldn’t really hear anyone else and their movements, but within his HUD, he could make out the blips of their movements, which indicated they had followed without any hesitation. Turning off his jetpack and letting his feet hit the hull with a thud, he quickly spun around to look at Bex, who already knew what his role was. He began to bend down and cut through the hull of the ship’s airlock hatch to make entry easy for the group. As he did, Tros activated his commlink to the rest of the crew. “Secure the crew first, then we’ll take the goods with us back.” There were clicks as acknowledgement given as Tros turned around and drew both of his DE-10 blaster pistols only to have Bex fling open the hatch. Tros wanted to be the leader who would lead by example, so he was quick to jump through. Gravity on the ship was working but made the jump down difficult, as it was counteractive against the void of space. As his feet hit, the red flashing lights and alarms were already blaring that the ship had a breach. He had to move quickly to gain entry, so he ran to the panel at the nearest door and waited for the rest of the crew to make it in. Upon the last one, Bex landing on the floor, Tros hit the panel to close the airspace hatch and to seal the room. Upon doing so, some of the alarms shut off. “We’ll have to move quickly. They’re most likely armed and ready for us.” Vrax opened the main door into Mute Decree and the crew quickly fanned out. Tros allowed for his HUD to remain as the main part of him tracking things, as it was picking up heat signatures, which was telling him where the majority of the crew were at and where they were preparing for gun fights. This would be the beginning of where names would be made famous.

Tros slowly nodded his own head in acknowledgement of Canderous. Luck was something that he himself was never found of actually acknowledging-despite having grown up for a good portion of his life on Corellia. It was interesting for him to see that Canderous only acknowledged- or maybe just worshiped – Kad Ha’rangir. It wasn’t really a bad thing, as at least he could tell that Canderous was a man of conviction and devotion. He felt slightly bad that he himself had started to have his own faith shake. Or rather, he began to doubt that there was even a god of his people anymore. There was a slight beep that took over for a second before Vulios turned it off and informed the other two occupants of the cockpit that they were about twenty-five minutes from drop point. At the word, Tros stood up and put his buy’ce on and looked at Canderous. “Alrighty then, let’s get the others prepared. It’s time we make our own luck and future.” Before Tros left the cockpit, he placed his left hand upon the shoulder on Canderous and gave him a slight nod before moving on. Although he did not make it very far out of the cockpit before standing face to face with Vrax. “Fierfek Vrax! How the bloody hell can you do that.” Vrax gave a slight chuckle behind his own buy’ce. “Reach my age and you’ll understand.” With a slight tilt of the head to look around Vrax, he moved to allow for Tros to see the situation on the main hold of the Swift Justice. Bex was now fully clothed and armored up, along with the rest of the crew. They were all preparing their weapons for the mission and seemed to be focused on what was coming. Tros then felt the hand of Vrax upon his own shoulder as the older veteran guided him with a slight push forward. Tros understood what Vrax was nudging him to do. “We’ll be dropping out of hyperspace on the outskirts of the Maw within a few minutes. Our target is a Baleen-class heavy freighter named Mute Decree. It’s cargo of 12 crates of Spice must be retrieved unharmed, along with any Coaxium that they may have upon their ship. Word has it that there are at least 6 crew members, but there could be more, as the ship has been outfitted the house more. Upon collecting these materials, the Zann Consortium has requested two things. The first, that their ship be grounded indefinitely. Along with that, they requested that the crew make sure that they learn a lesson to never steal from the Zann Consortium again.” Tros now looked around and eyed everyone. “If there are no questions, get ready to board the ship.”

Tros leaned back in his chair and allowed for his full weight to be tested in the strength of the chair. His own eyes darted out for a second to watch to star lines streak past the viewport as he mulled over Canderous’ comments on the situation. He didn’t need to actually see Vulios’ face either to catch from his peripheral vision a look that suggested he also felt the same way. Letting out a very loud sigh, he placed both of his hands on his stomach. “No. It’s not. But it is a starting point. And it’s work. Bounty groups normally don’t make a name for themselves that quickly. Nor do pirates. We have to start somewhere.” His own eyes now looked to Canderous. In doing so, he also moved his head to gain better vision of the man. The clothe that covered his eyes stirred a sense of wonder within him, but decided to not ask such a question. He himself was a private man. Having to force someone else to talk about their past just seemed like a very rude thing to do. So instead he decided on a different direction. “So Canderous… I know you know much about Kad Ha’rangir. But what do you know of Hod Ha’ran?”

There was an extremely loud clang that woke Tros from whatever small amount of sleep he was attempting to get on their way to Kessel. He turned to see Vrax sleeping in a seated position next to the storage unit. He was snoring rather loudly to the point of his own noise was drowning out the engines with their soft hum. As he sat up, Bex Krohl walked past him wearing nothing but the skin on his back as he was double fisting some form of whiskey he was unaware that they had on the ship. “I’m going to make clothing a requirement on this ship.” Tros didn’t look up as he said it, but instead rubbed his neck, which was now stiff. He looked around for his buy’ce, but remembered that he left it in the main cockpit. As he stood up, he was suddenly face to face with Bex; who looked completely confused. “I thought you were into men.” With an annoyed face to match the confused face of Bex, and also to openly show his own disappointment with the statement. “Not when they look like you.” Tros then left nothing to be discussed as he walked past him, muttering rather loudly- “We’re going to need a bigger ship.” Walking into the cockpit, he spotted Vulios sitting in the copilots chair- staring blankly off out at the viewport. His own buy’ce was off and resting next to his own, and the blue light of hyperspace made the feeling in the cockpit feel much more relaxed then the main hold. Letting out a massive sigh, he sat down in the pilots chair and let his body sink in. Vulios didn’t move a muscle, but spoke. “A bigger ship might not solve the problems you’re running into al’verde. You need a fleet. But that depends entirely upon what our actual job is. You haven’t really told anyone yet.” Tros kept his own eyes on the console before him as he though more about what his response should actually be. The main job might steer some people away from his now small crew. But why was he afraid to lose the following he currently had? He couldn’t really say. Letting a moment pass, he finally turned his head and spoke quietly. “A competitor of Black Sun employed a group of smugglers to fetch Spice from Kessel. Word has it, they have been uncovered for also stealing Coaxium from the vaults on the side, which has put this competitor into an extreme disadvantage against Black Sun. So, our job is to teach this crew a lesson. Payment for delivering both the Spice and Coaxium to them on Savareen and teaching this crew a lesson is Thirty Five thousand credits.”

Tros looked at Canderous and could tell that the man before him was broken and lost, yet still held onto a purpose of sorts. The emotions he felt could be seen upon his body language as much as himself on a bad day. He spoke of redemption, and for some odd reason, it reminded him of his half-sister, Xae. Slowly, he nodded his head before speaking to Canderous. “Alright then. Vode an.” There wasn’t much more that needed to be said by Tros. Canderous had accepted and would join the slowly growing crew. He put his buy’ce back on and then headed towards the hangar bay for his ship, Swift Justice. After arriving, he was quickly greeted by Vrax with a nod until he reached the main pilot’s chair. Vulios Vuuku looked at him from the navigation spot and asked a simple question. “Where to al’verde?” It was a very simple question, but one that he had some time to really think about what his answer was going to be. The Holonet was full of reports of organizations asking for different things, as his crew would be more then beneficial to reap rewards from taking on some of those larger bounty jobs. Turning his head towards the copilots chair where Vrax sat, he gave the man a quick nod. “Kessel. I’ll fill you guys on what the job is on our way there…”

Tros almost had a slight rocking motion with his body as he listened to Canderous. Vrax who stood next to him clearly had his own thoughts on the situation, but wasn't going to argue the points, so he instead placed his hand on Tros' shoulder and then took his leave towards the hangar bay. Tros then waited for Vrax to fully leave the area before responding to Canderous. "My ship, Swift Justice. It has room for just one more on it. Me and a few others are leaving to return to my beroya roots to remind purpose. If you want, you can have that last spot. But I will warn you. I will not call you Dar'Manda, as you are still very much so manda. But if you don't wish to be called Canderous either, we can find a new name for you vod." Trso then extended his hand as an official offering to Canderous who stood before him now.

Tros simply held out his hand to shake Vrax's, but found himself staring blankly at the man's face who held no such expression. After a long moment passed between the two of them, Vrax broke eye contact and looked at the doorway and allowed for a small smile to come to his face. "You are my al’verde. That means I will follow you, as I am sure that others will as well." He looked down at the floor to consider exactly what Vrax had just told him before looking back up. There was no need for more words. It was understood what was about to happen, so the two then put their buy'ce upon their head and walked back up to the bridge. Things didn't take very long for the word to spread that al’verde was resigning his position. Some had quickly shown their own disdain for the move, but there were some, a select few besides for Vrax who wanted to stay pledged to Tros, and so then also followed suit and resigned their own positions. Tros had given them instructions to meet him in the hangar bay at his personal ship, Swift Justice. Then him and Vrax took a moment to make sure that the security and safety of the Crusaders were set with a solid commander to the rest of the crew to follow. Once everything was settled, Tros and Vrax headed off the bridge towards the hangar bay themselves. It was then that they had come across a Mandalorain who wore very old armor. It made Tros eye the warrior before him and come to a complete stop. He looked him over for a long second-which forced Vrax to speak up rather bluntly. "Tro’solus- you have but a single spot available on your ship. This one seems a little too damaged to fill that seat." "Vrax-never call me Tro’solus again. And if you don't have a memory... I'm more damaged than anyone else that's already on that ship. What's your name?"

Tros closed his eyes as ships from the surface began to return back to the fleet. He could feel something stir deep within him. It was something small, yet so very familiar to him that it was almost impossible to ignore. He had felt it before, many times before. His own eyes opened to observe the planet before him behind his buy’ce. The fire from the planet below was evident even from space. He let out a very loud sigh, which must have caught the attention of Vrax. “Is everything alright al’verde?” The million-credit question was asked. To answer simply, no. But how could he even begin to phrase that to the man next to him. To the man who was older and had seen so much more. The man whom Terra had personally recruited on Dxun. There was nothing he could say to him that would convey what he felt stirring deep below. With a slight head turn towards the man, his voice became softer than what it had been since they were paired up upon the ship. “It could be nothing… It’s not worth bringing up at the moment. We can talk later. For now, prep the ships for departure from this this system.” Tros held his stance at the viewport for a few seconds before he turned abruptly on his heels and left the bridge, leaving Vrax to stand there alone. He for now he had to get himself alone to think. So the best place for him to that was the commander’s quarters. He quickly walked in and shut the door behind, tossing very casually his buy’ce to the side. It bounced off the wall and landed upon the bed where it rested. But he ended up sitting at the table that was offered up for the quarters. He sat and stared out of the viewport within the room and allowed for his mind to run wild. He reached for a drink that was on the other side of the table, which was bottle of Whyren’s Reserve, to which he quickly poured himself a full glass of it to drink as he was left alone to his own thoughts. But his time alone was rather short, as only after his third swig of the drink did he hear a knock at the door. Tros shifted himself slightly and shouted come in, which was followed by Vrax entering the room and shutting the door behind him, which was a clear sign that the man wanted to talk privately. Of everything that Vrax was, subtle wasn’t one of them. Perhaps a trait almost too common with all Mandalorians. His own comfort with Tros went on display as he walked right up to the table and sitting down while pouring a glass of whiskey himself all within a shift motion. “Al’verde, you can be as dangerous as a Trill beast and twice as cunning as the next man. But something that you are not is subtle.” Tros let out a very quick laugh, followed by him taking another swig before responding. “Yeah, I just had the same thought about you. I guess being subtle isn’t a trait amongst us.” The comment drew a soft laugh from Vrax before he took a swig himself. There was about three seconds that passed before either of them spoke. “I know your face very well al’verde, as I have been in shoes before when I was much younger. You’re beginning to doubt Kad Ha'rangir.” Tros turned and looked the older man in the face. His own eyes searching for the right words to say, but all that could come out was something that sounded like an attempt to find more air to inhale. Vrax could feel some sympathy for him and placed his left hand upon Tros’ shoulder. “There’s no need to defend yourself. Doubt is natural. Even more so from someone in your shoes.” Vrax then took his own eyes off of Tros along with his hand and stared out of the viewport before continuing. “You’ve been betrayed by your dar'buir, raised by no one. Went to war with a Mand'alor who wasn’t prepared for it. And now, served with one who is the complete opposite. Life hasn’t given you the best hand.” Vrax took a large and hard swig and then almost slammed the glass on the table. He then turned to directly look at him. “But you’re stronger because of it. And trust me, your gut is the best thing to follow, more so than any god that has ever existed within our culture.” Tros slowly nodded his head and took a much smaller swig this time to finish off his own drink. He then pushed himself up from the table and offered up an arm to help Vrax stand. Upon the older man accepting the offer, Tros pulled him up and locked eyes with him. “I must resign my position then and return to my roots.”