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Tatooine


RaveN

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Where before there had been the sound and fury of nature personified, now lay a wounded and fading beast. It had taken a few drunken and confused steps before collapsing heavily on the ground and rolling on its side. It tried to breathe but the blood in the nasal cavity turned the action into gurgling, wet snorting noises that offered no comfort. Finishing it off would be a kindness.

 

“I don’t have any answers for you about the restless dead, at least not any that will provide any form of satisfaction. I barely understand what’s going on myself. What’s important though is that we aren’t among their number.”

 

Ailbasí tentatively approached the dying the krayt dragon’s spine. She knew better than to think that just because the beast was almost dead that there was no danger from its mouth and claws. The depths of the dark river called out for her to feed on the pain, but another presence urged her to bear witness to its passing. Unlike the river, this presence was focused to razor edged sharpness. It radiated calmness but not of the benevolent sort, rather a clinical detachment permeated with a familiar idle curiosity.

 

“Who are you?”

You aren’t ready for that yet. You need to understand that you don’t need to blame yourself. Then you will know me.

 

“Blame myself? Did I kill you?”

 

No, you didn’t kill me, but I really need you to understand that it isn’t your fault.

 

“Oh Pfassk you, Yoda. Aren’t you just a fething fount of knowledge.”

 

Language, and I am a goddamn treasure.

 

“So was that you in the hab block, and earlier at the house on Onderon. Why are you following me?”

 

That was actually your instinctive subconscious. We all just sound the same because you’re new to using this sense and can’t differentiate tone yet, although to be fair you knew I was separate from the rest of the darkness. In time you will come to understand a great deal more.

 

“So it won’t always be terrifying and full of surprises all of the time?

The Force will never stop being a great and terrible cosmic energy, but you’re strong enough to saddle that cosmic energy and ride it to wherever you want to go. At least for a time.

 

“And what if I don’t want that?”

 

Nobody misconstrued or lied about what you were getting into, and you always could have said no. Don’t act like you didn’t know what was coming, or that you didn’t already make a choice. You’re not a child anymore.

 

“Then why do I still feel like one?”

Because that’s what becoming an adult is, the realization of how unprepared you are for life, while simultaneously losing all of your safety nets. Transition isn’t easy, even with help. Speaking of, are you going to do something about the giant dying murder lizard next to you?

 

“I don’t know what to do, I mean, I’m not exactly packing heat here.”

Forge a bond with it. All sentient things fear impermanence, be its final witness. When it has said its piece, push it over the edge into oblivion.

 

Ailbasí reached out with her hand and her sense of self gingerly to the krayt dragon. At first it roared at her on a metaphysical level so loudly that her hand recoiled instinctively and her soul reverberated, but she pressed forward and secured the link. It was different than connecting to a person, more honest and with a distinct lack of shame. Thoughts, memories, and instincts began flowing into her mind like sand through the center aperture of an hourglass. The transition converted mass to energy, and for several seconds Tatooine had a third sun. When the light subsided all that remained were bones and five crimson dragon pearls.

 

“Soooo, is this where I discover that I’m some sacred protector of the desert and I use my connection to krayt dragons to avenge the wronged?”

 

 

 

… You read too many comic books. Keep the pearls, you will need them, but split the eggs with your two protectors. Always reward those that prove to be both capable and loyal. Do not go with them however, a tutor specific to your needs is coming here to further your studies.

 

Ailbasí nodded, collected the dragon pearls, and walked back over to Parangor to catch him up.

 

“It was a mother krayt dragon looking to stockpile food for its unhatched young. The nest is in a cave over that ridge about a quarter of a kilometer. I’m sending you bodyguard’s contact details, he’ll meet you there and together you can take the three eggs to Black Sun for the bounty, which will be split between the three of us, one million each. Thank you for protecting me, good hunter, but our paths diverge for now.”

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A whisper came upon the winds, carrying the taste of silicate upon its wings and something far more ancient. About the feline the world changed for an eyeblink, steaming verdant jungles replacing the deserts. It was there in the background, hidden by the veil of sands and time. It was the energy of the wilderness that spoke

 

...You stand upon ash, green eternally enthroned in shattered glass. Stand from your sleep of entropy and gnaw from the ground your lifespring…

 

It was there, a faintness of life now gone. The overwhelming life of the jungle calling through a crack in time. It was as looking at life through a darkened mirror, stained with ancient blood.

 

...The tongue of silence shows old paths to those who seek. Whispers in the trees of the carrion flying in skywheels above.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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Looking the small Cathar over he nodded and reached out to his ship to pick him up.

 

"I have no problem picking up the eggs for a bounty but if you don't mind I will take one other trophy." Reaching for his short sword he removed one of the krayt dragons fangs and hefted in his hand. It would look good among the other trophies in his quarters. "Now as to this body guard is there anything I should know or be worried about? I am going to be arriving at my desitnation aboard a gunship and don't want to have to eliminate someone that is trigger happy." Waiting for a reply he looked over the battle field and had to shake his head slightly, he had never hunted something this large with a heaby pistol, or with undead hounds as it were. Looking back at the small Cathar he couldn't help but wonder if she was actually a sith or just a person that happens to tap into the force, either way she was going to be someone to keep an eye out for in the future.

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The initial extraction procedure was quick, if painful. The nurse sat the man down and placed a small device against his thigh,. “This might hurt a bit darling.” She cooed as she pressed an ignition switch. Quick as lightning, the device shot a large bore needle into his leg and extracted a marrow sample and deposited it into a clean vial that she was holding. She placed the vial into a pearl white tray and placed the tray into a compartment in the wall. Meanwhile the 21-B wheeled up and began to apply a disinfectant to the mandalorian’s hearty chest.

 

Bacta injections followed, as well as several other large bore needles to inflate the collapsed lung. Followed by the application of several doses of bacta mist to coat the internals of his chest. The nurse returned and held out her hand to help him from the chair.

 

“It will be several weeks of procedures to fully heal your chest, but we made good progress today. You will return here same time tomorrow, for now I have loaded your card with the entry fee plus some extra for the high stakes sabacc game going on in the Red Viceroy on level five. Though if you wanted I am here for any consultations private or not. My card and room number are in the database.”

 

Her eye winked at him as she walked out of the door, leaving him with his full lung, armour, and a little pain.

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Tros kept his mouth quiet for the most part, with the exception of letting out pain grunts as the somewhat large needles pierced his skin. The pain was temporary and compared to other wounds he had received over his time made the injections seem small. After the medical procedures were done, he took a moment to look at the nurse as she spoke of him remaining several weeks. It was then that he spoke finally.

 

"What the goddamn hell? Several weeks?! Fier’Fek this is getting to be a bit more then what I thought."

 

Pushing through the pain, he swung his own feet over the examination table and shoved the medical droid away. He then began to get dressed into his armor. The nurse made a very overt display of flirting, but she wasn't his type. Mainly due to the fact that she didn't have on her body the parts that would excite him. So he instead opted to head up to observe the games on level five, the Red Viceroy room if he remembered correctly. If that proved to hold some fun, he may join in. Otherwise, he would observe and drink until tomorrow as he would continue to have his injections for several weeks.

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The autodealer in the Red Viceroy spat out cards in long circular patterns, spinning slowly to deal in the players at the high stakes game. The human ‘dealer’ in charge of the game called the bets and hands as the long game of high stakes sabaac carried on. Brutally dishing out its luck and disaster in slow motion hands. Ships, fortunes, secrets, and slaves all changed hands. When one player was eliminated the dealer, a black sun agent by the name of Mitch Leon pointed to the Mandalorian after consulting the grouping of players.

 

“Tros Ardell, you are invited by the table to take the disgraced lord of Nali’s position. Starting bets are five hundred thousand. Red Dawn has covered your first bet and entrance fee of 5 million. Take a chance my friend. The first one's free.”

 

 

The seat at the table was inviting, plush with gold lace. This was a chance of a lifetime.

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The world throbbed with the silent calls of the past to be remembered. The landscape turned spectral green with the memories of verdant plains of grass that once covered the planet. Through forgotten trees the young woman looked up and saw carrion creatures circling something in the distance. She set out through the phantasmal landscape to find the path the voice spoke of.

 

She came to the edge of a pool of long lost water, and found herself drawn to its depths. Phantom fish swum by her head as she tread along the pool's floor towards... her own memories... the sounds of rushing water... screams coming from a familiar face... She stumbled back but the floor of the pool gave way under the disturbance and left her tumbling into into darkness as the world swallowed her whole.

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Tros took a long moment and stared at the seat that was offered up to him. He had never played sabacc outside of a short quick lesson from Reashe when the two were far younger and had much less worry on their minds. Granted, that was a long time ago, but he still remembered some details of how to play. And since the first round would be free for him, he figured he could easily risk it. He finally walked up and sat down, removing his buy'ce and placing it upon the table and held up a hand to get the waiter's attention.

 

"The strongest drink you can serve. I'm going to need it to stay in longer then one round."

 

Since the entry bet was already covered, he got a chance to look at his first two cards. Much to his own disappointment, he held the Commander and The Star. Those are some di'kut cards to be dealt. I sit at -5. He used his own skills of being a beroya to keep his emotions off his face. He looked across the table and eyed a very cute player who kept part of his eye upon him.

 

"Two hundred thousand in both pots..."

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The dealer grinned and gestured to one of the servers, a red skinned twilek with long sensual headtails and an incredibly skimpy outfit. She produced a clean glass filled with expensive ‘Jeddah Brew’ Alderaanian Liquor and added a mixer of cream and ice from a cart then set it before the legendary bounty hunter with a flourish. The cold glass seeped ice cold freshness, and the liquor was one of the most potent and delicious in the galaxy. Things always tasted better when both originating worlds it came from were nuked all to high heaven.

 

The dealer dealt two more cards out before the next phase. The dealer spread his hands over the board and asked for additional bets. A trandoshan down the board placed his final stack into the pot and hissed.

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Tros was careful as watching all of the other participants as they eyed their cards and began to place bets, and was very intrigued by the trandoshan who was very fast to place his bet. He took some more time to review his cards before just picking up the drink served to him and downed it all before he picked up the new cards dealt his way. As he lifted the cards up, some disappointment at seeing a 7 Flask and the Moderation card.

 

"Another drink please, 4000 credits."

 

His eyes had begun to slow drift over to the trandoshan, who was acting fairly strange. Same behaviors as Groavelshik on Nar Shaddaa when I brought him in... Tros began to wonder if the animal was cheating and focused in on him as he awaited his drink.

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The young Cathar women departed and without much preamble the eggs were collected. He never met her contact but that didn't really matter. A two way split was preferable after all. After exchanging the Eggs for the promised bounty he forwarded half of the reward to the young women and processed the rest into his account for himself and his crew. Tattooine had been profitable with him netting about 3.5 million between the invasion and the eggs.

 

"Men, while I know it is not our style to rest on our laurels at the moment we have no work. I believe it is time we upgraded some aspects of the ship and our gear and to see what the galaxy holds beyond this dustball. Lets break for orbit and then we can decide what we will do next. Prior to doing this though lets see if any of the Black Sun members on this planet have any special weapons they can part with."

 

After his men cheered he went to a local Cantina to see what information he could find.

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The lithe twi’lek server carried a platter of heavy and overfilled drinks to the table. Setting it upon the side of the table she passed it out to the participants. Pausing a moment to pat the Mandalorian on the shoulder and indicate the Trandoshan’s wrist, hidden beneath his clothes, with a flick of her red eyes. She had a grudge against him afterall, he had grabbed her ass earlier in the game and if there was anyone to put him in the grave it was the dangerous Tros Ardell.

 

“Here you go darling.”

 

The Trandoshan, blissfully unaware of the conspiracy against him pushed his massive stack of credits into the centre along with three slave tokens he had won off a hutt crime lord.

 

“Allzzzz in”

 

The other players folded, leaving the Mandalorian alone against Thresss Galranoff. Part time criminal warlord of the Rechten sector.

 

_____________

 

Parangor, when he entered the Jisselpuff Cantina, was greeted by the lovely fragrance of flowers and stale alcohol. The dark flag of black sun hung over the door and the barkeep looked at the man expectantly. "What'll you have?"

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The sinkhole had dropped Ailbasí into a maze of natural tunnels, an underground network that resonated heavily with still and forgotten energies. A lethargic darkness threatened to overwhelm her and swallow her whole as the tunnels filled with the faceless forms of the ancient dead. Called by a power that she could not control, driven by fear and beyond counting in number, they would be upon her soon and overwhelm her.

 

“I’m not ready for this, not yet. But when I am, I will return.”

 

Ailbasí climbed out of the earthen tomb and made her way to a clear landing spot. From there, she hailed her ship and it wasn’t long before she was on her way to Korriban, no longer content to have her training be left to a string of unreliable encounters. It was time to take her fate into her own hands. There was a sense of trepidation in the crew when she boarded, but a fake smile gave them a false assurance that everything was fine. With the coordinates locked in, she excused herself to go take a much needed shower and sleep for what she hoped was an amount of time measured in days.

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Tros looked for a moment at the backside of the Twi'lek as she walked back towards the bar area and away from the table. He had taken notice of what she had pointed out to him in regards to the Trandoshan, of which he was now beginning to wonder if the cheating animal had a bounty that might be worth something. Knowing that putting his buy'ce on to check would be a violation of the rules he was sure. Even out here on backwater worlds, gambling rules were still followed very heavily to help protect credits and reputation for all sorts patrons that would be drawn into establishments like this one. Choosing to be subtle, he reached under his left gauntlet to scratch, much was a very common tick of any player who might come across as nervous in a high stakes game like this, but he also used a secret switch to turn on a face scan that would show up on a mini display on his gauntlet. Tros has used it many times when separated from his buy'ce on other worlds.

 

"Bic ni skana'din... I do believe that you must have some hand to scare away... That or everyone here at this table has better information on you that I don't. I may be too stupid to care, or too drunk. Either way, I'll match your bet."

 

Tros pushed his own remaining credit chips into the pot. As he drew his hands back for a drink, a small flash, only noticeable to him, blinked on his wrist pad. He used his left hand to pick up the drink and down what was given to him. As he did, he looked over the information that came back on the portal that was setup by his ori'vod. It gave up to date information on the Bounty Hunter's network, along with Holonet information and some black market networks. Getting the information quickly as he was used to, he set the drink down and placed both his wrists upon the table and eyed the Trandoshan with eyes that suddenly became much more narrow then before.

 

"Your move ge'hutuun..."

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“My move indeedzzzz iron soldier.”

 

He flipped over a pure +21 hand. Almost impossible with the cards the dealer had delt. He reached forward to scoop up the chips. Laughing and hissing like a maniac. When he did however, his wrist showed a glimmer of metal, and the faint dim holographic glow of Sabaac cards. The dealer locked eyes with Tros and a grin tugged the corners of his mouth. He hated this kriffing snake and any chance to clear the alien from the table would be better for his tips.

 

The casino didn’t accept cheats, and a shootout at the gameroom was always good for business.

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Tros kept his face calm, but did raise a simple eyebrow at the filthy Trandoshan. He was well aware from the tension of those around the table that cheating was approved, and no one would care whatever the Mando did to the beast now. Simply moving his left hand closer to his right wrist, Tros tilted his head and offered up a soft voice.

 

"Those are my credit chips, and you want to know why?... Cheaters burn in hell."

 

At his own word, Tros lifted his finger quickly to press the flame-thrower upon his wrist gauntlet. It's jet-like spray smacked the lizard straight in the chest, quickly consuming him. Tros kept his own finger upon the trigger as he stood up and walked over the table towards a Trandoshan that was slowly backing away smelling like BBQ. Upon his feet landing upon the other side of the table, he finally released the trigger. Tros kept moving though to stand over the burning hide that once looked like a lizard.

 

"When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost. You've managed to loose all three today."

 

Tros then hit the trigger and let the juice of his flamethrower run out upon the cheating Trandoshan.

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The murder most foul was not unexpected. The method however, left much to be desired. The smell of cooking meat was heavy in the air, and made the dealer’s mouth water, but he kept his cool until the fire suppression systems kicked in and drenched the entire assembly in fire retardant foam-gel. He laughed, careful to not let any in his mouth and pushed the large stack of credits, tokens, and emblems into a sack. He passed it to the bounty hunter as well as a card of requirey from the bounty hunter’s coalition, already filled out with the hunter’s name and the kill’s ready to be turned in at the head office.

 

“Pleasure doing business with you sir, due to the fire, the casino will now close for a few hours for cleaning. Please return at that time to continue your winning streak. The slaves you won will be delivered to your chambers or ship. Whichever you like. The rule of law is lax here so you can do whatever you like with them. I believe he also had a black sun ship in production for him.”

 

 

Acquired

 

Guys that's not cool. Posting images of real people/actors as slave rewards for services rendered gives a very skeevy and inappropriate vibe that's not fit for this site. I'm shocked that I have to say this. I'm removing the pictures.

-handofthrawn

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"This is Captain Drogan of the Crimson Star, I have recieved your request and will meet you at the local cantina. I will be waiting at a table near the back, at noon." This would be interesting to say nothing else, he was curious as to what this person wanted.

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Tros took a moment to observe the dead beast before him, despite the fact that he was getting wet from the sprinklers. After a moment passed by, he turned around and put his buy'ce back on and took the file that held the information on what the Trandoshan had that was now his. As he walked out of the casino, he wanted a drink, so he made sure to pick something up and his way back to his chambers. He had made the request for one slave to report to his ship, the other to his chambers with him.

 

As he entered, he slowly took off everything that he had on due to some pain it was causing. He still wasn't fully ready to have a full on hunt, but he was at least strong enough to maintain appearances for a short while. Getting all of his beskar'gam off and stored away, he winced a bit in pain as he tried to take his undershirt off. It was then that the door buzzed, letting him know that the slave he requested had arrived.

 

"Come"

 

In walked the young lad. He was wearing basic clothes for the most part. The boy's name was Taylor. He had brown hair and brown eyes. For a quick second, he reminded him of Raeshe. Looking away from him upon the door shutting, he spoke quietly.

 

"I need to apply that medical cream."

 

Even as Tros said it, he began to grimace in pain as he walked over to his bed and lay down in it. He needed to have a relaxing night. Since Taylor's file said he was skilled in hand-to-hand... Tros would put that to the test. *He needed to have extra training in it anyways, and the sooner he was healed, the sooner he could get better at what he was lacking.*

 

*Edited to make a point super clear.*

Edited by Guest

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I received a tip that there's some pretty distasteful things going on in this thread and the mod team agrees. What started with Tros catching a Trandoshan cheating at cards has led to slave rewards which included pictures of real people (who are apparently minors). Your characters might be creeps, but there's no reason we need to have those kind of details in this RP. We're not going to tolerate that kind of thing and if it happens again we're going to have a real problem.

 

I have removed the images. Tros, I recommend skipping the rest of the present scenario if you weren't already going to.

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The two young soldiers stood in the doorway to the bounty hunter’s suite. Taylor entered and applied the cream to his chest wound and then returned to his position guarding the doorway beside his pod mate. They would help and begin training when the hunter awoke from his bedrest. For now Kayliegh began to set out the ingredients for breakfast and as the hours counted down until morning, they took sleeping rotations until the hunter awoke. When he did there would be a healthy and nutritious meal laid out for him, made to resemble what he would eat on his homeworld or Corellia.

 

Both the young soldiers sat at the table, their flashtraining having included some degree of manners.

 

“Goodmorning Mr. Ardell!”

 

They chimed in unison when he appeared.

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Tros found himself waking up from a very deep sleep. The excitement from the casino, along with getting some new additions to his personal usage, the pain of his old wound had acted up enough to put him into a deep sleep after he was able to have someone apply the cream that would help heal it. Getting dressed back into almost his full gear, minus only his buy'ce, he ate what was before him and then went to the two who were just outside his door. They had the military presence that he expected from their files.

 

"I have a need to seek out a more... private ground for training. Report to my ship and I shall be there shortly. For now, I need a drink. Do you happen to know which cantina around here is less busy?"

 

He wanted a drink in order to help loosen his body and mind up before he would spar with the two. He found that nothing but alcohol was the quickest way to let tense muscles relax after they were strained.

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Saint and Rose received the hail and landed at a nearby ship berth. Rose was being uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps to hide the pain from the injuries she received on Kashyyyk. It was an unnecessary gesture, recovery time from combat was normal, and Rose was still capable enough to hold her own in a fight. It was a common enough problem among mercenary groups, fear of being seen as weak, and fear of shattering the reputation they had built. It had no place here amongst warriors though.

 

“Could you grab the kit up in the overhead compartment with the red diagonal line and the three blue dots? My shoulder armor is still wonky,” Saint queried, tacitly showing that it was okay to be upfront about physical condition within the ranks.

 

With their gear sorted and equipped, the pair strode into the backwater town. Tatooine had an odd knack for collecting people of exceptional skill, despite (or maybe because) of its out of the way galactic position. Black Sun openly governed Tatooine, and none of the big players had any interest in contesting that claim. It didn’t seem much different from regular governance, Black Sun was just honest about its political leaders and administrators being corrupt criminals.

 

They went to the back of the cantina and claimed a booth along a windowless wall, so that neither party would have to sit with their back to the entrance. Now it was on Parangor to show up.

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Arranging his armor and weapons, as well as a bit of a surprise in case things went side ways Drogan reached out to his second in command. "I will be departing for the meeting momentarily. You have your order should anything happen to me, you have complete command and access to all the bands accounts with my passing. All I will ask is that you level that building, I would rather they not be allowed to take anything from my person as a trophy. As long as I have a pulse you will recieve the armors double beep transmission so simply monitor the coms." After recieving the orders and confirming them Drogan decided it was time to meet these interesting mercs.

 

Walking into the cantina it is not hard to spot the person he is supposed to meet. He is slightly taken aback that there is someone with them, but after a brief moment of calculation still believe he can fight them off if it comes to that. Walking over he stops by the table and looks them over briefly before removing his helm

 

"I am Drogan, captain of the Crimson Star and leader of its crew, I believe you have requested this meeting to discuss a matter of business."

 

Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table to allow himself a view of the door and greater range of movement he sets his helm down and waits to see what they do.

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Without a word, Rose nodded and strode to the overhead department, she pulled on the compression lever and slowly lowered the compartment door until it was wide enough to withdraw the heavy metal case. She jabbed the control panel on the side and ignited the silent microlifts and maneuvered the case back to the main compartment. She smiled at her compatriot and slowly stretched her lithe muscles as she got into her newly minted Beskar.

 

Tatooine’s bright duel suns glared down at them from AUs away and almost instinctively Rose squinted against their brightness. Her HUD automatically adjusted and cut out the harshest rays before they could burn her corneas. She smiled under the thick glass and walked through the dusty town occupied primarily by deep criminals from the Black Sun. Their stares and looks brought a chill up her spine and their leering at the two female mandalorians made Rose want to plant a fist in their chests.

 

Rose slid down in the windowless stall and made sure her vision encompassed the majority of the room. She extended her thin hand to Drogan in greeting. “I am Rose of Sharon val'Cariadus, of the Mandalorian Crusaders. May the blessing of Kad Ha’rangir and endless purifying war be with you.”

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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He had to admit it was strange sitting down to talk with Mandalorians. He had nothing against them, and in fact his old merc band used to enjoy interacting with them, weather it was combat or not. He respected them and their beliefs and looked forward to the conversation. It was not every day one got to speak to warriors of such high honor and skill and he intended to enjoy it.

 

"Greetings, I believe formal introductions are in order. I am Drogan Dedroska, captain of the Crimson Star and commander of the Thrysian Guardsman within. It is a pleasure to meet a fellow warrior. I hope this conversation is to our mutual benefit."

 

Taking the mandalorians hand he gives it a firm shake and then turns his attention to the one who has not spoken and offers his hand while seting his helm down with the other.

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Tros had let the two slaves head back to his ship, as they were fairly unaware of points of interest on the planet. At least when it came to things that he was interested in. He did some walking around until he found a place that he would truly enjoy, a cantina that held a reputation of serving heavy alcohol. Letting himself in, he took a quick moment to look around the room. It was open and held a great amount of people for such an early morning-, but on a wasted sand infested planet like this one, there wasn't much to do in the mornings.

 

As the beyora sat down and ordered a drink, some of the patrons began to talk of some Gotal podracer named Hol Gruth, who is supposed to win a race today. There was some Weequay sitting next to him who was clearly glancing at him from the side of his eyes. It wasn't uncommon for Tros to experience such treatment. Showing up in full beskar'gam kinda always had such an effect on others.

 

"You can dink without staring. I'm not here to collect today, just drinking."

 

He was normally well known throughout the Outer Rim planets, as the armor of Saberforce always dragged in the bounties he went after. It would seem to him though that such the case was not with the Weequay, as he turned to look him in the eye.

 

"I am merely looking to see why you don't sit with the rest of your kind." Tros tilted his head in the direction that the Weequay was pointing. There were some other Mando'ade in the corner of the cantina-three of them by the looks. Even as he began to look and see, the Weequay kept talking. "Your type always hangout together when you all show up in your fancy armor. Speaking of which...do you know where Wobuwn might be able to buy armor like that?" Tros turned and gave a very strong glare, to which he was able to do since his buy'ce was off.

 

"As I said, go back to drinking."

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“Well if you want blood, death, and endless kriffing war then you’ve come to the right place.” Her laughter, though muffled her helmet, carried a great deal of cheer with it. She finally pulled off the stifling helmet and took a deep breath of dank, tatooine air, that made her immediately regret the decision. She shook out her bright blue hair with a sweep of her head and held up one gloved finger indicating herself.

 

“I’m going to go get a drink from the bar, what’ll you have comrades?” After taking their orders, and leaving Saint to do the her much more experienced practice of charismaing up a new recruit, Rose strode swiftly to the counter and tapped it with two fingers, indicating an order to be placed to the barkeep. She turned her head and caught the familiar ‘T’ visor of a mandalorian helmet sat upon a countertop in the crowd. And she pushed her way there. She came upon Tros Ardell and gave him a sloppy grin. She ran her hand on his engraved shoulder pauldron. She had seen him and admired him on the mandalorian worlds nearly a decade before during the Augustine uprisings, but she had only been a bright eyed, blue-haired, mousy kid back then.

 

“You must be new here...not much of a rind on you yet eh vod? What brings you here from the safety of the Mandalorian homeworlds?”

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Behold the Rose of Sharon is burning in the valley 

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Tros took a moment to look over the newcomer to the bar. She-as far as he could tell, was a woman of the slender build. But he knew better then to judge a book by it's cover. Many Mando women could kill better then any man. He took a moment to take a huge gulp of his drink before setting the glass on the bar and thought upon why exactly he was here. Upon figuring out within his own mind the answer that he himself was seeking, he responded to her.

 

"The safety of Manda'yaim is what brought me here."

 

Picking up the glass and taking a huge swig again, he placed the empty glass on the bar again.

 

"The work of being a beroya is what brought me here. The oya'karir. But for now, it's low duty work for the Red Dawn. I needed credits to fuel my ship."

 

It was very direct and blunt. He didn't mean to be, but he felt like since the war on Manda'yaim, there just wasn't enough reason to give his words any fluff. Not since he had lost practically everything. As he stared out at the bar, he turned slowly to look at the other vod how had approached him.

 

"You look familiar to me."

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