Sorin Vanado
Character
"What do you mean you lost him?"
"We cannot find him, sir. He disappeared into the jungle like a shadow."
"He's a fething assassin, of course he can disappear, you nurf-chit!"
Sorin had to hold back the urge to laugh when he heard the resounding thud of a boot. These mercenaries were just like the rest who've been after him. Or rather, had. They didn't last very long underneath Sorin's scope. Approximately three months ago, he was on his way to Coruscant when his YT-2000 was dragged out of hyperspace. The hyperdrive was offline, and non-functional, a problem he didn't have the knowledge to fix. A perfect waste, considering it had already been repaired back on Effekt just days prior. On top of that, he was caught in the gravitational pull of a nearby jungle world. Engine trouble and now a crash landing...how much worse could it get? He had an unhealthy, unintentional habit of fething his day up royally on any given occasion.
The crash was...eventful. Shields down, weapons down, and the engine was damaged. The repairs to this ship would take weeks, if not months, and he didn't have the means or resources. The navigational computer was fried, and left him in the dark to which planet he had landed on. Sensors were still operational, to a point, and he detected several ships in orbit above him. A rescue mission, or were they the ones who brought him down in the first place? Not wanting to risk the answer, he fled. Over the coming days and weeks, he learned that someone was wanted to capture him...badly. Before on the space station, he had about a dozen mercenaries after him. Now it was closer to several dozen. What was so important about Sorin that they were willing to pay several dozen people to hunt one man? After three months of hiding in this jungle, picking them off one by one, he couldn't find an answer. None of them knew anything about their employer, only that they were being paid a large sum of money.
Let's hope the money is worth their lives.
-------
"Why can't we just bomb his ass from orbit and be done with this?"
"Because we need him alive. Says the boss anyway."
"The boss can kiss my ass for all I care." Three mercenaries walked side-by-side through the brush, guns at the ready for anything they find. They couldn't help but wonder if this was a goose chase, but they heard stories from the others who tried hunting this guy: a shadow in the dark when there is none. Could be complete daylight, and they might never see him coming.
"How do we fight something we can't see?"
"You don't." Before they could turn to face him, the grenade went off between them, turning them into little more than bags of flesh upon the ground. Slowly, Sorin crouched near the ground and made his way towards their bodies. Clad in jungle camo gear from head to toe, his red hair was covered by a camo bandana, tied into a bun and concealed. He searched their bodies and found little more than spare ammo for their guns. Not even any rations for the trip out here. "Guys could have at least a snack on them." Between rations from the ship and the mercenaries he's killed, he ran out of reserves two weeks ago. Not much of a problem, since he had hunted before, but the jungle life was unpredictable in this damn oven of a planet. With no signs of other intelligent life for at least a few miles, the only thing he could do was keep moving. Armed with a survival knife, blaster, and a sniper rifle, he wade his way through the best he could, and never stayed in one place for longer than the night allowed. Being tailed by mercenaries makes it a bit of a necessity.
'At least they haven't used rockets yet.'
'Let's not give them ideas.' That female voice? One of two in his head, and the only one he's had any sort of solid conversation with. Might be a little crazy, but at least he isn't lonely. It's someone to talk to, and she most likely won't be going away any time soon. She's saved his ass on more than one occasion anyway, so it helps having her around. "What's this?" On the last corpse to rummage through, he found a datapad. Maybe it has information? As he flips through screens, he finds the same offer he's seen before: sum of 100,000 credits for whoever captures Sorin alive. 'It's gone up since the last time.' He chuckled at his thought. On the next screen, it listed the ships in orbit: three freighters in orbit with ten starfighters as protection. Against what? Meteors? Not as if anyone else was going to come get him.
'Got to keep moving.' He reminded himself, and slipped through the trees as silently as possible.
No one but mercenaries were coming after him...right?
[member="Darth Ophidia"]
"We cannot find him, sir. He disappeared into the jungle like a shadow."
"He's a fething assassin, of course he can disappear, you nurf-chit!"
Sorin had to hold back the urge to laugh when he heard the resounding thud of a boot. These mercenaries were just like the rest who've been after him. Or rather, had. They didn't last very long underneath Sorin's scope. Approximately three months ago, he was on his way to Coruscant when his YT-2000 was dragged out of hyperspace. The hyperdrive was offline, and non-functional, a problem he didn't have the knowledge to fix. A perfect waste, considering it had already been repaired back on Effekt just days prior. On top of that, he was caught in the gravitational pull of a nearby jungle world. Engine trouble and now a crash landing...how much worse could it get? He had an unhealthy, unintentional habit of fething his day up royally on any given occasion.
The crash was...eventful. Shields down, weapons down, and the engine was damaged. The repairs to this ship would take weeks, if not months, and he didn't have the means or resources. The navigational computer was fried, and left him in the dark to which planet he had landed on. Sensors were still operational, to a point, and he detected several ships in orbit above him. A rescue mission, or were they the ones who brought him down in the first place? Not wanting to risk the answer, he fled. Over the coming days and weeks, he learned that someone was wanted to capture him...badly. Before on the space station, he had about a dozen mercenaries after him. Now it was closer to several dozen. What was so important about Sorin that they were willing to pay several dozen people to hunt one man? After three months of hiding in this jungle, picking them off one by one, he couldn't find an answer. None of them knew anything about their employer, only that they were being paid a large sum of money.
Let's hope the money is worth their lives.
-------
"Why can't we just bomb his ass from orbit and be done with this?"
"Because we need him alive. Says the boss anyway."
"The boss can kiss my ass for all I care." Three mercenaries walked side-by-side through the brush, guns at the ready for anything they find. They couldn't help but wonder if this was a goose chase, but they heard stories from the others who tried hunting this guy: a shadow in the dark when there is none. Could be complete daylight, and they might never see him coming.
"How do we fight something we can't see?"
"You don't." Before they could turn to face him, the grenade went off between them, turning them into little more than bags of flesh upon the ground. Slowly, Sorin crouched near the ground and made his way towards their bodies. Clad in jungle camo gear from head to toe, his red hair was covered by a camo bandana, tied into a bun and concealed. He searched their bodies and found little more than spare ammo for their guns. Not even any rations for the trip out here. "Guys could have at least a snack on them." Between rations from the ship and the mercenaries he's killed, he ran out of reserves two weeks ago. Not much of a problem, since he had hunted before, but the jungle life was unpredictable in this damn oven of a planet. With no signs of other intelligent life for at least a few miles, the only thing he could do was keep moving. Armed with a survival knife, blaster, and a sniper rifle, he wade his way through the best he could, and never stayed in one place for longer than the night allowed. Being tailed by mercenaries makes it a bit of a necessity.
'At least they haven't used rockets yet.'
'Let's not give them ideas.' That female voice? One of two in his head, and the only one he's had any sort of solid conversation with. Might be a little crazy, but at least he isn't lonely. It's someone to talk to, and she most likely won't be going away any time soon. She's saved his ass on more than one occasion anyway, so it helps having her around. "What's this?" On the last corpse to rummage through, he found a datapad. Maybe it has information? As he flips through screens, he finds the same offer he's seen before: sum of 100,000 credits for whoever captures Sorin alive. 'It's gone up since the last time.' He chuckled at his thought. On the next screen, it listed the ships in orbit: three freighters in orbit with ten starfighters as protection. Against what? Meteors? Not as if anyone else was going to come get him.
'Got to keep moving.' He reminded himself, and slipped through the trees as silently as possible.
No one but mercenaries were coming after him...right?
[member="Darth Ophidia"]
