Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Adults Are Strange

[member="Killnan Omani"]

Ryloth.

Why Ryloth? Not that he had anything against twi'leks, they were awfully nice folk up until he had to kill them; ultimately, however, their homeworld was nothing like them - neither colorful nor quirky. It smelled like it looked, and it looked like it sounded; dry canyons and valleys cracking into deathly gulches shadowed beneath red mesas. Of course the citizens were cultured enough, with technologically advanced structures decorating the pinnacles of the landscape; however, he wasn't here to stay among them - no, his target did not deign to make it easy on either of them. When Jansal's ship descended slowly down into the public starport, laden by foreign, silver plate, much like his own beskar'gam, word traveled fast; something he had never anticipated - the contract had led him to believe the one he was hunting was isolated, unsupported, and the last thing he had drawn from that was that the entirety of the village would be covering for him.

And covering would be putting it lightly - they never drew blasters on the Mandalorian, they knew better; but Jansal would be damned if they didn't try their hardest to keep him away. In fact, they tried so hard it was only a matter of time until Jansal learned to simply reversed what they said to discover the truth - every aspect of what they said was a lie, it was like a fable: the date, the time, the location, the planet. In fact, it was so strange Jansal considered tossing in the bag right there, it was charming almost. Almost. It wore off after some time, after he humored them for a good bit; then the blaster came out. No one was lying then. Suddenly, everything was on the house; it was a small colony, independent of the government, perhaps illegally; nonetheless, they provided for themselves with trade and agriculture - they had security too, but they didn't so much as look at the man. Every time they shared a room they'd scurry out like cockroaches under a headlight.

He was making an effort to pack up before departing. Rifle, armor, accessories . . . but why was he feeling like he was forgetting something? He dared to make a final visit to the ship. They wouldn't contact his target, they knew better than that; Jansal was tracking their signals, they'd only hurry up the inevitable. He had the time to be leisurely if he so wished, and he felt like checking his equipment; ah, then it hit him. "Explosives!" He spoke this aloud, a few nearby settlers jumping at the suddenly boisterous response to his own muse before scuttling off into their dusty homes, like rabbits into a hole. It was comedic, almost. Again, almost. It was also kind of sad. Jansal never hesitated to pull a trigger, but he never hesitated to dispense pity, either - he was enigmatic like that. Then the ship, a twi'lek was toiling nearby it; something that shot up so many red flags to the merc you could practically see them pop out of his head. The pad was build into the adjacent architecture, like a solid cylinder; they stacked upwards into a rising slant right before the town hall - it was against this very plaza the starport nestled, almost cozily. But still dusty.

"Hey!" roared the Mandalorian. The twi'lek jumped, wide-eyed, and bolted; a young girl - red-skinned, and, damn, she could run. Before Jansal could blink she was gone and, as assumed by superstition: yes, she took the explosives. Not good. The last thing he wanted was to be tied to a girl accidentally melting her home off the face of the planet because she tripped with the damn things - the only thing Jansal hated more than desert worlds was a paper trail. Or a trail of ash, since that would be the only thing left of this godforsaken place if those things went off; high-grade seismic explosives, highly illegal. Jansal had planned to use it to clear out a canyon if his target went hiding, since it'd likely trigger a massive collapse, given the notoriety of various cave systems built around this particular sector of the planet. Now that he thought about it, it was kind of impressive she could carry it; he relaxed a little. Well, nothing to be done about it now, he supposed. If it happens, it happens.
 
[member="Jansal Corego"]

Killnan wandered around the area. He had a pack of food and supplies to last him for a short while. He finally began to relax when a red Twi'lek crashed into him. Killnan falls over, rubbing the back of his head and the Twi'lek trips and crashes to the ground too. Killnan saw that she was carrying something. Judging from how fast she was running and that she was carrying so much...

"You're stealing something, aren't you?"

Killnan was not in the habit of theft. He had always been brought up to earn his rewards. He still always felt bad, figuring they had a reason. Though before he could say anything else, the Twi'lek dropped whatever they were holding to start running again. With a sigh, Killnan figured it would still be a good idea to go from where the Twi'lek came and return the item - maybe even be rewarded a few credits for it (though that would be lucky, and not expected).

He tugs and drags the heavy object.

"Grah! This is hard!"

Still, he figures it would be a good thing to do. Seeing the man by the ship, he asked,

"Uh, is this yours?"

He asks, a childish curiosity in his voice.
 
[member="Killnan Omani"]

Well, fate (or the Force so have you), works in strange ways; in this case, it continued to taunt the prospect of obliteration as a child dragged the explosives back into view. There was a moment of hesitation, partially because of disbelief, the other half being a string of silent curses to whatever god dared taunt him so; then, in a flash, he was at the child's side snatching away the bag, forcefully tugging it away from his small grasp before more damage could be done. "Are you trying to kill us?" he shouted, gawking through the contents; it was all here, unaffected somehow - his gaze softened. His body stiffened and he placed the bag aside, hopefully beyond the reach of everyone else in this city, lest they decide they too want a crack at carrying it around; he knelt - clad in beskar'gam, his eyes harsh, but hidden; and still, he towered above the child easily. "I bet you're wanting some money for your trouble, eh?" he sunk a hand into his belt, fishing about; finally, he deposited a few spare chips onto the ground - rather than the child's hands. He was on edge, no need to trust a strange on this planet above all others; who knew what they'd try and steal next.
 
Killnan rubs his hand and gratefully grabbed the chips. Nice, harsh man, but a reward actually came from it. Wonder what was in the bag in the first place, for the man to react so strongly. Dirty magazines? Nah, too heavy. An embarrassing holo? Nope, it really was heavy. A weapon? Eh, maybe, better not ask about it though. Curiosity killed the cat... But... But satisfaction brought it back...

"Uh, something tells me that- ah forget it, what are you so worked up about me taking to you?"

He is obviously nervous, but as a child, more curious than is good for him.

[member="Jansal Corego"]
 
[member="Killnan Omani"]

Jansal groaned and lifted himself, exhaustively, to his feet. "Look, kid, I don't have time for this; just take the credits, say thank you, and leave." He rolled his neck - yes, the bag was safely stashed away, but for how much longer; he dared not spend another minute in this place so help him gods above - he had things to do, well, a thing to do: kill a man. Simple work, easy enough, provided this kid didn't go and detonate the charges reducing them all to a minute pulp of red run up against the rubble like a piece of abstract vandalism. "Actually, tell you what," he said, muse taking hold; after all that had occured during the past week, well, who's to say he couldn't try to make things easier on himself? "Do you know a man by the name of Rumoth Asjanni? This is a very important delivery for him and, well, I'm getting paid a lot to make sure he gets it; if you know where he is, I'll pay you some more credits." There, that might do it; you see, blowing up a cave system is one thing - but, in the case of dead bounties, proof was usually required. Digging through all that dirt would certainly be time-consuming and, likely, just enough time for something else to be stolen.

The mercenary deposited another credit chip on the ground, eying up the boy's reaction. "You strike me as shrewd, wouldn't be surprised if you knew how to hold your own; point him out, you'll do fine to understand my offer isn't bluff." Kids, simple-minded; usually, to any normal child, you'd have to evaluate what they wanted - most children simply liked sweets, something unhealthy; and others, usually street urchins, such as this child appeared to be, drooled at the site of money. It didn't matter how much, a thought which disturbed even Jansal, but he figured best to make the most of his situation; "Tell you what," he said, standing up, stretching his legs and allowing his armor to reposition itself, "Twenty credits, that sound good to you - just tell me where he is, I give you them, then leave." There, nothing to worry about - two steps to solve what, originally, had been a larger complication; then again, he'd probably revisit for the twi'lek. He didn't like loose ends - children he could tolerate, thieves were another. "What do you say?" he asked.
 
Killnan thinks...

"The man's on this planet, yeah? Hmm, might've heard something, A hushed discussion I heard maybe... Umm..."

Killnan scratches his chin, he knew something about them, they... Ah, yeah, that's right. They were taking refuge nearby.

"I can tell you th-!"

Aaand, right then it hit him. He felt a chill run down his spine. With his slight understanding of the force, and the way this man was acting, he got a feeling he had murderous intent.

"Wait, no-no-no! You're a bounty hunter aren't you? I'm not stupid!"

He is obviously very panicked and backs off, keeping his eyes on the man.

[member="Jansal Corego"]
 

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