First Reply All Eyes On

[Koda Fett]

K W E N N
S T A T I O N​

The Black Sun set their sights on Kwenn Station and it was all but theirs, if not for a lingering infestation of Pykes. His recent work with Raz and Mauve set the stage for this job. And now, the Pykes were dead with their leaders gutted, lieutenants silenced, comms fried. Yet the moment Fett stepped into the corridor, his blaster still warm at his side, the station buckled down with his helmeted visage flashing across holo-displays with a fair, respectable price for his head.

What remnants of Pykes that remained on the station were out for blood.

Now the whole of Kwenn Station was a pressure cooker, with enforcers scrambling for credits, mercs seeing bounties and syndicate eyes prying from the dark. Fett moved fast, searching for his way out.

​

 

[Obran]

Kwenn Station wasn't exactly his normal haunt, but he had business there, and it was good business. Unfortunately, the whole place had seemed to become an upheaval point very rapidly. And that lead the bard to assume his employment from the Pykes, paying good credits and otherwise, was likely at an end. Fitting on the mythosaur bone inlaid beskar'gam he favored, he stepped out into what was rapidly becoming chaos. A spear slung across his back, he fairly bristled with weapons, but walked the halls suspiciously un-filled insofar as weapons in hands went.

Turning a corner, an alert flashed on his visor, a priority request from his employer. With a rather familiar visage, not so dismilar to his, flashing across it.

Luck, Force, or Irony... At about that time, a startingly exact match was around the next turn in the corridor, coming towards him. It took seconds for the bevii'ragir spear he carried to be spun off his back into a guarded grip, his ennunciator barking out a halt command in Mando'a and Basic both.

Koda Fett

 

[Koda Fett]

It was only a spear.

From their distance, Fett snatched at the blaster carbine hung at his waist and held it with one hand at hip-level with the barrel aimed towards the one that cried out at him. On Kwenn, it was hard to tell the reason behind this encounter. Chance, or had this Mandalorian come searching? His helmeted image plastered across the station, Fett bet on the latter.

"If you've come for my head," he began, "I'll make it quick."

Obran

 

[Obran]

He smirked. The helmet hid it, but the reaction was almost involuntary. Koda lived up the the stories the bard had heard of him. The spear held ready still. There were more than a few surprises in his gear, and he quite enjoyed people dismissing it off hand. His foot tapped and rocked, almost like keeping a beat or time signature to music. Slowly, the man's torso and limbs moved as well, his whole body moving in time to something only he could hear.

"Whether I've came to help or hunt depends... The Pykes were paying me. It would seem thanks to you, that arrangement is at an end. But what's left of them is paying for your head... Why shouldn't I make good on that offer?"

Koda Fett

 

[Koda Fett]

Fett gave an earnest shrug, speaking with that commonplace and expected conviction. It spoke to self-confidence, arrogance. Though in these circles, it was known well enough that whatever vows he made, he could back it up.

"You'd die." He answered, "No one'll be paying me for that."

He was less in the know of Mandalorian circles than ever. He remembered, who? Careena, Ijaat, Ronan? Everyone else was a distant memory of a past life, lost to time.

 

[Obran]

"Might be I die. Might be you'd die. Regardless... You're speaking, and not boasting. Smart move is to be wary. Either you're skilled beyond me, or beneath me. And both are equally dangerous... "

He cocked his head to the side, spun, and the short spear suddenly more than tripled in length, shoving through the plastoid armor of a syndicate guard. The next three to round the corner met with a spinning set of strikes from the spear in the Bard's grasp, the last seeing his windpipe and most his spine severed by the hissing hard-light edge of his gauntlet shield.

With that, the spear clipped back to his backplate, he drew his mag-charge pistol, the shield hissing out of view.

"Don't stab me in the back, and I'll watch yours. My ship isn't far. I'll drop you wherever. Just foot the fuel bill. In exchange, you owe me your story, your song. It's what the Manda demands..."

Koda Fett

 

[Koda Fett]

"You people and your Manda," he groaned, sparing glances to the freshly piled bodies in this dimly lit corridor lined with steaming exhaust pipes.

A world apart. The people of Mandalore swept themselves up in their zealous fervor, in dutiful servitude to the great Manda amid their clans as a noble warrior people. Fett was a bounty hunter that lived in the low, sent far flung from Mandalorian society on account of old crimes.

He turned, waving with his cloak shifting as he started down the corridor. "Your ship might not be far, but mine's under lockdown. Help me get it out, I might give you a tale."

Obran