Private Fellowship of the Ring...I think

[Mic Gallagher]

TATOOINE
MOS EISLEY/DESERT
MID DAY

TAG: Crosten Feyn

Mic was not fond of Tatooine.

Too hot. And with booze only available in spots on the planet, it made for a dry trinket hunt. And there were too many snot monsters around on this piece of rock. He always ended up running from a Squill or worse.

But a shiny suit had hired him to go look for the Mark of the Hero that was rumoured to have stayed behind on Tatooine a very long time ago. What the suit wanted with such a thing, he did not know. But he got paid to go look for it. Credits bought booze and paid for the fuel to get his bum to a beach afterward.

He would have gladly brought Ashryn Shiari along, but the shiny suit insisted that Mic get someone that know how to handle a blaster, as it was crucial to get the trinket. So it was gonna be dangerous to boot - more than it usually is.

Bugger.

So he sent a holo-transmission to an old contact of his, a Rodian named Ingu, who found him a possible partner for this little adventure. Ingu told him to meet up with the gunslinger in Mos Eisley cantina before setting out into the desert to the last known location of the Ring. So Mic got his bum over to the ridiculously dry planet to meet up with this partner and to get a drink in the process before setting out.

Stepping into the dim cantina, Mic allowed his eyes to adjust before making a beeline for the bar first.
"Spicebrew if you please, Mate." he told the Toydarian bar keep, who grunted an approval and poured him some booze before sliding it over.
"Thanks, Mate. Say, did a bounty hunting gunslinger come in recently? Ingu's lad?" he asked, catching the mug and taking a sip.
"Aye. He's over there in the corner." the bar keep answered, motioning to the far corner of the cantina.
"Ah, thanks Mate." Mic said, slapping some credits for the drink onto the bar before grabbing his brew and making his way over to the corner.

Mic wasn't super young anymore, but this bum looked like he still had at least 10 years on Mic. Which was probably a good thing, cause that meant he knew his way around a blaster.
"G'day, Mate. Mind if I sit?" he asked. It was probably best to not be rude and fall through the door immediately. He really did not want to peeve off his possible partner off the bat.

 

[Crosten Feyn]

Crosten sat, beer in hand at his chosen seat by the exterior, the area as scarce of light as the rest of the bar. A favoured place to sit and a natural arrangement for many, as the crowded perimeter proved. It was a sensible location for the cautious and wary; sitting near a wall cut the area one needed to watch in half. As vast and expansive as the galaxy is, sometimes it could seem much smaller. Particularly when old adversaries came to settle a score or gambling debt.

In his fourty-five years on this planet and thirty as a smuggler, Crosten had had ample time to make plenty enough of both. And as always, he had one eye out for trouble. His other eye was out for his contact a younger blonde haired man he was informed would be his contact for the job. Kid didn’t look so seasoned but hey; there was good money in the job. And all he had to do was haul back a ring. No loading cargo, no need to hide contraband and no money lost to bribery.

Granted, having to go out and search for the bloody thing was a pain in the ass; but the money was good anaesthetic for it. Hopefully they could get the thing quick, get their pay and be off spending it – the ever repeating pattern of the gun-slinging free trader’s life style.

When Mic entered he looked like just another bar regular making a beeline for a drink. Watchful as he was; the younger man’s presence wasn’t immediately apparent to him. No, it wasn’t until his continued conversation with the bartender that he could tell something was amiss. His hand made a subtle move towards his blaster without reaching for it; by this point an ingrained reflex in the experienced scoundrel. A turn of his head and a squint of his eyes focused his sight on the newcomer, and at once his tension eased and his posture relaxed. It was the kid, he was expecting him. It could have been trouble. He wasn’t expecting it, but he’d be damned if he’d ever catch himself unprepared for it. Especially considering where he was.

As Mic approached, Crosten looked up towards him, the wide brim of his hat tilting until his eyes were unveiled beneath. He gave a nod in greeting to the younger man.

“Yeah, go on.” came the reply, stoic and steady.

“And don’t you tell me what sorta day to have” he quipped; it was a joking comment, though the deadpan expression he delivered wasn’t one of jest. Truth is, Crosten just wanted to test the kid. He didn’t need no nervous nellies putting him at needless risk, after all.

Mic Gallagher

 

[Mic Gallagher]

TAG: Crosten Feyn

Mic did not have to be told twice to have a seat.

Flopping his bum down on the chair, he listened as the gunslinger spoke. When he had finished his quip, Mic beamed at him.
"What ever day floats your boat, friend." he said with his boyish grin. "I'm Mic. Pleased to meet ya..." he added, holding out his hand in greeting while waiting for an introduction.

Taking a sip of his drink, he decided to jump on in.
"I don't know how much info Ingu gave you about this job, but I'll give you the short and sweet of it. Many moons ago, some spacer bum earned this trinket, known as the Mark of the Hero, from some hermit bum here on Tatooine. He vooshed around a bit in the Galaxy before finally settling back on this piece of sandy rock. The Mark is still rumoured to be here. Now a shin suit has hired me to go and find it. But I need backup, because my pew-pews alone would not be enough to get across this desert, past Tuskens and Krayt dragons and who knows what other snot monsters. What do you say? Up for an adventure where you can get some neat creds at the end of it?" he said, leaning back in his chair, taking another gulp of spicebrew at the end.

He sincerely hoped this guy would accept the job. He really needed an extra pair of eyes and someone that knew their way around a blaster for this job. Tusken Raiders were one thing, but all the other boogie monsters on this planet could pose some problem. The creds this job will pay him was a pretty big amount, so he really wants to get that Ring. Maybe he can even steal that Ring back at some point. Who knows?

 

[Crosten Feyn]

He remained stone-faced for a moment more, before he’d betray his expression with a soft and short chuckle, lips turned to half smile at the guy’s remark. He simply looked to the kid with a nod and a genuine look that betrayed his former gruffness “Name here’s Crosten. And good to meet ya too; yeah this oughta be a good one huh?” he replied as he reached out in a firm handshake before sitting back in a posture of ease.

Listening with intent as Mic continued on; it was mostly a recap of what Crosten had already been told, albeit with added detail that revealed more to him. It revealed no hint of where the thing actually was, aside from somewhere in the desert. The guy seemed to know where he was going after all, a little more patience would result in an answer. Plus, Mic said the magic word after all; creds was all the motivation Crosten truly needed to continue.

The seasoned older man wasn’t one to display his eagerness though, and simply took a slow swig of his brew for a silent moment before settling the stein back down atop the table.

“Don’t care about this hermit or mark. But creds? I’m in.” he gave the response with a delayed grin and another friendly nod towards his new companion.

“So. Y’know where we’re going in search of this thing then, yeah?” he inquired with interest.

Mic Gallagher

 

[Mic Gallagher]

TAG: Crosten Feyn

Mic's grin stretched two hyperlanes wide when the bloke finally cracked a smile and introduced himself as Crosten.

After Mic had given his explanation, Crosten agreed to the job.
"Mate, I'll give you half, provided we get the trinket and get it back to the suit." he said cheerfully. Crosten then went on to ask where they were headed. Mic took another gulp of brew before answering.
"The closest location I have is some cave in the Mesric Plateau. We gonna have to do some bundu bashing to find it." he finally answered.

He then downed the rest of his spicebrew and slapped the mug on the table.
"Right! Ready to get this show on the road then, Crosten? I know a guy with some quality speeders 'round these parts. Most of the sleemos here tend to rent out a bunch of chit that can't handle the Wastes. I have some water ready to load when we have the speeders." he said, adding a cringe at the mention of water. Like, he needed booze more. But hey, he'd likely shrivel up and die then.

Het got up and waited for Crosten, before getting his bum to his speeder contact a little ways down the road. It took some negotiating and a few creds under the table, but he got two speeders at a heavily reduced price.
"You take good care of 'em, Mickey, 'aight?" the Devaronian told him.
Mic spread his arms. "Don't I always, Mate?" he asked with a grin.
The Devaronian just lifted a brow and snorted before shooing them away.

Before long, they were ready to set out. Mic was perched on his speeder and pulled his goggles into place.
"I have no damn clue what we'll face out there, but I'm pretty sure I don't have to tell you to keep your pewpew close. And uh.....let's hope we don't run into a Krayt Dragon. I don't have big booms to get rid of it." he said to Crosten with a sheepish smile before gunning his speeder and taking off over the sands into the desert.

 

[Crosten Feyn]

“Half? Yeah, alright” he gave a slow nod of his head. New job, new partner and from the sounds of it, they just need to find the thing and bring it back. Splitting the pay in half sat well with him, especially when the kid already arrived primed with info. He’d known some partners who’d try to haggle right away, a red flag for future trouble. Crosten reasoned you ought not want to bring someone in who’ll accept a bargain. One tends to get what one pays for, after all.

“Some cave out there huh? Well if you got that lead, that sounds like a fine place to start” Crosten replied back, downing the rest of his brew with a single gulp.

“Yeah, I got rope and flashlight and whatever we might need to explore these sand-blasted caves. Something shiny for the raiders too, in case we need to bribe, er, pay for a guide.” he remarked with a scoff, patting down an extra pair of binocs. He didn’t much like the notion of handing over stuff that costs hard earned pay to desert folk, but that’s just how things worked. Either that or fight an entire tribe; and they just plain weren’t kitted out for that.

Now Crosten would’ve just paid for the speeders and been on his way;, but Mic offered to haggle so he let the guy do just that. No hassle when he doesn’t have to do anything, he figured, and the guy ended up getting a deal far better than Crosten could himself. No need to interject, and they saved quite a few creds too.

“Yeah, I got my ‘diplomacy devices’ at the ready.” Crosten retorted with a pat to his blaster and a tug on the sling of his blaster rifle; an A280. He was far more handy with the pistol but this was a wide open desert – better to solve problems from as far away as you can, when you can.

“Hah, yeah, lets hope not. Hoping’s about all I got against one of those things.” he remarked back with a grin, hardly concerned with nor deterred at the possibility. If this was easy, well there wouldn’t be pay in it. And he had to admit, Mic has his planning down pat. Between the two of them, they ought to be ready to find...whatever this mark was.

He knew it meant money, and that was reason enough.

 

[Mic Gallagher]

TAG: Crosten Feyn

Ugh, the sand sucked!

As they raced across the desert, the sand was whipping at anything that was not covered by something. And it stung! But hey, time was money, so he had to get his bum to that ring.

That thing will set him up for a good long while. He would even be able to take Ashryn Shiari somewhere nice. Cause damn, it did not do to continuously drag a girl all across the Galaxy on all manner of heist jobs and not buy her a drink sometime.

They've been traveling for some time when a blaster shot shot up not far from Mic's feet.
"Oh chiiit!" he cried, lifting both his feet onto the speeder while trying to slow it down to a stop, looking quite comical while doing so. "You see where that came from?!" he called to Crosten as he flopped off of the speeder, hunkering down behind it so that it acted as a shield.

His eyes scanned the hills around them as he pulled his blaster.

It took a few scans before he caught sight of the rugged rifle and robed arms disappearing behind a dune.
"Oh great. We're surrounded by Sand People. Want to trade or shoot your way out of this one?" he asked Crosten, looking over at his partner.

 

[Crosten Feyn]

Even though he kept his body low against the speeder, the grains of sand kicked up everywhere. Stuck against the sweat of his brow and caught in his teeth. Damn, this stuff sure gets everywhere, he thought. But like Mic, his focus was on getting the job done. After all, getting paid and going home’s the best part of any assignment. And the sooner they found this thing, the sooner they’d get to that part.

The blast landed a good bit ahead of his speeder, and Crosten noticed first through the cloud of sand and dust the errant blast had knocked into the air and directly in his speeding path. The hell was that? He wondered, but not for long as a quick look back revealed the cloud he had just roared though. He was already beginning to slow his speeder down – something had just gone awry and he was already mentally preparing himself for wherever the source came from.

“I saw the shot, but not the shooter.” Crosten shot back in quick, straightforward tone, making sure he had his binocs with him for negotiations. After that quick check, he promptly got his blaster rifle ready for the same reasons.

“I’ve got my eye out- let me know if you spot ‘em first” He added, though he would not have to wait long for Mic’s reply.

“Surrounded? Damn.” He almost sounded disappointed, a few would be a fight but being surrounded might be another thing entirely. To be frank, he would love to simply shoot his way out of this situation. But he hadn’t gotten older by taking needless risks, and attempting to fight his way out when he had a bribe already prepared for was exactly such a needless risk.

“Well, lemme try negotiating with them. I got something they might like.” He replied in straightfoward tone, tapping the binocs clipped to his belt in reference.

“And if that don’t work – I got something they sure won’t like too.” He added with a grin and a pat to his blaster.

 

[Mic Gallagher]

TAG: Crosten Feyn

Mic smirked at Crosten's negotiation suggestions.

Yet he sure as Sally didn't want to get into a shootout with some Tuskens. He hated shootouts. He always ended up running from one, one way or another. They fell into the same category as zombies in his opinion.

Violence was not the way, man.

Still hunkered behind his speeder, he looked over at his partner.
"Wave that thing in the air. Let's see if they bite. Or can you sign? I don't speak Sand." he asked. He should really learn how to communicate better. Just sometimes, he really needed Olly to do some translating for him. And the obnoxious droid then never lets him forget it.

It frickin' sucked.

He put his blaster on the speeder seat and raised his hands, looking like a fool, but who the haran cares?
"I really hope this doesn't take too long. If it does, be a good mate and drop a nuke on them?" he suggested almost innocently. He was glad as bricks that Ashryn Shiari was not here. She would have either dropped a nuke already or she'll be cowering behind him while he had to improvise all the way. It all depended on her mood at the time.

Thank goodness he had a veteran with him this time.

A Tusken head popped up from behind a dune, making some guttural noises that Mic could not understand a word of while waving his hands around.
"Uh.....got any idea what he's talking about?" Mic asked, sounding like an idiot right about now.

 

[Crosten Feyn]

“Gonna be a lot wiser to sign, yeah. From far away a shiny glint looks like anything, but words mean peace.” He replied, sharing with his companion the wisdom that Jator, his mentor had taught him. Not that he needed to, Mic was a smart enough to figure that out himself right away He reached up himself with his non-blaster hand spread open and no further shots followed the gesture.

Crosten stood up to find the raiders were far closer than either of them would reasonably expect – their stealthy ways always managed to startle the smuggler. He really should know better by now, but a lack of fear towards those capable of negotiation never really drove the lesson in like the others.

“No clue ‘bout their tongue. But I can talk with my hands.” He nodded, speaking the words quietly with his hands already moving about in gestures to communicate with the tusken.

“(I am just travelling)”
***
“(In search of an item that was lost)”
***
“(Yes, one other is with me)”

After the exchange of signs Crosten gave Mic a tap on the shoulder to gesture him to stand up, if he wasn’t already. Another part of negotiations; making absolutely sure you weren’t seen as a threat. These sand folk had more than one traveller attempt a fast one on them.

“We’re good; don’t worry” he spoke in hushed tone to Mic, before continuing on with negotiations.

It took a little longer than one would expect. It wasn’t wise to just straight up offer the binocs – that would prompt the tusken to wonder what else they had to toss into the deal. No, negotiations were negotiations for a reason; and Crosten was question what they would want or accept, even though he knew the binocs would no doubt do.

Eventually enough, the topic came up.

“(You know this is going to make our search much harder. But I can part with the binoculars if we may pass. Is this acceptable?)”

It evidently was, given the affirmative nods of the raiders, looking towards each other; A statement that transcended limitations of language.

Crosten locked eyes with the one he had negotiated with, giving the tusken a nod and an underhand toss of the binocs. The raider caught the trinket with both hands while others leaned in as he inspected it and peered through each lens in sequence. There was awkward silence as the raider looked up at him, broken by another affirmative nod.

“Looks like we just made a deal.” He remarked, with a grin of relief shot towards his companion. The tusken began to depart with their cycle rifles slung - only a few bothered to carry blasters.

He couldn’t blame ‘em too much for charging a toll. As Jator put it, they were waltzing through someone elses home after all, they needed a reason to let them pass. Crosten just wished it didn’t him cost money.

 

[Mic Gallagher]

TAG: Crosten Feyn

He really should learn to sign.

Bugger.

Crosten made it look so darn easy. And with all his travels around the Galaxy, Mic knew it could come in pretty handy. Why hasn't he learnt it yet? Sharaya alone knew the answer to that one. Probably because he keeps sticking his bum to a beach in his free time.

You're a dolt, Mickey.

He was still beating himself up mentally about his laziness, when Crosten tapped him on the shoulder.
"Huh?" he said brilliantly before Crosten explained that they were good. "Oh, right, yah." He got to his feet and holstered his blaster. He really hoped it wouldn't be necessary to use it.

Turned out he didn't, because the Sand People decided to take off after Crosten threw them his binocs. Well hot dang.
"Thanks for that. I'll get you a new pair, Mate. If we get out of here in one piece at the end of it all." he told his partner with his boyish grin. He really hoped that this would be the last hiccup on the way to their destination.

But that was probably too much to wish for on this dust heap.

With the Tuskens out the way, Mic swung his bum back in the saddle and looked over at Crosten.
"Shall we?" he asked, gunning the speeder back to life and taking off on the last stretch towards the last known location of the Mark.

The rest of the journey went off without a hitch, although Mic did eyeball a pack of Massiffs in the distance as the duo approached the mesas. At least the sand was a bit less as they came into the shadow of the canyons.

Killing his speeder, he checked his tracker. He then looked over at his partner.
"You up for a little climb, Mate? For some darn reason, the cave we are looking for, can't be on the ground floor and there are no turbolifts to help us out here, it seems." he said with a scowl.

 

[Crosten Feyn]

The smuggler saw that most folks tend to handle themselves well enough in familiar situations, but one tends to see the true measure of a person when they’re out of their comfort zone. One he could readily tell Mic was long and far away from with a glance during the tap on the shoulder; clueless, but collected and not apt to disturb a delicate situation. Mic was distracted sure; but the smuggler assumed he was trying to plan his way out of the situation. In times of stress, the guy evidently likes to keep quiet, think, and then act; an apt reaction as he saw it.

“Don’t sweat it, just the price of travelling through these parts. We can sort it out once we’re back and paid; which we’re gonna be. Sure didn’t hand that over to come back empty-handed” he retorted with a friendly look back at him. Hopping back on his speeder, he gave an affirmative nod at Mic’s mention of departure before the engines hummed to life and the two continued on their way. He could count his good fortunes he was working with someone sound minded; not something to be taken for granted given the line of work. Recklessness tends to get one killed; but one of numerous dangers when it’s just the two of ya rolling across the Tatooine desert.

They pulled to a stop and Crosten eyed the tracker with Mic used with interest, waiting for what their next steps might be.

“Ah for....” he was about to question it, he really was; but a look at his companion dissuaded him from the attitude. As if he suggested climbing for the fun of it, Mic sure didn’t seem to be the ‘make-work’ type.

“If only they did. Guess we gotta, huh? Man, one day I’ll be too old for this” he remarked with a jovial chuckle. Rummaging through his packed gear the smuggler pulled out a coil of rope, carrying it looped over his shoulder. Would be good to keep handy in the caves, and if nothing else it’ll ease the climb back down. He grabbed his flashlight too during his search through his own kit.

“Got what I need; all set when you’re ready to climb up and find this thing.” Crosten spoke once he had finished rummaging through his gear; readied to get that ring, and get that pay.