Private Fistful of Credits

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

Tatooine.

The young Misfit did not expect his bounty to lead him to this dust bowl. Out of all the places in the galaxy one could flee into hiding, the Corellian spice baron he was after chose this planet in particular. But nevertheless, it made sense from a strategic perspective from what little intel was available in regards to the man in particular he was after; Ondrick Rass, a once powerful spice baron, now dethroned by his rivals. He had controlled a non-negligible portion of spice trade going in and out of Coruscant, and was now rumored to be gathering an army of hardened criminals and gangsters on Tatooine to take back his throne.

The price on his head was too good to pass up.

It was going to be one tiresome undertaking to get all the sand out of his gear once this was all over.

Despite his skills and relative expertise in tracking his bounties, however, he was wholly unaccustomed to hunting in a terrain as exotic as Tatooine’s. He knew the maze-like streets and back alleys of Coruscant and its crime festered Underworld like the back of his hand, but he could not confidently say the same for the Tatooine’s sand dunes, that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The tracking fob’s locator was also of no use; despite his technical expertise in communications, no matter what he tried to boost the signal range, he could not get a good signal to locate even the general location of his target.

No doubt Rass took residence in one of the numerous signal blindspots dotted across the planet, but there was simply too many to check in one go; search and elimination techniques would take ages to complete, and by the time he’d find a solid lead on the Corellian, it was very likely he would lose his opportunity to kill the target.

He needed to find his bounty when he was at his most vulnerable, while he was still on Tatooine, gathering goons.

And for that -to his regret- he was going to need the help of an expert that lived and breathed the air of Tatooine for as long as they could remember. And the locals were kind enough to point him towards such a man.

A Mandalorian such as himself, no less. The Marshal’s name sounded quite familiar too, but he could not put a face -nor a faceplate- onto the name.

The memory in which he'd heard the name ‘Vren Rook’ eluded Kayl, but no matter. He’d meet him soon enough.

A cloud of dust kicked off from the ground underneath his Basilisk in the wake of a graceful landing, on the path that lead towards a bantha ranch a few klicks out of Mos Eisley, Vren’s supposed place of residence; switched to its walker mode upon landing, Kayl steered the his ride towards the ranch at a leisurely pace, following the path.

The machine came to a halt just a dozen or so yards away from Vren’s homestead; a tall figure clad in beskar’gam emerged from the Basilisk’s cockpit afterwards. Sliding down from the fuselage of his ride and onto the ground on his feet, the young man shifted his gaze at the ranch house.

It was time to meet The Marshal.

​

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Kayl Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DARKNESS​

He was living the good life now.

It was quiet on Tatooine, despite the influx of criminal activity again on the planet. They all lived in some kind of harmony with one another. The regulars know not to do too hardcore things or he would descend on them with Nag. It was only the new ones that caused problems.

But most of the time, Vren could just relax on his ranch, let the banthas roam around leisurely while he relaxed on the porch. This is what retirement was supposed to be. It was said that a Mando'ad never really retired. It was probably true. But this was the closest he could get.

The twin suns didn't bother him anymore. The sand wasn't an issue anymore. You learn to live with it if it was where you spent the majority of your time. It didn't get in his armour and gear anymore. Even Nag had no issue with it anymore. They were locals now.

Vren had just got himself a cold one from inside his house and had just exited the door to return to his rocking chair on the porch when he caught sight of something he hadn't seen in a very long time aside from Nag - a Basilisk had stopped not far from the ranch house. The old Karjr leaned against the doorframe, sipping his beer while he waited for the rider to approach the house.

It was as the young man approached that some old memory stepped to the forefront in Vren's mind. He'd seen the lad before. Definitely Enclave. At least, he was once. Still leaning against the doorframe, he let the boy get close before speaking, finally able to recall the name and place he remembers him from. The Kamino job.

"Krayt. Ironic for you to be on this planet, partner. What can I do you for?"

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

Right! Kamino! That’s where the old man’s name sounded familiar from. He remembered him now.

By the stars. How long has it been since then? It could not have been that long, but it almost felt like it was a lifetime ago, after everything he experienced from that point onwards.

"Krayt. Ironic for you to be on this planet, partner. What can I do you for?"

The young man offered Vren a curt, yet respectful nod of his head while he continued his approach at a leisurely pace, towards the ranch house’s front porch. The man’s comment had the young Misfit raise an eyebrow in silence, however. Ironic? Ironic how?

<”I’m afraid the irony of the situation is lost on me; for the time being, that is.”> he said, a synthesized overtone heavy in his soft and friendly voice as his words were filtered through the annunciator of his helmet.

The young man removed his helm as he leaned his back against the railings of the steps to his porch, and tucked it under his arm. His wavy light brown hair fluttered softly in the hot breeze. The scorching heat and the sun rays from the twin suns above had him squint his eyes as his gaze shifted towards the ranch and The Marshal’s banthas, then back at the visage of The Marshal. ”You have a wonderful place, sir. I must admit, it is very… peaceful,” he commented with a nod of his head.

Did retirement -or a life as close to it- look like this? It all appeared to be a completely alien concept to the young Misfit, in that time and age he was in. He couldn’t tell if he wanted something like this, down the line. He didn’t even think he’d live that long to see himself having a ranch like this for himself and his beloved, living in relative peace in some part of the galaxy.

But no matter the thoughts in his mind, it did not mean he couldn’t voice out his genuine envy.

”But, a social call is not really why I am here, as you might have made that hypothesis yourself already,” he began, as he produced a bounty puck after he reached for a pouch on his battle belt. The holographic facial image of his bounty was projected from the puck for The Marshal to see who the young Misfit was after.

The Corellian spice baron would appear in his late forties; other than the aging that showed, he was relatively bereft of scars and the likes that set him apart distinctly. His name was spelled out right below his mugshot and highlighted in red, as well as the amount of credits for whether he was turned in to the authorities dead or alive.

One million credits.

”Ondrick Rass,” he began. ”Leader of the Eternals Cartel. They operatie primarily on Coruscant, with their spice business extending to other major ecumenopoles in the galaxy,” The young man explained. ”Rass was recently deposed from his throne by another cartel, their former partners in the trade. With the law breathing down his neck and an enemy out to get him, he’s been on the run ever since. But rumors suggest he's hiding on Tatooine, gathering as many goons as he can before he heads back to the Core to reclaim his power.”

The holographic image emanating from the bounty puck extinguished with the press of its button. ”I could… use your help,” the young Misfit said in mild hesitance, as he put away the puck into a pouch from whence he produced it. He was used to tackling bounties on his own. He hadn’t done this with a partner before.

This could be interesting, should The Marshal choose to help him out.

”Tracking fob’s useless. He must be hiding in a signal blindspot. But this, terrain…” The young man spoke as he gestured softly at the sand dunes that surrounded them from all sides. ”I am willing to split the payout, if you choose to accept. Seventy-thirty,” he made the proposition.

​

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Kayl Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DARKNESS​

<”I’m afraid the irony of the situation is lost on me; for the time being, that is.”>

Vren snorted before taking another sip of beer.
"You need to roll a little looser, partner. You're a Krayt. On Tatooine. Home of the Krayt Dragon." Hard to think this was the boy who constantly had his nose buried in a datapad to the point that Vren and Volo had to chastise him for it in the middle of a firefight.

”You have a wonderful place, sir. I must admit, it is very… peaceful. But, a social call is not really why I am here, as you might have made that hypothesis yourself already,”

Vren laughed.
"I figured as much, partner. No one ever comes here for just a social call - at least not the one you mean." he said, finally standing up straight. "Show me why you interrupted my peace." he said, motioning for Kayl to take a seat on the porch if he wished. Right about then, Nag wandered up with her great bulk, sizing up Krayt's as she did so.
://: Company? ://: she asked.
"Relax, Girl. They're friends." he told her while Kayl produced a bounty puck. "Ah yes. Been a while since I've seen one of 'em." he added then.

Then the lad launched into his explanation and giving details on the mark. The grizzled Krajr could envision how difficult it could be to track a bounty on this desolate planet. Especially if you ain't used to the elements.

”I could… use your help,”

The older Mandalorian watched him for a heartbeat. For a hunter to ask for help was already almost unheard of. For a Mandalorian hunter to do so was especially unheard of.
"He that important, huh? What about a fob?" Vren asked.

”Tracking fob’s useless. He must be hiding in a signal blindspot. But this, terrain…I am willing to split the payout, if you choose to accept. Seventy-thirty,”

Vren waved him away.
"I got more credits than what's good for me, son." he said. "This mark to be brought in live or dead?" he then asked. That would make a whole world of difference as to how helped out the young Krayt. Vren snickered on his insides. If Shai could see the lad right now, she'd thwack him. He let Kayl explain the directive before moving ahead to a bigger question.

"Where'd you lose the spoor?"

That would determine how the old Karjr would proceed next.

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

"You need to roll a little looser, partner. You're a Krayt. On Tatooine. Home of the Krayt Dragon."

The Marshal’s explanation of his remark from earlier would draw out a brief chuckle out of the young man in the moments before he removed his helm, and revealed his visage to him. Usually, he was good at catching on to such references and quips, and would almost always have a whip-smart quip at the ready to throw back in response, but not this time.

Perhaps the old man was right. His comment made him self conscious of his tensed up demeanor. He could certainly do with a little bit of loosening up.

"He that important, huh? What about a fob?"

The young Misfit would spare him a quick nod of his head before he’d briefly explain why the tracking fob was of no use; if this was not important to him, he would not have swallowed a bit of his pride and come here to seek out his help in the first place.

And no doubt the old Marshal was also aware of that fact.

"I got more credits than what's good for me, son."

The young man was mildly surprised however, when Vren simply waved away his proposition. Surely it was only fair he was compensated for his troubles, he had assumed. But it appeared not to be the case with the old Marshal; the young man gave him a silent nod of his head, an expression of his understanding. ”My proposition still stands, should you change your mind at one point,” the young Misfit kindly remarked nevertheless, wishing to give him his share of the reward when he cashed in the bounty.

But he could sympathize with the old man’s sentiment in this regard; he too could not quite figure out what to do with the cash he had accumulated from bounties, sometimes.

"This mark to be brought in live or dead?"

”It’s dead or alive, but I tend to prefer turning them in dead,” he remarked, with a faint hint of his sadistic nature rearing its head from the undertone of his voice.

If the bounty was on Coruscant, he would have considered delivering Rass to the authorities with the spice baron still drawing breath, but they were light years upon light years away from the Core, and he did not have the facilities to transport a bounty this far away from Coruscant.

All he needed to cash in the bounty was the man’s head; the sanguine proof that he was slain.

"Where'd you lose the spoor?"

”That is the issue,” Kayl began. ”I was unable to get even a general location of his using the tracking fob, despite what I tried to boost the signal power. Interference and signal disruption due to the planet’s natural terrain features are non-negligible, but it's also quite likely that a man of his caliber is using jammers to keep his base of operations concealed, other than simply using the terrain to his advantage,” the young Misfit explained.

”But he -or his underlings- slipped up. His whereabouts in the galaxy, as well as his purpose for being here, would not have surfaced if he hadn’t. Somebody talked.” Kayl remarked, as he casually placed a hand onto the dome of his helmet he held under his left arm. ”I believe we can get a solid lead of his whereabouts if we could get our hands on one of his recruiters, and have a friendly conversation with them...” The Misfit hypothesized out loud; his mind busy with finding other alternatives if his prior hypothesis was of no use.

”What’s the word on the street?” He then asked Vren, after a moment that passed in his silent deliberation. A man of the Law, and Her enforcer at that, tends to have their sources of their own, people he could trust to get accurate information from.

Like informants.

”Surely you must have heard a thing or two about him.”

Nevertheless, whether he had any useful information on Rass or not, it would not be so difficult to find one of Rass’ henchmen out in town gathering for goons and guns for hire, and make them squeal out the information they needed to find him.

​

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Kayl Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DARKNESS​

"It's dead or alive, but I tend to prefer turning them in dead,"

Vren regarded the young man for a heartbeat. He was a Krayt, sure, but even Shai wouldn't be that sloppy.
"You should try taking them in alive. You fetch more that way and your reputation gains that much more height. The harder the mark, the more challenge it is to keep them alive, partner. You manage that, you're that much more dangerous than putting a bolt in someone's head." he finally said, walking over to the little table next to his rocking chair and picked up his helmet. His armour didn't look like it did out of idleness. And there was a reason why the regulars on the planet keep their crime low now. The boy would learn it with time.

Kayl went on to explain the situation of the hunt and losing the mark, which was disappointing. IT shouldn't have been so easy to lose your hunter. But that was why the lad was here now.

"What's the word on the street? Surely you must have heard a thing or two about him."

The Karjr stood with his helmet under his arm.
"George! Here boy!" he called, adding a whistle before turning back to Kayl. "I hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary. But I do know who we can probe for info." he said as a massiff with a high-tech collar came bolting from around the corner of the house. Vren placed his helmet over his head.
"Come on. He'll be at the cantina." came the suggestion through the helmet.

Pulling the door of the house closed, he walked over to Nag with George following close behind him. The Basilisk lowered herself so that Vren could load the reptilian canine into the cockpit before getting in himself.
<I hope your droid is trained well enough. I don't want any trouble in town.> he told Kayl as Nag rose to her full height. He hadn't seen the kid in a very long time. Who knows what he was capable of now?

Nag took off, flying close to the ground as they travelled back to town. She touched down in her usual spot at the cantina.
"Stay, George." Vren said before jumping out. He waited for Kayl before heading into the saloon.

"Rook, what can I do you for?" asked Bost from behind the bar, giving the Karjr a toothy Bothan grin. "Got a new shipment of the Galidraani good stuff."
"Here to pick your ears, partner." Vren said, removing his helmet as he leaned against the bar. "Any word on newcomers on the planet lately? Especially the red kind?" he asked quietly, sliding over some credits to Bost.
"Yeah. Some came in not too long ago, actually. Word is they're camping out in the area of Desert Wound. Don't know exactly where, though. But some funny looking fellers tried to stir some here earlier today. Threw them out. Last I saw, they were heading to Masse Goskey's." the Bothan said, taking the credits. "Hope that helps ya, Rook. Come by for a drink later. It's a ten year old malt."
"Thanks, Bost. Might just do that later." Vren said before replacing his helmet and turning to the Krayt kid.

"Lead the way. The Arms dealer is just down the street."

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

After answering whether the mark was to be brought in dead or alive, The Old Man offered him a valuable piece of advice, the likes of which he hadn’t really considered before; The Marshal had grasped The Misfit’s undivided attention as he spoke.

"You should try taking them in alive. You fetch more that way and your reputation gains that much more height. The harder the mark, the more challenge it is to keep them alive, partner. You manage that, you're that much more dangerous than putting a bolt in someone's head."

He had not thought of the job the way The Old Man did, until he offered him a new perspective.

Kayl’s head bowed slightly, and his gaze shifted onto the ground beneath his feet as he pondered of Vren’s words. He was not wrong. The young Misfit valued his reputation as a bounty hunter more than credits. And if there was any truth to Vren’s words, then he’d do himself good turning his bounties alive. He did not need to collect heads, unless the bounty demanded him to do so, then.

It was certainly worth a shot. He did not have anything to lose if it did him no good.

The young man would give a silent, confirming nod of his head to the notion in his mind as The Marshal went to grab his helm from the old rocking chair on the porch.

"George! Here boy!"

After voicing out his question to The Old Man, the young Misfit shifted his gaze back onto Vren as he called out to what he presumed to be his pet; his hypothesis would be confirmed when a massiff came running around the corner of the ranch house.

Harboring a love for animals, he was about to ask if he could pet George, but he had missed his time window for that.

It was time to get to work.

"I hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary. But I do know who we can probe for info." he said as a massiff with a high-tech collar came bolting from around the corner of the house. Vren placed his helmet over his head.
"Come on. He'll be at the cantina." came the suggestion through the helmet.

The Marshal didn’t have to repeat himself. The young man slipped on his helmet, and followed behind Vren to their Basilisks. The Misfit hopped onto his ride, while Vren loaded his massiff companion into his own ride.

<I hope your droid is trained well enough. I don't want any trouble in town.>

<”Don’t worry. We’ll be on our best behaviour,”> he told The Marshal, extending his assurance to The Old Man. The Misfit wasn’t looking to cause trouble in his town and disrupt the fragile peace there.

But if trouble itself came knocking on his door, then, he would have no choice but to welcome it, if there seemed to be no other way of pacifying the situation.

The young man took off a moment after Vren, following his Basilisk’s lead; a large cloud of dust streaked behind them over the sand dunes as they flew just above the ground, and before long they had reached the town. The young man set his ride next to an available spot close to Vren’s outside the cantina. Hopping off, he slid the cockpit close after him before he joined Vren.

Despite the mild uneasiness within him, he tried to apply The Marshal’s previous advice into practice nevertheless; with a relatively calm gait the young Misfit followed him into the unfamiliar establishment. Although he did consciously try to loosen up a little, his vigilance was sharp ever still.

The place reminded him of that one time on Lyran IV; the last time he was in a cantina, he had shot it all up with his fellow kin from his Clan.

The interior reeked of booze and tobacco, as one would expect. The people inside ate, drank, and smoked, with the occasional cackle and laughter resounding in the establishment; some were engaged in deep conversation, some sat by themselves at a table, appeared like they waited for someone’s arrival, like a friend.

Then there were the unsavory types, the likes of which an ordinary citizen would not at all wish to stumble upon in a backalley in the dead of the night; few in numbers amongst the seated crowd, they appeared to keep it to themselves, doing nothing more than paying a sidelong glance at him and The Marshal as they made their way to the Bothan behind the counter.

"Rook, what can I do you for?" asked Bost from behind the bar, giving the Karjr a toothy Bothan grin. "Got a new shipment of the Galidraani good stuff."
"Here to pick your ears, partner." Vren said, removing his helmet as he leaned against the bar. "Any word on newcomers on the planet lately? Especially the red kind?"

Following The Old Man’s lead as he remained silent and listened to the exchange, the young man removed his helmet; no matter how hardened these unsavory types were, they would not dare make a move to unholster a blaster in the presence of two Mandalorians, one of which The Marshal of the town no less.

"Yeah. Some came in not too long ago, actually. Word is they're camping out in the area of Desert Wound. Don't know exactly where, though. But some funny looking fellers tried to stir some here earlier today. Threw them out. Last I saw, they were heading to Masse Goskey's." the Bothan said, taking the credits. "Hope that helps ya, Rook. Come by for a drink later. It's a ten year old malt."

Desert Wound, Masse Goskey’s… The latter sounded familiar. He could recall passing by an establishment with that name earlier in the day, when he had come into town and searched for The Marshal’s whereabouts; the former though… No doubt it was a name the locals came up for a particular landmark, he theorized.

Kayl did not know where that was located, but that was certainly not the case for Vren.

"Thanks, Bost. Might just do that later." Vren said before replacing his helmet and turning to the Krayt kid.

"Lead the way. The Arms dealer is just down the street."

And that was his cue.

The young Misfit slipped on his helmet as he turned around after he gave Vren an acknowledging nod of his head, and made his way out the cantina. He walked at a somewhat leisurely pace for The Marshal to catch up with him.

Having seen the arms emporium before, Kayl expertly navigated through the crowd of Mos Eisley’s residents in the street; his gait gave off a certain air of confidence with every step. Although this was not Coruscant, it was a sizable city nevertheless. He felt relatively “home” if one could call it that, where he could draw on his own experiences he had with hunting a mark in the great ecumenopolis.

And there they were. Before long he spotted the two troublemakers the Bothan had spoken of, with the emporium in sight; Their backs were turned against them, as the two gangsters made their way towards the emporium.

Their clothing style stuck out like sore thumbs amongst the crowd. They appeared similar to the cartel gangsters he was used to seeing in the Underworld of Coruscant; stylish clothing, but a little hint of modesty was ever present.

But clothing was not the only thing that gave them away.

It was in their gait, in their demeanor as well; they walked as if they sought out a fight. It was the all too familiar show of force to get the point across, that they meant business and weren’t the type of men to be trifled with.

<”I see them,”> he pointed out to Vren with a murmur loud enough for him to hear, followed by a gentle nod of his head towards the thugs. <”I’ll take the one on the left.”> he told The Marshal, before he’d pick up his pace, and disappear from The Old Man’s line of sight in the crowd.

Only to reappear behind the thugs but a moment later.

Simultaneously, the young Misfit placed a hand on the man’s shoulder from behind, while the barrel of a silenced particle pistol poked the gangster’s back; the man had stopped dead in his tracks the moment he felt the silencer pressed firmly against his spine. <”I would not try anything stupid if I were you,”> The Misfit muttered to him, a cold smile pulling at his lips as he spoke at a deceptively soft tone of voice. The gangster dared not to move a muscle, or speak a word.

He then pulled him towards a nearby backalley; somewhere they could be by themselves, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers. <”Why don’t we sit down for a little chat?”>

The trail was hot now, and the hunt was on.

He could not wait to pry information out of them.

​

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Kayl Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DARKNESS​

Vren let Kayl take the lead.

Not that he walked behind the lad. He fell into step next to him almost immediately. They didn't go far, however, before the young Krayt spoke up.

<"I see them. I'll take the one on the left.">

<I read ya, partner.> said Vren, equally quiet. Then the lad disappeared into the crowd. Vren, on the other hand, didn't settle for stealth. His jetpack roared to life and he took to the air. Just as Kayl pushed his blaster into the back of his thug, Vren touched down in front of the other delinquent, a blaster in his face.
"Let's take a walk, feller." It wasn't said cold or dangerously. He even sounded friendly, which made it all the worse. The Palliduvan wanted to retaliate, but thought twice about it when he saw Vren's worn armour but pristine blaster in his face.

The two Mando'ade marched the two into an alley. Some Jawas there babbled at them.
"Can we chase you from the heap for a few minutes, partners? Everything will still be here when we're done." Vren requested them. They discussed between themselves before babbling at him again, agreeing. They took off around the corner.
"The kark you want, Mandos?" asked the Palliduvan as he was forced down onto a crate by the Karjr.
"Such crude language, feller." Vren said as he stood in front of them, arms folded across his chest. "We just need a little chat with Ondrick Rass. Mind telling us where we could find him?" he then asked, falling into the house through the door.
"Really, man? You think we'll just talk?" the thug asked.
"I was hoping you would be smart and do that, yes. But clearly you need incentive, so I'll hand y'all over to my partner here." the Karjr said, stepping back for the young Krayt to start his interrogation.
<Try not to kill them or make it too bloody.> he said softly over the comms to Kayl as he did so. He'd seen the inkling of the lad's lust for blood when they spoke earlier.

So he stepped back, but not too far in case he had to step in.

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

The old man seemed to favor a more overt approach than the young Misfit.

After a quick leap with his jetpack, The Marshal landed on his feet just in front of the other gangster and pointed a blaster to his face, while Kayl took care of the other one he had designated. The young man did not really approve of the Old Man’s approach, never a fan of unwanted attention, but it seemed they really didn’t get such attention from the locals to begin with; they simply paid a glance towards the two of them and the thugs as they moved them to a nearby backalley, and simply carried on with their day.

Such occurrences had to be a common sight for the locals, and they seemed to know better than to interfere with the work of a Mandalorian, anyway.

And certainly not with The Marshal’s work.

The young Misfit confined himself to silence as The Marshal convinced a group of Jawas to clear off from a nearby heap of junk. Kayl kept the cold iron of his blaster’s silencer firmly pressed onto the thug’s spine, and began to search his belongings when the Palliduvan thug in The Marshal’s grasp began mouthing off.

"The kark you want, Mandos?" asked the Palliduvan as he was forced down onto a crate by the Karjr.
"Such crude language, feller." Vren said as he stood in front of them, arms folded across his chest.

Leaving the talking to Vren for the moment, Kayl tossed aside the blaster pistol he found in the thug’s possession after removing its power cell, and kept his datapad for himself. He left what little credits the thug had in his pockets. The Misfit then forcefully turned the thug around to face him, and brought him to the ground. Producing a zip tie from one of his pouches, Kayl binded the thug to a heavy, near-immovable piece of metal in the junkpile.

He repeated the same process with the Palliduvan, making absolutely sure the thugs were disarmed and bounded firmly onto an immovable object with a zip tie, while the verbal exchange continued between the thug and Vren.

He’d return to The Marshal’s side once he was finished, and listen to the exchange with his arms casually crossed over his chestplate.

"We just need a little chat with Ondrick Rass. Mind telling us where we could find him?" he then asked, falling into the house through the door.
"Really, man? You think we'll just talk?" the thug asked.
"I was hoping you would be smart and do that, yes. But clearly you need incentive, so I'll hand y'all over to my partner here." the Karjr said, stepping back for the young Krayt to start his interrogation.

At his words, Kayl shot a brief glance at Vren. His lips curled to a cruel grin, shrouded underneath his faceplate, before he shifted his gaze back onto the gangsters. <”As you wish,”> Kayl told Vren over comms, in response to The Marshal’s kind request to avoid killing them, or making it too bloody.

His gaze unwavering from the two, the young Mandalorian prowled back and forth at a leisurely pace for a moment, while he took his approach into consideration. The Palliduvan was confrontational for sure, and did not appear as frightened about what his demise would be in their hands. But that was not the case with the other thug beside him. The younger thug had gone pale long ago, and hadn’t uttered a single word ever since he fell under The Misfit’s captivity. He would be the one to let the loth-cat out the bag. All he needed was a little push. But how should he go about it?

Oh, what to do, what to do…

Kayl’s prowling would come to a halt when something amongst the scrap pile caught his eye. He approached it, his arms unfurled. Reaching for the object as he brought himself to a crouch, the young man unearthed an old rebreather, with a filter extension attached to what appeared to be a spent oxygen bottle. Upon a closer inspection, the rebreather seemed to be still in working condition. A rather uninteresting find, and certainly held no value to sell. But in this circumstance, it could be used as a tool to pry out information out of these two; he was already getting ideas. The cruel grin pulling at his lips grew larger to a diabolical, toothy smile under his faceplate.

Oh, this would do.

Kayl then stood up with the rebreather in his hand, and halted before the Palliduvan. He silently studied the gangster for a moment, while he swapped the rebreather’s oxygen bottle with a new one from his person.

Just as the Palliduvan opened his mouth, for what The Misfit could only assume to utter more distasteful profanities at them, Kayl landed a lightning-fast punch in his face, square on the nose; with a crack the Palliduvan’s nose crunched like a biscuit under his fist, as the blow drew out a pained shout out of him. His eyes closed shut out of bodily response to the pain Kayl subjected him to.

With haste thereafter, the young Misfit forcefully slipped him into the rebreather. He fastened the harnesses that went over his hair, tightly; even the slightest movement of his head was going to cause him pain now, with the mask's interior pressing firmly against his broken, bloodied nose. Kayl then turned on the rebreather, and toggled off its feature to use the breathable air in the atmosphere with the push of a button on the rebreather, making it so that he could only breathe through the rubber hose hooked up to the oxygen bottle.

And with a hand grasping the rubber hose, he squeezed with a vice-like grip afterwards. The Palliduvan did not struggle for breath right away, but oh did he try after a moment, when his lungs ran fresh out of air; the Palliduvan’s eyes had an inquiring glint to them, until what Kayl was doing dawned on him, just about when he ran out of breath. He began to violently thrash around and about for a gasp of air, trying for dear life to set himself free from his binds in the meantime, but to no avail. Muffled, pained gasps and breathless yelps escaped his lips, much to Kayl’s amusement.

The young Misfit’s sadistic and merciless torture went on for just a few minutes on end; his breath-denying grip loosened to allow the Palliduvan a few seconds of breath, before he ruthlessly took that away yet again with a tight, vice-like grasp.

Oh, the power… It was intoxicating. Power was not money or status, not to him; but controlling one’s ability to draw breath, and denying it on a whim, and watch and feel them suffer?

Now that was power.

But they did not have all day, much to his regret.

Just when the Palliduvan toed the very thin line between life and asphyxiation, Kayl pulled down his rebreather, and allowed him to breathe Tatooine’s hot and dry air. As the thug coughed his lungs out and growled in pain, The Misfit lowered himself to a crouch beside him, his armored visage leveled with the Palliduvan’s. The young Mandalorian’s head tilted to the side with expectancy, wondering to himself if he’d actually talk.

The sadist in him prayed he didn’t. He was having way too much fun with him.

​

 

[Vren Rook]

TAG: Kayl Krayt
GEAR: In Bio

DARKNESS​

<”As you wish,”>

Vren stood back and watched as the young Mando'ad put a plan together.

When he realised what the boy would be doing, Vren closed his eyes behind his helm. There was little honour to something like that. But technically it wasn't bloody, just as he asked.

The retired Karjr watched in silence as the young Misfit had his fun, eyes darting between the two thugs from behind his helmet. While the Palliduvan was struggling for breath, the other one watched in fear. One of them would crack. But how long would it take? Vren didn't particularly enjoy torture, but he had to admit its necessity sometimes.

Finally, Kayl stopped to see if one of them would spill the beans. Vren moved to face them as well again.
"Was that enough for y'all? Care to share what you know now?" he asked them.
The mousy thug looked from Vren to his coughing Palliduvan friend and then back to the Mandalorians.
"H-he's holed up in a cave in the Jundland Chasm." he then stammered.
"Shut it, you f-fool." the Palliduvan coughed.
"You want to be without air again, feller?" Vren asked him before looking at the other. "Yes, we know he's there but where exactly?"
" 'Bout midway in. It's on a bend, hidden behind some big boulders. T-that's all I got, I swear."
"Thank you, friend." Vren said. Then he thwacked the guy against his temples, causing him to pass out before pulling his blaster and putting a bolt in the Palliduvan's head in one swift motion. "Untie this cooperative feller. He'll scramble into a hole when he wakes up. This one..." He nudged the dead Palliduvan over. "Would have alerted your friend that we are looking for him."

With that, Vren walked back into the street where the Jawas were waiting anxiously.
"One feller is still alive back there, so don't loot him. The other's dead - everything he has is all yours, partners." he told them as he passed them. They clapped excitedly before rushing into the alley again.

<You ready to go, Girl?>

://: I was made ready. ://: she said and not long after, she came hovering down the street.

 

[Kayl Krayt]

Tags: Vren Rook

​

A Stranger Comes to Town​

The fainthearted one spoke.

Inevitably, he cracked under the pressure, fearful of sharing a fate similar -or worse- than his Palliduvan colleague, and rightfully so.

A sense of pride, anger, and a strong hint of disappointment swelled from deep within the young Mandalorian. Pride, as he saw with his own eyes he was improving at extracting information out of a sentient by force, and swiftly at that, after each attempt he had made thus far; anger and disappointment, for he cracked way too easily. He spilled the beans before the sadist in him could find relish in tormenting the Palliduvan first, before moving onto him.

He robbed him of the satisfaction he desired.

Crestfallen and wrathful, he rose to his feet in rashful motion; his gauntlets balled into fists as he glared at the both of them. Shifting his gaze from the pair of sad excuses for thugs a moment after, in search of Vren’s T-visor, The Misfit inquired him a silent question with the tilt of his head:

What of their fate now?

Kayl got his answer shortly after. The Old Man’s response came in the form of swift action. The Marshal dealt a stern, yet a nonfatal blow to the temple of the cooperating thug with the bottom of his blaster pistol’s grip, and dispatched his colleague, the Palliduvan, with a blaster bolt to his cranium.

All was said and done in but a span of a few heartbeats. In clinical fashion. There wasn’t a single telling sign of anger, hate, disgust, or passion in The Marshal’s demeanor.

"Untie this cooperative feller. He'll scramble into a hole when he wakes up. This one..." He nudged the dead Palliduvan over. "Would have alerted your friend that we are looking for him."

In the wake of The Marshal’s words, Kayl stood still and silent for a moment, as he quickly gave regard to what had just occurred. The emotionless glare of his T-visor disguised The Misfit’s surprise. Judging from The Old Man’s polite request to avoid bloodshed, he was under the assumption The Marshal would simply throw both of the thugs into custody.

He was indifferent to the thug’s death. In fact he welcomed the sight; no loose ends, but why let the other one live? Fear for his well-being ensured his cooperation in the questioning, but the same fear could be used by his Boss to ensure his loyalty. He was a loose end, and letting him live was leaving it all to chance; he could not find it logical that he would refrain from sending a word out to his boss once he was conscious again.

But, perhaps The Marshal read thug better than he could. The Misfit did not think The Marshal would be… unwary. To that end, and the fact that it was his town and his word was the law he did not voice out a disagreement. Instead he placed his trust in his wisdom, and followed through with his command, and untied the unconscious thug before they left the back-alley for their Basilisks.

Summoned at the mutter of a command, Kayl’s Basilisk stirred gently from its stand-by state, and hovered towards them, several paces behind The Marshal’s ride. Mindful of the crowd in the street, it landed onto an opening nearby. Hopping on, the young man slid shut the canopy after him once he was settled in the cockpit, and off they went to Jundland Chasm.

Behind them, the sun-touched city of Mos Eisley shrunk smaller and smaller, and eventually, was seamlessly swallowed by Tatooine’s endless sand dunes. Strong, uniformal thrum and howl of the iron beast’s engines, dampened only slightly with the pressurized cockpit, carried Kayl away to the thoughts swirling in his mind. He gave them regard as he glanced out the unchanging landscape that moved rapidly beneath.

He’d break the silence that befell him a few moments later.

<”You spared him,”> He said to Vren over the comlink at a contemplative tone of voice. His voice came relatively clear through the annunciator, save for the occasional crackle of static. <”Why?”>

​