Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Further On Up The Road

Further On Up The Road
Alazair - [member="Leira Rhys"]
jungle_concept_by_happy_mutt-d5tk9lg.jpg
"Got on my dead man's suit and my smilin' skull ring
My lucky graveyard boots and song to sing
I got a song to sing, keep me out of the cold
And I'll meet you further on up the road."
- Song -
"Why the frak are we here again?"

"Another contract, we happened to be in the area - as usual." Came the chipper reply.

Marcus exhaled deeply, trudging through the thick underbrush of the lush jungles of Alazir. Small outposts and settlements dotted the northwestern hemisphere and so he and the boys had opted to land here and hopefully indulge in some of the fine booze and girls that the place had to offer - if any, but the Disfavored found little in terms of both. The crew of the Better Off had obeyed Marcus obediently and patiently awaited his return just a few miles to his southeast.

These reptilian locals hadn't taken too kindly to their new visitors. Hospitality didn't happen to be a societal trait of theirs, but the moment Marcus began waving around a few credits they finally spilled the beans. As far as Marcus and Miranda had gathered, these people were a settlement fairly unique to the area. Culturally, it seemed, these people were quite savage and rather aggressive towards anyone not owing allegiance to them, but these people were attempting to break away from such habits.

No wonder they didn't open up on the ship the second it touched dry land.

And luckily enough, their client happened to be in this particular settlement as well. It was the usual suspects once again. Nearby slavers had been picking up children and the younger breeds of adults.

Garan Vookto was the fellow's name, a rather spindly looking reptile with a habit of clicking his claws together when tense. Beady eyes too, a strange creature indeed.

"You sure these guys are the ones picking up your boys and girls?" Smoke billowed from the lit cigarra between his lips as he jammed a finger on the flimsi-map spread across the table. "I just don't wanna go in guns-ablazin' and kill innocent folks. That wouldn't be nice at all."

"Yesss, yesss, thessse are the onesss. Lassst month they even attacked a sssmall family near the outsskirtsss of the sssettlement. Blew up a ssspeeder and everything looking for their daughter." He clacked a few claws together and pointed back at the map, "Here. Ssshe livesss alone."

Marcus ashed the cigarra. "She lived? Could I talk to her, maybe get a little more info?"

Garan nodded eagerly. "Yesss, pleassse. The more information you have, the fassster we can have our young onesss back."

And with that, Marcus left in haste.

"You get all that?"

Miranda materialized in augmented reality. "Sure did," she replied and strode next to him, "Shouldn't be too long to reach her home."

On a lush and vibrant world like this, Marcus would've expected it to be a lot more noisy. Birds cawing in delight of the midday sun, the rustle of underbrush as small mammals scurried about, and the roaring of distant predators - but none of that took place. It was dead quiet save for the crackle of grass and dirt beneath his boots.
 
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale...

Breath trickled out of the child's lip, making the string that was drawn taut, touching her cheek, vibrate softly. Two small fingers held the string back, cradling the end of an arrow between them. The arrow head stared ominously at her target, unbeknownst to it. All she had to do was let go of the string.

Crack

Her fingers relaxed, straightening, and the string propelled the arrow forwards. It whizzed through the air, and met the eye of her unsuspecting prey, impaling it's skull and the end peaking out of the other side. Leira pushed herself up from her leafy cover, walking over to the dead animal. Gripping the feathered end of the arrow she pulled it out of the animal's skull, wiping the blood off the tip. Leira gripped the animal by the foot, stuffing it's lifeless body into her game bag, and putting the arrow back into the quiver.

Opening up her bag, she peered inside. It was barely enough for a sufficient meal for the night and a breakfast in the morning, but it'd have to do. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting an orange glow across everything she could see, signaling it was time to go home. She never lingered after dark; That's when the most suspicious activity occurred; And that was certainly not something a girl her age had any place in.

Leira set off towards her home with her bag slung over her shoulder. She knew the path back better than anyone, always taking the long way, lest anyone see her and track her.

Her’s was an old house, tucked in between the lush forest, it’s wooden boards overgrown with ivy and moss. Willow trees gently brushed it’s contours, making it quite scenic, in a rustic way. Leira didn't know exactly how long it'd been there; Her mother had told her it was a long time. She told her tales about the house as bed time stories, most of them make believe. She’d tell her tales about the woods, and the magic that they held. Leira now knew those were pretend.

But it was fun to pretend sometimes; She still did it. She pretended she wasn't alone in the world. That the old stuffed animals she had were people that cared about her, that had individual personalities.

She pretended her mother was still there. That she was the willow tree that grew beside the house.

Leira arrived at her house, stepping on the porch. The wooden boards made a shrill creak as she walked across them, and opened the door. She threw her bag on the kitchen table, pulling out one of the chairs, and taking a seat. Grabbing her hunting knife, she selected a bird she’d killed, and started skinning it.

This was it.

This was what the life of Leira Rhys entailed.
 

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