What's new

I've Never Met A Mandalorian Before...

Cael Slade

Charasmatic Whirlwind
Character
Serenno

Cael had found his way to the home of some of the richest benefactors in the entire travelable galaxy. The planet was ripe with people holding cold hard creds and anti-Republic tendencies, it would have been easy pickings if the gun for hire had come here boasting of his hatred for Jedi or talking of war stories against the Republic troops. This trip was much less conventional however, he was planetside on business to discuss taking out some…darker targets. Something considered taboo still considering the Sith Empire had only recently dissolved and there were still many people on the planet who were far more scared of the Sith than they were a bounty hunter.

The person who had sent out the ambiguous call said to meet at the Gritty Rancor, one of the few undesirable spots left on the wealthy planet. The nearly six foot tall soldier of fortune stood outside the establishment parking his battle worn body against the wall near the trash with a half smoked cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Slade would never dare think of wasting his cigarette and was far too greedy to put it out and finish it later. For all he knew he would get his face blown off before the meeting started for even considering taking out a Sith, he would never put entrapment past them.

It was nearing darkness, shadows cloaked the back of the alleyways as the streetlights danced ahead, slowly kicking on and casting its artificial glow over the city as the dinner crowd started making their way around. The area of town that Cael in was not one you wanted to be in after dark and ‘dinner crowd’ meant incoming know it all drunks and degenerates who carry guns and have a wealthy family they suckle from like an angry Bantha pup at its mother’s withered teat. It had only been single day cycle since Cael landed, but the merc had already discovered the local population didn’t like outsiders, especially ones that wore masks and carried weapons bigger than their own.

For as big of egos and mouths as the populace had, their nerve and backbone to follow up was surprisingly weak. They left the gray agent alone, his dusty almost cinereous mask and tightly rolled braids were enough to give the locals a bad taste. The pungent odor of cigarettes and week old blood only solidified their ignorant and unneeded bias, which only provided Slade a chance to go about his work unbothered by the plebs. He was dressed in all gray armor, covered loosely by a slate colored tunic which hid his weapons from plain sight. His tunic was cinched with a leather tie, keeping it over his armor at all times but allowing him some breathing space under the warm Serreno sun.

The meeting was to begin in a few minutes, so taking the last few puffs of his cigarette, Cael discarded the butt and made his way into the bar through the back door, uncaring if he were to walk through the kitchen. The chefs and waiters stared mostly, hoping he wasn’t there to rob them or bringing unneeded police heat in behind him. They allowed him to pass through; they didn’t want to be a part of whatever it was he was there for if it didn’t directly affect them. It was time, the booth that was supposed to be reserved had been, three rows back along the wall, Corellian Sunset red bantha leather seats, and three pitchers of what Cael assumed to be beer. But why were there three? Was there another person involved? Was this an open call? Or was this something else entirely, something much darker? It seemed that Slade was first so whoever was next to sit down would likely answer his question.

If they wanted a fight, his blasters and resilience would prove a worthy adversary.
 
The Hound of Keldabe
Character
A cantina where regulars share their experiences and lives with each other while drinking or working at the bar where everybody knows your name, where new comers were welcomed with friendly open arms and drank in peace. Well, this was not the cantina Strider Garon walked into for the mandalorian had the taste for the scummy, low-down dirty no-good no-name drinking whole on the wrong side of the city. That kind a bar. A place where nobody wanted to know your name. A place where the only thing scummier than the drinks were the scum drowning in them. A proper place for such a man looking for conflict or to discuss such.

Garon, a finely chiselled machine of muscle sculpted by decades of war with scars to match, a bionic left arm and a eye patch covering his right eye. He was hard to miss even with the beskargam donned with his helmet magnetically attached to his tactical belt and off the right hip. A man armoured and armed to the hilt would usually stir lots of attention but the distinctive style of armour clearly marked him as Mando’ade and this was nothing but a daily dress code for the warrior race.

He arrived alone to the Gritty Rancor, knowing it was best to travel alone just in case they attracted unwanted attention. Especially when the subject of this meeting was about hunting sith. He moved in on the reserved table that was empty, he was early and decided to take the best seat, his back against the wall so he can see all the comings and goings. He new his fellow vod wasn’t far behind but the third party to this mission was a man he did not know……

Strider poured himself a glass, taking a long sip before placing the cup back on the table as he waited for his crew to show up.
 

Cael Slade

Charasmatic Whirlwind
Character
Cael was like a pillar of smoke in the crowded room, he would manifest in front of someone but as soon as he was there he had changed paths, knowing that if anyone were trying to take a pot shot at him before he got to the booth the best defense would be to weave in and out of the crowd. He never played it too safe since his last mishap. He had been kidnapped and severely burned; resulting in the armor and atrocious mask he bore today. His left eye was lost but soon after replaced with a prosthetic eye. He had learned over the last year how to use his body effectively, blocking out most of the pain just by knowing it will only make him stronger.

Sadly his sense of smell was not affected when he was injured and he could take in every scent and odor the inhabitants of the Gritty Rancor exuded. He was no stranger to a dive bar with some scummy Gamorreans who try to hustle you for money and their accompanying odors, but these crusty villains took the cake. No wonder the pretentious elite of the planet held their noses so high, it was the only way to avoid the smell. The cyborg started breathing through his mouth to ease himself, he would be at the table soon.

The antsy hunter must not have noticed the Mandalorian at first, but the armored giant was firmly planted in the booth as Cael came upon it. The mountain of a soldier was obviously very capable on the field, showcased by his armor’s wear and tear accompanied by the battered physique of the owner. It was unsettling to say the least for Slade, who was much smaller, though not to say that was always a negative, he would just prefer to not be split in half today by bringing that up.

The slender warrior knew what Mandalorians were and had heard the tales of slaughter and war sometimes loosely bound together by a code of honor, but he had never crossed paths with a true straight to the heart Mandalorian warrior. It was time for him to play it cool and collected, channel some of the inner playboy charisma he donned before he had half his face melted off. Words were just as powerful as beauty when it came to mercenaries, in both were useless when put next to credits. Hopefully the Mandalorians had a similar ideal behind all the armor, because at the end of the day whatever was about to transpire was strictly business.

Cael took a seat across from the warrior, pouring his own glass of alcohol. His mouth was visible beneath the mask, it had healed fairly well though some scars were still visible. The gun for hire took the beverage too his mouth, sipping it slowly. "Are you my contact? I'm still a little in the dark about all of this." His tone was hushed, he knew eager ears were all over the place, trying to get their next big break, or a cut of someone else's.

@[member="Strider Garon"]
 

Teroch Gra'tua

Mandalorian Merc
Character
Teroch had followed @[member="Cael Slade"] into the cantina, hoping to find some sort of business. He followed him through the kitchen and into a back room, when he entered the room he saw a Mandalorian in the booth, a big, beefy Mandalorian. Teroch let them speak for a moment before he interrupted them "is this a private meeting?" He asked while sitting down "if not then I"ll sit right here then." He scooted into the booth, keeping the helmet over his head for now.

(Longer posts will be later. Hopefully)
@[member="Strider Garon"]
 
The Hound of Keldabe
Character
Strider nodded his reply to Cael slade indicating he was the merc’s contact. Once he took his seat and made somewhat comfortable in such a high risk situation and meeting another manedalorian approached to the table taking up a perch upon this meeting.

“I thought it best to have another vode along if we plan on hunting sith” Strider broke his own silence introducing the Mandalorians intrusion “ This is Teroch and I am Strider. “ And yes, Strider Garon did say hunting sith. A favourite pass time of the old warrior “ This is a open contract on the sith and I plan on collecting as many sith scalps as I can before death claims me. In order to complete such a task I always found it best to run in small mixed kill teams. Mando’ade are very adept at fighting force users but we have been at odds many of times making tactics almost predictable, this is where you come in Cael, you are the wild card…… my edge to this vendetta.”

Strider took a long sip to let the information sink in, nobody should ever take hunting force users, especially sith, lightly.
@[member="Teroch Gra'tua"] @[member="Cael Slade"]
 
Top