Lawman Said Get Him Dead or Alive

[Isar]

"Oh mama, I'm in fear of my life from the long arm of the law /​

Lawman has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home /​

Oh mama, I can hear your crying you're so scared and all alone /​

Hangman is coming down from the gallows and I don't have very long."​

​

Warok reached a paw out and turned the knob that apparently adjusted the speakers inside this ship.

"You humans have peculiar music," he muttered, longing for the drums of Ewok spirituals. He turned to his ever-aegised companion.

Mandalorians... Normally he would slaughter them on sight for what happened to him on Ziost, but then he had been saved by a Mandalorian war child. So, some of them had usefulness, like his current spear-brother.

"Happy Trigger, what is the meaning of your earlier statement? Transponderous? It is like Dathomiri blood trail, yes?"

[member="Elijah Rekali"] | [member="Garoth Ursull"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Garoth Ursull"]

"Transponder is the term, Ewok." Elijah replied with something of amusement apparent. They were hunting a bounty, as they often did, and this time around it was a straight-up milk run. Some menace to the higher mental faculties had decided to steal from the one galactic corporation that had a finger in everything - Arceneau fething Trade. Needless to say... that didn't go over all that well in the higher regions.

"Basically the technological version of a blood trail, aye. Corps attach 'em to their property for exactly these kind of situations, this joker didn't disable it."

He was rifling through a magazine: Hunter's Weekly. While listening to the ol' western tune singing in the background, Eli hummed to it softly, good tunes.

"And pray tell me, what do you people listen to?"

 

[Isar]

"Hmm. Chak-chak. I see."

The human's question gave him pause. How to explain? Much better to show than to tell, was it not? Ah, but he dared not touch the spirits of his ancestors. They had cast him out and he had not the power to undo their strength. But, what he could do was...

Warok made a few short gestures, then reached into his belt pouch and tossed a bit of dirt into the air. "Un-ke, lasebee."

Nothing happened.

The Ewok turned toward his spear-brother. Something glinted in those dark eyes.

Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YTO6wus8s0

Then, drums, all around the cockpit. Distant, at first, but growing in tempo and proximity. Building. The shrill voices of Ewok shamans could soon be heard amidst the warlike beats, chanting in a foreign tongue. The howl of the boar-wolves. The stamp of restless feet. And through it all, the drums. Steady. Unending. Like the beat of the forest's heart. Just as suddenly as it had come, it faded.

Warok smiled cherubically.

"That is what we listen to."

Short and stout legs dangled off the edge of the chair, a Gorax's knuckle bone away from touching the floor. Not that one of those was on the ship; not at the moment anyway. Warok squirmed forward, extracting a clay doll from a belt pouch and placing it on the ship's dash.

So, they were hurtling through space at light speed, moments away from tracking down their prey, who had apparently made a fatal mistake when dealing with the technology of their formidable employers. Warok nodded to himself. The pieces were starting to fit into place. He felt more competent with technology just from that little exchange alone. Maybe the armored one would let him fly the ship...

The Ewok kicked his feet through the empty air.

"Are we there yet?"

[member="Elijah Rekali"] | [member="Garoth Ursull"]

 

[Garoth Ursull]

Garoth was sleeping with his two adopted childs "Next time i will put separated beds to this ship" he didnt know who where follow him. The ship was staying in an hangar in the planet of Kesh, on the outer rim. It was a planet controlled by The Black Rose. He just created a lightsaber with all the money won in the jobs he had taken. It was a curved hilted saber with an artificial red crystal. It wasnt a good idea steal that ship, but he needed to get out of that planet.

He yawned waking up and going to the bathroom to wash his face. Garoth always take his weapon with him, he didnt want the kids to hurt themself

[member="Warok the Defiler"] l [member="Elijah Rekali"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Garoth Ursull"] | [member="Warok the Defiler"]

"I like it." was the only thing he replied after the music died down again. It inspired something in him, primal, ferocity, it would get the blood pumping right before a worthy battle. Apparently the Ewoks weren't just little, cute teddybears, the Galaxy's first and foremost butt monkey. He could respect that.

Then again. Warok had already established that Ewoks weren't completely useless. He was strong in the arcane arts. The things he did, the things he could do - besides summoning music out of nowhere, were all respectable in their own right. It was the only reason why he had agreed to hunt with him in the first place.

That and his appearance made their opponents overconfident. Always a good thing.

The Mandalorian looked down at the furry Shaman, his visor made it impossible to really see what Elijah was thinking; difficult to glean expression when only your own reflection stared back at you.

"Not yet." Eli left it at that.

 

[Isar]

"Oh."

The Mandalorian continued to peruse his flat picture scroll. Flip-flip. Flip. The Ewok grunted.

Warok shimmied forward on his seat and grabbed the clay doll again, starting to mold the features, while muttering incomprehensibly to himself and periodically taking handfuls of dirt from his pouch and sprinkling them on the doll. Warok paused and looked up. A Whiphid bobble head moved back and forth on the dash, yellow eyes malignant. A coin suspended from the ceiling spun lazily. He poked the the bobble head.

"When will we be there?

[member="Elijah Rekali"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

Elijah sighed, looked away from his magazine and to the dashboard computer. It had a holographic display projected in front of the transparisteel viewpoport - opacity was set pretty low, so they could still see through it. The last thing the Mandalorian wanted was to crash his beloved ship when they reverted from Hyperspace. A few hours at most, and they would be there.

"Not long."

A slow stare was cast to the doll taking shape in the Ewok's hands. He would comment on it, but Eli didn't really care all that much about all that arcane stuff. Whatever got the job done and all that.

"Don't drop any of that dirt on the dashboard, please."

After that he went back to his magazine. It had a fascinating piece on the different blaster rifles currently hot on the market. Comparison notes, critique from the experts, even a few review scores - the prices were insane though. How was a bounty hunter to operate when a top-notch rifle costed about the same as a mid-range ship?

Insanity.

 

[Isar]

Big eyes looked up at [member="Elijah Rekali"], their depths as black as tar pits.

"Ok."

Happy Trigger had gone back to his word pictures. Warok looked at the front cover. A scantily clad humanoid female held a gun in each hand. Sensationalized sentences scattered the front page. Silly fools. The 'civilized' galaxy liked to wrap it up in incendiary words and sensual images, but it was still an appeal to the primal instincts. A call they could never escape, no matter how high they built their glittering cities.

Speaking of calls from nature...

Warok hopped down from his seat and waddled past Eli, out of the cockpit.

"I must use the refresher."

The bathroom door hissed shut. Soon came the sound of a strong and steady stream. And humming. Significant amounts of humming.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

"I better not find any of your fur in the shower sink." the Mando shouted over his shoulder, before returning his attention to the magazine at hand.

The current review was a comparison between the aesthetically pleasing SRR-01 and one of the more reliable Corek guns. Those things were literally everywhere these days, populair with the insurrection movements popping up all around Sith space too. Cheap things to produce, ammo plenty available, good times.

Mind, not the kind of thing that Elijah would use-

He stopped reading for a moment, his eye settled on the bobbling whiphid bobble head. With a single touch Eli paused its movement, brushing the tusk at the same time, before returning his attention to the magazine.

J. Q. M. knew his stuff.

 

[Isar]

A stream. A trickle. Silence.

The faucet came on, then the blow dryer.

"AAAAY."

The blow dryer continued to turn on and off for another three minutes until the door hissed open. Warok toddled out, fur askew, rubbing his belly with a warm paw. A contented look sat on his features. He rummaged through Happy Trigger's micro-fridge and pulled out something that looked unprocessed, then he waddled back to the co-pilot's seat.

"I like your bathroom's wind machine." Warok set the clay doll on the dash and began to munch on his food.

[member="Elijah Rekali"]

 

[Garoth Ursull]

As he rented a department in the city that had an hangar on the roof, the girls run laughing "The magic of a single job reward" in the city of Tahv, the sun was shining in the sky as Garoth trained with a Marksman-H. He needed to learn how to use the lightsaber fast. The house was on the last floor and the only way in was through an elevator. It had tainted mirror on one side, a living room and two bedrooms. It was just time for someone who come looking him for a job. Mercenary, pirate, thief. He didnt care how to get money, as long as the pay was good enough.

He waited for the waiter to come with food while he listened music tired

@[member='Warok the Defiler'], @[member='Elijah Rekali'],

 

[Garoth Ursull]

(Sorry the page closed and thought it didnt send the post)

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

"You mean the hair dryer?" the Mando asked a bit puzzled. Then he remembered that Ewoks probably didn't have much in the way of electronical appliances around their villages, so a hair dryer was pretty nifty stuff.

The ship exited hyperspace soon after. They were at the edge of the system right now, the rest of the journey would be done in realspace because of safety regulations and the sort. It was amazing how sentients these days were usually jumping out of hyperspace right at the edge of their planet of choice - not worrying about mass shadows or the thousands of security regulations that existed.

Already they were being hailed by system security. Their ID codes were transferred and they were off on their merry way.

 

[Isar]

The whirling blue of hyperspace disappeared, replaced by the view of a steadily growing planet. Kesh, it was called, a system in Wild Space now known as the ancient home of the Lost Tribe, an order that had died out centuries ago. The inhabitants of the planet, Keshiri, had purple skin.

Warok very much wanted to meet some of these purple people.

As the ship entered atmosphere, Warok tucked away the clay doll in one of the many pouches on his rope belt and started to slip on his gauntlets.

"Happy Trigger, we should make a deal, you and I."

Slowly they descended until the ship shuddered slightly. Hydraulics hissed. The ramp lowered.

[member="Elijah Rekali"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

"Oh, yeah? What's that then." the Mando replied while trying to concentrate on the ship's direction. They managed to ride out the landing without dying or crashing... or both, so all in all it was a success as far as Elijah was concerned. He had already contacted the port authorities, customs and the sort - after agreeing to a fair price they didn't mind checking out where their target's ship was parked and who was currently leasing the landing pad.

The ramp closed behind them. He had also locked the ship's navicomputer, just to be sure. Last thing he wanted was to walk back to his ship jacked and with no way out while in the middle of enemy territory.

They headed for customs which had a small office nearby.

 

[Isar]

Rummaging beneath the co-pilot's chair, Warok brought out coiled links of chain. He slipped them over his head so that they hung like a bandolier across his chest. A reminder of the slave he'd almost been, but for War Child. They felt cool against his fur. A reassuring weight.

Ready now, Warok strode down the ramp with [member="Elijah Rekali"].

"Should death take you, I can return life to your body, if you wish."

The door to the customs office slid open. Not a very busy area, it seemed. A bored looking Keshiri woman looked up from her desk. Red eyes glanced between the Mandalorian and the Ewok. She started to look a bit flummoxed, but then gave up on caring and resigned herself to the greatest job security one could possess: apathy.

Warok rubbed his paws together. Ah, at last.

"Purple person," he stated in his vibrato squeak, "We seek a ship."

[member="Elijah Rekali"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

Elijah was no stranger to thoughts of death.

Can a man walk into a fortified fortress for the bounty of a notorious crime lord and not think of death? Can a man wade face-first into the frontlines of a war with nothing but a shotgun and beskar'gam, and not think of death? Can a man be brought up with a blade in his hand and a revolver in his fist... and not realize the possibility of death?

Naw, Eli knew that in his line of work death was always waiting around the corner, but for some reason he had never truly worried about it. Life was what it was, if the Overspirit decided to claim his soul today then at the least he could join the halls of valor with stories to tell to his brethren and sisters of war.

"You speak of resurrection, but are silent on the cost." the Mandalorian remarked, before they entered the office. They would have to finish this conversation afterwards.

"We spoke over the comm, miss. I have already forwarded you the transponder codes."

 

[Isar]

"I see. Unfortunately-"

Standing on tiptoe, Warok slid a credit coin into her hand. The Keshiri pocketed it without breaking a beat. "-unfortunately the owner is not in right now. But the transponder you requested for the AT-360 is in docking bay 59c." More data pad punching. "Ah yes. There we go. The bay will grant you access now. Have a nice day." She said in that wonderfully flat tone that said she really didn't care one way or another.

Waggling his ears at [member="Elijah Rekali"], Warok waddled toward the designated docking bay.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Warok the Defiler"]

An unseen smirk followed with a slow shake of the head.

They left the office after the information was given to them. It took some doing to find the bay - they had to ask for directions a few times, because most of the signs were out-of-date or simply inaccurate, made Eli think that it was done on purpose. Maybe to make it harder to find people here... maybe the perfect place to hide-out.

He wondered if they had misjudged the clerk at the office. Maybe she was paid specifically for these kind of situations, could be that their target was long gone by now or setting up an ambush for 'em.

Eli shifted optics and increased the sensitivity of his visor.

"This reminds me of a lesson my old man once taught me." the Mandalorian replied calmly. "There ain't no such thing as a milk-run. Watch your steps, ewok."

 

[Isar]

The Shaman of shamans grunted, reaching out into what he knew as the Spirit World and what others called the Force. Sensations sharpened, clarified, became refined in their aspects as the world crystallized around him. He heard. He saw. He listened. Tremors in the spirits. Whispers in the dark.

"It's this way."

Warok trundled off with the self-assurity common to Sith Lords and high-rolling gamblers alike. Several minutes later, they arrived at the bay. A ship sat inside. Warok compared it to the details given to them by Chief Big-Chest.

"This is it."

[member="Elijah Rekali"]