I am a son of the Mountain.
Aboard his ship, Marcellus slept silently in the small cargo bay he had converted into a bedroom. In the cockpit, two members of his gang piloted the ship towards Leritor. He had planned to immediately move his plans forward after his meeting with the Vicelord of The Confederacy. However that meeting had bore fruit the crime lord had not expected. In return for his service, the Vicelord had given him access to something he had never had before. Power.
Did he believe this witch could really make him a stronger warrior? Not really. But if the reputation of the Vicelord was even half true, he was one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy and even Marcellus could not ignore that.
There was a soft shift that roused him from his sleep. Pulling his hands from the back of his head he stretched out, a rather animalistic sound erupting from him as he did. “Damn… That was quick.” Rolling off of his bunk, Marcellus ran a hand through his braided hair and made his way for the cockpit.
The pilots flying the ship, a pair of Duros thugs named Katos and Ratos, were in the middle of powering down the ship’s systems when Marcellus walked up behind them. “That it?” Skipping the greeting, he jerked his head towards the viewport. Through it he could see a crude housing formation, which was actually reminiscent to the projects on Nar Shadaa which Decker had made his temporary home. However this housing was carved into the side of the mountain.
“That's it boss.” The metallic voice of Katos reported, before pointing to the mountain range behind the structure in front of them. “The coordinates we got led us to this mountain.”
“Yea… Metus said it’d be carved on the side of the mountain.” Marcellus muttered, still looking over the range with an eager gleam in his eye. Marcellus ran a hand over his belt, smiling once he found his blaster pistol.
“Witches creep me out boss…” Ratos muttered, before receiving a less than empathetic glare from Marcellus. “Do I look like I care?”
“No, I'm just saying…..I used to fly transports to Dathomir… The witches there were scar-”
Ratos’ words we're cut when Marcellus reached around the chair, his hand slamming into the alien’s throat. “Only thing you gotta be afraid of is me if you keep pissing me off with these crybaby ass stories.” In his arms, Ratos struggled for air but was too weak to pry Marcellus’ grip from his throat. Watching the display with apparent concern, Katos winced as his brother’s breath grew more and more ragged.
Finally releasing the Duros, Marcellus looked down to both of the brothers. “Keep your mouths shut and get my damn ship ready for take off. I'll be back in a little bit.” Turning from the cockpit, Marcellus slapped the off loading ramp so he could make his way down onto the planet’s grassy surface.
“Idiots.” He muttered, making his way towards the path that led to the mountain housing he saw from the cockpit.
Did he believe this witch could really make him a stronger warrior? Not really. But if the reputation of the Vicelord was even half true, he was one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy and even Marcellus could not ignore that.
There was a soft shift that roused him from his sleep. Pulling his hands from the back of his head he stretched out, a rather animalistic sound erupting from him as he did. “Damn… That was quick.” Rolling off of his bunk, Marcellus ran a hand through his braided hair and made his way for the cockpit.
The pilots flying the ship, a pair of Duros thugs named Katos and Ratos, were in the middle of powering down the ship’s systems when Marcellus walked up behind them. “That it?” Skipping the greeting, he jerked his head towards the viewport. Through it he could see a crude housing formation, which was actually reminiscent to the projects on Nar Shadaa which Decker had made his temporary home. However this housing was carved into the side of the mountain.
“That's it boss.” The metallic voice of Katos reported, before pointing to the mountain range behind the structure in front of them. “The coordinates we got led us to this mountain.”
“Yea… Metus said it’d be carved on the side of the mountain.” Marcellus muttered, still looking over the range with an eager gleam in his eye. Marcellus ran a hand over his belt, smiling once he found his blaster pistol.
“Witches creep me out boss…” Ratos muttered, before receiving a less than empathetic glare from Marcellus. “Do I look like I care?”
“No, I'm just saying…..I used to fly transports to Dathomir… The witches there were scar-”
Ratos’ words we're cut when Marcellus reached around the chair, his hand slamming into the alien’s throat. “Only thing you gotta be afraid of is me if you keep pissing me off with these crybaby ass stories.” In his arms, Ratos struggled for air but was too weak to pry Marcellus’ grip from his throat. Watching the display with apparent concern, Katos winced as his brother’s breath grew more and more ragged.
Finally releasing the Duros, Marcellus looked down to both of the brothers. “Keep your mouths shut and get my damn ship ready for take off. I'll be back in a little bit.” Turning from the cockpit, Marcellus slapped the off loading ramp so he could make his way down onto the planet’s grassy surface.
“Idiots.” He muttered, making his way towards the path that led to the mountain housing he saw from the cockpit.