New Life, New M.E

[WolfMortum]

Leaving Thyrsus wasn't difficult in the least, despite the sentence that had forced him into Military deployment over the last number of years, he'd earned a commission for his service and the credits he had remaining after paying off his debts, left Rulakh with more than enough to buy passage off-world.

Sitting back against his seat, the Commercial Transport Frigate carried he and the other passengers out of the sector and deeper into Mandalorian Space. It wasn't by plan so much as it was the need to simply get away and start a new life for himself. His skills had earned him credits as much so as they had scars and with his criminal record back home, there was no sense in trying to make a decent living, knowing that he would forever be answering for the life that was forced upon him.

He was a Patricide after all, a man whom had killed his own Father. Though in truth his parents had been anything but that. The man had been a drunk and his Mother had been...-A victim of his abuse. Rulakh was younger, caught between them in both love and hate; the day the last blow struck his Mother down was the same day he was arrested for the death of his old man. A Past he did not want to have to relive over and over, for which Thyrsus would forever represent and he would never escape while he remained on that World.

Presently, his destination was the World of Tirahnn, close to Thyrsus yet not enough so to be known at all. He'd heard it by name for it's cities, drinks and women; all of which a man could yearn for during what felt like a lifetime in service to a military outfit he had been forced to work as an alternative for his remaining years in prison. Community Service, if you would call it that.

Aside from a fair amount of credits for the time he had worked, Rulakh didn't carry any notable possessions, least of all weapons nor bothered to pack the clothes that weren't already on his back, so to speak. A Black leather jacket covered a dark gray long sleeved shirt and below, black jeans and his combat boots from the Thyrsian Armed Forces. By all means, a civilian attire these days and nothing likely to call attention to himself.

[member="Kaine Australis"].​

 

[WolfMortum]

The Myriad Inn,
Planetside.

Temporary housing, the idea seemed almost as welcome as the liquid that found it's way to the back of Rulakh's throat and offered a ginger sting as he took the small glass back, soon to return it to the counter and request another from the tender. Corellian Whiskey, nothing fancy, well known for both it's name and it's cheap price. Affordable however.

Seated back in the lower quarter of the establishment, the man watched those coming and going; he wasn't overly conscious of his presence being noted for there were no one looking for him these days. Still, it came as a matter of habit, instinct even that he watch his back after years spent both behind bars and then under the thumb of military officials.

As of today, he was freelance. It was the polite way of saying that while a warrior, a former soldier, he was presently without a job or home to call his own. No family and no friends, no favors to call in now that his time was spent on Thyrsus. There was however a Galaxy out there, a big open sprawling blanket of stars and planets that held potential for him, and his first glimpse of the future seemed to be in the form of a fully armored Mandalorian entering the building.

The Armor, the make of it, caught his attention immediately though most others didn't seem quite so fussed given this was Mandalorian Space. Still, Rulakh had only heard of them through the holonet and rumors that circulated the Thyrsian barracks. Without giving it much thought, the man whistled out, his hand raising and snapping his fingers in order to get the warriors attention, soon to gesture him fourth.

[member="Kaine Australis"]

 

[WolfMortum]

Rulakh slowly leaned back into his seat as [member="Kaine Australis"] approached, wanting to keep the man within just enough proximity to size him up, yet also watch out for any tell-tale signs that the Warrior might take offense and move for a blaster or other such weapon, just in case. The Australis Clan wasn't one that Rulakh was familiar with at all, nor the man standing before him yet the Armor that he wore was quite distinguishable from the reputation that Mandalorian's had made for themselves and it appeared to be in quite decent condition too.

"It is, indeed" Ru replied with a half sideways nod of agreement, though too an edge of sarcasm as he added "Though I'm not yet sure if it's a good one or not. Never can tell when a man walks into a bar decked out in armor such as yours...-Where'd you get it?" he asked. Clearly the idea had sprung up in mind that such a battle attire would come in handy for someone of his own skill-set, though he still had much to learn outside of Thyrsian Arms. His question however might also answer his unspoken curiosity as to the origin of this newcomer, a place likely to be worth checking out for someone presently out of a job and a consistent supply of credits.

"Take a seat if you care to share a drink with a stranger" Rulakh pushed the chair opposite his side of the table away with his left foot, gesturing to it while giving the Mandalorian a half smile. It might seem unusual for someone so estranged to be so welcoming, though the drink was beginning to warm his gullot and Ru had nowhere else to be for the time being.

 

[WolfMortum]

[member="Kaine Australis"] seemed less than tolerant of the droid servant that manned the patrons orders of the establishment, Rulakh's brows lifting momentarily in skepticism as the droid wasn't trying to be annoying, they simply came off that way due to their programming and lack of sentient empathy. None the less, Rulakh turned and requested a refill of his own glass soon giving the droid confirmation that he would cover the cost. It wasn't until the droid had scuttled itself away that Ru turned back to look to the Mandalorian and grinned half-heartedly.

"Leave the droid be, it's doing it's job and I'd prefer to have more than just the two glasses brought to us...", he waved a hand dismissively of their former waiter and returned his attention to the discussion at hand. "You have some skill in your craft; I'm not sure I recognize the metal..." He soon gestured the the tone of the breastplate, the color and darkness in it's make giving off something of a foreign feel to that of Rulakh's experience...-Something that was clearly limited and less so than the strangers.

"Perhaps you could tell me what it would cost for someone like myself to acquire something of it's likeness?".

 

[WolfMortum]

"Armor and payment?" Rulakh shifted some in his seat, sitting upright as he stared back at the Mandalorian. [member="Kaine Australis"] didn't know him from a bar of soap, yet he was offering work, Rulakh must've done something right. "If you're talking Mercenary work, I'm not afraid of getting my hands dirty..." He smirked, a sense of pride coming through in his boast.

There was a fleeting moment where Ru felt inclined to elaborate, to share his military history and his being drafted from his prison sentence back home. The moment passed however as he reminded himself that nowadays home was wherever the drink and a warm bed was, perhaps some good company too if he were so fortunate.

"What did you have in mind, exactly?" Rulakh turned to glance over his shoulder as their droid friend returned with their drinks and their conversation briefly fell silent while they were served their order. "Cheers" Rulakh placed a credit chip atop the droids serving tray before it moved to leave them both to their drinks and their business one more. Turning back to look to Kaine, the excitement started to build for a chance to earn a decent amount of coin and the armor to prove himself worthy as a warrior. From ex-con, forced into the military turned mercenary for hire? Life had been nothing thus far if not eventful.

 

[WolfMortum]

Training...Rulakh had been trained both by the street-life before his sentence, and then by the Armed Forces of Thrysian, yet even he wasn't so arrogant to believe that there wasn't more he could learn. If these people of [member="Kaine Australis"]' could teach him how to be a better brawler, a warrior, then who was he to deny such an offer. Especially with the added bonus of Kaine's claim that they would go out of their way to supply him with arms and armaments.

"Nothing worth-while in life is ever easy" Rulakh replied under his breath, his gaze diverting to the other patrons as he thought back for the briefest of moments; "I learned as much from a young age. Struggle is no stranger to me...". He turned back to look to the Warrior before him and lifting his glass in time with Kaine's toast, he introduced himself formerly "My name's Rulakh Kal're-Maj...-And here's to a profitable future" he smirked, confirming his agreement and confidence in the offer he had been given.

Where-ever this path would take him, it sure as hell sounded more promising than his previous life had given him.

 

[WolfMortum]

Rulakh didn't know the words [member="Kaine Australis"] spoke, he hadn't learned the dialect and so there wasn't a great deal to say until the mention of this Clan Australis. "This is a Clan of Warriors like yourself then?" He asked curiously, though still eager to earn his keep. From what he understood, Mandalorian Culture was made up of multiple race's and Clans, those who have come from all corners of the Galaxy with one thing in common, the search for home and belonging. Whatever held these people together, whatever their customs and laws, Rulakh assumed he would learn in time though he had nothing to return to. This seemed to be a way forward, as good a chance as any to make something of himself.

"Brothers and Sisters..." Rulakh spoke under his breath in consideration. He had once had a Family though it had never been a positive experience, rather conflicting and emotionally abusive let alone the physical beatings he had taken as a youngling. Family wasn't exactly a hugely motivating incentive, however he gave a curt nod as if to convey his understanding all the same. He would have to wait and see how they would act and if they would accept him before deciding his stance; regardless, he wasn't the young boy he once was and nor would he go through such pains again without returning the fight to anyone who looked to stand over him.