Private Old Deaths and New Beginnings

[Venku Bralor]

Location: Valkin
Objective: Find Kreslin Westwind
Tags: Kreslin Westwind

Noise assaulted his ears. The howling of the wind as it swept through the valley almost painful. Sand tinged against his armor, worming its way beneath the armorweave and kept at bay from his fur by only the skin suit. People milled around him, members of several species inter mingling in a way that was odd for a small town such as this. Except this wasn't a small town. The ruins he walked through, avoided by the locals out of respect, played host to a small band of criminals and mercenaries.
Out of all these people, Venku was only looking for one.He had been searching this planet for two weeks now, traversing this hot miserable rock in search of his prey. Asking around for anyone who'd seen a human male in silver and gold beskar'gam.

Buy'ce turned, scanning the streets and buildings. Keeping an eye out not just for his prey but also for any tails he had gathered. After all; he was a rare sight in the galaxy now days, and he didn't doubt for a second that these thugs would try to kill him for his armor if they thought they had a chance. They wouldn't, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

Shoed paws padded against the packed sand of the road. The wind howled and wailed, making those around him shout to be heard and driving the togorian to edge of insanity. Yet even with the wind and the people, he still caught the sound of his comm in his pocket. With a silent snarl, his hand was shoved into the pocket to flick the device off. There was no time for distractions. Not now, when he was so close.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

The great thing about small towns was that everyone knew each other. While this place was filled mostly with criminals and other members of society that others would generally spit upon, there was a sort of code to be found. Everyone was on the run from someone, and so when they start hearing about someone asking around for one of their own, they pass the information along. Not to the person asking the questions, of course, but to the person being hunted. Kreslin knew days in advance that Venku was coming, and had time to prepare himself.

It was for this reason that Kreslin knew who to search for long before Venku Bralor ever entered the small town he had been using as a base for sometime. It was for this reason that Kreslin crouched low on the rooftop, his form nearly invisible against the rooftops of the buildings where he crouched, his helmets visor tracking the other man slowly. Kreslin wasn't sure what to think about his would be pursuer. He wore the armor of his people, beskar'gam, though from the way he moved, he appeared young for it. Not that such a thing was entirely out of place among the Mandalorian people, the moment one could forge their own armor they were considered an adult.

However, there were plenty of people in the galaxy who would be eager to wear beskar'gam and pretend it belonged to them. Until Kreslin could be sure whether or not this person was one such individual, and why he was searching for Kreslin, he would act with some level of caution. Rising from his perch, Kreslin began to crouch walk across the rooftops of the small town, following his hunter and being sure to keep a hand close to his blaster the entire way.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Objective: Rest
tags: Kreslin Westwind


Hours passes as he searched. Occasionally he he though he spotted something along the roofs, but in the end he had chalked it up to heat mirages. The sun was low in the sky when he was forced to turn in for the night, the valley growing to dark for even his eyes. Making his way back to the edge of the valley, Venku found a bed in a cheap little motel. Place like this, he wouldn't get much sleep. Something was better than nothing though. With that thought in mind, he stripped out of the armor, stacking it neatly in the far corner.

Sitting on the bed dressed only in his armorweave, Venku set about brushing out his fur. As best he could when he would be sleeping in it at least. About halfway through, his comm buzzed... and buzzed... and buzzed. Then it stopped. Silence engulfed the room, broken only by the beep of a received voicemail. Slowly, hesitantly, Venku set down the brush and picked up the comm. And stared. For several minutes all he did was look, warring with himself as his fonger hovered above the button.
In one swift moment, he pressed it and his brothers voice greated his ears. Asking for his ad'ika, wanting him to call back or even just message him, let him know that his little brother was alive. The message wasn't even halfway done before his finger slammmed down on the delete button, followed closely by tears.

The device flew across the room, clattering agains the armor when it hit the ground. He didn't pay attention to it. INstead Venku was curled up on the bead, armorweave pulled back on, brush all but forgoten by his feet. He cries himself to sleep, guilt and pain warring inside his heart.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin waited on the roof of the building across from the structure Venku Bralor had decided to bed down in for the night. It had been a bit tricky to keep hidden from the man for the entirety of the day, and there had been a few close calls when Kreslin was transitioning from one location to another. However, as the sun began to set and the shadows began to deepen across the town, it would have become harder and harder to actually see him even if someone was looking.

Kreslin waited for an hour after Venku had entered the building to descend from the roof, touching down on the ground outside with minimal sound. A few of the other 'residents' of the town glanced at Kreslin, though most turned back to what they were doing, or went inside their own homes for the night. Kreslin paid them little heed as he walked across the street. Entering the small building where his hunter, now prey had decided to sleep, he nodded briefly to the man who owned the building. Reaching into a small fold of his armor, he withdrew a small stack of credits from a hidden compartment, placing them down on the counter. They were there only a moment before the owner took them up, and then pointed to one of the doors of the small building.

Nodding, Kreslin walked over to it as the owner quickly departed. Kreslin had paid the man for the exact room he needed, and for any potential damage that might be caused. Leaning his head against the door for a moment, listening in to the room, Kreslin did not hear any movement, nor did his helmet detect and activity. Nodding to himself, Kreslin took a step back away from the door before turning. Reaching down to his left hip, he drew the short throwing knife he had there, next to the longer combat knife he always wore on his person.

Taking a final deep breath, Kreslin brought his foot up and slammed it against the door of the room his prey was in, breaking the hinges off the door and flinging it open against the wall. In the next instant, he was rushing through the opening, his eyes searching quickly before finding his target across the room. Bringing his arm back, Kreslin threw the blade across the room, though he had little hope it would actually do the job. He threw it as a distraction, and quickly followed it with himself, ready to fight.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Tags: Kreslin Westwind

The door banged against the wall, sending Venku rolling out of bed, dropping on to all fours away from the door. His armor is stacked neatly on the other side of the room, and though he had his gun bellow his pillow, he had flinched away from the sound, leaving the weapon where it was. Thankfully he had slept in his armorweave and kept his dagger sheathed on his thigh, so he wasn't completely empty handed. And even then, if worst came to worst, his teeth bit better than those of humans.

Cursing himself for his lack of foresight, Venku pulls the dagger and springs away from the bed, a half leap to the other side of the room as he rights himself on his hind legs. Ears pinned back as he snarls at the man in front of him, flicking the vibroblade on.

When the man comes, Venku moves to direct his momentum to the side, slipping around him and aiming for the tendon as he did so. It was an unconventional method for his people, who often preferred to fight head on, but his body type favored more towards dodging when in close combat.

This wasn't how he planned to meet Kreslin, but it worked none the less. All he had to now was kill him.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

His opponent reacted faster than he had anticipated, leaping from the bed and onto the ground. The knife he had thrown slammed into the bed where he had been a moment before. Kreslin had only a moment to react as his target came up from a leap across the room, a blade held at the ready in his hand. As Venku Bralor moved towards him, Kreslin initially brought his right fist up, a small blade extending from the wrist cuff. When he saw the maneuver his foe was going for though, that changed.

Kreslin hurled himself forward, diving over the side of Venku and clearing the knife slash towards his tendons. He hit the ground with a roll, coming up and quickly spinning to face the Togorian. His roll had landed him next to the bed, and Kreslin reached quickly for the throwing knife sticking up from the bed frame, flipping it in his hand so the blade ran parallel to his hand, ready to be thrown at an instant. A smile crossed his face as he rose up to his full height, facing Venku. "I will give you credit, kid, you're quick I will give you that. But a word of advice, some of the last you will ever hear. When you are trailing a target, never sleep in the same town you think their at. Makes what I have to do to you too easy..."

Before he had even finished speaking, Kreslin put his armored foot against the bed and kicked it out, sending it skidding towards the knees and lower legs of Venku. In the same motion, Kreslin reached down to his right hip and drew the heavy blaster pistol there, raising it up and firing a single, bright red shot across the darkness of the room towards the youth's chest.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Tags: Kreslin Westwind

A snarl ripped from his throat. "Well I-

The bed went flying and he cut himself off, dodging in a second display of his natural agility and landing on all fours beside the now trashed bed. His tail just barely making it out.

"Wouldn't have to chase you-" This time he makes the first move, lunging for the throat, knife in hand.

Adrenaline courses through his veins, clouding his thoughts as he relies on years of training and a hunters instinct. It had been a long time since a hunt had ended in a fight like this. Too long.
The last time must have been with his brother back on- Shut up shut up shut up!

Forcefully, violently, he shoves the thought from his head and brings his attention back to the fight, bringing a knee up to the other man's groin.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin grimaced as the Togorian moved once again, his blaster bolt flying through the air he had been in. Frowning, Kreslin was getting ready to discard the blaster and draw his combat blade when his foe launched himself forward.

Kreslin took a small step backwards, creating a small opening between himself and Venku Bralor as the youth went for his throat with the blade in his hand. With a flick of his left hand, Kreslin brought his own blade in his left hand up, parrying the wild slash, before then turning with the motion, driving his right fist with the blaster towards his opponents face. He had barely gotten his hand moving when he felt a flash of pain from his groin, and he let out a strangled gasp as he stepped backwards.

In the same motion, Kreslin let out a snarl and leapt forward, pushing the pain from his mind. He hoped the sudden change from retreat to attack would throw his opponent off, and Kreslin threw his full weight into the charge, intent to send them both sprawling, where his larger size and weight would come into play. He had to deal with his opponents speed.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Tags: Kreslin Westwind

To close to avoid, the blaster smashed into his head with a jolt, sending him reeling and promising an nasty bruise later. Still, he got lucky. The blow to the groin had weakened the other mands attack, so while it was disorientating and painful, it didn't break his jaw like it could have.

Still disorientated from the blow to his head, he went down easy when the man tackled him, hitting the ground with an audible crack. Pain lanced through his body. Something had broken in his tail. "Kark!" he spit - more snarl than word - and didn't notice when blood flew from his mouth, his lip broken from the blow to his head. It didn't take long for the pain to die down, not for any sudden lack of it, nut for the sudden increase in adrenaline.

Back in the fight, Venku struggled harder, legs scrabbling uselessly against the ground, clawed toes making gouges in the cheep carpet. He swung his arm around to the mans side, knife miraculously still in hand - how did he even keep hold of it? This whole fighting was turning out to be pure luck on his part. - after that painful trip to the floor. He aimed for the armpit, where the armor would be weak for mobility purposes, and hoped that he made it. He had to make it, he had to get out from under him unless he wanted to die.

He didn't want to die, despite his often turbulent emotions he didn't want to die. He had a job to finish first.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin did his best to pin his opponent to the ground so he could end the fight quickly. Despite the inexperience and youth of the warrior, the sheer strength and agility of his species was making it a difficult prospect of ending this quickly. He had wounded his foe, the trail of blood coming from his fanged mouth made that clear, and he was certain he had heard the sound of bones breaking. He felt the body thrashing beneath him, and Kreslin flipped the short blade in his hand around, intent to plunge it down into the exposed neck of Venku Bralor below.

The brief glint of metal to the corner of his vision changed that plan, and Kreslin had to adjust quickly. He could not risk letting his opponent get back up, the chances of pinning him again were slim, and he did not want this to drag out into a game of endurance. With a roar of effort and pain, Kreslin threw himself to the side, dragging his foe with him. The action shifted his exposed side, and he felt the knife sink into his upper arm, painful, but not lethal. Coming up from the roll, Kreslin twisted around and locked his wounded arm around the neck of the Torgorian, while his other arm shot out and clamped around the arm that had plunged the knife into his arm.

Kreslin tightened his hold around his opponents neck, his own blood flowing across Venku as he used his good arm to twist the blade from the hand that had stabbed him, before jerking it backwards, and then over its owners shoulder. With one last motion, Kreslin brought his knee up and slammed the held arm down in the same action. The resounding snap of a broken arm echoed in the room as Kreslin let the now useless limb go, leaning forward as he tightened his other arm even further around Venku's neck.

"Udes o'r naak, scum."

 

[Venku Bralor]

He didn't want to die.
The phrase beat in time with his heart, with the adrenaline in his veins that couldn't seem to block out this fresh pain.
He didn't want to die.
it surged with each new wave of pain, fled from his mouth as he screamed his throat raw.
He didn't want to die.
In that moment, pain pounding through his limbs and voice screaming itself into silence, everything seemed to slow, then stop. And all he heard was his own mind, swirling like a sandstorm, ripping through his mind and leaving injuries of another kind behind.
He didn’t. Want. To die.

why?​

It was such a small word, such a simple question, yet the answer was so complex.

I have a job to to do. ​

But he didn't. This was no job, he wasn't getting paid or even doing as a favor.

I need to see my family.​

Yes, but that wasn't all, it was so much more than family. It was his people, his home. He needed to see his people.

I won't let them go through this alone. I need to help them. ​

That was why. That was why he didn't want to die, past all the pain of loosing his home, his people. Past all the denial that this job was, that was the root of everything.

_______________________________________________________________________
​

Time didn't snap back into focus, but to the outside world it seemed as if almost none had past.
It was the sound of mando'a that made him respond, voice barely above whisper from the damage he had wrought from screaming, shaky with pain and emotions, he responded.

"Ni ceta. Ni ceta." though spoken quietly, those two words held so much meaning. More than he could ever convey in Basic. He just hoped that it was enough for this man, for Kreslin to release him.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin hesitated for a moment as the youth spoke, his eyes narrowing when he registered he spoke in Mando'a. He leaned forward, his helmet next to Venku's ear as he spoke once more, this time switching back to galactic basic. 'You speak Mando'a well, punk. Did you steal our language like you stole that armor you wore?" The words came out as little more than a snarl as Kreslin tightened his arm once again, shaking the youth roughly in his grasp as he stared down at him.

He ignored the blood flowing from his arm. He ignored the beating of his heart, the roar of his pulse in his ears as he considered the youth before him, wondering. Could he be Mandalorian? There were too few of their people left in the galaxy since the fall of Mandalore, the homeworld of all the Clans. Too many had died at the hands of those who had once been counted among the allies of the Mandalorians. These thoughts played out across his mind as he slowly loosened the grip around Venku's neck, though not fully letting it go.

"Who are you, and why are you after me."

Venku Bralor

 

[Venku Bralor]

Adrenaline faded fast.
Already his leg and tail sent bursts of pain throughout his body and his face ached from the blow dealt . The choking wasn't helping. He couldn't tell if the darkness at edge of his vision was due to pain or lack of oxygen; probably both.
He didn't want to die.

'Nayc! Nayc!" In his panic, he didn't even realize he was still speaking mando'a. The language felt so much more at home on his lips than the too fluid basic. "Nu ge'hutuun." His voice was hoarse and quiet, the words burning as they left his throat.

The world was fading fast. Darkness swept across his vision and he hardly felt his head shaking. He was so tired. Maybe he could just... sleep?
Unbidden, the memory of his brother arriving home after their mothers death, came to mind. He had looked so broken, so tired and defeated. He couldn't do that to him. He didn't want to die. Mustering the last of his strength, he opened his mouth to answer. "Ni... ni Venku Bralor." But it was so much harder than he had expected. His throat burned and his jaw ached from the blow. He had no adrenaline now to keep him going. Only his sheer determination and strength of will.

"Ni ceta. Ni susulir Manda'yaim." He could not bring himself to think about it even now. It was almost a blessing that his throat hurt too much to say this fully. "Ni eyaytir haa'taylir." His voice gave out, but he had begun, and he couldn't stop now without finishing. He switched to dadita, not the best language for this, but it was better than none. "Distracted myself, hunting you. Should have been with family. Buried my emotions instead. I'm sorry." and he truly was sorry, but his body had faded into numbness, echoing how his heart had felt these past months. He couldn't keep going. Not like this.
Ka'ra help him.

It was so dark now, and he was so tired. He could hardly feel the pain, could hardly move if he tried. The adrenaline was gone, the pain was gone, and his thoughts too were turning sluggish with his words said.
Golden eyes rolled beneath barely open eyelids.
He was going to die.

Kreslin Westwind​

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin grimaced, his mind registering multiple different things in a rush as he slowly, very slowly, loosened his grip around Venku's neck, though he did not fully release the youth either. Bralor, a name he knew well from his education with his Clan, and from his journeys across the galaxy. There was all the possibility the youth was lying to Kreslin about his name, but on this day, he had decided in that split second between snapping the man's neck and letting him go, that he would give the youth a second chance.

Turning his head slightly, Kreslin looked across the room to where his blaster lay on the ground. Turning his body slightly, Kreslin used his foot to drag the weapon across the floor to him. Letting go of the youth's broken arm, Kreslin reached down and picked up the pistol, flicking the switch on the side and setting the weapon to stun. With a quick shove, Kreslin sent Venku Bralor stumbling forward, before leveling the blaster and firing a single stun round into his back. The blue ring of energy vanished upon impact with the youth, and Kreslin let out a strangled sigh of relief as he turned and sat down on the bed behind him, resting the blaster on his right knee.

With a grimace, he reached up and pulled the knife, still protruding from his arm out. Inspecting the blade, Kreslin tossed it on the ground before reaching into his belt, pulling out a small bacta pad and placing it across the wound, sighing as the wounds flaring pain began to dull at the touch of the freezing cloth, before vanishing from his mind fully. There would be a nasty scar, of that Kreslin was certain, but it could have been much worse.

Rising back to his feet, Kreslin walked across the room and used binding he had found in a shop earlier that day to tie Venku up, ensuring the binding would not cut off circulation, but adding secondary loops that would also prevent the clawed hands of his would be assassin from simply clawing his way out. Once that was done, Kreslin propped the unconscious body against the wall, before turning, and beginning an inspection of the personal belongings, and especially the armor of Venku. When the youth eventually awoke, he wanted to have a better idea of who he was dealing with.

 

[Venku Bralor]

Tags: Kreslin Westwind

Consciousnesses came slowly. The stun shot had long since worn off, but the damage to his body kept him down for far longer. When he did wake, everything hurt. His arm, his tail, his head, it all ached and burned and pulsed with pain. Kreslin really did a number on him. Now, after the fight, it was easy to see how stupid it had been, trying to face him. The man was more than twice his age and had way more experience. He had been riding on luck the whole fight. Shaking away his sluggish thoughts, Venku forced his eyes open. Immediately his pupils shrunk to tiny slivers in an attempt to block out much of the blinding light. His head pounded. Ka'ra everything hurt.

He didn't even realize he was tied up until he tried to move his good arm to scratch his ear. That went about as well as one would expect. Helpless, disoriented, and in pain. It really couldn't get much worse. Who had him? Was it the mandalorian from earlier? Had someone else taken him? What did they want? He wasn't anything special. Only thing most people wanted from him was his armor. Then again he was still a kid, and a togorian to boot. He had heard the horror stories, seen the after math, he knew his species, or at least the female half, were prized by slavers. But he wasn't female... Would that even matter to them? Probably not. He could only hope that who ever had him was sloppy enough to let him escape. Which wasn't likely, not with how his hands were tied and his body flooded with pain.

Panic had long since set in. His captor had deftly trapped his claws withing the bindings, and the only form of defense he had were his feet, clawed as they were, and his teeth. It was then that he saw movement and his panic sky rocketed. If his eyes weren't already slivers from the light, they would be from the sheer fear and panic coursing through him. He opened his mouth in a snarl. Except he didn't. No sound came out of his torn up throat, only a wave of fresh pain. Sifting through his throat and scraping across his tongue like sand. His mouth was dry and his voice was destroyed, lost to all the screaming abuse the night before. Apparently it could get worse.

The movement unfolded into the form of Kreslin, the man he had tried to kill.

The man who had tried to kill him.​

Why was he even alive?
Forbidding his thoughts from spiraling sluggishly downwards, he latched onto the movement of Kreslin. If he wanted more in depth answers for the night before, he was out of luck. His voice was gone, lost in the fight, and his hands were tied. He couldn't use sign language and he couldn't speak. Ka'ra he really stepped in it now.

With no sound to make, his face relaxed from it's silent snarl, though his ears remained pinned and his tail curled in tighter to his chest. Coming as close as it could without becoming painful. Without the defiant snarl he looked meek. The ears no longer pinned in preparation to fight, and the tail no longer bristling to help him look bigger. Not that it was ever noticeable under the armorweave. He looked young, and scared, and infinitesimally small.

The weakness didn't fit him. Not the warrior that he was, the snarling predator lashing out at his prey. ​

Except he wasn't a predator. At his core, he was still a child. Still young, and scared, and feeling infinitesimally small compared to the galaxy. Compared to the atrocities committed on Mandalore. Compared to the list of family he had lost.

 

[Kreslin Westwind]

Kreslin was inspecting a knife he had found among the belongings of Venku Bralor when the youth began to come around. His inspection had revealed some surprising details, though he refrained from drawing conclusions. Details and information were always valuable, but incomplete information was often far more lethal than complete ignorance. The only conclusion Kreslin had truly allowed himself to make was that his original assumption that his hunter had been a thief was incorrect. How much that revealed of other possibilities, he was about to find out.

As Venku began to struggle against the chains around him, Kreslin reached down to bed next to him and pulled up the blaster resting there. With a flick of his thumb the weapon hummed to life, a clear indication and focus. "Do not struggle. I bandaged your wounds, but if you struggle too much they will open once again." The words came across emotionless, a simple statement of fact as Kreslin stared at Venku. With a brief gesture with the blaster, Kreslin indicated the white wrapping around the wounds Venku had taken in the fight, a few of them stained with blood.

He had not removed his helmet, and the tinted visor revealed nothing as Kreslin tilted his head slightly. "Now, you will tell me properly who you are. Why you were after me. And who these people are." As he finished speaking, he lifted a small picture he had found stored with the warriors belongings. Several figures were in the picture, though only one or two had anything resembling a similar appearance to Venku. He held it carefully with only two fingers, not wanting to damage it. If what he suspected about Venku was true, which he was about to find out, then he would do nothing to dishonor those held within the image.

 

[Venku Bralor]

tags: Kreslin Westwind

Kreslin's voice cut through his thoughts like a vibro knife through flesh. Which is to say, painfully with much fear. So much so that the young togorian had flinched away from the noise, sending another instinctual snarl at the man. Though once again no words came out. At the mention of bandages, the feeling of them on his skin became apparent, uncomfortably so. Although, uncomfortable was preferable to infected.

Golden eyes flicked to the picture in Kreslin's hand, held with appropriate reverence. It was an older picture, from one of the rare occasions when his whole family was home. He had been eleven at the time, and in the picture he had his arm slung around a togruta, twi'lek hybrid, a huge careless smile on his face as he leaned on the boy. To his right was his older sister, a kiffar. She was almost thirty at the time, the oldest, and had been away from home for years. She's smiling, trying not to laugh at her siblings antics. On her right is his mother. A sixty year old togruta tw'lek woman, with laugh lines around her eyes and calloused but gentle hands. Two Venku's left, after Riil, was his father, a nautolan man of fifty eight with his two other siblings. They were all happy, they were all smiling. That was then. It wasn't like that anymore. By the time he pulled away from that train of thought, seconds long as it was, he had gouged deep marks into the cheep, sand infused carpet.

So Kreslin wanted answers after all. What would happen when he realized the younger mando couldn't give them. Briefly his eyes flicker to the gun. Hopefully it was on stun. With no other path, Venku opened his mouth and began to speak. "Vvvvenk-" he can hardly whisper out his own name before before he devolves into a coughing fit. A sandstorm dances in the back of his throat, and a desert coalesces on his tongue. Real sand meets metaphorical and each grain doubles the pain. He couldn't do anything like this. He needed water.

Glancing over his gear, golden eyes rest on his med pack. Still coughing, he gestures toward the pack with one dexterous foot, then to his throat with the same appendage, injuries protesting at the action. His other foot tapping out hydro tabs into the ground. Claws ticked against the metal beneath the grooves. The tablet wouldn't help him talk, but it would help the pain and ease his headache. Hopefully.

He'd give anything for a real glass of water right now. But this was a desert planet, and water was a rare commodity. The tabs were cheaper, and more importantly, his. The pack didn't look like it had been messed with too much, and he doubted the older man would poison him, not when he could just shoot him and be done with it.