Tart-Cart Chronicles: Part I, Blood Money

[Revenchent]

Corin found himself in agreement with the Miraluka at leas. Somewhat. He had no desire to leave anything that might make him seem more interesting than the last fellow to pass through the spaceport. Interesting things got you remembered, and even though the chance they would be hunted was minuet, it was still there, lingering in the back of his skull like a dull headache. A heavy sigh fell from his breath as the craft began to settle. This little group was about as dysfunctional as they could be.

"Calm down Astrid. You'll give him an aneurism," Corin mumbled, a brow logging as the docking voice spoke. They were going to be boarded? Why? This was not standard landing procedure. Cursing, Corin reached down for one of his Westars and waved a hand at Lord Cabur. The Strill responded with a low grumble, before hoping down from its perch on Corin's lap and clambering up the adjacent wall. With claws designed to scale massive trees in search of prey, Lord Cabur climbed up over the top of the door. It came to a halt at the ceiling, pulling itself upward to make itself small at the edge of the frame. If someone came through that Corin did not like, the Strill would not hesitate to pounce for the throat.

"This is odd," Corin voiced. "They don't usually come aboard unless they think you're smuggling something. Which we're not," he paused, looking pointedly at Tyris. "Right?"

He settled the Westar just under his Kama and spun in his chair. A moment later, and the doors parted to a Bothan and two guards. Corin leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the others, his lips pressing into a smile that was anything but warm.

"Just a man wondering why in Corellia's Nine Hells my ship is being boarded without permission." Corin muttered, "You're lucky we're nice people. Someone else might have shot you for marching aboard like that without prior warning. Fortunately, I think I like your starport, so I want to make friends."

Corin's eyes met the Bothan's, and his smile seemed to warm somewhat. "So, friend, as we are friends now seeing as you walked into my home, my name is Corin Tal'verda, and I'm a perfectly legal, tax-paying tourist." The smile faded. "Now, by the great ancient gods of the Manda, whom are you, and why are you bringing two tin-cans in military kit into my abode unannounced? I mean shab, I could have been naked. Highlights and the Miraluka girl could have been going for a roll in the back room with none of us the wiser, and you would have walked in on them. Ever do that? Walk in on to Mando'ade ladies enjoying one another's company?"

Corin shook his head, and hoped the others would play along. "It ain't pretty, ner'vod. Whole lot of grunting and blood. Like two Nexu in heat."

He paused. "I mean, you did give us warning, but it was all of thirty-seconds. At least let us walk out first, damn."

 

[Astrid]

"Calm? Calm? There's no such word in my vocabulary," retorted the leather bound woman as she straightened her back, a hand pressed to her collar in a mocking display of pain. She flashed Corin a grin, then to Tyris. "As you say, captain."

Astrid spun her chair and watched Lord Cabur ascend to the ceiling. She marveled at its dexterity for a moment before reluctantly peeling away her gaze, as to not draw attention to The creature when the boarding party entered.

More than willingly, she let Corin take the lead. It was, after all, his vessel. As she listened to his words, she let out a laugh and winked in Saran's direction. She stretched out an arm, fingers seeking and grasping for the other woman. Impatient, she rose and grabbed Saran's arm and gently tugged her towards the pilot seat she had occupied.

"It would have been an interesting turn of events, would it not have," Astrid mused, teasingly.

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Tyris leaned up against the wall, not speaking much until they landed, and the announcement came that they were being boarded.

"Okay Corrin, what do you have on this ship? Illegal Zeltronian "magazines"?" Tyris said.

He quickly reached towards his service blaster, nothing more than a standard heavy blaster, DL-44 model. Tyris appreciates weaponry, Tyris was sad that it had to be abandoned, hopefully, he could get someone to go and retrieve it in the future, but that was for another time, right now he had more pressing matters, such as being boarded, probably illegally, by bothan authorities.

Tyris stayed put, any sudden movements may result in a bolt being put into everyones heads, that was not ideal in any case. He noticed one bothan in particular, he caught Tyris' interest.

"To answer you previous question, I don't think it will be all that hard." Tyris said with a bit of a smile to the miralukan woman.

Tyris made no other movements or words, but the story Corrin had come up with was extremely.... interesting to say the least. Tyris had assumed that his sentence implied that the two females in the group could have been doing.... the deed, but Astrid actually went along with it, Tyris probably would not have done the same, but now the Miralukan woman would have to go along with it, if she didn't they could kiss their freedom goodbye.

Tyris continued to stand there, not letting any emotion show itself considerable, though in all honesty, he was extremely stressed, situations like this were extremely volatile, who knows how trigger happy the bothans were.

 

[Saran Drast]

A smirk crossed her face in spite of herself at Tyrus' comment. Wouldn't entirely surprise her. This was Bothuwai. Nothing was as it appeared. The lead Bothan listened to Corin, seemingly annoyed at him as he continued, before pausing to look between the Miraluka and her apparent companion. Saran was about to make some comment about the rudeness of bringing something like that up, but as she opened her mouth, she felt a set of fingers wrap themselves around her arm. The expression on her face changed from disgust to surprise as the other woman pulled her back. Not entirely sure how to respond, she gave a small smile and hid her face, using the Force to flush her face.

The young Bothan coughed, looked away, and turned back to Corin. "This ship belonged, as far as the last registration, to a traitor to the state. Thus, the idea was to catch you all off guard in case you were as well." The old man walked away from the wall, the click of his cane each step ringing in the cockpit. The woman followed him, clearly worrying about his health. His young counterpart turned to him, with an odd look of compassion on his face. "What.." he began before the old man spoke.

"It's alright, kid. I know this guy." His voice, eerily similar to the one on the comm, replied. "He's no enemy." The younger man looked between the woman and the old man, before signaling to the guards to leave with him. As he passed, he leaned in, whispering to the woman.

"Keep an eye on him"

"Always"

As they left, the posture of the old Bothan changed significantly. Gone was the slouching, unstable man. In his place was a man who looked to be studying them. "So," He spoke, staring down the Mando, "What can I do for the son of Calico?"

[member="Corin Tal'verda"] [member="Astrid"] [member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Revenchent]

The story had been concocted to put the Bothan off-guard, though Corin would have to admit that it was also largely crafted to amuse himself. He wanted to see if the girls would play along. He'd suspected that Astrid would, though the Jedi's reaction had been up in the air. He was pleased to see that they could play the parts given to them if necessary.

He answered Tyris by putting a steady hand on the older man's arm. The look Corin shot him would have been sympathetic, were his visage not blocked by his helmet. Even still, he felt that he knew what the old warrior might have been thinking. Murderer or not, he had soldier's blood, and Corin had dealt with enoughg of the older clan members to know how violence eventually addled their minds. His fingers squeezed for a moment, then relented, his arms falling slack down at his sides.

"You're right. It was taken by a traitor," Corin agreed. "He's out of the picture now. You can register the vessel under my name." The youth paused as another figure entered the ship. It was an old thing; a short mass of fur and stubborn determination. Corin felt he recognized the elder Bothan, though he could not put a name to the aging face.

And then the man confirmed his suspicions.

"Su cuy," he answered instinctively. "You're Strask?" He asked quietly, a hint of respect lacing his words. His father had spoken fondly of the old Bothan on many an occasion, and there was only one man on Bothuwai who would have cared enough to know of Corin. With a quiet sigh, he reached up to remove his helmet, meeting Strask with his father's charismatic smile and his mother's bright blue eyes.

"My friends and I ran into some trouble. They're looking to get out of it. I'm looking to delve a bit further in myself."

[member="Saran Drast"], [member="Tyris Hayes"], [member="Astrid"]

 

[Astrid]

Astrid was pleased, very pleased, that Saran went along with the ploy. She drew the other woman closer to her and settled back into her chair, drawing Saran down with her. Her arms ensnared the other woman's waist and her chin came to rest upon the Jedi's shoulder. Barely audible words were spoken in a hushed whisper, a language created and used by her mother's family. She knew that Saran would not nothing of the language, but it was a whimsical pattern of speech. She'd often found it to sound rather romantic, a language that painted pictures with words. Certainly the colorful language would mingle well with the seductive tone of voice in which she employed.

"Runako. Tichava mukuru nguva manheru ano," Astrid practically purred as she watched and listened to the others converse.

So, Corin had contacts on Bothuwai. It wasn't that she hadn't really expected it, it was that she had not expected for them to confront one another the moment they had made landfall. As the guards and the younger male departed, she eyed the woman and the old man. Judging by his appearance, he appeared to rival Tyris' age, if not surpass it all together. What was it with crippled old men?

"What can I do for the son of Calico?" the old man said.

Corin responded by taking off his helmet and addressed the older man, seemingly with respect and granting the rest of the company the elder's name. Strask. How peculiar a name.

Lifting her chin from Saran's shoulder, the pilot arched a brow and stared between the two Mandalorian. "Who said anything about getting out of it? It's more like ... Redirecting the trouble and getting into a different sort. If you know what I mean." She flashed a grin and tightened her hold around the Jedi's waist and resettled her chin back upon her shoulder. "So, the two of you know each other. That's good. I hope that's something we can all use to our collective benefits."


[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Saran Drast"]
[member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Strask, this was the contact Tyris was contacting earlier, good. Seems like it was a small galaxy. Tyris kept quiet for the moment, he did not want to ruin this reunion of sorts, if it could even be called that, but in the meanwhile, he would stay quiet not paying mind to Corrin and the one called Strask.

The two women of the crew, that was a different story, made Tyris want to cringe knowing the truth of their relationship. It took his many years of training to not make a grotesque face resembling one someone would make while gurding or the like. Tyris would speak when it was needed, no sooner no later, for now though, he would stay put where he was, listening closely to any conversation.

[member="Astrid"]
[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Saran Drast]

As she was pulled down, the Jedi's face, now growing redder by the second, turned towards the other woman. For some reason, this felt oddly comfortable, and yet... wrong. She hadn't ever been held like this. Her voice stopped in her throat, and the knight gave a small shake of her head. Resting her head on the other woman's crown, she let out a low, content sounding sigh and listened to the woman speak in some language she didn't understand. Whatever she was saying, it sounded like the kind of thing that Jacobs used to whisper to her.

The Bothan gave a small smile. "Indeed. I take it my reputation precedes me?" The question was shown to be rhetorical as the old man took another step, the cane now tucked securely into his armpit.. He rolled his neck, wincing at the loud crack that ensued, before pausing to look hard at Corin's face. "You look just like your father did when he was young." The smile broadened, before shrinking to a small frown as the man explained that they needed help. "I see. What kind of trouble? Punched a noble trouble? Slept with the wrong girl trouble?" He gave a small nod to the pair in the back. He could tell that had upset the Miraluka. Interesting. "Death Warrant trouble? You gotta be more specific." He stroked his beard. "Indeed, young miss." He replied as Astrid spoke "Assuming Corin vouches for you, I believe I can work something out."

To say Saran was uncomfortable was an understatement. It had been years since anyone had held her like this. She still didn't feel comfortable with it. The other woman seemed to enjoy it quite a bit. Shaking her head, the Knight muttered a simple response to her captor; "You're enjoying this far too much."

[member="Corin Tal'verda"] [member="Astrid"] [member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Revenchent]

Corin did well not to pay the two women any mind. He would have found himself giggling if he did. Entirely focused on the Bothan, Corin rose up from his chair, leaving his helmet behind. "It's a bit complicated," he began. "Someone stole this ship from my uncle's tomb. I stole it back, and now we've ended up pissing off the former owner's friends."

He gestured back toward Tyris. "We need our ship cleared, and I'm not sure if they're getting off here or not. I'm on the hunt for buir's old enemy. The old droids; you know the kind." He dare not speak the name aloud, for fear that they might have bugged the ship. Better they not know that they were being hunted by the son of their old arch-enemy.

Corin smiled. "And you look just like he said you would. All bunched up and determined." It was followed by a short, good-natured laugh. "In short, I need to check into a few things here. The old CIS HQ and the Templar Temple being two of them, and whatever it is they might need. I suppose I'll be a guest here for quite awhile."

Corin turned partway to allow his 'partners' room to speak. "And the lot of you?"

[member="Saran Drast"], [member="Tyris Hayes"], [member="Astrid"]

 

[Astrid]

"Uye hausi yokuzomboiona zvakakwana. Ndichakuratidzai tsanangudzo kunakirwa, akanaka wangu," Astrid mused before relinquishing her hold upon Saran, gently nudging her to rise from her lap. As much as she was enjoying herself, there was a line she had no intention of crossing. The act had gone on long enough, and she had gotten the reaction out of Saran she had wanted. It was best to leave it where it had been concluded, and with her lap now free, she crossed one knee over the other. Her arms crossed over her chest and she leaned back into her seat with a smug look plastered upon her face.


"I don't plan on going anywhere," she replied, in response to Corin, casting her gray gaze towards him. "I'm quite content to see where this all plays out, if you're in need of a co-pilot, that is. Besides, I kind of committed myself the moment I became a fugitive. So, may as well see how far I can go before I have to bow out. Besides, strength in numbers."


[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Saran Drast"]
[member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Tyris grunted a bit as Corrin finished up his conversation with Strask, Astrid then gave her two cents on the issue. Tyris then decided to give his needs to the old Bothan, who Tyris knew for certain was an old spymaster, the one he was planning on contacting earlier.

"I think it would be beneficial to all of us if nobody knew what happened at the Estate but us, a coverup of sorts." Tyris said "Could that be aranged?"

As Tyris said this he picked up his cane and moved away from the wall. Not approaching anyone but sort of moving away from the wall, he did not need to act inconspicuously any longer, at least he thought he didn't.

[member="Astrid"]
[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Saran Drast]

Saran's exit from Astrid's lap was anything but slow. Taking a few steps away from her 'lover', she leaned on the wall, her hands moving to rub her temples as she uttered something in her native tongue, the string of words slightly accented by the frustrated tone behind them "Tolo cegado, Saran." The sigh that followed seemed almost relieved. Her attention now free, she turned her attention to the Bothan.

Strask nodded, his eyes watching Corin as he stood. This youngster was his friend's legacy. It was his job to protect it. "Figures no one would let him rest, pour soul. It's good to see it back in the proper hands." He paused, his fingers pulling the hairs of his beard apart from one another as he thought. "I can get the ship in your name, if you want. That'll be easy." As he said that, Nat seemed to make a mental note. "As for the rest... It's from Naboo? I'll see what I can do, but I don't have as many friends there. May be difficult."

At the mention of the droids, the old Bothan froze. "You're sure you want to do that." It wasn't stated like a question. He knew the response all to well. they weren't something he talked about. He had forced those memories out of his head for a reason. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Like father, like son, I suppose."

A laugh crossed him at the mention of Calico's description of him, the kind of pure laugh rare to a man of secrets and spy work. "And he was always so strong and proud." The Templar Temple, on the other hand, caused the man to shake his head. "I may be able to get info from the former. I'll have to talk to my kid on that." Nat looked to make another mental note. "The temple is in a sorry state, sad to say. What with the Anti-Force Users and all deciding to show up. I can get you permission to get in to what's left, but not much beyond that." With that, he gave a nod to Astrid's comment before turning to Tyrus. "I'll need to know everything that happened there. Walk me through the whole thing as best you can."

Saran looked up from the wall as she lowered her hands from her temples to cross over her chest. "I would like to look at what remains of the Templar library. It may have the information I've been looking for."

"Sure, why not. May as well not let that info go to waste."

[member="Corin Tal'verda"] [member="Astrid"] [member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

Bothawui, old memories. This place brought back memories. The good old days of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, back when Jackpot and his brothers signed up for their new Dread Guard program, following their reawakening from carbonite freezing over 800 years after the end of the Clone Wars. What a shock that was, to find out you had slept through most of history. All the people you liked or had interacted with were dead, well, aside from those that came with you. Calico and Galaar were those people, two of his brothers-in-arms during the Clone Wars, good people, people Jackpot trusted with his life. It was lucky that they had survived, or else Jackpot wouldn't have known what to do, but thanks to Calico and Galaar, who had taken him in after he was thawed out, he found a place amongst the Dread Guard, undergoing procedures he would never have agreed to if it weren't for Calico and Galaar.

Then Galaar died and Calico went missing. Dark days for the old Soldier. There were still others, but it simply wasn't the same. Jackpot didn't stick around with the Mandalorians after his two brothers disappeared, he had always been the least Mandalorian of them all, so he took up the life of a Bounty Hunter/Mercenary for those who needed his work. During his years he had seen many atrocities and tragedies, so he swore he'd work for those who needed him the most, not those with the biggest wallets, even though he could easily be part of the elite Mercenaries in the galaxy thanks to his training. It just didn't feel right to prefer the people with money over those with the needs, but that also meant that he'd be working for far less money than he could be, which lead to some improvisations.

It was sometimes hard to keep his armour repaired and he could only occasionally afford new toys, but he got by. Most often he also had to hitch a ride with some smuggler or other mercenary, since he didn't own his own ship, but that was all good. He still got to do a lot of fighting, getting hurt, and having fun reminiscing about ye olden times to strangers at various bars and cantinas in the galaxy, which was coincidentally what he had been doing previously. He had also made a new friend, a former Mandalorian he met at the bar, they had drunk a bit and talked about various stories and were now on their way towards their ship, Jackpot helping his new friend walk as he was only marginally intoxicated. He was also waiting on a new guy he had taken under his wing. A young bloke whom he had gotten into a conversation with and was now training to become more proficient with various weapons.

"Wait, wait, wait, so you took their blood and turned it into make-up for that young 'un?" He said as they stopped next to some newly arrived starship so that Jackpot could wait on his new protégé.

[member="Marvik Dathu"] [member="Corin Tal'verda"] [member="Astrid"] [member="Tyris Hayes"] [member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

[member="Jackpot"]

A mission to Bothawui was a rare thing ever since the setting of the blazing sun that was the CIS. After the droid factories ground to a hault and the council of planets crumbled, Marvik found that there just weren't any factions worth his time in the Outer Rim anymore. Sure there was as many criminal orginizations and kingpins as there were stars in the sky, but he wanted an employer he could trust not to bounce checks after he'd gone through the trouble of hunting down an entire family of Weequay pirates. It's not like his drinking habits were free and blaster charges weren't getting any cheaper. There were, however, those living far closer to the Core Worlds who had a vested interest in certain assets that remained in the cesspool that was the Outer Rim.

That employer was one Xander Corbal, a young kid whose father apparently ran with the CIS in their glory days. Word has it he ran a criminal empire off the books and used the CIS to spread its influence under the guise of his official company, Stargo Defense. Apparently, Xander felt the sudden compulsion to reconnect with his late father and was using his vast inheritance to send people like Marvik into ex-CIS space to recover what they could. Unfortunately for Xander, he unwittingly enabled Marvik's drinking habbit by paying him a large sum of his fee upfront.

There was no way in the nine hells of Corellia that the grizzled old bounty hunter was going to pass the chance up to get lit on expensive Bothawui booze while he was there. That's where the grumpy bag of salt and nails carrying him came into the picture.

What had begun as a small pitstop on the way to looting CIS ruins for Templar data had quickly dissolved into drunken laughter and stories of wars past. Before he had gotten the chance to realize how much time he'd wasted, Marvik found himself stumbling back to his ship under the arm of Jackpot; the stench of alcohol following him like a shadow.

"Oh Jacky-boy you should have been there. The Gammorreans were all like splat and that girl was just covered in it." A rancid burp interrupted the tale, "She was sitting there all trying to be tough so I just flicked some of the brain off my armor and smeared it on her face! 'Red is Your Clolor' I said. HA!"

Marvik's laughter echoed over the landing pad as he slowly began to regain his balance, "Then there was the time I circumcised a Rancor-"

He suddenly stopped, his eyes drawn to the ship that had just landed in front of him. Wait...He thought to himself, eyes shifting around the otherwise empty landing space. Where uh...where is my ship?

His eyes circled around the landing pad, completely missing the notice of impoundment scrawled across a datapad near his feet.

 

[Revenchent]

Corin did not hesitate to slap a credit chip in Strask's hand. The denomination could not be ignored, but Corin felt the need to give it to the aging Bothan anyway. He made a point not to rely on the deeds of his parents to get by, old friendships or not. "That should cover your fees," Corin muttered, reaching over for his helmet. "Perhaps you and Tyris can discuss his issue? I need to get into those old ruins as soon as possible. Guess that means I'm going with you Saran."

He paused. "Welcome to my crew then, Astrid." The words sounded odd when spoken. He had made a conscious choice to travel alone up until this point. The less that knew about the Architects, the better. Even still, this lot had proven themselves in one way or another, and Corin had no qualms about tearing them away from their homes like he did his clan. With a shrug, he turned for the door.

It was then that Lord Cabur pounced. The Strill bounded down from the roof in short free-fall, its back paw slapping Strask in the back of the head. LC charged through the ship toward the gangplank -- the creature had not been allowed to relieve itself on solid land in two days. It paid no mind to the duo outside as it trotted toward them, one leg raised. With black, spiteful little eyes, Lord Cabur stared up at [member="Marvik Dathu"], and Jackpot. Its semi-sentience gave it a wide range of emotions and understandings most animals lacked, and it chose to let out its frustrations upon strangers that it would not be sleeping next to the following night.

Still staring, the Strill relieved itself on Marvik's boot. Its nostrils flared up at the two, particularly at Jackpot. It recognized the old man's scent.

It was around that time that Corin, now wearing his helmet, came stumbling down the ship. He blinked at the display, color rising to his features. He would thank the helmet for hiding that unflattering picture later.

"Cab'ika!" Corin snapped, "Not on the aruetiise! You know better, you little di'kut."

The Strill responded by trotting up to Corin's side and looking up at him, canine maw parted and its tongue lolling from its mouth in what may have been a smile.

The youth turned his attentions to the strangers, his tone apologetic. "Sorry," he began. "It's been a long flight, and Lord Cabur likes to go on strangers' boots. He's a cruel little creature."

[member="Saran Drast"], [member="Astrid"], [member="Tyris Hayes"] [member="Jackpot"]

 

[Astrid]

Remaining seated where she was, Astrid struggled to not erupt into laughter. She covered her mouth, but gave up the attempt quickly in favor of lifting the thick leather fabric that she had left pooled around her neck. Drawing it up to the bridge of her nose, she grinned behind it.

It did not take long for her amusement to begin to slip as a yawn threatened to separate her jawbone from her skull. Glad she had lifted the veil in time, Astrid slouched back into her chair and got herself comfortable. The elders were going to be having a conversation and the Jedi and Corin were going to go investigate ruins. Both options radiated with boredom. As interesting as the latest old timer and his aid seemed to be, old people talk was one thing she'd intentionally separated herself from.

When Lord Cabur dropped from the ceiling abruptly all consideration for what to do instead of die of boredom evaporated and Astrid rose from her seat, looking at Corin with a concerned expression. Curiosity took over and she followed after the Strill and managed to make it in time to view the creature relieving himself on even more strangers. She stepped aside as Corin stepped up behind her, and she laughed.


"Seems he's a little more than cruel. Did you see the way he made eye contact? He's pretty awesome. Makes me want one," the woman said as she knelt down to pet the Strill, scratching the top of it's skull with a gloved hand. All the while, she watched the two strangers. Were these two men connected to Corin, like Strask?

[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Marvik Dathu"]
[member="Jackpot"]
[member="Saran Drast"]
[member="Tyris Hayes"]

 

[Tyris Hayes]

Strask seemed to know a lot of people, he seemed to have a lot of connections you could say. Strask seemed like a more useful contact than he previously did, a person he should keep in his contact book, just incase it might come in handy in the future.

Strask seemed to already know Corrin as well, or at least knew his father, Tyris knew that family ties tend to run deep, might help the crew in a few situations.

Tyris gave a sigh, the story of what happened at the estate was a long one going back months for Tyris, and maybe even longer for Mr. I Am Better Than You and Corrin. Tyris began to explain his side of the story. From his plan to commit murder, to the subsequent spread of that plan to include the entire security team, to the day before, leading up to the murder. The intrusion of Astrid and the other Son of a Blaster. To the RSF showing up, unexpectedly, to the stealing of the ship. To the murder of Mr. I Am Better Than You, everything Tyris knew was told to Strask.

"If you want the other sides of the story, you will probably have to go talk to the others, just be warned, the rest of these people are not all that keen on sharing."

[member="Astrid"]
[member="Corin Tal'verda"]
[member="Marvik Dathu"]
[member="Jackpot"]
[member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Darth Vulcanus]

​

Marvik was still in the process of stumbling around his own thoughts when the ramp opened and a strill came trotting up to him. Worry melted away as he laid eyes on the dog-like creature he knew all too well from the home he hadn't seen in over twenty years. "Hey there ad'ika" he managed through a toothy grin, his hand reaching down to pet the Strill on the head. "I used to have a hunting Strill like you when I was a young lad."

Memories of old rushed back to him. Hunting in the forests of Mandalore with his father before he grew ill. Long nights spent under the stars with his Strill, Kote, curled into a ball of loose skin beside him. Unfortunately, the memories were cut short just inches away from the ugly creature's head when the smell of asparagus crawled up Marvik's leg and shot up his nose.

Marvik's eyes shifted slowly to his wet boots, yellow liquid running down the Beskar.

He froze, hand still and eyes focused on the urine as the Strill was called away by his master. Even as the master approached and began to apologize, Marvik's drunken mind had yet to completely rationalize the storm of emotions brought about by the sudden and cruel betrayal of his childhood memories. The world itself was crashing down around him, his mind breaking under the intense emotional stress of Bothawui booze and his past being pissed on.

After an awkardly long pause, Marvik's eyes drug from his boots, up the stranger's leg and eventually came to a rest at eye level. "Di-Did your Strill just piss on my boots?" He asked in irrationally shocked disbelief.

Lifting his arm up and away from Jackpot, Marvik steadied himself and shot an icy glare at the mutt who broke his heart. "You, chakaaryc. I trusted you not to be a sheb'palon." He was obviously speaking right to the Strill at this point, his index finger pointing down to his boots, "And you did this...I should punt you across the-

The threat and reeling back of his leg stopped aprubtly as a hand came down and stroked the Strill. A woman with long, blue dyed hair stood beside the creature now and Marvik was taken instantly aback. His eyes glowed with a mischievous yearning, an ill-concepted plan of approach jumbling together in his mind.

Marvik threw his raised foot forward, taking a long step and placing himself directly in front of the woman; the stink of alcholic depression following close behind. "Oh well I didn't see you there, miss." His anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cocky grin and a hand that moved to take Astrid's in a loose, friendly grip that would bring her hand up to his chin where he would attempt to place a kiss on the back of her hand.

"Name's Marvik and what is your name, mesh'la?"

 

[Atlas Kane]

Jackpot looked towards all the entry points, scanning for a familiar face, but none appeared. The protégé was supposed to have arrived a few minutes ago, he should have been here waiting, but now it was Jackpot who was waiting. The young one would be have to work on his punctuality, a mercenary is always punctual. Then again, Jackpot had some new company, so the time waiting here wouldn't be time wasted on boredom. He looked around again, trying to find the protégé once more, but his search was interrupted when Marvik raised his voice towards the ship. Jackpot turned and saw a strill coming up. Not often you see one of those around here, but as the strill got closer Jackpot noticed more and more details about the it. It seemed familiar. Was it ... no, it couldn't be, but ... it had to be.

Then the owner called out the name of the strill. Cab'ika, aka Lord Cabur. It was that old strill. The memories he brought up, about his former owner. Good old Galaar, the son of a hutt. Went against his brothers and got himself killed. He went against his brothers, but Jackpot forgave him, he was a vod, a fellow soldier just doing his duty. He chose his path, he chose his fate. The same applied to Calico. Speaking of Calico, the man in the armour, he looked like Calico's, but different. Who else would have both the Lord Cabur and the armour with him? It had to be-

What was Marvik saying about Lord Cabur? Was he truly suggesting hurting the old strill? How dare he.

As Marvik walked over to the strill, Jackpot followed. His new friend leaned down and went to grab the woman's hand, but Jackpot drew back his foot and launched his armoured boot right between his friend's legs. That should teach him. He then continued to lean down to wrap his arms around the strill and petting him after letting it familiarise itself with his scent once more; Afterwards he turned and walked to Calico. He stood still in front of the man for a few seconds, then he went in for a hug.

"It's been too long, boss. It's been far too long." A singular manly tear rolled down his face. This was getting too sentimental for his old heart.

[member="Marvik Dathu"] [member="Corin Tal'verda"] [member="Astrid"] [member="Tyris Hayes"] [member="Saran Drast"]

 

[Revenchent]

Corin fought the urge to reach for his sidearm. Lord Cabur had been the transgressor, but drunks were dangerous. There were a multitude of reasons Corin did not partake in such things; Cabur's safety being among them. He assessed the duo from the safety of his visor, his brow furrowing. The younger man spoke his people's tongue, though his intoxicated speech made it difficult to discern.

The other one...did he know the old man? Lord Cabur sidled up to the man, pawing at licking at him as if he'd reunited with an old friend. The youth watched the exchange warily, ready to solve any problems that might arise from the Strill's friendliness. He paid the younger man's attentions toward Astrid no mind. This was more important.

He stood rigid as the elder man laced his arms around him. All at once, Corin knew whom this stranger was. He looked far too similar to his father to be anything else. "Shh, udesii, vod, udesii." Corin cooed in the same tones his father had used when cradling him. He patted the older man along the back, and pulled away from the embrace.

"I'm sorry, but I think you have me confused with my father." He reached up to remove his helmet. Corin looked akin to his father, though his skin tone was lighter, and his eyes were a pale blue. He offered the clone a thin, albiet warm smile. "My name is Corin. I'm his firstborn. I've come to finish what my buir never had the chance to."

With a bit of amusement, Corin glanced over the younger man and Astrid. "...He probably didn't need them anyway."

[member="Jackpot"], [member="Marvik Dathu"], [member="Tyris Hayes"], [member="Astrid"], [member="Saran Drast"]