Walker Twin-Sleeves
For only chits on the credit!
Contentious opinion: Mandalorians were somewhat competitive.
Tooling around in Beskar space, Walker had arrived upon many pieces of free, largely useless knowledge. This farmer disliked that one for horning in on his market, for example, or that this clan had non-combat issues with this other clan based upon whatever, he hadn't really been paying attention once the idea had occurred to him to turn this aimless and largely benign animosity into something that could be useful, be harnessed. Basically, something that he could turn a profit from.
And so, the Annual Haseria Faire had been born! Annual, because there'd been one on that planet at some point, or some sort of competition roughly approximating a faire. It was close enough for his work. Convincing various farmers, chili cooks, and the like to show up had been as easy as suggesting that their rivals had already signed up, and might win a prize or accolade with them absent from the contest. Categories like 'fattest hog', 'greatest musician', 'largest vegetable', or 'best roast' had brought eager competitors from far and wide, happy to pay a modest price for a stall or entranced fee. Enough to hire on some security and stake out a slice of Haseria to host the thing.
The festivities were in full swing, Walker reflected cheerfully as he counted his earnings and considered a swift egress. The smell of fried food, livestock, guitars sounds and beer lingered in the air, and he was fairly sure that this field would forever be more mud than soil. Which was nice, because he wasn't accountable for the condition of the grass.
The only thing that could ruin the game, would be if the Mandos got too wild. Then there might be insurance issues and angry farmers expecting better security... But more importantly, it'd be hard to set this racket up again next year. Walker wasn't overly concerned, anyway. Everyone knew that Mandalorians had cultural ways of settling arguments in a civilized manner, right?
Tooling around in Beskar space, Walker had arrived upon many pieces of free, largely useless knowledge. This farmer disliked that one for horning in on his market, for example, or that this clan had non-combat issues with this other clan based upon whatever, he hadn't really been paying attention once the idea had occurred to him to turn this aimless and largely benign animosity into something that could be useful, be harnessed. Basically, something that he could turn a profit from.
And so, the Annual Haseria Faire had been born! Annual, because there'd been one on that planet at some point, or some sort of competition roughly approximating a faire. It was close enough for his work. Convincing various farmers, chili cooks, and the like to show up had been as easy as suggesting that their rivals had already signed up, and might win a prize or accolade with them absent from the contest. Categories like 'fattest hog', 'greatest musician', 'largest vegetable', or 'best roast' had brought eager competitors from far and wide, happy to pay a modest price for a stall or entranced fee. Enough to hire on some security and stake out a slice of Haseria to host the thing.
The festivities were in full swing, Walker reflected cheerfully as he counted his earnings and considered a swift egress. The smell of fried food, livestock, guitars sounds and beer lingered in the air, and he was fairly sure that this field would forever be more mud than soil. Which was nice, because he wasn't accountable for the condition of the grass.
The only thing that could ruin the game, would be if the Mandos got too wild. Then there might be insurance issues and angry farmers expecting better security... But more importantly, it'd be hard to set this racket up again next year. Walker wasn't overly concerned, anyway. Everyone knew that Mandalorians had cultural ways of settling arguments in a civilized manner, right?