War Stories

[Gilamar Skirata]

It had been a while since he was able to get a drink in silence. He took a deep breath, the smell of deathsticks and cheap booze filled him with nostalgia for times long since past. Days when he traveled the galaxy with nothing but his trusty freighter, a gun at his hip, and his Beskar'gam. Now, well over half a century later, he was starting to feel his age catch up with him. He had been in a coma for the better part of a year and was supposed to be on board The Codex in a medical wing under supervision of the Skirata Ori'ramikade. But the bed wasn't for him, and now absolved of clan leadership for the time being while he "recovered" he felt it was time to get his boots on the ground again and see what the Galaxy had really become.

He motioned for the bartender and slid him a few credits before whispering in his ear. The Glaucus nodded and whispered something into his own com before sliding Gil his drink of choice. Really the only drink they had on this backwater spaceport. Whatever it was it was green and in a good pint mug. He grimaced at first, shrugged and took his first plunge into the cup.

Gil had seen much of the Galaxy as a younger mercenary and even more through the Ori'ramikad during his time as Mand'alor. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"You know usually I walk into a bar and my line is 'I'll have whatever he's having'."

Clunk. To Gilamar's right a gleam of battle-scarred metal pinging from a helmet set atop the bar. Follow the line of hands to arms to shoulders to face, he'd find a woman of equal rapport looking at him with sharp hazel eyes, "but I think I'll take a pass on your tankard of rancor snot. What the feth is that?"

It was an amiable enough start to a conversation, no hint of animosity to her tone. Even yet, the faintly glowing red scars adorning her face pulled and pinched in the effort of a tired smirk. A Mercenary, judging by the look of her armored and armed self; one who had seen an unfair amount of years judging by the lines of her expression. She set herself gracelessly down onto a stool two seats away from him and ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair, looking expectant for an answer.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

"It's not as bad as it looks."

He raised the mug back up to his lips, the strong fermented beverage causing his face to scrunch up. He had lied. It was as bad as it looked. The mug slowly made its way down back to the bar, the man defeated. "Maybe I should have passed on the 'Rodian Funk'" He seemed to be a spacer, down on his luck. A grey beard gone too long without maintenance, a greasy flannel with rolled up sleeves and a pair of pants with pockets up the sides adorned this less than graceful man. An old Mandalorian blaster pistol was strapped to his waist, the only weapon visible and he smelled suspiciously like a med bay.

"What brings a youngling like you to this station, in that armor?" Maybe not the best way to respond, but he couldn't help but critique her armor.
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

This particular merc was damn near intimately familiar with the stink and taste of bacta - the particular eau causing her nose to wrinkle in distaste of the familiar far sooner than the realization of what it was hit her. Such was her life anymore - all instincts but a bit foggy in the command center.

She snorted in response. To everything.

"Isn't it obvious? I swing through to pick up the young bucks. Arli," she nodded to the Glaucus barkeep, "how's it? Got anything under the shelf?"

"Fresh out, Scheler."

A sigh, she flicked a hefty credit chit across the counter.

"Oh, I think I just found something," a hazey bottle of liquid amber produced, half full per her visual inspection.

"That's enough for two," she said, glancing over towards the man, "get one out for him. Can't stand to see a young buck mope over a crap drink."

Two tumblers emptied the bottle.

"Cheers," a smirk and a sip.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

"Young buck? Lass, I'm probably old enough to be your father." He huffed, but graciously took the drink. He couldn't tell if he should feel flattered or insulted by her calling him young. It was a similar feeling to being an old Mandalorian. Did he get here because he was smart? Or a coward? He took a sip and sighed before raising his glass. He wondered how long it would be until they found him. How long would he be able to just enjoy a drink with a stranger that wasn't a Mandalorian hell bent on finding the ones responsible for Manda'yaim's demise or debating whether or not they should return to the Mando'ade. He would leave those things to new leadership. He just wanted to gallivant across the Galaxy again.

"Thanks for the drink. You've got a name?"
[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Glass en-route for another sip came to an abrupt halt at the mention of age. Awe, he was just trying to flatter-

-no, no he wasn't. Not with that sort of expression on his face.

"500 credits and a shet bounty mission says you're not."

Sip. This wasn't Whyrens but it also wasn't rancor snot and she also hadn't had Whyrens in quite a while. Too pricey for a merc like herself to indulge in. Especially since she'd been forced into a detox, probably best she didn't quite like what she tasted now. Would keep her from diving off the deep end again; Ardik would appreciate the sentiment. Probably.

"Scheler," she set the glass down and turned a degree towards the man, "Hazel Scheler," her eyes narrowed but the smirk remained, "just how young do you think I am, Buck?"

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He drained his drink and put the glass on the table defiantly. He could have guessed wrong on purpose, just to get off this station and farther away from the clan, but his pride was on the line. A crummy bounty job didn't sound that bad a price to pay for proving himself right and 500 credits was chump change for him.

"40-45 standard years."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

The laugh burst out of her before she could ever hope to stop it.

"That...that's kind of you," back to her drink, another sip. Longer this time. She hitched a gloved thumb upwards to tell the man to keep climbing those numbers.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Gil's eyes narrowed at the bounty hunter. It was true, some people who lived the life they did lived long, healthy lives and physical activity like theirs tended to keep the body youthful, but even he was starting to become an exception to the rule. It was hard to imagine someone close to him in age looking so...young.

"50 is as high as I'll go." There was no way she was older than that. Well...Maybe if she was one of those weird near-humans who didn't age like humans. Either way he had lost the bet.

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Maybe it was an unfair bet, I'll give that to you."

The woman gave an easy smile and straightened herself slightly on the stool, "Add another twenty and you're in the right decade at the very least. I've had some reconstructive surgery done," she gestured to her head with an armored hand, smirking. It was meant to be ironic given the nature of her heavily scarred face. Red marks coursed across her expression, jaw, and neck like lightning, giving off a faint glow.

"So what's your story, Buck."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He was still skeptical. He couldn't tell if she was messing with him or not because he was old. But he felt obliged to at least answer her.

"Mandalorian." It was simple, but it was enough for at least a partial story. "I've been all over the Galaxy, fought as many battles as there are species in this karking 'verse," he paused to motion towards the bartender to fill has glass again. "And I'm tired." Tired of the Mandalorian war with anyone who had a gun, tired of the Sith and the Jedi with their games, tired of White Knight factions pretending to be benevolent leaders. "I just wish the Galaxy was more honest, like during the plague." Was that acceptable to say? Probably not.

But he was an old man so who cared?

 

[Hazel Scheler]

Mandalorians were interesting, so far as she was concerned. She'd met a few, fought alongside a couple others, made the acquaintance of a particularly troubled one a couple years back, but all in all they seemed to be decent people. For a culture as battle-ready and war-hardened as they were, they took care of their own and kept to a certain kind of moral code.

She liked that. For everything she knew of them and everything more that she didn't, saying he was Mandalorian was probably one of the best answers to hear.

"Cheers," Hazel replied as he tucked in to his fresh drink, taking another sip from her own. It was a gesture of understanding that darkened somewhat at the mention of the plague.

"I don't know about that," the Merc hunched back over her tumbler again, "not sure if 'honest' is the right word. Seems to me raw works better. Those were dark times when everyone suffered, not just the the little people." Had to be careful how she talked about the Gulag era, didn't want to come across like she'd been there to experience herself. Because she had. Wasn't something you wanted to tell people now - was enough to start a panic.

"But tired is as tired does. I can't afford to be tired, it doesn't put fuel in my ship."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

He grunted in response.

"You're still working to keep fuel in the tank? At your age? Now I know you're joking about your age." Mandalorians were a frugal people, especially the ones that saw as much success as he had during his prime. Getting into the life was an investment for sure, but he had never taken a job that wouldn't put food on the table, gas in the tank, and money in the bank. It was kind of a policy his father had instilled in him and it showed responsibility adhering to the Resol'nare to a T.

"But if you're looking for steady work I hear that Outer Rim Coalition and GA are always looking for mercs to fight their battles for 'em." He took another sip of his drink. "There's always work in a this Galaxy, even if the wars have died down recently there's always skirmishes. Someone always needing their skull cracked, some farmer always needing a little hint that it's time to sign on or pack up."

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Seen enough death and carnage to last ten lifetimes," a hand quietly and slowly spun her tumbler on the counter, "I don't kill people. Not for fun and certainly not for money. Non-lethal Mercs got it a little harder out here."

She gave a strained smile, "We'll just say my retirement plan got lost in deep space about ten years back. Non-lethal jobs don't pay as well and require a lot of travel. Have to keep moving to keep afloat. Like I said," the woman downed the last of her own drink, "can't afford to be tired."

She smacked the counter with a hand and stood from her stool, "Well, always good to meet a Mandalorian, but I've got to go see an alien about a rangy dog. Don't worry about the bet, s'all in good fun."

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

"I don't like leaving bets unpaid."

He stood up and shifted his shirt uncomfortably before patting his pants down. "Besides, its been a while since I had a no-kill bounty. Maybe this old dog show you a thing or two." He still didn't believe her age. "Or maybe you'll surprise me." He had no armor, no weapons, and no ship. All of his gear was aboard The Codex and if he went back there he'd be stuck in the med bay or his room and that was no fun. "Let me-"

He cut himself off as two Mandalorians in black and blue armor entered the bar and pointed at him. Without thinking he moved forward quickly and grabbed the Merc's arm, leading her to another exit. "Wherever you were going lets move a little quicker eh?"

"Hey! You! Get back here old man, we don't have time for games!"

"Let's try and lose these young bucks eh Scheler?"

 

[Hazel Scheler]

She had come in here for a quiet drink and now she was leaving with a Young Buck and two buckets of trouble on her heels.

Why these sorts of things kept happening to her she would never know.

Merc allowed Buck to lead her out a back exit, stride quickening to follow a pace that was becoming somewhat alarming.

"What did you do, Buck? Steal their girlfriends?" her smirk disappeared beneath her helmet, hiss sounding as it locked into place. The internal HUD flared to life, signaling an alarm as one of their tails fired off a tether line towards them. Hazel gave a sudden heave with her left arm, hauling the man off his feet and to the right. The tether narrowly missed ensnaring his leg and sunk into a trash receptacle.

"You know, normally I charge people for these kinds of services - this way," ducking off down a set of stairs she took them three steps at a time. Docks weren't much farther.

[member="Gilamar Skirata"]

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

"What did you do, Buck? Steal their girlfriends?"

He grimaced in response, "Something like that." Despite taking charge at first, this was his first time on this station and he actually had no idea where he was going. He watched her helmet snap into place and suddenly longed for his own armor, but alas it was locked up somewhere within the Skirata Flotilla.

ZZzzzzziiiiiip

"That was close, thanks."

He turned to shake an angry old fist at the Mandalorians before getting pulled down a set of stairs. "I haven't been whisked away by a young lass like this in quite some time!" he shouted over the loud clanging of her boots on durasteel stairs. He huffed and puffed keeping up with his new found accomplice.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Don't do much whisking," she admitted, taking the last landing of steps in a bound with a moment to glance back up to see if their pursuers were still hot-

PEW-PING

Yep.

"mostly just schlepping," Hazel grabbed the man by the arm again, this time with her cybernetic hand, and may have gripped him a bit more tightly than she meant to, and schlepped the man along with her to quicken his stride. They passed down a promenade lined with lights and signs indicating the various docks.

H. H. Dock H.

She dropped a smoke bomb back between dock rails E and F and hauled ass down to the next row, hanging a right towards Dock H. The Egris sat awaiting them towards the end. Nearly home free-

PEW

"GAH-" caught her on her good leg right in the knee joint, bolt sizzling through connecting plastoids and meshes down to the skin. Her sprint turned into a limp as she shoved the man forward, "that one on the right, get in!" and hobbled up the ramp after him.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

The karking kids actually fired. Stun bolts, but still, he can't believe they would. It made him a little proud but also made his heart race even more. He should probably have asked if she was alright, but all he could do was smirk.

"On the right," he repeated and jogged up the ramp. A stun bolt flew past his head and into the ship, barely missing him. The old man sucked his teeth and pulled out his blaster and set it to stun before firing once or twice at the two Mandalorians emerging from the smoke bomb.

"Smoke bombs don't really work on Mandalorians, their visors are top of the line, can see through damn near anything." He put out a hand, offering to help the other Merc up the last few steps of the ramp.

[member="Ivy Lasranae"]

 

[Hazel Scheler]

"Yeah well that's all I got on me, Buck -" Hazel snarled after the man, taking his offered hand and limping up the rest of the way. She slammed a fist onto the lift gate console and hurriedly staggered off down the hall towards the cockpit of her ship. Moments later the engines roared to life and [member="Gilamar Skirata"] got to watch his boys grow smaller as the ship pulled away from the docks. One of them pulled out a different sort of gadget and shot at the ship - sinking a tracking beacon into the hull as it drifted off.

Lips thin, jaw locked, the Merc piloted out of the docking areas and into open space all the while contemplating how she always ended up with random stray dogs on her ship.

"You know I just got in good with the Mandos a few months back," the woman spoke as she heard his footsteps enter the cabin, "I sure hope your hijinks hasn't harmed my standing in Mando space. Actually got some decent paying jobs there."