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Jack was sweaty. He adjusted his collar and fought against the heat. No wait it wasn't the heat it was the humidity. At least that's what the locals kept telling him. Actually the locals told him HGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGRGR and pretended that was a language and Jack was frankly too intimidated to...

This was stupid. What was he doing. Jack had made many a mistake in his life, mainly involving marriage or the purchase of nerf. This however was in a class of its own. Wookie's were known galaxy wide for one thing and one thing only. It wasn't building cities, or guiding tours, or painting...

@Zay Another day had passed. Another day on this Force forsaken planet. Tattooine, a world of desert and not much else. Bantha roamed with their sand people taskmasters who went about raiding for no reason. Settlers clung to their moisture farms to literally eke out an existence from what...

Ando Prime. It was a world as cold as its people. Jack Graves had been told that these Deucalians were not native to this world nor any he could name. They came from beyond the stars. When she... the one he used to love, told him of her tale and the tale of her people stretching back...

Hutt space wasn't like what it used to be. At least that's how the Hutt's tell it. While back Jack caught an interview with an old lorda who bragged about the legions of slaves he had, the oodles of cash, the army of mercs. Fat lot of good that did them in the end, but still the roots of the...

There was little that excited Jack these days. Hunts were a means to an end. Clues were often dead ends. Food was ash and drink was tasteless. Words were the bounty hunter's life blood. His mother told him words were worlds. Some were dead and useless, others filled with horrors, still others...

Brandy, you're a fine girl, what a good wife you would be, but my life, my love, and my lady is the sea. The words drifted from an old holorecorder with a shimmering band barely making a dent in the dusty air. Wispy and forlorn, like ghosts these monuments to long dead musicians were fading...

Gamor - Late Morning The food was like ash here. Everything was. Swirling some awful mush, the somber man stared off thinking over the words he jotted in a crinkled paper rolling between his scarred knuckles. Sweat-stained and dense with musk and hate the half-pulped parchment was all that kept...