Location: Belching Frog Ranch
Between Chapter I and Chapter II
Between Chapter I and Chapter II
He didn't have a porch, so Preef sat on the grass with his back against the prefab cottage. His two bantha were grazing lazily about two dozen meters away and four meters apart. The only sound was the territorial chirping of some birds and the rodian himself whenever he took a sip from his own distilled honey flavored shine. He couldn't remember a moment in time that he hadn't been surrounded by the noises of crowded speederlanes or streets. On Shaddaa there was always a ruckus to be heard and never a true moment of peace and quiet. At least, not in the housing he had been able to afford.
Here on Tokadana he finally found the peace of mind he needed to reflect. What had he been doing in the past years? His entire life? He wasn't even sure what he wanted to achieve or why he did things and didn't want to do other thing. Perhaps he didn't know himself as good as he thought..
It was three years ago now that the Crimson Dawn had bought him from the Hutts. Three years of working for criminal syndicates and finding out that he was good at it, but also that he didn't quite care for it either. He had robbed a casino on Canto Bight, helped someone escape from a prison ship, fought an underworld war on Kessel, undermined a rival syndicate on Coruscant and lost a good friend. Preef found that above all, he missed Kholvar. His mind often flashed back to the large Trianii trying to eat noodles and get his fur covered in soup. Perhaps that was one of the reasons Preef was still so fond of noodles. He had made a new friend, Marissa, but she was the exact opposite of Kholvar. She was dependable, smart and unimposing yet assertive. Kholvar was none of those things, not at all someone Preef could count on and yet.. he had been a dear friend.
The rodian smiled, "Kholvar would've hated this place." He slowly pushed himself up against the cottage. He had been sitting for a while and his knees were stiff and his muscles slow to stretch, but they did and then the rodian stood and inhaled fresh oxygen rich air. Another thing that was rare on the Smuggler's Moon. Slowly but surely he walked over to his two bantha while the sun started its descent and the sky turned orange. "Or maybe he wouldn't," Preef had noted the Trianii's long unexplained absences and for all the rodian knew he could've had a family somewhere or, though unlikely, a ranch much like this. "You're still a mystery to me, buddy," he said to the setting sun. Maybe one day he'd know, but then the galaxy was too big a place to keep track and find lost things.
The banthas became skittish when he came closer. They hadn't really seen him since their arrival on Takodana on account of the rodian's frequent travels and complicated ways to keep this place hidden from the syndicates and law enforcement. The first week he was back they didn't even dare venture close to the cottage and only venture nearer on days he showed up with snacks. The day before one of them had agreed to be milked and got Preef his first jug of fresh blue milk ever. He had been overjoyed, but was still only allowed to move very still when he was nearby. They were skittish and after the ordeal of their interstellar transport to his land he couldn't really blame them. They'll come around, he knew, Bantha were easy to keep.
What lay heavy on the rodian's mind was his role in the Five Syndicates and tonight, just like every night, he found himself to be mulling over his options. The credits were nice and he would never deny that it was a thrill to rob a casino, but stuff like the war on Kessel weighed him down. For a few credits more the crime lords could carelessly order the deaths of dozens of desperate scoundrels. He didn't like it, but could he refuse to kill them if the Crimson Dawn told him to? They owned him. Getting initiated in the Bounty Hunter's Guild seemed like a solution to a problem he wasn't aware of. As a hunter he could use his only talent for something less trivial than adding to a crimelord's line of credit. The credits he'd get from hunting also wouldn't be on the syndicate's radar, so he could use them to expand on this place. "You two really need more friends, don't you?" he sighed apologetically and touched the side of the one bantha that allowed him to touch her, "Maybe some chickens, too?" he envisioned chickens sitting on their backs and riding them around the land like a bad HoloNet cartoon for children. However childish, it did seem homely and innocent. It was better he dreamed of that than of creating his own criminal syndicate.
The treetops seemed to be marching on the sun and cast long shadows over the grass and the cottage. It was time to go inside, open up a rations pack and watch that bad holoflick for the twelfth time.