Belching Frog Ranch

Preef Callo

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Gunslinger

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Location: Belching Frog Ranch
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.
 

Preef Callo

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Independent
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Gunslinger

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Ecclessey
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Nine days later​

<<What about you and me rob that train together?>>

In an instant the holo disappeared and then Preef deleted the movie from his datapad. Shaking his head and sighing, the rodian said "Lived through that one," and raised himself up from the bed. It had been a lazy day. The Bantha really were low maintenance and now that they were used to him being around he started to get really -really- bored.

The day before he'd seen a flick about Fathier racing on Canto Bight and it intrigued him more than he'd like to admit. "Maybe I can raise fathiers," he told himself as he made his way to the door. They were considerably larger than him and needed a lot of space, especially if he wanted to train them for racing. Space he had, ofcourse, as he could ride them freely outside of his own land as well. None of the surrounding lands were privately owned and he could ride for days before seeing another living humanoid. As he stepped outside his prefab cottage it dawned on him, however, that to raise fathiers he needed a stable. They would be considerably more high maintenance than his two bantha. "Hmm," the rodian grimaced, "lotta credits for a gamble."

Shaking his head, Preef dispelled the idea from his mind for now. He simply didn't have the credits to spare. It was then that he noticed that the bantha had walked out of sight and try as he might he couldn't find them on the plain the cottage overlooked. "They're high maintenance enough," he sighed and made his way over to his speeder bike. He'd most likely find them over at the river taking a bath or simply drinking. With the amount of milk they were giving they had to refill their liquids at some point, didn't they?

It didn't take long before the speeder, with Preef on its back, reached the river and there the bantha were indeed standing waist-deep in the cold fresh water. He'd give them a couple of minutes more and then shout them back towards the cottage. They were his only cattle and he wasn't planning on losing them to some Tokadana predator.

 

Preef Callo

Character
Independent
Rank
Gunslinger

Character Profile
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Ecclessey
Joined
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Reaction score
246
They almost looked peaceful. A pack of wolves had migrated to Tokadana by way of spaceship and were now praying on Preef's little bantha herd. Unfortunately for the distant relatives of the Kath hound, they had migrated a little too close for comfort and the rodian gunslinger was looking at them through the scope of a high powered hunting rifle. He watched them play with the young and chew on what remained of their last hunt. Soon they'd go hunting again, perhaps tonight, and decide the bantha would get them through the coming winter just fine. Preef couldn't take that chance.

With a deep sigh he took aim for the male, adjusted for the wind and distance and waited. He knew killing the dominant male of a small pack like this would limit their hunting efforts to mice and rodents. They wouldn't dare to try and take on one of Preef's herd and that was good enough for the rodian. No point in killing the babies. Plus, he wasnt sure he could quite bring himself to do it anyway. He followed the alpha male through his scope until the mighty wolf finally sat down on a high spot overlooking his pack. Much like the rodian he was the king of his domain. He over his pack and Preef over the Crymorah Syndicate. Only one of them was holding a rifle, though, and the rodian slowly exhaled.

The distance was great, the target relatively small and the conditions not quite ideal. Still the rodian slowly pulled the trigger and with a powerful jolt the rifle produced a bolt of plasma that shot towards the wolf with an impressive speed. The wolf's yelp was barely audible, but the bolt hit with such force that it propelled the creature from its rock and his pack soon confirmed Preef's kill, by howling in grief.

Breathing in, the rodian kept watch for a moment, but his target never came up again the distraught running around of the other wolves told him the pack was in great distress. Ofcourse it was. Its leader was dead and there was no clear successor. Preef allowed himself to smile as he realized that the Crymorah Syndicate wouldn't react much different. Families in distress, all preparing to become the new alpha once they realize that Preef had no real heir. Bloodshed was inevitable, just with the wolves. Males would die, further weakening the hunting group and ensuring the safety of his bantha.

His mission accomplished, the rodian rancher rose and slung his rifle over his shoulder as he looked towards the setting sun and his own prefab cottage in the distance. It was good to be home. Even if it was just the calm before the storm.

 
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