Aboard Commandeered Crusader Corvette en route to Onderon
The hunter sighed and ran his hands through his hair as he exited the bridge. He felt like he’d aged a decade in the past few weeks. Between their visit to Aska’s childhood home and their most recent trip to Mataou he’d seen enough zombies to last him a lifetime. He just wanted to go home and sleep for a month or two.
As he walked down the pristine hallway of his new ship the hunter examined his clothing. There was still a good deal of grime and guts coating his beloved Anooba fur coat. It was completely unsalvageable. He wandered between the different sleeping quarters of the ship, shamelessly rifling through the belongings of whoever the former owners were. They were Hutts and Hutt sycophants. He wasn’t too concerned. He was quite sure he was on their shit list already.
Eventually he found some clothes that looked like they’d fit him, a bright red long sleeved shirt and some dark trousers. The hunter stripped himself of his savage’s clothing and showered before changing into the more comfortable attire. He kept his belt, holstering his Westar on one hip and his hunting knife on the other as always. He didn’t expect the slaves operating the ship to turn on him, he had promised to make them rich after all, and he intended to follow through on that promise. But he wasn’t the type to trust easily. It was always better to be safe than sorry.
Freshened up and no longer fearing infection he continued his tour of the ship, taking in its silent beauty. It had potential, he just had to figure out what the hell to do with it. He’d been a game hunter and then a bounty hunter. Why would either of those have need of a warship? He stopped walking and wondered. Was he really just a hunter anymore? That’s how he’d always styled himself. A man only tolerating the niceties of civilized society, preferring to stay out in the wild as much as possible. But how long had it been since his last expedition? He was thoroughly wrapped up in everyone else’s business, moving from one planet to the next and fighting the targets they chose. He didn’t know how to feel about that.
Poffo and Aska were his friends. It’s not like he could just walk away from them to go back to what he was doing before. So, what was he supposed to do? The idea was actually frightening to him. In the wild everything was simple. Black and white. You hunted, you found shelter, you survived. Civilization was complicated. It was confusing. It made him lose sight of things. It made him do things that weren’t purely in the interest of survival. Like trying to shoot a fleeing slave for manipulating him. And hitting an innocent teenager in the crossfire. Klied’s brow furrowed and his face set into a deep frown as he started walking again. Well, that was one thing he could do. Fix something he’d broken.