The Hunter's Path: New Beginnings

[Stormthroe]

Rotoksa Ridge Grand Lodge, Saki​

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The Hunter’s Valley sparkled as snow lightly fell, drifting slowly down from the sky to evaporate on the particle shield that isolated the vale. Hundreds of kilometers long, this place was probably the closest thing to a holy place as any on Saki; stocked by the Rotoksa Grand Lodge with some of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy, it was at once both a game preserve and a shrine to the hunting culture of the Sakiyan people.

Kree-Vos hardly noticed the chill in the air as he leaned against the railing overlooking the Rotoksa Ridge Grand Lodge from the moutainside, curiously studying the enormous stone and timber building that Saki’s greatest hunters called home. He watched quietly, unphased by the cold of the Valley’s mouth, as travelers and pilgrims alike milled around the Ridgetown streets, bargaining at the various merchant stalls for weapons, armors, and provisions, and trading boastful tales at the many cantinas and watering holes that catered to those with hopes to join the ranks of the esteemed organization. Looking across the busy streets towards Ridgetown Square, his eyes fell on the towering spire that served as the headquarters for the Bounty Hunters Guild, and beyond it the landing fields where shuttles came and went through all hours of the day.

Tentatively, Kree-Vos averted his eyes to focus on the datapad he had previously forgotten he held precariously over the 100 meter drop from the railing. He rubbed a thumb to clear the frost that had begun to form on its screen, revealing the bold letters reading “Republic Peacekeeping Certificate,” followed by his name and other various credentials. Waiting in line at the Republic Office of Criminal Investigation for three hours had irritated him to no end, but the document now in his hands was worth the wait.

With a swift flick of his finger, he switched the screen over to show the information of his first official acquisition. He sighed, annoyed by the minimal information it displayed - one would think that the price of a license to operate as a bounty hunter for the Republic would cover the release of information on the dangerous criminals they wanted brought to justice - but he was willing to work with what he had to to get the job done. He had paid for an hour of time on the DataCore, and during that time, despite the slow speed of the outdated devices the ROCI were “required” to use, he had found the perfect first hunt.

BOUNTY NOTICE
The office of Gavarl Celwick, co-administrator-in-chief of the spice mines of Kessel, is offering a 10,000 credit reward for the killing or capture of the Aqualish pirate Pondin Balu. This dangerous outlaw from Republic justice was found guilty by Republic trial of:

• The murder of Republic Security Operatives
• Destruction of Republic property
• Movement of illegal contraband
• Black marketeering of narcotics
• Criminal Conspiracy
• Piracy

For more information, contact any local representatives of Republic authority.

Kree-Vos read through the bounty once more, including the small attached list of other hunters with whom he now shared the bounty - and those who had failed thus far.

A loud roar echoed from the Hunter’s Valley, followed by a loud scream that drew his gaze up from the datapad. Ridgetown went oddly silent for a moment, as if to mourn the fallen, before shouts rose up to organize a search party and bring back what was left of the failed hunter’s body.

Kree-Vos bowed his head and closed his eyes in reverence and muttered a quiet prayer for the fallen, nameless hunter to Cetanu, the Black Hunter, Guardian of the Realm Beyond. As he finished, he brought up the datapad, pulling up an open broadcast to several of the other hunters and connecting them to his own frequency.

Reaching up to his slightly pointed ears,he tapped the comlink in his ear.

“My name is Jaa Kree-Vos of Saki. It seems we must hunt as a pack, or die like anooba. I will be on Formos in three days time.” Kree-Vos paused a moment to bring up a list of cantinas close to the spaceport, before speaking again. “If you think as I do, meet at the Rii Jenks Cantina at high-sun, local time. I look forward to the hunt, kv’var mei’hswein*.”

* = Hunt Brothers/Sisters

 

[Stormthroe]

Formos Spaceport, Formos​

Kree-Vos bolted upright, drawing his repulsor carbine and leveling it at the man who had just put a boot into the back of his seat. The raggedly-shaven Corellian at the end of the muzzle raised a hand from the helm, shocked by the sudden aggression.

“Woah,” said the man, recoiling away from the Sakiyan apologetically, “woah, mate.” Kree-Vos slowly lowered the weapon, placing it back at his side in his bucket seat as he realized where he was now that he’d recovered from the sudden wake up.

“I apologize, Captain Vatik,” said Kree-Vos flatly, groggily wiping the sleep from his eyes. The sounds and smells from the freighter assailed his senses with new vigor as he regained consciousness, and he was rather surprised he had even fallen asleep with the noise from the skipping mag-coupling in the engine and the stench of leaking hydraulic fluid. “I forgot where I was for a moment. I am not as used to space travel as I would care to be.”

“Droyk, you’re jumpy. Common trait among all the Sakiyans I guess,” spoke the freighter pilot, swallowing hard before returning his hand to the helm. A moment later, a sly smile had returned to the man’s face. “Not all of ‘em have pulled a gun on me, though. My fault, friend. I tried to wake you, but you were running pretty cold.”

Vatik pointed out the cockpit at the approaching planet.

“I just wanted to let you know, we’re approaching Formos. Once we put down and I run through customs, you’ll be free to go.”

Kree-Vos blinked, unimpressed by the man’s joke and turned his head to look out the transparisteel viewport. The captain rolled his eyes and muttered about a lack of humor also being a common trait, but Kree-Vos ignored the Corellian. He’d arranged travel with the freighter captain out of convenience; Captain Vatik was ferrying a delivery of spare parts for some Ubrikkian Industries repulsor engines to the Kessel Spice Mines, and after a brief negotiation, had agreed to have the young hunter along for the ride The company would not have been so insufferable if it weren’t for the human’s crude attempts at humor every few minutes, and Kree-Vos had grown jaded by listening to him yap on about this thing or that, coupled between the occasional sickening lurch as the scrap heap around them groaned. Vatik had played it off, saying the “old girl was flirting with him,” but already somewhat uncomfortable with hyperspace travel, Kree-Vos hadn’t laughed and was anxious to get his feet on solid ground.

Remaining silent, Kree-Vos let the freighter captain chatter away in the background with only an occasional nod or casual agreement in return, disdainfully ignoring any further jokes during the landing process. He watched as Vatik brought the freighter around the planet, the ship descending into the upper atmosphere. The banking motion caused the bright light of the raging Formos sun to suddenly flare across the cockpit; Kree-Vos gasped and tightly shut his eyelids, momentarily stunned by the full spectrum light, and scrambled blindly for his protective visor. He hastily engaged its clasps to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight just as they began to water from the sudden exposure, slowly blinking them open.

Captain Tavik gazed at him curiously, raising an eyebrow; in response to the human’s look of concern, Kree-Vos turned the small dial on the visor to dim the light to a more comfortable level.

“My species has far more sensitive eyesight than any human. Light as bright as this can be...uncomfortable,” he said, wiping a running tear from his dark-olive cheek. He looked at it, ever so slightly flushing a darker shade of green due to embarrassment before taking a deep breath, his skin quickly returning to its regular color as he recentered himself.

Tavik shrugged in response, pressing a few buttons on the console in front of him. Either he hadn’t noticed, or had finally abandoned his attempts at jocularity in the face of Kree-Vos’s stern expressions.

“If the light bothers you, I’d suggest that you keep that visor handy for your little vacation. Formos isn’t exactly known for it’s cloudy days.” The console emitted a low, droning series of beeps, to which the spacer replied with a quick press of another button. With a frown, he continued, “However, it’s sandstorms are a different story. The scanners show a large one headed in from the east, about two days out. If you’re out in the wastes during that time, well...I’d suggest you aren’t.”

Kree-Vos blinked, then nodded curtly.

“Your concern is appreciated, Captain,” he replied. The spacer cocked his head, then chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Kree-Vos’s measured attitude.

“Well, if I’m in need of a nice, cold break after this drop, I’ll make sure to give you a call, Jaa.”

“Kree-Vos. Jaa is my pride name,” he corrected. Kree-Vos raised his brow as Tavik laughed again, then banked the freighter around to head in the direction of Formos Spaceport.

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As soon as the seals hissed open, Kree-Vos was struck by the stale, parched air of Formos’ atmosphere. The desiccated air seem to rip the moisture from his insides, and the dry, cool climate felt intolerable compared to the humid jungles of Saki. Before he knew it, Kree-Vos was already growing dehydrated.

Fortunately for him, dozens of water sellers patrolled the streets further up, though their prices were no doubt astronomical, even extortionate compared to those on less severe worlds. As the two travelers descended to the landing platform, Captain Tavik jutted his chin with a grunt at a four-man group of bored-looking Border Alliance troopers approaching from further on.

“I got this, mate. Business as usual,” said the smaller human pilot with a grin. He reached inside his long, rough leather duster and produced a datapad containing the manifest for the ship. Kree-Vos merely nodded in response.

Leaning against the hydraulics of the cargo ramp, Kree-Vos crossed his arms across his chest, watching through the tint of his shaded visor as Tavik shook hands with the Republic customs officer who then half-heartedly inspected the manifest. He listened in from a distance, allowing the spacer to do the talking while he scanned the ramshackle settlement of ugly, utilitarian buildings, blocky and grey like the jagged crags that dot the surface of the planet. Granted, he was somewhat surprised by the customs officer’s failure to ask for his credentials when the captain had indicated he was a bounty hunter, but it was inconsequential.

The two humans traded a few more words, the customs officer asking about the goings-on coreward and Tavik getting the lowdown on any issues he should watch out for while visiting the Kessel system. Eventually, the two finished, shook hands once again, and parted ways.

Kree-Vos stood upright as Tavik approached.

“Looks like this is where we go our separate ways, mate. I’ve got some work to do elsewheres, so once I get refueled, I’ll be on my way. Good flying with you,” said the Captain, offering a hand.

Returning the human gesture, Kree-Vos gave him a firm handshake as he’d seen with the customs officer.

“Likewise, Captain,” he replied, “I appreciate your help.”

With that, Kree-Vos began to move past the freighter captain towards the disorderly jumble of dwellings and warehouses surrounding the docks and landing pads. He stopped as he felt Tavik grab his arm, looking down at the man.

“You might be fodder as a conversationalist, but you’re a good man. Stay safe out there. Formos isn’t known for its hospitality to strangers, especially the long arm of the law,” the Corellian warned.

Kree-Vos blinked and smiled, causing Captain Tavik to feign surprise behind a grin. He patted the Sakiyan’s muscled arm, before turning and stepping back into the bay of his freighter.

The tangle of duracrete buildings was a maze of tight alleyways filled with all manner of obstructions. Portable trash compactors, piles of cargo, and dilapidated moisture condensers lined the various gangways that threaded between the houses and shops of the Spaceport. It was a stark contrast to the well-organized clan-cities of his homeworld, more reminiscent of the aftermath of a landslide than any civilized settlement. Kree-Vos’s preternatural senses drank in the sights, sounds, and smells of the crude city as he made his way towards one of the two larger buildings that broke the otherwise featureless profile of the rooftops.

Mostly humans, the alleys were filled with people garbed in protective clothing moving to and fro while merchants hawked their wares from street corners and atop crates. There were, of course, other species, too. Weequay, Vodrans, Klatooinians - all races acquainted with arid climates and not so uncommonly found in service to the Hutts - were intermixed with the human majority, going about their business. Many other spacefaring races traveled to and from the docks, hauling cargo or barking orders in various alien languages.

Kree-Vos wasted no time making his way towards the Rii Jenks, ignoring the bustle of the sprawling city as he weaved his way towards the meeting spot. When he finally stepped into the lobby of the cantina, he was immediately aware of the change in atmosphere compared to the exterior; whereas a majority of the Spaceport was filthy and unruly, the inside of the Rii Jinks was refreshingly well-kept and cosmopolitan. The air conditioning and humidifier alone were nearly as welcoming as the drinks served at the well-stocked bar appeared to be. Looking around, the cantina was clearly popular among travelers and locals alike, though not so crowded as to make it impossible to find a booth.

Of the numerous people gathered inside, over three quarters were human, while the rest were a mix of Devaronians, Duros, Twi’leks, and other known spacer-species, as well as - oddly - a number of unaccompanied droids. A pair of Twi’leks were currently indisposed in the corner, oblivious to the passerby who snickered, sneered, and pointed at them. At the bar, an old Bith served a rather disgusting-looking swill to a Toydarian who was rather discreetly discussing something in a hushed tone with a figure dressed in a huge and enveloping hooded cloak.

Kree-Vos scouted the layout of the building as he made his way towards the bar; the cantina had two levels, the main level where sat the bar, and a circular balcony above with semi-private booths. The entire arrangement was made more intimate by keeping the balcony close to the main floor, causing it to feel more closed than its size would suggest. Off to the one side, the balcony gave way to a raised stage where an eccentrically dressed Sullustan played a freeform jatz and baka rock melody on his kloo horn. It was not terrible, and the bar patrons seemed to be enjoying the music nicely. Behind him, there was a door leading backstage. Other than that, the young hunter could see no other possible escape routes besides the main entrance.

Listening in on some of the conversations around him as he made his way upstairs, Kree-Vos heard nothing of interest. As he slid into one of the booths overlooking the bar, Kree-Vos flagged down a passing serving droid, asking it for a light drink and to send anyone asking for him to the table. The droid nodded politely, pouring him a glass of a sweet-smelling, neon pink alcohol that tasted of mint before moving off to tend to another patron.

Crossing his legs under the table, Kree-Vos placed his visor on the table and leaned against the balcony railing. He took a mouthful of the import liquor, savoring the odd taste, before turning his eyes to the stage to watch the Sullustan’s performance while he waited for someone to show.