Ask The One-Eyed Man

[Crux]

“Then you’re gonna regret it.” Crux turned toward Amer, blinking. Then he forgot he was wearing his helmet. Staring it was before he looked away when Jon spoke. His partner was right. It would, in fact, be bad for business if they somehow all ended up killed because of this woman.

The hint of the silver lining on all this was that he was not staying with Casany Praxor. He hadn’t forgotten that she had taken his arm, and nothing would ever wipe that from his memory.

Still, Crux did not like that smile on Amer’s face when she responded to Jon, and so he reminded himself once more of the blaster on his hip in case he needed to shoot her. As for Ki’dut, he wished he had shot him earlier. Di’kut. Who in the galaxy cared about fire hydrants? As a cop or sergeant or whatever, that hippo was probably more used to giving people tickets for parking in front of them. Crux had gotten far too many of those, so he took it personally. He found that law stupid. In fact, he found all laws stupid.

His attention was brought back to the Badger when Amer decided that questioning the two bounty hunters about their score would be a good idea. The pay’s better than anything you’ll ever get, wench.

“What’s it to you?” He sniffed, looking at Jon. “That’s right, keep blowin’ that smoke in ‘er face.” For once he was glad to have his partner back. He wouldn’t trust him in a fight, but at least he didn’t seem to be kissing up to this rando woman like the Ranger had.

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Jon considered his partner’s advice to keep blowing smoke but realized it was as much his fault as the wind. Unlike Sir Barksalot, getting all bent out of shape over words was an amateur move. He didn’t have time to get offended and was as interested in meeting this assassin as he was interested in credits.

“My apologies,” he offered Amer honestly. “I meant no animosity.”

He didn’t know how she would respond, not to him, she already did, but to the idiot who was more interested in starting shit than finding this assassin then the Badger and finally getting paid.

Granted, he might or might not know Casany Praxor was in their midst unless Jon Dromon had already mentioned it amid her black red outfit and codename of Ghost or Draugr or whatever the chit.

He might not know the value of two True Mandalorians even if he called himself a bounty hunter who once served under Endyr Ratheon and whatever.

Ultimately, Jon didn’t trust either Wolf or Amer but the last thing he wanted was to blow what might be their only lead on the Badger unless the story of Bone Katana and her pirate could actually be believed.

“Pay ain’t great but nothin’ is these days,” he answered dishonestly.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Amer Dragata]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

“That’s right, keep blowin’ that smoke in ‘er face.”

Suddenly that Duros didn’t exist as Amer stopped walking, turned to Helmet Wolf and pondered on whether to make him eat his words. She didn’t need to see the eyes behind that visor for him to see hers, a gaze that would not break or waver, and that’s all that mattered. Sometimes a look was louder than words so surely hers were served.

“I meant no animosity.”

“You might not,” Amer spoke to the Duros but did not look away from Herr Helmet Haircut and her prey if Imperial Sergeant Amer Dragata was the predator in this game. “But this one might. He seems to be in need of an attitude adjustment. What do you think?”

Hands on hips, a holster on her right thigh with a pistol in it, Amer's itchy trigger finger tapping it.

“Want to blow some smoke with your lips, blowfish, or pucker up with a blaster in your grip, skin that smoke wagon and see what happens?”

Whatever happened, this marine didn't need Deputy Doofus to see the assassin, and doubted the blue-skinned bounty hunter would interfere one way or the other.

However, it was up to the Wolf whether he wanted to go on with this as much as Amer to wonder if maybe they had gotten off on wrong the foot. Either approach was good enough for her.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

As the group continued on with their search for a pirate named pirate, Zaia was content to just walk and listen to the conversation between her friends and Bone Katana. She’d missed this kind of thing, especially after being away from Casany so long and having to spend so much time with the Duros.

Although, she did keep an eye out for anything that looked suspicious. They were, after all, in unfamiliar territory and still on a mission. If Bone’s memory served her well, the pirate could be anywhere, and Zaia didn’t want to be caught by surprise if they did prematurely come into contact with each other. There were plenty of places to hide, as Zad pointed out.

If Zaia were being honest, though, she had zoned out halfway through Bone’s story about the pirate. At the end, everyone was more confused than they’d started, and Zaia could only shrug and move on. She turned around occasionally to check for any potential threats behind them. Finding none, she would respond to Zad’s question after he asked.

“Oh, yeah. We go back a looong way.” Zaia smiled, looking over at Casany. “We met at a bar a few years back, and we’ve been bounty hunters, traitors, and, well, soldiers together since then. She’s my vod. I don’t trust anyone more than I trust her.” Then she realized what it sounded like before she quickly turned to Zad. “Besides you, obviously.” They were about equal in her mind, anyway, but she hoped it hadn't come out wrong.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

A long way, vod. Casany silently agreed as she exchanged a smile with Zaia. Sisters of battle like these had the kind of connection only Mandalorians could experience.

It didn’t matter how far apart they were from one another, whether they wrote or phoned, they had fought together and hurt together, and that’s how they came to know that they were true Mandalorians in armor as much as bone.

Bounty hunters. Traitors. Soldiers. They were little and less, much and more, more or less, whatever the hell that meant. Had it really been that long since they had met in that bar? Had it been that long since Casany, forged in fire, adopted the moniker Anvil and took to the stars as a bounty hunter?

A traitor to some today, perhaps, as some enemies were not so easily forgiven or forgotten, as Endyr Ratheon surely remembered wherever that man had decided to plant his ass.

“Whoever I was, I’m a Ghost today, Draugr in name.” The Casany within her slapped a hand on her sister’s shoulder anyway, smiling behind her mask.

“Except the part about traitors but, hell, we’re in a city named Gravenell so, well, I guess I came to the right place to die and fade away. Vod. Vodka. Vod-Ka. We’ll find this pirate one way or the other and get that Badger.” And later end that bastard Endyr.

“A question for our flutist and lutist, brave bards,” Bone Katana began as she led them toward an impressive collection of containers arranged in a maze, gazing at none other than Zaia Krodas.

“After bounty hunters, traitors and soldiers, which term would you most identify yourself as? What about your companion? That is to say, your friend? Are you a soldier? Freedom fighter? A True Mandalorian or a true Mandalorian? Hunter? Traitor? Who are you, really, inside, Zaia Krodas?”

Bone Katana emphasized while pumping her chest with a fist.

“Tell me truly, my sister-from-another-mother-if-not-vodsister, O what faceth doth burn lurketh beneath thine black visor OYA?”

Bone coughed into a fist—that is to say into the inside of her helmet—and thought nothing of it as she stood her ground with a hand on her hip and raised her fist to the only other Mandalorian in Mandalorian iron beside purple and black at the moment.

“WHO is the woman of blue and white beskar’gam!?”
She suddenly asked from a bridge between two towers above their heads.

“WHO is the vornskr perched on her shoulder!?”
She asked atop a staircase on their left.

“WHO is the Mandalorian who calls herself Zaia Krodas!?”
She asked from a bicycle on their right.

“What say you, Mandalorian, from one Mandalorian to the other!?”
She asked inches away from Zaia Krodas’ face.

“WHO. ARE. YOU!?”

“I’m impressed.”

“I need a cigarette.”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Well, for Zaia Krodas to trust someone meant that trust meant something or…something. Zad Ruzed was never much of a poet or nothin’ but he reckoned that his friend, the one this Draugr also called her friend, had good judgment that wasn’t blinded or biased. The Ranger had come to trust her with his life, and that’s why they were here together.

Fast forward to Bone Katana and whatever the hett that was and Zad Ruzed wasn’t anybody’s di’kut with a bad haircut or sommat. Madness, he’d guess, as he attempted to piece together just what the hell happened the past handful of seconds of Bone Katana and her antics.

“You already remind me of me,” Zad breathed as Bone spoke to Zaia. “Came here with the very real ideal that you might not walk out alive because, even if you take out your enemies with a vengeance, you might die at the end.” He gazed at Ghost's face through a haze of smoke. "Red. Dead. Redemption."

“That’s deep.”

“Speaking of are you uh…some kinda poet?”

“Poet? Nope. Damn random question though, isn’t it?”

“Yeap,” shrugged Ruzed. “Guess ya just tend to kinda rhyme in your sentences sometimes. Do done did it is what it is. No big. Dunno why and I ain’t judgin’. Just somethin’ I noticed, ya dig?”

“Rhyme?” Draugr scratched her hooded head, eyes full of surprise, if incredulous. “What the kark are you talking about, now?”

"Pirates."

"Right. They make good bounties dead or alive. What about them?"

"The sign," Zad pointed into the distance behind her. "That container over your shoulder. Its logo is 'Pirates!' Reckon that means anythin'?"

Who would know in their mismatched outfit of a Ranger, a Draugr and two Mandalorians?

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Crux]

As Amer turned her full attention on him, insulting him again and tapping her finger on her pistol, Crux was more than tempted to pull his own blaster out. He’d about had it with her attitude, and now that she was provoking him back he was eager to take her up on the offer.

Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to put a bolt through her brain, another mental reminder of the credits from his more rational side suggested not to antagonize her further. Both were more than willing to fight— but that would benefit no one. Except for Jon, who Crux was sure wouldn’t hesitate to accept all the credits for himself.

You’re as bad as one of ‘em Mandalorians. This time, though, Crux wouldn’t voice it aloud and instead stared back at Amer in silence. To show her that he wasn’t going to shoot, he took his hand off the hilt of his blaster and dropped it back to his side.

Regardless of how she took it, there was no way in hell that he was going to apologize like Jon did.

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Great. A shootout in this side of town was not what Jon Dromon had intended to happen. Sure, there’d be more credits, but spooking an assassin generally wasn’t a good thing, especially this particular target that only he seemed to know about except for Amer.

Worst came to worst, the Duros would get to settle a bet with himself as to who would live and who would end up dead. Amer? Wolf? Jon knew one as much as the other, little and less but, in the end, he wagered the winner would be—

Phew. Smart move. Wolf had lowered his blaster that moment and Amer did too. Now let’s see if these two huckleberries can get along and stop throwing poop on each other.

As the standoff commenced, Jon had taken the opportunity to tap his digits on the keys of his smartphone. It was an innocent action, wasn’t attempted to be hidden, only his text definitely was a hidden thing.

Hey. I’m here. Hope your information is solid like your honesty. Animosity is…bad for business. Will let you know when that jazz tune I mentioned comes through. Should be a good new groove, like a wave in the ocean.

Text sent, knowing it would make sense to the recipient on the other end, the bounty hunter flicked ash from his cigar and waited for the dust in the air to settle to the base like treble and bass.

“So can we get back on track to this assassin? That okay?”

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Amer Dragata]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Well, this guy might have been an idiot but he wasn’t stupid. He had at least some skill and experience and intelligence if not Imperial Intelligence.

He lowered his blaster and so did Amer. She wasn’t so vicious. She’d only hand this man his ass if “blaster” and “Amer” ever entered his head in the same sentence again, not that the idiot would get the message.

This bounty hunter in red and black was clearly fearless to an extent and that much tended to impress Amer. If you weren’t impressed by your friends and enemies then where was the fun in having friends and enemies?

“So can we get back on track to this assassin? That okay?”

“You can shoot, I’ll give ya that,” Amer offered honestly. “According to that Ranger, that is, Zad.”

Zad was a man who seemed honest to her at least, the kind of guy who had saved maybe as many as he had killed. A marine could easily see that look of life and death in the eyes. Then again some men were just open books but still idiots like that purple black Mandalorian.

“I knew an assassin once,” Sergeant Ki’dut began, lying on a worker’s bench lifting a granola bar to his helmet. “Reeeeeaaaal wild one. Vicious chick, this chicken, if you catch my kitten.”

Amer didn’t. But she did witness this idiot’s granola bar was not going into his helmet to in turn be bitten but he treated as if he had just bitten it.

“Think her name was Dorothy..............Orrrrr was it Rosy? She definitely wasn’t rosy. Maybe it was Beatrice? Britannica? Buttons. Kadunken. Katawhozit…Susan Wotzit…Sssssomethin’...”

“Who…who are you..?”

“Hold up!” Spoke a voice.

“What’s all this then?” Said a voice.

“We’re with Industrial Division Intelligence Operations Team.”

Both men flashed their badges with the acronym “I.D.I.O.T.” written in black print.

“What’s all this then?” They both said.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Ghost was her vod’s identity today, and Zaia could understand why. Mandalorians, they tended not to forget their grudges, and Ratheon had messed with the wrong one. Casany was now his shadow, a vengeful spirit, invisible to him until she chose not to be. Zad was in a similar position too, hunting the Daggers as both a lover and a Ranger.

But who was she? Surprisingly, it was Bone Katana that voiced the question out loud in quite the eloquent manner too. These hippos had more to them than it seemed.

Zaia looked from Cas to Zad. Then back to Bone Katana, who had now stuck her face just inches in front of hers.

“Um—” She looked left. She looked right. Her companions were talking amongst themselves now, leaving just her and Bone. “I’m… me.” Zaia blinked. It was a rather undramatic answer to the hippo’s dramatic questions, but she didn’t know what else to say about herself. Sure, she might be branded as a traitor by some or a former bounty hunter, and of course her vornskr was a huge part of who she was, but in the end she was just one woman in the galaxy.

“Just Zaia Krodas.” She patted the hippo on the shoulder. Then she heard Zad mention pirates.

“You’d think they would try to be less obvious.” Zaia frowned, her gaze following Zad’s finger. She looked at Bone again. “Is this the place?”

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Cas didn’t know about Zad but, despite his lack of interest in the question and answer of Bone Katana and Zaia Krodas, she sensed that this man simply wasn’t Mandalorian enough to recognize it.

Interrupted but not quite, Casany watched and listened. Eloquent was definitely one word this Mandalorian never thought she’d use in the same sentence as Bone Katana but there it was. Her question was…adequate.

Who really was Zaia Krodas? Who really was Casany Praxor for that matter? Certainly a hell lot more than Draugr. Surely no longer a ghost. Casany. Alor of Clan Praxor.

Is that me beneath…this…beneath the surface?

Was she even a Mandalorian anymore if she needed to ask that question?

Maybe, though, just as her vod spoke, she was just Casany Praxor.

"Pirates."

"Right. They make good bounties dead or alive. What about them?"

"The sign. That container over your shoulder. Its logo is 'Pirates!' Reckon that means anythin'?"

“You’d think they would try to be less obvious. Is this the place?”

Draugr looked between Ranger and Mandalorians.

“Oh we’re definitely close to the pirate. I can feel it.”

Bone slowly walked forward, hands on hips, looking.

“I sense something…a presence I have not felt since…”

She promptly walked off into the distance, turned, walked back.

"Hmm, no, no, that wasn't it."

“That’s excellent. What about this container, however?”

“Oh that? With the sign saying ‘Pirates!’ my sis-if-not-vod-sis?”

“Is the pirate who takes us to the Badger in here or not?"

"Maybe." Bone shrugged all too cluelessly. "I dunno why doncha open it?"

"My pleasure, purple twerp.” Cas cracked her knuckles. Didn’t need her beskar’gam for this. Draugr reached for the container’s handle to open it.

“If he’s in this then he’s going to wish he wasn’t.” She tried again. “Nobody messes with the Deucalians!” Another attempt. “Here comes the punishment!” Nothin’.

“Yeah it won’t open.”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: MuSiC

“Allow me.”

Zad breathed easy, keeping his cigarette trapped ‘tween his teeth.

“I might be an old man but I can pull, baby.”

“You can pull babies?” Draugr evidently teased. “Like out of cribs or like pulling chicks?”

Zad didn’t need to see her face behind the mask to glimpse her grin but he wasn’t even looking to begin with.

“Just watch and learn, Draugr.”

He didn’t need to crack his knuckles either. He’d let those old bones of his pop themselves as he got into position, got a grip, curled his fingers over that handle like it was a handgun’s handle, and pulled.

“Sector Ranger Zad Ruzed,” he confessed, declared, audience as his witness, his identity, his identification, and no need to flash the badge, hands too busy. “I”m here to take you win and open this shit up like a can of do-done-dig!”

“Is that like banana puddin’ or a can o' tuna?”

“Prepare to spend a livin’ scrubbin’ yer own piss and shit from the cell floor with new buddies named Chevin and Herglic, ya damn scumbag!”

"You talking to the door or whoever might be behind said door?"

Zad looked left, looked right, let go, let it go and sighed.

“Hoo-wee that there’s a doozy.”

Maybe Kickass Krodas could take a crack at it and see what happens?

Wait...right...that music...where was it coming from?

Like that one time.

Ache...in his head....pain...headache...

Like that one time.

Time, time, it rhymes with time in a bottle.

Trompe L'Oeil

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Crux]

Crux looked back at Jon as the Duros finally got off his phone and focused on the situation at hand. Sometimes he felt like he was the only one who took his job seriously.

“Uh huh.” And then, was that a compliment from Amer? Given that he had been looking at Jon, Crux didn’t know who it was directed at, but he decided to take it as a note of apology anyway. Now, they were good.

He looked at Ki’dut after. Di’kut. He’d never known the word to apply to anyone or anything as much as it did to Ki’dut. The hippo that was his mother had made the right choice naming him, at least. Crux doubted that the buckethead had even seen an assassin before.

Then came voices. They sounded like they had come from beings more intelligent than the likes of Ki’dut until Crux turned around and saw their I.D.I.O.T. badges.

“We’re takin’ a walk,” he answered dryly, crossing his arms. “Led by this lovely lady here.” Crux gestured at Amer. Calling her “lovely” was a stretch and would serve as the extent of his apology. “Nothin’ for y’all to worry about.”

If these idiot cops continued to press, he was prepared to reach for his blaster again if necessary.

@Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Jon could say one thing about these Mandalorian hippopotamuses. When they spoke, when they took to action, when they said or did just about anything really, they tended to get everybody’s attention.

Dromon hadn’t even noticed the bench at his left and the di’kut upon it until Sergeant Ki’dut said something as if he had just suddenly popped into existence like a Chevin throwing a Herglic into the toilet. Whatever the heck that meant.

For a second he thought the hippo might actually know the same assassin. ‘Vicious chick’ matched the description but, no, he was just an idiot.

Queue I.D.I.O.T. and who knew who was the bigger idiot in this idiot outfit? The Duros didn’t want to find out anytime soon. He really wasn’t interested in dumbass questions. He just wanted to get out of this shindig before it became a shitshow and ended up with two I.D.I.O.T.S. dead and maybe only two idiots left or Jon Dromon all alone depending on what his companions did next.

“We’re takin’ a walk, led by this lovely lady here.” Wolf gestured at Amer. Calling her “lovely” was a stretch and wouldn’t serve as the extent of his apology if he thought that was one to begin with. “Nothin’ for y’all to worry about.”

“You doing okay, ma’am?”

Granted, Amer was standing to Wolf’s left, while Jon was standing to Amer’s left, and apparently these two idiots with I.D.I.O.T. badges looked too far to their right and presumed the wolf had gestured to the Duros.

“Gotta say, that is a lovely shade of blue, my lady.”

“What is that? Indigo? Offisde azure? Denim, maybe?"

“No I think it’s more of space cadet blue or steel blue maybe, whaddya think?”

“I’m seeing more of a glaucous skin tone and mildly bleu cheese glow but no glaucoma, yo.”

“Well who the hell is this guy then?”

"Hey. Guy. Why are you on that bench? There's no sitting permitted on that bench."

"Yeah you can't sit on that bench."

“Maybe half-perwinkle half-cyan half-blue steel like in that one Bames Jond film.”

“I’m a guy.” Jon Dromon sighed.

“Right. Let’s see some IDs please.”

"Clearance, Clarence."

"Roger, Rodger."

Jon didn’t like any of this to be honest. His badge wasn’t as flashy but it could flash in an instant like their existence. But he wasn’t an idiot.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[The Storyteller]

Spoiler: Music IC

Cigarette smoke curled languidly above the counter where a barback man wiped down a spot he had made from blood from his own broken nose on account of being an idiot and a complete waste of space at all the wrong moments.

It wasn’t like Soapy Pampano hated the guy. Hate was such a…hateful word. Soapy wasn’t a hater. He wasn’t a monster. He was a soldier. This wasn’t just business or pleasure. This was war. A soldier was always at war. He knew this. He just had to do what he had to do for business. For his family. For the family.

"Ohhhhh there is, Jabba the Hutt!"

"EYYYYYYYYY!"

Cigar smoke curled languidly above a table above the counter and floor of strippers where men like Soapy Pampano had their private dinnahs and talked binness the in the Gabagool.

They ripped apart lobsters with satisfying snaps and crunches. One man licked cocktail sauce from his fingertips and uttered ‘Finga-lickin’ delicious!” while anotha spoke “Fuck ya motha!” and promptly hung up his phone.

Soapy sipped his wine, washing down a bite of dry lobster before he smiled wide and told his joke.

“Husband comes home to his wife, with a duck tucked unda his arm. He says "This is the pig I been fuckin’." The wife says "That's not a pig, that's a duck" The husband says "I wasn't talkin' ta you."

His two companions, captains like him, broke into laughter and he made sure they did, gaze never wavering from either face.

“So, Soap,” one gentleman spoke. “I know if the old man were here—”

“Ah what the FUCK'S THIS SHIT!?”

There on the floor of his Gabagool was a naked man who didn’t even seem to know that he was naked.

“You believe this shit!?”

"Bad fa business."

“I got this.”

Soap headed downstairs to find the naked guy with his bare ass planted at the counter.

“I’ll uhhhh take a shot o’ whiskey and a lemon lime salamander if you got that over the counter, mister. Sooner the better.”

The fool cleared his throat, sitting skin to seat on a stool.

“AND TRY TO MAKE SURE THERE’S NO LEFTOVER BANANA IN THE KRIFFIN BLENDER”

He cleared his throat, suddenly realizing the next moment he had just shouted.

“Had a friend named Blender come to think of it. He was more on the oppressive Opassah-Opossum side over the Autumn Blossom designation as far as weekend vacations in Suncircle go but what would I know?”

He blinked at the barkeep.

“WHATCHA LOOKIN’ AT CHAMP DO I LOOK LIKE A JACKASS OR SOMETHIN'?”

Blinked at and sipped his whiskey.

“Reminds me of this one night I camped with Clan Ortolan the Kakahoota Okikaka Kakariko I Dunno Forest after Clan Orcolan kicked me out of band camp now that I think about it.”

Blinked.

“AND KRIFFIN’ CLAN ORCOLAN CAN’T EVEN WEAR MANDALORIAN HELMETS WITHOUT LOOKIN’ LIKE A BUNCH O’ KARKIN’ JACKASSES WITH HELMETED TUSKS OR SOMETHIN’”

Drinked.

“Had a friend named Wilson come to think of it. Mother was an idiot. Not his parent but the fish.”

Sipped.

“AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE TO PAY CLAN ORTOLAN’S TAXES BUNCH O' DUMBASSES CUZ SOME DI’KUT LOST HIS COCONUTS IN A CAMPIN' ACCIDENT YA DAMN PEANUT— Oh”

Looked left, looked right, noticed the man in a suit looking right at him.

“Seen the telephone tough guy, my guy?”

Blinked.

“He knows a Sector Ranger who STOLE MY KRIFFIN’ BESKAR’GAM AND LEFT ME NNNNNNNAKED FOR ELEVENTY TURKEY SUNDAYS AND THREE NERFHERDIN’ KARKIN' KRIFFIN' WEEKS TRYNA FIND THE RIGHT KINDA CARAVAN TO TAKE ME FROM TIMBUKTU TO NIPTUCK KRIFFIN’ PIKACHU’S PROPOSITION MY LEFT NUT, BUTTERCUP, AND SCREW THE TUNA TOO, AND I DON’T EVEN NEED TA MENTION WHAT LIVIN’ LIFE AS A NAKED MAN AND A MANDALORIAN WITHOUT ANY BESKAR’GAM FEELS LIKE YA LAME—"

"Now that's not very nice."

Rage—

@Sicadorito

 

[Amer Dragata]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Lovely lady? Did this guy want to get slapped that bad? At least he could pretend to mean it. Then again, he was meatheaded so she shouldn’t expect anything less from him. Before Amer could think further on the topic she just then realized these two I.D.I.O.T.s had addressed the Duros over her own person.

How did I even get into this shit to begin with? A woman can ask that question over and over again and never get a definitive answer, whether Amer or another marine or whoever. Surrounded by idiots and I.D.I.O.T. and only an ever changing location of this assassin in secret. At least she could breathe easy knowing, in the end, she was just completing her hidden mission.

Detectives Dumbasses had fancy badges but given they didn’t seem to even recognize their organization’s tragic acronym she wouldn’t put it past them for not catching what she was about to do.

“Idiot.”

“What?”

“I.D.I.O.T.”

“Uh huh?”

“You know your team is delaying an undercover mission for the government?”

“Are you serious?”

“The government?”

“I’m a special forces soldier, Sergeant Amer Dragata.” She certainly wasn’t exactly lying. She just made sure to put a finger over the corner of her badge and cover text that read: “IAF”.

Hopefully it would be enough to at least convince the I.D.I.O.T.s that she was government, because she was a marine, her team was Dust Dragoons, and maybe they sounded like special forces too.

"These men—including the Duros—are with me on a top secret mission, a joint operation, and would appreciate the assistance from strategic and intelligent I.D.I.O.T.s like you two." She spoke having lowered her badge, standing with hands behind back in a soldierly salute.

"How about it, gentlemen? Help my team save this city and go down as heroes?"

Or go down as heroes?

There was a difference depending on what they said or did next. Amer only needed just two fists for this part of the mission.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Zaia glanced at their guide as she walked forward before and walked back, though her attention was mainly on the container with the Pirates! logo. She was sure that Bone would figure something out eventually, but it didn’t seem like now was her moment. So she focused on the container instead. It was the closest thing they’d found that had anything to do with pirates.

It was sealed quite tightly, and neither of her friends were able to open it on their first try. Not even with Cas’s threats and Zad’s experience pulling babies, apparently. This box was strong.

Maybe there was another way, though.

“Hm. Let me try.” Zaia glanced between the two, cracking her knuckles just for good measure before slipping out her wrist blade. Instead of trying to pull on the lid, she would slide the knife into the crack in an attempt to pry it open instead. Getting down to a knee, she gripped onto one corner of the container and moved the knife left until it hit something hard toward the center. A lock, possibly?

Regardless, she jiggled her blade around for a few seconds until she heard a clatter inside. When she took her knife out and pulled on the lid this time, it opened. Zaia grinned, looking at the Ranger and her vod.

“Magic,” she said, spreading her hands in front of her face before getting back up to her feet.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Sometimes all you could do in this crazy galaxy of wolves and ghosts was to try. To survive, certainly, and if you thrive or die then so be it, but simply trying was what separated the sheep from the dead from the beginning to the end.

Whether as a girl who had to learn to live in a world without the armor of the Mandalorian.
When the descendants of Clan Praxor spent their days hiding like remnants of an enclave.
Where the Praxors replaced the forges of Mandalore for the forge of the fortress Kad-Stor.
With her life behind the hammer, as the bounty hunter Anvil, traitor, liberator, Casany Praxor.

Just Casany, maybe, just Casany Praxor without the Alor, but at least Draugr now had a friend, a sister, a true and True Mandalorian, to keep her company in this grave and hell called Gravenell, so that the ghost was not so alone.

In the end, whatever happened next from a pirate to Endyr Ratheon, at least Casany had tried.

Cas tried. Zad tried. Zye tried next. Then, as fate would have it, the Mandalorian of blue white stripe hit something with her knife as surely as the Mandalorian beneath the Draugr knew the sound of steel on steel.

Ears peeled, she listened to her sister’s celebration over her demonstration of how to open a locked door. Magic, apparently. Quick wit, evidently.

Zaia Krodas had already proven to be a Mandalorian who was quick to think as much as act, a fearless woman to contend with, no kitten. Casany knew her vod could never be used to demonstrate the notion that Mandalorians were just dumb brainless bucketheads.

“I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE IT!”

Then again...

Bone Katana shouted.

“Vod of my vod, are you one of them!?”

She promptly dropped to her knees.

“Oh, truly, verily, Zaia Krodas!”

She shook her hands.

“Are a Jedi!? A Sith!?”

Banged her helmet with her fists.

“YOU KNOW MMMMMMAGIC!?”

“What’s all this then?”

Came a voice.
From a void.

The container, rather.

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Whatever Draugr might be thinking over their partner, their better version is what the Ranger got the sense of, whatever it was, he reckoned that Draugr was less impressed as embarrassed as Zad at trying to open a locked door with just their hands.

What can I do? I’m an old man. Damn. What’s Cyberpunk's excuse? Apart from Draugr, Zaia was deft, Zad’d give her that even if he'd never be her dad.

Kickass Krodas wasn’t some kid even if she was the closest thing that one dusty dusted up Ranger without a cowboy hat had to a daughter in this galactic madness. As much as she seemed to be a sister to Draugr.

The Mandalorian who showed this iron wolf and never mind Wolf what it meant to be Mandalorian (he only got it to an extent, granted), who taught him of signets, of vornskr and others, of “di’kut”, not that he didn’t already know it but he never had a Mandalorian to show him.

Zaia Krodas had shown this old man her abilities in the past, that she could shoot a gun but could also punch with some good ol’ fashioned fisticuffs. Here she was, at it again, if as much of a reminder that Zad Ruzed would soon meet his end.

But Zaia Krodas will reach her beginning…

Her whole future still ahead.

“I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE IT!”

Gat dern it.

That was one way to ruin the moment.

As Bone bowed down, the Ranger flicked ash from his cigarette and wondered who was the bigger idiot. The idiots of Clan Hippo or the idiot who invented those idiots to begin with and kicked them into existence?

Don’t answer that, Zad

“What’s all this then?”

Even an old man can react fast.

Zad, totally in instinct, whipped the pistol from his hip, the flashlight at his other, crossed his hands together in that manner that a marine named Amer may appreciate, and shined light into the total darkness of the container.

“Hands up. Make sure they're empty. Go slowly. Step out. Now.”

“So forward. And we’ve only just met. However, I don’t really feel like doing what you tell me to do so I think I’ll stay where it’s safe, mate.”

The man spoke from shadows, spoke from behind a metal container within the larger metal container.

As Zad’s lamp shown, it showed other containers, crates, though he saw no pirates. Then again, only one pirate needed to exist to plant more than one booby trap.

“They’re gonna hang me in the mornin’...”

Zad looked up again the next moment as the man spoke again from those shadows, presence and appearance unknown.

“A’fore the night is done…”

No, not speaking—singing.

“They’re gonna hang me in the mornin’...”

Playing the violin somewhere in the darkness.

“And I'll never see the sun...”

@Sicadorito (Zaia Krodas)

 

[Crux]

Crux grinned from beneath his helmet as the two I.D.I.O.T. officers assumed that Jon was the woman instead of Amer. He wouldn’t hesitate to rub it in his face the next time he saw him if the Duros decided to dip again in the middle of a firefight.

When they asked for ID, Crux was inclined to show them his in the form of a blaster bolt each in their pretty little heads, but Amer beat him to it. In a less violent way, and a more covert one, he had to admit.

“Yeah, you two’re interferin’ in a very important mission.” He could get on board with that, and the two cops looked between all three of them once Amer gave them their ultimatum. It didn’t sound like one, but they would soon find out the consequences if they were stupid enough to refuse.

“I’d like to be a hero.”

“Me too.”

The pair looked between each other now before nodding their heads in unison.

“You’re free to go.” I.D.I.O.T. One saluted Amer back with two fingers.

“Good luck on your mission.” I.D.I.O.T Two did the same. With that, both were off, chattering excitedly about having just saved the city. It was only when they turned the corner and disappeared that Crux looked at Amer again.

“Smooth talkin’,” he acknowledged gruffly with a slight incline of his head. She still hadn’t earned his trust, but at least her head wasn’t empty like some people.

@Die Shize