Ask Tatooine The Rodian and the Mando

[Preef Callo]

THEME​

The Tatooine winds were blowing something fierce today. Locals knew better than to set foot outside as a sandstorm was soon to arrive here at an old farm close to Mos Espa. Preef Callo was smoking a cigara on the porch, but the smoke was blown away by the wind so fast it almost looked like the cigara wasn't even lit.

The wind chime was the only sound that could be heard outside the farmhouse, but the rodian wasn't the only gunslinger that seemed to be guarding the place. A human was busy chaining a couple of speeder bikes to the outside of the house in preparation of the storm and a Shivastenen could be seen hiding out in an alcove from where a twisted staircase lead down to the underground part of the farm.

The rodian was waiting for a speeder bike to arrive carrying someone who should've landed with today's offworld starliner. Now that Tatooine was back under cartel's rule a lot of folks could come to the desert world again, folks who, like Preef, wouldn't be able to get through customs checks that requires.. well, identification.


@Scoobert

 

[Laren Vano]

Laren had been invited out to a farm on Tatooine, which was odd, but he figured why not. They offered some good money and the job didn't sound to difficult. The Mandalorian had shined up his armor before going to the meeting. Had to make sure he makes a good enough impression. Granted the sand would probably dust it up anyway, it was the thought that counted.

Arriving on a rental speeder he had found, and didn't plan to return, he would walk over with an Eastwood swagger, one hand on the buckle of his utility belt, the other swinging naturally. The purple cape hanging off the right should over the bent arm holding the buckle. His helmet intimidating enough as all Mandalorians naturally were, the twin suns gleaming across his visor. He made his way to the farm to see a familiar Rodian on the porch. Choosing to respect the property of the man who hired him, he stood on the clear pathway.

"Heard you have work. I'm here to work, boss." The helmet would nod downward to give respect and he would wait to hear what the job was. It was gun for hire, but hadn't know if he was security or a mercenary. In the end they were similar but not the same. The details mattered.

@Eccles

 

[Neeka Wren]

A figure was silhouetted against the light of the desert suns, muffled by the raging storm around it. The distant glint of it spoke to some sort of semi-reflective surface; a frame of armor that encased an athletic form. Her stance was heroic… confident, even as she emerged through the obscuring sands and into view of the farm.

And then she promptly face-planted into a dune.

Before any doubt could be cast on the state of her life, the armored figure scrambled in the sands to rise back to her feet and adopted a hunched over stance where it was made abundantly clear that she was gripping something. After a few tugging gestures, an obviously unpowered speeder burst out and over the dune, attached to a cord that the figure had been yanking on.


Cursing in Basic, Mando’a, and Huttese, Neeka Wren pulled and heaved and wrenched at the flexible metal cord she’d tied around the derelict speeder with all the anger she could muster. She’d been at this for what felt like hours now, trudging across Tattooine with the heavy machine in tow. She’d considered herself lucky when she boosted the damned thing; but now she knew why someone had left it unattended in the first place. After making her way sufficiently into the desert it had promptly sputtered out beneath her.

Though her armor kept her in relatively safe condition, the walk had been utterly miserable and exhausting. Finally, when Neeka felt she could no longer take another step, she had noticed a distant shape on the horizon. A shelter. If she was lucky, she could trade this hunk of junk for some water and rations and maybe even a ride back to the nearest shuttle off this rock.

Thank the stars. There were people on and around the porch. Neeka raised her voice as she approached them, trying to look non-threatening.

“Not to be a huge bother but could-” She stopped speaking suddenly, dropped the cord as she wiped the sand from her visor, then got a clear look at a rodian and another Mandalorian.

If a helmet could look confused, Neeka’s would be a prime example at that moment.

(posted with @Eccles permission)

 

[Preef Callo]

THEME​

The winds grew even stronger and began to sweep more and more sand along to obscure vision and make it difficult to even open your mouth if you hadn't the protection of a helmet. One of the rodian's gunslingers finished up chaining to speeders together and was heading inside when the one in the alcove alerted them of the solitary figure walking. "Keep an eye on them," the rodian told them as he turned his attention back to the direction had expected a speeder to come from.

There wasn't a lot Preef Callo had to be scared of in this galaxy. Skilled Force user stood at a solitary height on top of the galactic foodchain, but he didn't think they'd randomly show up to a Tatooine moisture farm on the outskirts of Mos Espa. More likely it was a Crymorah assassin send by Covax, who probably hadn't quite like being called out back on Nal Hutta.

Soon enough a speeder showed up carrying a Mandalorian in an utterly ridiculous color for a desert world. Preef never liked armor, but he knew these durasteel warriors swore by it. The rodian turned towards the man as he spoke, pressing his cigar against the wall beside him. "Come inside before the storm hits," he simply said as he motioned for the Mandalorian to get inside.

"Preef, the other one," one of his two gunslingers asked as both joined him on the porch now, eager to get inside before the sandstorm reached the farmhouse. The former boss of the Crymorah Syndicate now turned his head towards the newcomer, who looked to be Mandalorian, too. "You, too."

________________​

The only part of the farmhouse that was above ground was some kind of storage room and featured a wide staircase leading down. The two gunslingers took a seat amongst some farming equipment, where a small table sported a bottle of Corellian Whiskey and two decks of Pazaak cards. The rodian descended the stairs and it was clear that his guests were to follow.

Downstairs opened up in a living room that was somewhat spartan, but still cozy and a hot pot of noodle soup (Preef's favorite) was nearly boiling in the kitchenette. The owners counted the number of people that came down, added two, and began filling up bowls.

At the large circular couch, Preef stopped and turned towards his guests. "Eat, drink, sleep and-" he looked at the mysterious arrival, -wash. You can do all that here, but first let's introduce ourselves."

As if to make a point, Preef Callo motioned for the peacemaker that held his name. "I am Preef Callo, also known as Zaa Fenn."

@Scoobert @Roobi

 

[Neeka Wren]

So. Just to recap- everyone is armed. They're standing like people that have shot other people plenty of times. You're in the middle of nowhere on a planet with two di'kutla suns. Sweat in your eyes. And you have no idea what clan this guy belongs to.


Neeka had to sigh at herself for getting into yet another ridiculously unfavorable situation. She was gonna end up a corpse like this one day, she just knew it. Just hopefully not today.


The young Mandalorian looked left and right at the expanse of desert around them being eaten up quickly by the oncoming storm. She'd thought it had already arrived, yet could now tell by the whipping of the wind that she hadn't seen anything yet...and if these gunslingers wished to eliminate a witness to something shady they could have just blasted her right then and there. Instead, she was invited inside.

There was just something to do first.

"Su cuy'gar, verd." Neeka stepped close enough to the other armored figure to speak the Mando'a at a volume that the storm ate up before the words reached anyone but Laren. She accompanied it with a nod of respect as she made her way up the porch and into glorious shelter.



Neeka didn't know what to expect from this but whomever these people were, they certainly were holed up. She was instantly reminded of sentry posts back on Krownest, though this time it seemed she wasn't going to have to hide the whiskey while she drank it. What were they watching for? Or were they expecting trouble?

The downstairs of the farmhouse was thankfully far less cramped but just as basic; Neeka doubted that luxury was easily had upon this dusty rock. At least it's a place to empty the sand out of the bucket I'm wearing, she thought before she removed her helm and wiped away the sweat that was caked on her eyes and forehead. The rodian's voice grew clearer as her own senses replaced the sounds projected within her helmet just in time for her to catch his introduction. After that, Neeka found herself looking back and forth between his face and his weapon.


"You're kidding." The warrior replied incredulously. "You're not Zaa Fenn. You- ...Osik. You really are him, aren't you?"

The rapid blink of disbelief gave way to a head-shaking chortle. "...S-sorry, whew! Name's Neeka of Clan Wren. It's just- what are you doing here? And uhh...would it be weird if you signed my blaster?"

@Scoobert @Eccles

 

[Laren Vano]

Laren followed Preef inside, and looked over to see the surprise arrival. Another Mandalorian? Was Preef building an army? Whatever the case may be, Laren knew he wouldn't find out until Preef chose to explain. They were on his property, in his home, and on his time.

When the Rodian began explaining where the Mandalorians will be staying while under Preef's employ. Shit, if Laren knew he was gonna get free housing out of the gig, he woulda done this for someone sooner. Preef was capable of defending himself, but Laren didn't mind having his back. Looking over, he noticed some other people fixing up supper. Looks like Laren may need to reheat it when everyone leaves.

The Rodian then called for introduction by introducing himself. Preef Callo, Za Fenn. Laren had heard the legends about this man, the legendary gunslinger himself. Before he could introduce himself, the other who claimed to be Neeka of Clan Wren began fangirling over him. It was unprofessional and undisciplined. Though, Laren could recall times he was like that too. Looking to the Rodian he would speak up, "Laren, Clan Vano. Last of the Vano. A pleasure." He then held his hand out for a shake.

This was going to be interesting.

@Eccles @Roobi