As the twin suns of Tatooine hung low in the cloudless sky, casting an ethereal glow upon the vast expanse of golden sand, the desert landscape stretched out as far as the eye could see. The air was dry and arid, with a hint of ancient secrets whispered through the shifting dunes. Towering sandstone cliffs, weathered by countless sandstorms, stood sentinel against the relentless winds, their jagged edges contrasting against the smooth curves of the sandy sea. The silence of the desert was broken only by the occasional cry of a native creature, echoing in the distance. Tatooine, a world of extremes, revealed its desolate beauty in the intricate patterns etched upon the sand, rippling like waves frozen in time. Amidst the vastness, isolated settlements dotted the horizon, their domed structures protecting inhabitants from the scorching suns and embodying the resilience of those who called this unforgiving planet home.
Su'nil was right. With its mystique and solitude, the desert of Tatooine stood as a true testament.
Stepping off the freighter, Mu'hjah momentarily knelt amongst the blistering sands. Grasping at the granules beneath her, she uttered a prayer in homage to her father's ancestral home. The journey had been long and arduous; yet with every obstacle, the pit fighter met each challenge with fierce determination. Without any further delay, she moved on, into the shambling market. Despite the setting of the suns, the heat alone was merciless. Even with her respirator, Mu'hjah could still smell the swirling dust mixed with the pungent scent of various alien spices. The settlement had a labyrinth of winding streets and makeshift stalls, each one adorned with vibrant awnings and alien symbols. The buildings were weathered and worn, with sand-scoured facades and faded signage, bearing testament to the harshness of this desert world. The occasional moisture vaporator stood tall, a stark reminder of the planet's aridity.
Aliens of all shapes and sizes traversed the market, their unique appearances and languages forming a harmonious cacophony. Jawas, their glowing eyes peeking out from beneath their tattered robes, haggled and traded with customers, their sandcrawler parked nearby (laden with goods). Their droids tittered along close by, beeping and whirring as they attended to their assigned tasks. The smell of sizzling meat wafted through the air, compliments of a stout Twi'lek chef who was expertly grilling a variation of meat over an open flame. Passing by each and every stall, the Tusken (garbed in blue) eyed the fascinating array of wares. Admittedly, she was captivated by the shimmering fabrics of Tatooine's traditional garb, their vibrant colours contrasting against the sandy backdrop. A stall nearby offered an assortment of strange artefacts, including ancient weapons, alien trinkets, and mysterious relics, each with its own story waiting to be unravelled. With each passing moment, she was drawn deeper into the maze of stalls. A cantina on the corner beckoned with lively music and the clinking of glasses, offering respite from the scorching sun. Mu'hjah, however, continued moving, her ears absently catching snippets of conversations spoken in alien tongues; there were tales of smuggling, daring escapades, and rumours of hidden treasures.
Yet all sounds fell silent when the inhabitants began to take notice. It was, after all, a strange occurrence - a lone Tusken wandering out in the streets. The people of the sands favoured their hereditary dunes; they were also known to attack anyone foolish to venture out into them. Their viciousness was legendary, as was their brutality. Perhaps that is why the marketgoers gave Mu'hjah such breadth. Others, however, were not so tolerant. Whilst glancing over some (rather poor quality) weapons, a human male decided he wanted a fight.
"Oi, we don' like ya kind 'round 'here..." When no reply came, he decided to push his luck further by grasping at Mu'hjah's shoulder. "Hey! Imma talkin' to you! You're notta welcome 'ere-"
The outlander didn't give him a chance to finish his otherwise hasty words. Taking hold of him by the scruff of his rags, the Tusken proceeded to slam her metal-masked-covered forehead into the face of her annoying acquaintance. Not just once, but twice - just for good measure. A sucker punch to the gut then followed. Naturally, the offending human doubled in pain, leaving Mu'hjah with nothing else to do but scan the wares and weapons of a particular Toydarian.
The winged vendor, not wanting any trouble, tried to wave the Tusken on. "No barter. No barter. You understand? I take only credits." Imagine his surprise however when Mu'hjah produced exactly that. Yet another oddity, considering the people of the sand rarely engaged in trade or commerce. Where had the stranger acquired such wealth? No skin off his stout; money was money at the end of the day. "Yes, yes. Have a look. Only the best here, my friend. Might I suggest the E-10 blaster rifle? I give you a very good price. The best price."
@Darasuum
@Kotii Solus