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Alor Renelo.
Alor of what?
Elias slipped in the pouring rain, armored boots sinking deep into the mud of the hillside as the flood waters washed over him. He had to reach high ground. His helmet was in his pack, so caked with dirt and grime that he couldn't see through the visor. The cold water smashed into his face, like waves of chilling sweat. The region of Felucia he was in was known for it's sudden rains. So powerful they could strip the bark off of trees, leaving dead carcasses standing eerily about.
Hair whipping into his eyes, and the scraggly goatee he had begun to sport covered in flecks of dirt, the Mandalorian pushed upwards. He literally gripped at chunks of mud on the steep incline, tearing dirt from the rain pummeled ground to inch himself forwards. The man had left his Clan two months before. Leaving them in the arms of their ships in the Hutts care. He could barely stomach standing amongst them. His own people.
The ones he had failed.
They called him Alor, while he called himself coward. Elias had run to escape their hopeful eyes, just as he had run to escape his horrible dreams. Yet the nightmares followed him. The powerful gale tore across the hillside, and Elias felt his body sliding downwards. Scrabbling for a grip, he found a stubby root. His fingers clenched down on it like iron, hardened muscles rippling under his black armor. A crack occurred and he felt himself in free fall.
Who had heard of wind so powerful that it tore a fully armored man from the ground?
Wrenched through the air Elias knew this was no wind. He had felt this strange force before. It was what the Jedi and Sith worshipped. Their crutch in a world that would eat them alive given the chance. The storm instantly calmed, the rain stopping as fast as it had begun, and the wind barely a breath upon his skin. Yet Elias was still airborne. Frozen in place by the power of the Force. He blinked away the muddied water, and stared into the eyes of the one who had him under his will.
The force mystic stood below the Protector, single hand clenched and raised as if gripping him from afar. Wrapped in grey and brown robes from head to toe, the only part of him that was visible was his eyes.
His eyes.
Elias had never seen such a feature. They changed colors with every second. Never the same shade, as if a screen constantly rotated across his vision. Surrounding the mystic were several native Felucians. Four to be exact. They watched their master with awe as he slowly brought the Mandalorian to ground level. A low chuckle came from the mask of cloth, bursting through the air and echoing across the land eerily.
So this was his target. The "Stormcaller." Elias fell to his hands and knees, still breathing heavily as the man watched him.
"I have hunted you for many days, Mandalorian." The voice was like silk as it moved through the air. Soft and melodious, it had a richness to it that Elias had not expected. He pushed against the soft earth and stood slowly. The other continued to watch him, before gesturing widely towards the sky. "Did you like my display?"
The former Protecter spat onto the ground, and wiped one of his gloved hands across his face clearing his vision. He still did not speak, judging the time it would take for him to reach the other, and the reaction speeds of his Felucian companions.
"Hunting you has not been fun you know. Very tricky you are, very tricky indeed."
Elias still was silent, his hand slipping down to his waste where the beskar combat knife was concealed.
"Do you speak?" The Stormcaller stepped forward, and so did his allies. He pointed a long finger towards the armored man, and laughed again. The felucians grunted, and one of them reached for a long rusty blade at his side. The mystic paused, and cocked his head eyes squinting at the human before him. "What's your name, bounty hunter?"
Just as the title was hissed, Elias drew the long bladed knife. Two bounds forward and his armored fist knocked the robed man flat. A blade raked across his arm, but he caught it on the backswing with his left hand. It scraped on the tough metal that encased his grip, just as the Felucian owner of the sword felt the cold Mandalorian iron stab upwards into his brain through his throat. A blood clogged gurgle later, Elias spun and flipped the sword he still gripped catching it just in time to parry a strike towards his unarmored face. A quick slash and the next Felucian was beheaded.
The two remaining blue skinned natives screeched and disappeared into the muddied brush, eyes wide with terror at the effectivity of the Mandalorian's assault. Elias breathed a deep breath, eyes falling to the stricken Mystic. Dazed, and barely conscious, the man raised a hand as if to grip him once more.
Dropping one of his knees into the man's chest, Elias knelt on him. He felt the others ribs snap and crack under his well placed weight. He grapped the hand of the man as he choked on his internal blood, stabbing it through and pinning it to the ground with his knife.
"No Stormcaller. I have hunted you for many days."
Elias had found his prey.
The Protector had won the bounty.
The money meant little to the fallen warrior. His eyes went skywards as he listened to the sound of the dying man he knelt upon. Gurgling and coughing, the agony was palpable. The blue sky, throughout all this, was all that could catch the man's attention. It was a sky that Sisk Renelo had not seen for many days. Elias felt his blood boil anew, and he closed his eyes. His shoulders shook, and then all was still. When his eyes opened they were filled with determination.
"I'm going home Alor. Then i'm coming for you."
The Sith had held his friend long enough.
Alor of what?
Elias slipped in the pouring rain, armored boots sinking deep into the mud of the hillside as the flood waters washed over him. He had to reach high ground. His helmet was in his pack, so caked with dirt and grime that he couldn't see through the visor. The cold water smashed into his face, like waves of chilling sweat. The region of Felucia he was in was known for it's sudden rains. So powerful they could strip the bark off of trees, leaving dead carcasses standing eerily about.
Hair whipping into his eyes, and the scraggly goatee he had begun to sport covered in flecks of dirt, the Mandalorian pushed upwards. He literally gripped at chunks of mud on the steep incline, tearing dirt from the rain pummeled ground to inch himself forwards. The man had left his Clan two months before. Leaving them in the arms of their ships in the Hutts care. He could barely stomach standing amongst them. His own people.
The ones he had failed.
They called him Alor, while he called himself coward. Elias had run to escape their hopeful eyes, just as he had run to escape his horrible dreams. Yet the nightmares followed him. The powerful gale tore across the hillside, and Elias felt his body sliding downwards. Scrabbling for a grip, he found a stubby root. His fingers clenched down on it like iron, hardened muscles rippling under his black armor. A crack occurred and he felt himself in free fall.
Who had heard of wind so powerful that it tore a fully armored man from the ground?
Wrenched through the air Elias knew this was no wind. He had felt this strange force before. It was what the Jedi and Sith worshipped. Their crutch in a world that would eat them alive given the chance. The storm instantly calmed, the rain stopping as fast as it had begun, and the wind barely a breath upon his skin. Yet Elias was still airborne. Frozen in place by the power of the Force. He blinked away the muddied water, and stared into the eyes of the one who had him under his will.
The force mystic stood below the Protector, single hand clenched and raised as if gripping him from afar. Wrapped in grey and brown robes from head to toe, the only part of him that was visible was his eyes.
His eyes.
Elias had never seen such a feature. They changed colors with every second. Never the same shade, as if a screen constantly rotated across his vision. Surrounding the mystic were several native Felucians. Four to be exact. They watched their master with awe as he slowly brought the Mandalorian to ground level. A low chuckle came from the mask of cloth, bursting through the air and echoing across the land eerily.
So this was his target. The "Stormcaller." Elias fell to his hands and knees, still breathing heavily as the man watched him.
"I have hunted you for many days, Mandalorian." The voice was like silk as it moved through the air. Soft and melodious, it had a richness to it that Elias had not expected. He pushed against the soft earth and stood slowly. The other continued to watch him, before gesturing widely towards the sky. "Did you like my display?"
The former Protecter spat onto the ground, and wiped one of his gloved hands across his face clearing his vision. He still did not speak, judging the time it would take for him to reach the other, and the reaction speeds of his Felucian companions.
"Hunting you has not been fun you know. Very tricky you are, very tricky indeed."
Elias still was silent, his hand slipping down to his waste where the beskar combat knife was concealed.
"Do you speak?" The Stormcaller stepped forward, and so did his allies. He pointed a long finger towards the armored man, and laughed again. The felucians grunted, and one of them reached for a long rusty blade at his side. The mystic paused, and cocked his head eyes squinting at the human before him. "What's your name, bounty hunter?"
Just as the title was hissed, Elias drew the long bladed knife. Two bounds forward and his armored fist knocked the robed man flat. A blade raked across his arm, but he caught it on the backswing with his left hand. It scraped on the tough metal that encased his grip, just as the Felucian owner of the sword felt the cold Mandalorian iron stab upwards into his brain through his throat. A blood clogged gurgle later, Elias spun and flipped the sword he still gripped catching it just in time to parry a strike towards his unarmored face. A quick slash and the next Felucian was beheaded.
The two remaining blue skinned natives screeched and disappeared into the muddied brush, eyes wide with terror at the effectivity of the Mandalorian's assault. Elias breathed a deep breath, eyes falling to the stricken Mystic. Dazed, and barely conscious, the man raised a hand as if to grip him once more.
Dropping one of his knees into the man's chest, Elias knelt on him. He felt the others ribs snap and crack under his well placed weight. He grapped the hand of the man as he choked on his internal blood, stabbing it through and pinning it to the ground with his knife.
"No Stormcaller. I have hunted you for many days."
Elias had found his prey.
The Protector had won the bounty.
The money meant little to the fallen warrior. His eyes went skywards as he listened to the sound of the dying man he knelt upon. Gurgling and coughing, the agony was palpable. The blue sky, throughout all this, was all that could catch the man's attention. It was a sky that Sisk Renelo had not seen for many days. Elias felt his blood boil anew, and he closed his eyes. His shoulders shook, and then all was still. When his eyes opened they were filled with determination.
"I'm going home Alor. Then i'm coming for you."
The Sith had held his friend long enough.