Carannia, Capital City of Serenno
Sometime between Dusk and Dawn...
Lines.
His fingers trailed from the tip of his lip up to the top of the bridge of his nose. The skin there had once been smooth to the touch, pale in its pigmentation. But more than a decade of time and sun exposure had begun to take his youthful complexion from him. He’d very rarely met anyone on his homeworld over the age of seventy– the air and the backbreaking labor most in his strata had to perform to survive destroyed the body, and left it vulnerable to injury and disease. While he’d escaped such a destructive environment all those years ago, it hadn’t come without its consequences.
If he’d gone back to the day he’d booked a ticket offworld, and shown himself what he’d done, what he’d become, would he have still gone? If he’d known the kind of horror he’d experienced on Firrerre, learned just how many would die because of his actions, listened as he explained how he’d been thrown out from an order he’d dismissed as fae tale, would the younger Laeonas go? Would he have judged the suffering, the struggle and hardship worth the knowledge, the strength and wealth that he’d gather? “...is th’at even a question, ya daft prick?” He thought to himself, his internal monologue maintaining the dialect his master had trained out of him in many a diction lesson within Yavin’s archives.
Perhaps he had changed from the boy he was, but if his exile had taught him anything, it was that the change wasn’t entirely for the worse. He’d continued to practice his meditations. He’d found himself reaching for his weapons less often whenever he got into trouble. Beyond that, he had started second guessing his words before they left his mouth, actually considering how others might react. Most conveniently, whenever he spoke, people no longer had to ask him one, twice, or three or four times to repeat what he’d said before they understood him.
All that, coupled with his vastly improved skills, and Laeonas was able to put aside his moment of doubt and refocus on the task at hand. Walking down the durasteel streets, the distant sound of speeders and the footfalls of his boots were the only sounds of note. He was on his way back to port to turn in for the night, an evening of drinking, eavesdropping and looking over minor job offers having concluded. If he were more inebriated he might’ve tried bringing someone back with him, but he was tired, and he needed to get up early tomorrow.
It was after the third turn that he noticed another set of footsteps. He didn’t have to glance over his shoulder to notice their presence. He couldn’t get an exact count– what was it, three, four? In any case, leading them back to port– back to his ship– was the worst thing he could do. They’d likely seen him at the bar, chattering it up, laughing along– and leaving alone. Doubtless they’d wait until the morning, hoping to catch him offguard and hung over.
Perhaps they thought he was just some guy who’d had too much to drink. Perhaps they’d figured the vibrosword hanging from his belt would be useless if they caught him by surprise. Regardless, they’d underestimated him– both in prowess, and in alcohol tolerance.
He’d found his way down a street, and made his way up to a dimly lit front door to an apartment building. He made a show of reaching into his pocket, failing to find the presumed passkey a resident would need, and loudly cursing as he made his way down a nearby alley. As he’d expected, there was a door to which a maintenance droid would come out to put garbage in the nearby dumpster– locked tight. “Guess I’ll just have to wait.” He loudly declared. It wasn’t a convincing performance, but it didn’t need to be. They made their way there all the same.
“Wait for what?” One called, in a curious, yet obviously teasing tone. Laeo made a show of slowly turning, cocking his head. “Oh, just lost my passkey, that’s all. Figure I’ll just wait until the maintenance droid makes their way out here.” He answered. “Oh, hear that? Mans lost his passkey. That ain’t too good.” Another called, prompting a chuckle to rise from the rest of the group. Coming closer, Laeonas could make out their features under the dim light– three were human, two of relatively average height and build, the third being a head tallelr, but fairly skinny. The last and largest of the four was a tall, horned Devaronian, with a toothy grin splayed across his face.
“Sure ya haven’t got it misplaced, stranger? Why not try emptyin’ yer pockets?” He asked, the thinly veiled threat magnified by a dimmed accent and deep, booming voice actually taking the Brentaalan by surprise. “That I haven’t… you seem to sound awful familiar. Any chance you happened to lived in Cormond at some point?” Laeonas asked. The Devaronian, who seemed eager to jump straight to the mugging, stopped in his tracks, the grin on his lips fading. “...what’s it to ya?” He’d ask, dropping the smarmy playfulness with a threatening edge and sinking straight into a deep, baritone threat.
“Oh, nothing. I just remember this one, horned prick I used to get into fights with every Solaridas; swore him out for five minutes after he cheated by tugging on a lock of my hair this one time.” The Brentaalan went on, a smirk spreading across his own lips. The Devaronian was silent, squinting a little bit. “You’re more drunk than you look, my guy.” One teased, trying to get everyone back on track. As they got closer, Laeonas was able to notice a distinct red stripe painted across the left eye of each of the men. Even the Devaronian had it, in spite of it blending in with his skin almost perfectly.
“We’re just tryna give you a hand; just hand over your wallet and we’ll find that card right quick.” The tall one went on. “Ah, that’s awful sweet of you guys. Heard about the lot of ya at the bar; real upstanding citizen types, following lonely drunks back to their apartments, just tryna make sure no unsavory characters take advantage of ‘em.” He said, the smirk slowly fading. “Real heroes you are.”
The tall one’s own grin faded, and the group was left dead silent. Finally, another human spoke up again. “If you know who we are,” he said, “You oughta do as we ask; hand over your wallet.” The man commanded. The threats weren’t even thinly veiled anymore, but Laeonas just sneered. “If you want my money, you’ll have to get it the same way most usually do– and I don’t see a flask, so you oughta start undressing.”
@Casmer
