Phraetiss. A Core World, and yet one of the most calm, backwards, slow places in the galaxy. Relia expected this sort of stuff from the back world planets in the Mid Rim, somewhere like Xa Fel, Foerost, Atar or somewhere... To be fair, this was her first visit to Phraetiss. And she was here on a mission. Relia Corrde was a bounty hunter. Relia Corrde spent her time on the job searching for various men and women wanted by various other men and women across the galaxy for various reasons. Actually, she felt rather mixed feelings about today's job. Today, she'd been hired to kill a mercenary. All well and good; she had no love for mercenaries, and no bounty hunter invisible code of honour prevented her from doing it; he wasn't a bounty hunter. It was the authenticity of the accusations which caused the doubt; she'd refrained from trying any sort of remote killing, as she actually doubted that this was a mercenary. She was pretty sure this man, this Rylan Belikov, was a bounty hunter. And she wouldn't kill a bounty hunter.
Therefore, she'd have to confront him to find out first.
The long, tall grass that covered the planet in broad, wide swathes danced beneath the caress of the wind's fingertips, as the wind swept from the mountains in the far distance of Relia's vision. Her fingers outstretched, Relia brushed her way through the grass, feeling the soft touch of the plant on her fingertips with a sort of shivery pleasure. She was clad in black, leather-type combat gear, her brilliant red hair blazing down her back like the sun. If needs be, she'd tie it up and shield it. But she didn't want to appear as if she already had the intention of killing this man before she'd found out just who his allegiance was to. A heavy combat blaster was attached to her waist band, in addition to a number of other weapons. For last reliance, she had a knife strapped to her ankle and a small combat blaster strapped to her wrist; useful only for close range. But Relia wouldn't allow herself to be disarmed to the level of having to rely on that singularly.
She just hoped she'd be able to keep control of it herself.
The mountains in the distance were where she'd come from. The hill she was climbing now was where she expected her target to be. She'd made no attempt at hiding herself yet, and only hoped that this Belikov wouldn't try and abuse that by killing her outright from a covert position. But, from what she knew of this man, she didn't think that'd be true. She'd made no noise yet, and yet hadn't made major attempts to be quiet; she was giving off no aura of hurried pursuit, yet she wasn't giving one of a covert, subtle approach either. A happy medium had been reached, and Relia felt a hard nub of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she considered, once again, the risks. She could rationalise and plot all she wanted, and yet none of it would matter if he chose to shoot her. She felt a bead of sweat run down the arch of her back under the eye of the sun as she pushed back the anxiety; if it came to trouble, that wouldn't help.
And if it came to trouble, she could quite easily defend herself.
Therefore, she'd have to confront him to find out first.
The long, tall grass that covered the planet in broad, wide swathes danced beneath the caress of the wind's fingertips, as the wind swept from the mountains in the far distance of Relia's vision. Her fingers outstretched, Relia brushed her way through the grass, feeling the soft touch of the plant on her fingertips with a sort of shivery pleasure. She was clad in black, leather-type combat gear, her brilliant red hair blazing down her back like the sun. If needs be, she'd tie it up and shield it. But she didn't want to appear as if she already had the intention of killing this man before she'd found out just who his allegiance was to. A heavy combat blaster was attached to her waist band, in addition to a number of other weapons. For last reliance, she had a knife strapped to her ankle and a small combat blaster strapped to her wrist; useful only for close range. But Relia wouldn't allow herself to be disarmed to the level of having to rely on that singularly.
She just hoped she'd be able to keep control of it herself.
The mountains in the distance were where she'd come from. The hill she was climbing now was where she expected her target to be. She'd made no attempt at hiding herself yet, and only hoped that this Belikov wouldn't try and abuse that by killing her outright from a covert position. But, from what she knew of this man, she didn't think that'd be true. She'd made no noise yet, and yet hadn't made major attempts to be quiet; she was giving off no aura of hurried pursuit, yet she wasn't giving one of a covert, subtle approach either. A happy medium had been reached, and Relia felt a hard nub of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she considered, once again, the risks. She could rationalise and plot all she wanted, and yet none of it would matter if he chose to shoot her. She felt a bead of sweat run down the arch of her back under the eye of the sun as she pushed back the anxiety; if it came to trouble, that wouldn't help.
And if it came to trouble, she could quite easily defend herself.