Ask The One-Eyed Man

[Zaia Krodas]

With the entrance of Casany Praxor the Anvil, the presence of Jon Dromon was utterly forgotten by Zaia Krodas. So she didn’t notice when he slipped into a corner to talk to his partner, instead fixing her gaze on her vod as she came close and pressed her fist against Zaia’s pauldron.

If it wasn’t obvious already, Casany was not wearing her traditional Mandalorian armor. Not even the signature red and gold of her clan. And, she was here. What changed? But Zaia didn’t move or blink as Cas continued on.

“A hot minute.” I missed you. She was family, her sister. Now, she found out that her sister had not only changed her appearance, but also her name. Candy. Like something sweet. She didn’t know if she saw that fitting, but Zaia nodded anyway. Her vod would always be Casany to her. Zaia broke into a wan smile at the stripper part, though. She could much more easily see a person imagining Casany as a stripper being stripped of their dignity before the thought even entered their mind.

She smiled just as Casany did. Of course she was here on business. A real Mandalorian wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. And if anyone was a real Mandalorian, it was Casany Praxor.

“Same,” Zaia responded, meeting Cas’s gaze. After so long, she was surprisingly short of words to say to her vod. “I’m looking for someone. The Badger. What kind of business are you in?”

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Cas stood in silence for a moment, as motionless as her crossed arms ought to emit, if with a subtly narrowed gaze. Badger. I wonder... She already had a feeling that there would be more than just catching up over drinks between these two vods, stripclub or not.

Both Mandalorians surely had plenty of stories to tell since their last encounter on Ventooine. Since last they had encountered Endyr Ratheon together. However, for the moment, Cas let the answer of ‘the Badger’ pass.

“Oh, you know, that and this, this and that.”

There was a moan. It wasn’t the kind of moan you made when you were getting more than a lapdance though.

“You…broke…my…nose…”

“Yeah that’s what happens when it gets hit with my fist.”

“You…bitch.”

-KICK!-

“Oof!”

By this point, despite the bartender if not owner himself having since already smashed the face of his barback without that closing down this establishment, the violence that had taken place in The Gabagool was drawing an audience that tended to drool.

Though Cas had unmasked herself, not being so cloak-and-dagger as maybe one might have expected with mask and hood and dyed hair, most folks didn’t actually know who she was and she wanted to keep it that way—at least for the moment.

“Zabrak.”

“Yeah?”

“And…” Cas blinked. “...Hippo…”

“Yo?”

“See that these three get some drinks for their troubles and keep them out of trouble. If they give you any trouble…”
Trailing off, one punk’s fingers found their way trapped between the floor and the boot of the Mandalorian Anvil.
“I’ll be at that corner table. Cool?”

“Yeah!”

“Kih'parjai!”

“Jate.”

At that, Cas nodded at Zaia and the pair walked off.

“These seats taken?”

No response from this patron except for the wave of a hand, not to dismiss them, but to welcome them with an expression of whatever-the-hell-you-want.

“Vod-Ka,” Casany ordered to a waiter after sitting down. “Tracyn. And whatever my friend wants.”

Zaia might recognize the difference. There was vodka and there was Mandalorian vodka or Vod-Ka, or ‘blade of comrades’, and her requested brand was ‘fiery blade of comrades’. There was another difference with what she said. Zaia Krodas was her friend. Jon Dromon, sitting to her left, was not.

“Badger,” Cas repeated, watching a Twi’lek curve her hips, but she wasn’t actually watching her. “Infobroker for the Daggers.”

She promptly waved cigar smoke away from her face, nodded for the Duros to blow it the other way, he didn’t complain.
“Why is the vornskr after a man like that I wonder?”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC

["Well, the Ranger and I thought we found ‘im. Turned out to be a karkin’ hippo. One of ‘em Mando types.”]

There was a long pause as Jon Dromon just blinked at the nearest object which happened to be a Human stripper. He wasn’t really in the business of objectifying women, that is, though on that note if the price was right then maybe somebody like Perla the Hutt may get another slave to eliminate. Crazy one, that slug. Rather, the Duros was trying to process the words of his canine partner.

“Did you say…” His shifty eyes shifted aside at the bar where Praxor and Krodas were. “...Hippo?”

A coincidence, correct? Definitely wasn’t unusual for multiple Mandalorians to be in the same clan.

But what the kark kinda chances are there for two dipshit Mandalorian Hippopotamuses bein’ in the same damn city at once?

Surely there couldn’t be that much. Or that many. Whatever. The Duros didn’t need to make a mental note to never read the writeup on Clan Hippo if ever there was one. He liked his brain cells right where they were.

[“Are ya even searchin’? Sounds like you’re enjoyin’ yerself. You sure we're splittin' this 50/50?”]

Dog went on to talk about the sounds that surrounded Jon Dromon. He wasn’t wrong. Despite the Duros’ demeanor, this kinda shit was his kind of gig, with or without the strippers.

“Yeah I'm searchin' and enjoyin' myself. Business and pleasure.” Offered rather flatly, not sarcastically.

“Yeah…fifty slash fifty…just as we agreed…” He flicked ash into an ashtray, blew smoke between teeth.

“Badger likes you, buddy. Kark if I know why.”

Jon ought to know though. This was Coyote’s first job. This was not Dromon’s. He already had a sheet with that Badger and the pay seemed to just get better.

“He can be a bit cheap but I put in a good word for you,” he breathed smoke. “So let’s just focus on findin’ him, gettin’ paid, goin’ our separate ways or—”

Jon paused to wave over a pair of Mandalorians but only one of them looked like one.

“—Doin’ it again another day.”

Casany ordered her Vod-Ka that tasted like battery acid and the Duros already had his rum.

“But let’s get back to that Elephant for a moment.” He sipped. Licked his lips. “Er, Hippo. He say anythin’ interestin’?”

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Crux]

Crux glanced over at the Ranger and the Mandalorian, where he could make out a few words of what they were saying. He shuffled a little closer.

“You heard me right.” As Jon went on about business and pleasure and how the Badger liked him but apparently not enough to give him his money for his job and yadda yadda, Crux listened in on the conversation between the Ranger and the Hippo. If it was much of a conversation at all— it all sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to him. The information could prove useful, though, which he relayed to Jon between lifting and lowering his datapad.

“Yeah. Somethin’ bout a grave hell city… two agents, male and ooh, female with a nice ass… a shepherd? … killed someone… naked Hippo… everythin’ sponsored by the Badger… renegade Seraph.” That was about as coherent as the mighty Hippo himself, but Crux couldn’t spy on a conversation and maintain his own at the same time. Jon would have to make do.

Just like he deserves. That was on the Duros for partying all day while Crux did all the backbreaking hard work.

“So did you find anythin’ at that club o’ yours?”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

It was an interesting scene in this book store and weren’t no mistakin’ it. There Clan Purple was, lying on the floor. There Hyena was…somewhere or wherever ‘cause the Ranger had just about forgotten his existence at that moment.

“You…will…find…the…Badger…where…there…is…a…ladder…Sector…Ranger…”

Well slap my ass and call me a stranger.

There said Ranger was, and he was used to shit like this. A former small town sheriff in the desert turned Sector Ranger. Would never become Sector Ranger Captain because of his bad track record that kinda kept gettin’ worse but whatever.

“So…lemme quickly recap this and get it straight while I still have half my brain talkin’ to a complete idiot like you…kay?”

"K............"

Zad sniffed some mucus back up his nose lest he erupt into another poorly timed coughing fit.

“Somethin’ bout a grave hell city… two agents, male and ooh, female with a nice ass… a shepherd? … killed someone… naked Hippo… everythin’ sponsored by the Badger… renegade Seraph.”

“Yes.”

“Kay. Now, hear me out. If you’re lyin’ to me, or if I even suspect you’re lyin’ to me, you’re gonna be countin’ the teeth that are no longer in your mouth, capeesh?”

“Capeesh? That like Coruscanti cheese?”

“Gimme the names of he-she-it-or-they, whoever or whatever gets me to the Badger.”
Zad made to breathe smoke ‘tween his teeth but remembered he had no cigarette.
“Please.”

“Well let me ponder on the circumstances of this situation for a minute please.”
Hippo scratched his helmet and pointed into the distance, thinking.
“...There…is…one…of…them…right…now...as…we…speak…”

“FREEZE FATHER NERFKRIFFER THIS IS THE POLICE!”

Zad turned to look over Agent Fox Molder’s shoulder to rediscover Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee raising their peashooter blasters at both Zad Ruzed and Whatever His Name is.

“...We’re security you idiot!”
“R-RIGHT! S'what I said."
“...And what he said! YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!”
"YEAH! SHUT UP!"
“ANYTHING YOU SAY OR DO…OR SAY…WILL BE DONE…said…done against you…”
“IN A LAYMAN’S COURT”
“YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO TURN YOUR KNEE”

“...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“???”

“Bad time?”
Zad looked right, looked left.
“Just here to buy a book called The Extent if you lot got it in stock?”
Newcomer looked left, looked right.
“Nice helmet. Nice jacket. Nice haircut."

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

“Ohh. The usual, then.” Zaia smiled. She was used to Cas not telling her everything— at least, not immediately. They could catch up later. Casany with her vodka and Zaia with her coffee. Just like old times.

Unfortunately, their quaint little reunion was interrupted once more by the three goons that had been taught personally by the Anvil. Whiny little di’kuts. Zaia wished that it was more than his nose that was broken, but maybe that kind of thinking was taking it a little too far. She gave herself a mental shrug.

After that mess was taken care of and the hippo was finally given something useful to do, Zaia decided that it was time to face her fears and take a seat next to Casany in front of the dancers. She still couldn’t look at them, but at least she was here. She focused on her vod and the Vod-Ka in her glass instead. And then the water in the cup that was brought to her. The cup shook in rhythm with the music, she noticed.

“Yup. An infobroker.” Cas knew as much as the bartender in that regard, apparently. “It’s… for a friend. He saved me, so I’m helping him with this. It’s really important to him.” Zaia glanced up at Casany. “You seem to know him. Or about him. Have you met?” Her tone wasn’t accusing or anything of that nature, but rather simply curious.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Casany was no Sephi, wasn’t a Thyrsian or Echani or anything, but she liked to think she had the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox. Sipping her Vod-Ka, licking the sweet burn from her lips, watching the dancer swing her hips, as if studying the tactics of a fighter.

Of course, those were not the movements she intended to apply to her own Mandalorian dances anytime soon. It was still curious.

Ultimately, Casany was a woman who wouldn’t be up on a stage stripping for the ogling eyes of others more interested in her buttocks and tits like that poor chick, but she wasn’t afraid to get dirty either. She could appreciate sitting in a man’s lap as much as slapping his ass.

She watched in thought. Ignored Jon’s comment about elephants and hippos over the phone to who-knows-who. She didn’t know much about Clan Hippo and figured it was better that way. Thought about Zaia’s earlier question. What am I doing here?

She listened to the cantina song. Mandalorian folk music. Lyrics in Mando’a. Heard words of loyalty, sun, moon, mountains, warriors, fears and dreams—in a manner of speaking. Began miming the lyrics in her mind. Mirroring the voices in the void behind her eyes. Lyrics split like glimpses.

Ruusaanyc
Tranyc
Cerar
Verda
Chaab
Vercopa
Me'suum'ika

The question.

Why am I here?

Another question.

Why do we fight?

Simply put, Casany Praxor’s fight wasn’t finished.

Yet again, as if dodging her vod’s question, not even acknowledging her with her gaze, Casany sipped away on her Vod-Ka, speaking of other things.

“Casany. Definitely not Candy. But a few in this city know me as…Draugr.” That trademark smile again. “Neither Mando’a nor Basic. Deucalic. Means ‘ghost’ basically. Eh, I think it’s fitting. The Ghost of Gravenell. Not that I’m infamous. But I’m definitely rambling.”

A deeper sip. Had a kick. Draugr didn’t grimace but she winced. Delicious.

“A ghost…moves in the shadows…goes quietly and, as you can see, I can move with the mask or without it and people still don’t really know it’s me. Never mind the white. Never mind the lack of red gold beskar on my red black arms. They don’t know Casany Praxor of Mandalore because that’s not who they see.”

Knowing she was still rambling and dragging, Casany looked into Zaia’s eyes for a moment, remembered those moments, those unwavering engagements in the Unwavering when the vornskr helped the sun take her ship back for the clan.

“I came to this system, this moon, this city of graves and hell, for information.” She didn’t sip her beverage, just casually turned the glass on the tabletop. “So I met with an infobroker and that turned out to be the Badger.” She lifted a finger. “That was some time ago though.”

Certainly had more to say as always but Cas, or Ghost, or Draugr for that matter, delayed. She leaned back in her seat with an arm raised over the back.

“Couldn’t tell you where he is at the moment. But tell me why you need him. Or, rather, why your friend does. Who is this…friend…for that matter?”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC

[“Yeah. Somethin’ bout a grave hell city… two agents, male and ooh, female with a nice ass… a shepherd? … killed someone… naked Hippo… everythin’ sponsored by the Badger… renegade Seraph.”]

“...”

To be honest, Jon didn’t even feel like he was sharing this table with anyone else at the moment. There were two women beside him. Two Mandalorians. Vod-Ka. Vodka. Coffee. Water. Whatever. And his rum. With his cigar. However, maybe his forgetting their presence already was why he had accidentally blown smoke one woman’s way.

And maybe none of this mattered except for the fact that, when two separate conversations were happening at once, whatever was being said, one tended to zone out, to distance themselves from the other conversation happening only inches away, which meant he didn’t really know what the hell those women were talking about as much as he had no idea what the hell Dingo was rambling about anyhow.

[“So did you find anythin’ at that club o’ yours?”]

“Ehhh…”

He turned his gaze over a Devaronian hanging upside down, her fingers running between her cleavage, spreading arms and legs, looking right at him as he flicked his cigar. His partner would probably love this shit more than he did, to be honest.

“Besides nice asses and sheep needin’ a shepherd to herd ‘em?”

Jon paused a second as if debating whether he should wait for Jackal to actually answer that question.

“Nope. But I also found one of those Hippos. She might just be the dumbest person in the galaxy.”

More than you. Who knew?

“Bow Canteen or somethin’. Bo-Katan? Bone Katana. That’s it. Complete idiot. Got nothin’. Sounds like your purple twerp had a bit more information than mine did.”

Dromon sighed out smoke past the opposite direction from two women, leaned back in his seat, an arm raised over the back.

“Don’t know shit about any Seraph but stick with it. If the Hippo gets us to the Badger then I’ll make sure you get double for the trouble.”

Jon sipped his rum. Tasty. Smoky.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Crux]

If his partner wasn’t kidding him, there were two hippos now in the contest of dumb and dumber. Crux’s hippo was less dumb, so maybe that spoke to something in him and the Duros’ relationship too. In that case, maybe he wouldn’t blame Dromon for not finding anything useful. Apparently the only thing these hippos were good at was multiplying.

Fortunate for them that it applied to his cut, too.

“I’ll keep ya updated.” The thought of receiving twice his already-considerable pay was enough to make him smile more than any stripper could, and he hung up then. Just in time for the two security guards to return from earlier.

He’d been in this situation before. Crux pulled out his blaster, stepping beside the Ranger and in front of their quarry. There was no way that they were leaving this place in cuffs when they’d spent so much time tracking him down. Had the Ranger ever been at the other end of the law? Crux found himself wondering. Then a woman waltzed in. Gave a compliment.

He was done with women for now, though.

“Who the kriff ‘r you?” he asked after a moment of silence.

@Die Shize

 

[Amer Dragata]

Spoiler: Music IC

In hindsight this might not have been the best establishment to buy a book in, what with the scattered books and the commotion and the ruckus. And the idiots within it. And, in retrospect, she was here on business as much as pleasure, whether that was relevant.

Then again, on the other hand, she hadn’t really noticed all this nonsense until the moment she had walked in. As a matter of fact, it was this or head back to the Red Toad spaceport cantina so…here she comes…there she goes…only Amer had clothes instead of armor.

Had armor, just not on her. Had a blaster rifle just wasn’t totin’ it. Had a blaster pistol at her hip. Easy to open. Prolly not a good idea to argue with it. These idiots? Probs won’t get an argument from any of ‘em to begin with.

‘Specially Dumpling and Donut. Kriff me silly. Those blasters shoot lasers or peas?

“Bad time?”

She didn’t really see anybody else in the shop which likely indicated they had gotten lost.

“Just here to buy a book called The Extent if you lot got it in stock?”

Heard it was a pretty good read anyway. Took place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Amer looked between Supreme Intelligence Security to the purple Mandalorian on the floor. Hardly an observation on his purple. Not a bad color. Bit tacky.
To the guy in the black leather duster whatever. Great. A gangster. Just what I need.
To the guy who looked like a Sector Ranger and on the phone. Handsome. But dumb. Prolly.

“Nice helmet. Nice jacket. Nice haircut.”

Amer suddenly pulled a double take back to purple black Mando whose signet was a hippo.

Gotta be shittin’ me. Not one o’ these idiots. Please…

“Who the kriff ‘r you?”

“Who the fuck are you, sunshine!?”

Eyes into eyes. She won’t be the first person to look away. She'd wait. The music that suddenly played in the establishment was actually pretty great.

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Just when this situation couldn’t get any more complicated, the woman walked in. At first glance, she didn’t look like much. Didn’t look like a punk so there was that. Just looked like, well, a patron in a bookstore who wanted to, Zad guessed it, buy a book or sommat.

As for the Tweedles, Zad was about ready to smack these security idiots across their noggins but that would be neglectin’ his civic duty as a Sector Ranger. Nah, he’d simply whip about the badge, flash that grin of his, tell them to get lost ‘cause a new sheriff’s in town, and find out from Hippo— Oh. Surely neither of these two.

“Who the kriff ‘r you?”
“Who the fuck are you, sunshine!?”
“What the shit’s goin’ on here then?”
“Where did I put my moonshine again?”

“When did we call in the uh reinforcements?”
“Wait what reinforcements you dumb idiot?”
“Who you callin’ an idiot? YOU’RE the idiot!”
“I’m not the one who looks like a PEANUT!”
“Yeah? Oh YEAH? Well…well…uh…I forgot…”

“...”
“...”

“So…” The woman clucked her tongue. “Guess I’m just gonna go…” And began to step backwards.

“Wooooooaaaahhhh ho there sister—”
“YOU’RE NOT GOIN’ ANYWHERE THIS IS A CRIME SCENE”
“YEAH THIS BITCH IS ON LOCKDOWN”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”
“Nah I think the idiot meant—”
“He…meant the…establishment.”
“What Hippopotamus Doofus said.”

“THAT'S IT NOBODY MOVE!”
“EVERYBODY GET DOWN!”

"..."
“That’s it.”

In the midst of this nonsense and whatever two creds Deputy Fox decided to add in, Ranger Ruzed finally decided it was time to end this shindig and get down to business.

“Zad. Zad Ruzed.”
Teeth flash.
“See this badge?”
Pistol wag.
"And this blast?"

They did.

“Huh. Not bad.”
“Yeah I dig it.”
“Wow... So?”

“Do. Done. Did.”

“I like…pigeons.”

“That’s right. Those three gold stars in this hand and this big iron in this hand means I can arrest every karkin’ kriffer in this establishment from the take-no-shit woman to the idiot Mandalorian to you two spaceport security dipshits so gat damn it if I don’t get some answers in a minute I’m just gonna sick Deputy Wolf on your asses. Got it?”

Security nodded and finally lowered their blasters.

Zad noticed the woman didn't. Tapped hers on a hip.

Dang. That is one vicious bitch of a look ain’t no mistake.

And that was a damn fine iron on that piece of ass. Zad ain’t lyin’.

“Amer Dragata, fella. Sergeant to your Ranger. Marine team leader.”

“Marine, huh?” He stiffened a lip, a bit impressed. “In whose army?”

“That’s…her.”

“Huh?”

“Bad…ger…”

-FART-

“...”
“That was you, dude.”

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

As the words to a Mandalorian folk song began to play, Zaia couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. How perverted was it to play a song like that, a song about loyalty, the sun, the moon, mountains, warriors, fears and dreams, in a strip bar? It was as if the cantina owners were mocking the Mandalorian culture.

This is why we fight. To protect the culture. The family. The Mando’ade.

Zaia was taken out of her thoughts, though, when Casany spoke again. She couldn’t help noticing that her vod did not acknowledge her question about the Badger. Hmm. She went along with it, though, knowing that it would likely lead somewhere.

Zaia downed a bit of her water. Ghost. Once she explained the origin of the name, it made perfect sense. She could see that, now. “Draugr fits you,” she replied with a smile. Then, subconsciously, she leaned toward Casany as she got into why she was here. And it involved the Badger.

“Huh.” Zaia pursed her lips. Somehow, the fact that Casany had had contact with him only made the Badger seem even more elusive. He must have held significant power if so many people needed him.

Then Cas brought her back to the reason she was here. The real reason.

“My friend…” Zaia wavered for a moment, contemplating whether she should share the information. But heck, this was Casany she was talking to, not some stranger. So she gave her the whole story. “His name is Zad Ruzed, a Sector Ranger. He’s had some… history with this group called the Daggers, and it turns out that the Badger was working with them. So now we’re looking to track him down. For revenge, and some closure.”

That was the gist of it. Then a sudden question struck her.

“What kind of information were you looking for from him? Weapons, locations, people?” That might bring them a step closer.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Casany listened intently, her attention given to Zaia Krodas with every ounce of energy. Music continued pumping, patrons continued drinking and laughing and chatting, strippers continued dancing, and Jon Dromon continued blowing smoke into his phone.

The Mandalorian, yes, the Mandalorian beneath the surface of black and red with no beskar on her arms, sipped her Vod-Ka again, licked her lips, tasted the name of ‘Zad Ruzed’. Listened to the rest of her companion’s speech. And to the music, inevitably.

Zaia finished her explanation. It definitely wasn’t much of one. There was certainly more to her story. And to yours, Praxor. True that. So, in the end, both sisters were holding back at least a bit, but it wasn’t from lack of trust. That wasn’t Cas’ sentiment of their shared situation.

Words, not liquor, would bring them one step closer to each other.

“Zad Ruzed, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard of him. Haven’t had bad dealings with Sector Rangers though. Not yet, at least. Badgers. Daggers. Rangers. Guess a lightsaber’s next.”

Companionship, not lyrics, of which Draugr was never ignorant as to this establishment she had to visit. Business. Never pleasure. Mandalorians, whether terrorists like Death Watch, pacifists like New Mandalorians, or freedom fighters like True Mandalorians, were different.

How many visited strip clubs was an unknown number for Praxor, and she wasn’t one to judge who kept their helmets on in public and who didn’t, who wore the ‘gam or the garment, but the lyrics were liquid, served as water amid the aruetii who mixed with ‘Mando'ade’ who didn’t even know she was Mandalorian to begin with.

Only the bounty hunter did. A dishonest, if honest, headhunter who was one tough customer and as cold as Casany Praxor was bold.

Lake
World
Land
Wave

Distracted, yet again, and maybe, if she admitted it, the draugr was just debating whether to keep opening up to the vornskr.

Suumpir
Uvete
Vhetin
Shonar

This was a song of love in a stripclub. Maybe it was poetic in another sense. Where did a Mandalorian who could take the armor off and put it back on, who was anvil as much as sunlight, fit in within this galaxy? The daughter of Evla Praxor, the Armorer, turned bounty hunter, turned warrior, turned freedom fighter, turned Draugr.

Is there even a place for you anymore…Praxor..?

A song of love, maybe between two persons but kriff it, Cas never found or went searching for romance to begin with. No, hers was the romance of the land, of Mandalore, of Kad-Stor, of home, of Unwavering and, in an establishment like this or to the end of her own kriffing existence, this Mandalorian had to be unwavering in her spirit.

That’s what it meant to be a True Mandalorian.

She searched for him endlessly and found him lastly
They were delighted in their late found love
They loved each other as nothing else matters
A happy news of expecting came
Promised each other to be together forever

“Baldy,” Cas snapped her fingers.

Jon blew smoke her way. Made her wave.

Okay. I maybe had that coming.

“Yo.” He had already closed his phone.

“Why am I here?”

Dromon looked between both women and paused.

“Go ahead. She’s my friend.” Cas slapped a hand on Zaia’s pauldron again, sipped her Vod-Ka. “Correction. She’s my vod. She’s my sister. So tell her why we’re here.”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC

Jon’s conversation ended, he sighed out smoke and closed his phone. Question came his way. No, a comment made by a woman who knew better than to make fun of this man. Granted, that didn’t mean she cared one way or the other and, while he’d never much admit it, he liked her spirit.

“Baldy.”
“Yo.”
“Why am I here?”

What? She wants me to spill the beans? He looked between both women, wondering if Praxor or Draugr or Anvil or whatever the hell she called herself these days was just too unsure of what to say.

Jon didn’t know shit from chit about Zaia Krodas to be honest, as much as he knew about Zad Ruzed, except at least the Ranger and the hunter knew each other by their limited reputations. Guess she just doesn’t want to admit to her ‘sister’ how worthless her search has been…or she’s testing me but whatever.

“Gold and iron, kid,” Jon spoke, eyes on Krodas. He decided to address the last first and leave the first for last.

“She might not look it at the moment but I came to learn that the woman sittin’ beside you is as Mandalorian as they come.” He shrugged but he didn't blow smoke. “Not that I know much about Mandalorians, but I’ve seen this one in her armor more than once. Her beskar. Her iron.”

The Duros took a moment to study this other woman, this Zaia Krodas, who sat in her armor, and maybe she was a bit more religious with it but whatever, the culture and the politics of Mandalorians didn’t much concern him either.

“Iron,” he blew smoke between his lips, bottom lip jutted, so that it curved upward, away from their faces, but became a haze in between Zaia and Jon. “Beskar. See? Apparently there’s a whole treasure trove of it somewhere in this city. At least, that’s what she thinks, and she managed to convince me at least, a bounty hunter as much as a treasure hunter.”

He grinned. He didn’t always grin. When he did, it was that trademark Duros grin, like the only secret within his lips was being up to something that was just no darn good. Forefinger and thumb pinched, rubbed together to the fabric of credits. “Beskar means a drukton of profit.” He sipped some rum.

“That’s the iron. The gold is— -RING!-RING!- —Hold it.”

He opened his phone.

“Hello … No, no, she wants to speak she speaks with me, not through one of her goons … Yeah tell her I said it … Kay. I’ll wait.”

He waited, turning away from both Mandalorians who went back to their own conversation.

“Yeah. The one and only. That music in the background? … I didn't pick it. You did. ... That so? What do you know? … Oh. Heh. Right. And I know you’re workin’ with the Pyke.” Jon held his phone a bit away as he didn’t listen to his conversation companion explode into a rage.

“Yeah I heard. Every word.” He blew smoke. “Oh? Red black armor?” Jon would wave away either woman if they caught onto his conversation and thought ‘red black armor’ meant the Badger. “Yeeeaahhh I know. ... Ohhhh. Who’da known? Why tell me? … I see … I seeee ... That’s a lotta money…but dangerous business…takin’ on an assassin…I’ll have to think about it … Naturally. … Huh? Do they now?”

Jon glanced at Casany and Zaia and, if they weren’t already too busy talking to each other, would only see the aimless look of someone looking around because they were talking to someone on the phone and had nothing better to do.

“I’ll think about that too. … Always do. … You too.”

-CLICK-

“Draugr.”
“What is it?”
“Somethin’ you should know about my partner that I didn’t know. Shit. What’s his name?” He breathed smoke. “Dingo?”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)

 

[Crux]

Crux frowned. This woman had attitude. Called him sunshine as if he weren’t Wolf here and now. Even as chaos ensued between the Ranger, the hippo, and the security guards, the bounty hunter kept his eyes on the woman. She was the only real threat here.

Besides Deputy Wolf, of course.

She hadn’t even balked at the Ranger’s badge, unlike the other two who had lowered their blasters. The woman was a Marine, apparently, and she sure acted it.

“That’s…her.”

“Huh?”

“Bad…ger…”

As quickly as whoever it was that passed that gas, Crux would have his own blaster up in a heartbeat, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Maybe a hippo wasn’t the best source of information, but Crux wasn’t about to let another lead slip along with his payment.

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til I have my credits.” Crux scowled. “Badger.” He had his doubts, but it wouldn’t show on his face. If they were right, that was too bad. He wouldn’t hesitate to put a bolt through her pretty face.

@Die Shize

 

[Amer Dragata]

Spoiler: Music IC

“That’s…her.”

“Huh?”

“Bad…ger…”

“Wot?”

Finger taps the blaster at her hip. Takes less than a second to slip it from its holster but Amer didn’t feel the need unless one of these idiots did. Ranger in a leather duster reckoned he’s quicker than her with his gun already up? Pfft. She’d reckon to wager. Big iron, was it? How about the marine reels in the Ranger for a steely kiss?

Except she wouldn’t. He wasn’t her target. Nobody was in this bookshop wotzamacallzit, with the datapads and the tablets and the hardbacks and the paperbacks and the ones bound in black leather like that Ranger’s black leather duster.

Nope, Amer Dragata, a marine in the Assault Corps of the Imperial Army, Sergeant of the Dust Dragoons, a bona fide asskicker, could feed this goon with a bad haircut his blaster and make him eat it in a second if she really wanted to without needing the power of the Jedi at her fingertips.

Instead, she settled for whipping out her own weapon the moment he lifted his own and aimed it at him, as steady as a sniper, one who could pop that pretty head like a watermelon in a second from this distance.

That man spoke, said something about ‘she ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til he has his credits’ but all this woman heard was ‘tell my mother I never loved her ‘cause I’m a complete shithead and a dead man the next second if I even think of squeezing the trigger on this piece o’ shit blaster’. That’s what Amer reckoned but she said this:

“Yeah, this music makes more sense.” She nonchalantly looked around the establishment as if she wasn’t still looking down her pistol. “Don’t know what was up with that other shit, ladies and gents.” Though expressive, Amer was rather expressionless.

“And I don’t know what the fuck Hippo is saying calling me the Badger but...guess what..."

“You’re…not it?” Piped up Security Clearance.

“You guessed it, genius.”

“...Then…who is..?” Asked the Security Genius.

“Maybe I can help with that, maybe I can’t,” Amer answered. “But I ain’t sayin' or doin’ anythin’ until Hot Shot here lowers his blaster and begs for my forgiveness.” She didn’t grin. Her smile was polite. Her eyes were wide. Like a kitchen conversation with her parents. Bet your mother gave you that haircut, huh, chump?

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Perla the Hutt]

The Pool

Spoiler: Music IC

It was a nice quiet time in the throne room of Perla the Hutt, only she wasn’t in her casino ship, her yacht, her barge, her whatever-and-wherever-the-kriff-it-is, the Sable Chariot.

Nyupe. Perla is currently in her other casino that maybe replaces the existence of her casino ship on account of disallowed property rings when it came to owning two or more places without having the weight to back it up. Yup.

Except, dang if Perla don’t have the WEIGHT to back it UP.

“That ASS. -TSSSS!- Look at DAT.”

-SLAP-

Granted, despite being pretty damn fat, she knows she doesn’t really have an ass as it is. Her flab kinda stretched from her wotzit stomach and back to her tail and skipped the backside. However, her boobs were proving to be more true to her. Had to look the part of a queen, of course. No, not a queen who breaks chains, for Perla is the BINDER OF CHAINS.

“Bring in the CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE”

“R-Right away your Grandest and Gloriousest and Most Succulent Fish-Eating Bottom-Shaking Tail-Wiggling Princess That Was Promised,” responded one of her many slaves whose number was swiftly dwindling for some unknown reason.

“...”

-SLAP!-

“WAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

“Bring in the SLAAAAAAAAAVE— Oh hey.”

“Yes, my mistress?”

“Got the cheesecake?”

“I bring you blue cheese only.”

“I said BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE— Oh what the hay I’ll take it now go away ‘fore I break ya face…kyeh… OKAY…Weequay Wotzyername…get on the kriffing PHONE AND CALL THAT DAMN DUMB DARN DIRTY DUROS I got sommat to say.”

“R-RIGHT AWAY, FOR YOU ARE GREAT, AND I AM DUMB, I AM SO DUMB, LOOK AT ME, MY QUEEN, DUMB.”

“K………..”

“He says he will only speak to you…MY MOST MELOVED BELOVED MAJESTY WHO I DO BEQUEATH TO THEE MY UNDYING LOYALTY O MY LOVELY—”

-SLAP!-

“SHUT IT YA DAMN SCHUTTA ok gimme da phone plz”

-PASS!-

And so the conversation between the Hutt and the Duros went like this.

“This Don Jromon—KYAHAHA—Jon Dromon?”
“Yeah. The one and only. That music in the background?”
“Kyeah. Sexy, kyey? You? Is that shitty music in the background?”
“I didn’t pick it. You did.”
“Who gives a kriff. Listen. I know somethin’.”
“That so? What do you know?”
“Wayl I know you’re workin’ for the Daggers for one thing.”

Files her nonexistent nails.

“Oh. Heh. Right. And I know you’re workin’ with the Pyke.”

Eyes go wide.

“WHADDAFUQ YA JUST SAY YA KRIFFIN’ KARKIN’ NERFHUMPIN’ STOOPA SCHUTTA BANTHA POODOO BLUE DUDE SLEEMO MOFO TELLIN’ ME I WORK WITH THE KRIFFIN’ PYKE GUY WHO SMELLS LIKE A TOAD ON A HOT HUMID NIGHT I DON’T WORK WITH THAT CHIT-EATIN’ SHITHEAD OKAY KYEK HE AIN’T MAH KINDA SCUM YA GET ME ARE YA LISTENIN’ YA CIGAR-SMOKIN’ CAD BANE WANNABE YA HEARD ME?”

“Yeah I heard. Every word.”

“Anyway so I was sayin’ your partner with the red black armor—”
“Oh? Red black armor?”
“DON’T INTERRUPT ME SCHUTTA SCUM YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN”
“Yeeeaahhh I know.”
“A little…kinda dead…birdy maybe sorta told me he used to work with Endyrrrrrr Raytheon or sommat.”
“Ohhhh. Who’da known? Why tell me?”
“Cuz I know that you and your Mandalorian moron of a girlfriend are lookin’ for him, scumbag, and I know he was last seen with an assassin who the Daggers will pay me a drukton of credits if I bring her to them dead or alive and I’m willin’ to give you an even split of the payment, ya dig?”
“I see.”
“Figure if you ask that idiot partner of yours what he knows, maybe make him squeal for Mama Perla, it’ll save me the hassle of sending a Tweedle Dum or Dee to do it for me and prolly failin' miserably only for their mother to hurt them in turn as punishment.”
“I seeee.”
“We talkin’ a bajillion gajillion kyakillion credits, my blue-skinned friend.”
“That’s a lotta money…but dangerous business…takin’ on an assassin…I’ll have to think about it.”
“KYEHEH you do that. I’ll send you the target packet to your datapad with her name on it, that pallid bitch. Make a decision. Get back to me.”
“Naturally.”

“OH OH OH also…those two Mandalorian women you maybe may not be sittin’ with at the moment? Former members of the True Mandalorians or whatever? Still seen as traitors by certain other Mandalorians? Kyeah they have a combined bounty that has a more significant payout than one of them individually. Just a tip. Kyeheh.”
“Huh? Do they now? I’ll think about that too.”
“Do the right thing, blue dude!”
“Always do.”
“Go kriff a monkey lizard, bitch.”
“You too.”

-CLICK-

Perla looked left, looked right.

“Bring me my PIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE”

@Sicadorito

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Wellp, things were definitely gettin’ more complicated by the kriffin’ minute, just when this old man thought they couldn’t. Old man. Hell yeah. No denyin’ it. He was old the moment he was six, then sixteen, in his thirties, fifties, always old. Felt it in his bones. Dusty. Rusty. The only time he didn’t…

…The only time he didn’t…

…Aemi…

She had been his whole existence. Once upon a time, in a world far away, she had taken him away, had been his escape, until the Daggers took her away, those mother kriffn’ bastards, and were the whole reason he was here today.

Only it wasn’t Zaia Krodas helping him at the moment. It was this chump with his gun up at this woman with an attitude pointing back. So, naturally, Zad Ruzed kept back for the moment, slipped a cigarette ‘tween his teeth, lit it, and sighed out like an old guy, like an old man.

Gettin’ really, really too old for this shit…

Badger? He could see it in her. He couldn’t see it in her. Nothing mattered except Clan Eggplant’s accusation that this was her, she was it, the Badger. Till she said she wasn’t. In that instant, the old man became the Ranger, became as young as Aemi was, his woman, before she was murdered and turned to dust.

I see it. She ain’t lyin’. But she knows somethin’...and sure as shit admitted it.

“Lower that blaster, would ya?”

He wasn’t sarcastic. He wasn’t being a dipshit to the dipshit. Whoever this merc was, Wolf had proven at least some of himself, his abilities, to Zad Ruzed, and that meant more than nothin’ in the end.

He also had a feeling that this woman, this marine, this Amer Dragata, would only, only lower her blaster if Deputy Wolf lowered his. If he didn’t? If neither of them did? Then, by the power of the cigarette vested between his lips, Zad Ruzed’s big iron was going back up, and he’d have to smoke that skin wagon faster than Team Security could pass gas again.

Hopefully the shit wouldn’t hit the fan like that and it wouldn’t come to it.

“Well…what about…Goatherd?”

“What the shit now, purple twerp?”

“He…grew up in…the colonies…”
The Hippo wasn’t speaking to anybody. He was reading.

“He knows how tough life can be out there. His parents were killed when slavers attacked Malachor.”

For a moment Zad could only stand there and blink.
Why, how, the hell does this guy transition from speakin’ like someone stunned to speakin’ as naturally and normally as Zaia Krodas?

“What’s all this then?”

It wasn’t Krogan who spoke. It was someone else. Another purple black Mandalorian had just entered the bookstore. Zad noticed that Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee from Team Security parted like waves as he walked their way but toward the Ranger, the mercenary and the marine.

“SU’CUY, RANGER!”
He promptly offered a salute.
“Guess who!”
“...”
“...”
“That’s the one, burger buck!”

Someone asked him who he was.

“Sergeant Ki’dut, Sector Ranger division of the GCPD AKA Gravenell City Police Department. Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh I heard about a commuckus in this fine dining establishment.”

“Commuckus?”
“Comeuppance?”
“Commotion?”
“Ruckus?”

“No, no, I mean commuckus.”
Sergeant Ki’dut gave a look like he had just said that ten seconds ago.
Granted, a Mandalorian couldn’t emote, but the black visor said it all.

“This ain’t a restaurant, Sarge. It’s a book readin’ establishment.”

“Huh…” Ki’dut looked left, looked right, looked up, stood with his hands on his hips. “So it is. Anywho! That there is my vodbrother, Krogan, annnnnnnd I have so many questions such as what happened, starting with you, sir?” He pointed at Wolf.

“Bro…ther…”

@Sicadorito (@Crux)

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Badgers. Daggers. Rangers. Zaia was glad that Casany didn’t seem to have any history with Zad, because having to choose between those two would be like choosing between a sister or a father.

That was… impossible.

“Maybe. Life’s unpredictable.” Zaia grinned. Especially that of a Mandalorian. Badgers, Daggers, and Rangers, lightsabers wouldn’t be too far off. Speaking of Badgers, though, Zaia couldn’t help glancing at Jon. As happy as she was to see Cas, she wondered what he was making of their conversation. Not much, apparently, as he blew smoke in her vod’s face once his attention was called. Zaia frowned.

“You know each other?” Casany’s hand slapped her shoulder, and she looked from one face to another. A friend to… she didn’t even know. Still, she paid attention as he spoke, not that it took much to keep it. Beskar in the city, that was interesting. But he was cut off by yet another call, and Zaia sighed.

“Popular guy, isn’t he?” she grumbled, returning to her water for another sip. She wouldn’t say anything else to Casany, though, in case Jon started talking again suddenly. He always seemed to be up to something, and Zaia didn’t like it.

Finally, he finished. But now he was talking to Cas. About his partner. The bounty hunter.

“What about him?” Zaia blurted out.

@Die Shize

 

[Casany Praxor]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

“You know each other?”

At the question of whether the Mandalorian bounty hunter and the Duros bounty hunter knew each other, Casany simply rolled her eyes in place of explaining away how the Duros and the Mandalorian had ever actually come to be introduced to each other. That would come up later.

“Popular guy, isn’t he?”

“Not too popular. The guy isn’t after a huge reputation in this galaxy. He’s no Cad Bane or Preef Callo and knows it, at least.” She sipped her drink and sighed. “But he isn’t wrong about the beskar. Not so long ago, a Mando I know, a freighter captain, Jarik Briar, reportedly came across a whole haul of it in his adventures.”

She didn’t care if Jon was or wasn’t listening during his phone conversation at this moment. He already knew as much as currently being discussed. However, not everyone did, so Casany purposely lowered her tone.

“His ship, the Dorothy Dawn, went missing not long after he shared his story with an armorer I know. I went looking for it. Found it. Went about investigating it with my team from the Unwavering—Taktik and Barrek say hi by the way—and, of all things, got stalked by a kriffing Yautkan.”

Another sip. More deeply. Deliberating on how to explain, how much to say just in case they were overheard. Jon kept talking on the phone. Strippers kept swinging. Music kept playing. Patrons kept drinking. Some Mandalorians. Some not. Memories sweeping within her head, her heart, bleeding into one another like tributaries, like rivers.

“And then—”
“Draugr.”
“What is it?”
“Somethin’ you should know about my partner that I didn’t know. Shit. What’s his name? Dingo?”
“What about him?”
“What the kriff’s a Dingo?”

“Wolf. Wolf.” Jon snapped his fingers as if to congratulate himself. “That was it. My partner. Just got stuck with me on a job. Vornksr here knows. She and I ended up together searchin’ for the Badger while Wolf and Ranger went for the port.”

“Well,” Cas repeated her vod's question. “What about him?”

“I covered the iron. You already tell her about the gold while I was on the phone or no?”

“Nope. Now you have our total attention.”

“Apparently he used to work with your best friend. Endyr Ratheon.”

Attentive, listening, Casany had her Vod-Ka in her hand, lifted it, ready to take a sip, but it just hovered beneath her chin.

Endyr. Kriffing. Ratheon.

“Wolf… Wolf… That karkin’ ge'hutuun. It’s him.”
Her cup thudded on the tabletop as Cas turned to Zaia. She wasn’t angered. Just serious.
“Jon wouldn’t know it unless it was mentioned in your presence. Maybe you didn’t remember his armor, or just didn’t know the significance, sis, but that little shit, Wolf, was there on Ventooine. I dueled the son of a bitch. Cut the fucker’s arm off. I wonder…”

It might not be significant. Jon was just sharing his tip with Cas because of his vested interest. They were partners, in the end, it just sure as shit wasn’t permanent.

“If he’s here, it might not be a coincidence. He might know where he is. My other target. The other reason I came to Gravenell. Not just for beskar. But for him. In a race of who finds it first and claims it in one of the biggest kriffin’ treasure hunts there is for Mandalorian iron.”

Casany Praxor, not Draugr, not Ghost, not even Anvil, looked from Jon Dromon to Zaia Krodas.

“I came to this shithole, this grave and hell, to find a Mandalorian in black and gold...to find Endyr fucking Ratheon.”

@Sicadorito (@Zaia Krodas)