Rixa Numeck
Mandalorian
(Armament: HG-54 Verpine Hand Cannon, BAW-78 Precision Blaster Rifle, karambit tactical knife)
The younger of the two brothers crossed his equally large arms over his pale chest plate and cursed under his breath. “Di'kutla htagioa me'suum, Ni or'parguur ciryc!” This was some kind of sick joke on his brother’s part, revenge for being a pain in the neck for the last decade. Tyran had known exactly how to dangle the right kind of bait to get him to agree to tag along here. Just the simple hint that there was an ancient temple with the possibility of having some valuable treasures hidden in it’s depths had been enough to get Rixa off the couch.
He wasn’t an explorer by any means. Jungles, deserts, and tundras especially were something he actively tried to avoid. He had abilities that allowed him to earn a comfortable living through a much less harsh existence and that was why he considered himself less of a bleak soul than Tyran who had spent a decade wading through blood and guts on so many distant battlefields.
He was at least thankful when the group started to move inside where the close quarters would ensure a greater degree of warmth. Rixa wasn’t carrying a lot of gear besides his hand cannon and precision blaster. He didn’t see the need to be a walking armory like his older brother was. When the loud screech tore through the cavern and caused the column to halt Rixa found himself wondering if being a mobile armory wasn’t actually such a bad idea.
When one of the other Mando’ade spoke up about not bunching up Rixa couldn’t help but scoff. “We’re all wearing beskar, shooting each other should be the least of our worries.”
The younger of the two brothers crossed his equally large arms over his pale chest plate and cursed under his breath. “Di'kutla htagioa me'suum, Ni or'parguur ciryc!” This was some kind of sick joke on his brother’s part, revenge for being a pain in the neck for the last decade. Tyran had known exactly how to dangle the right kind of bait to get him to agree to tag along here. Just the simple hint that there was an ancient temple with the possibility of having some valuable treasures hidden in it’s depths had been enough to get Rixa off the couch.
He wasn’t an explorer by any means. Jungles, deserts, and tundras especially were something he actively tried to avoid. He had abilities that allowed him to earn a comfortable living through a much less harsh existence and that was why he considered himself less of a bleak soul than Tyran who had spent a decade wading through blood and guts on so many distant battlefields.
He was at least thankful when the group started to move inside where the close quarters would ensure a greater degree of warmth. Rixa wasn’t carrying a lot of gear besides his hand cannon and precision blaster. He didn’t see the need to be a walking armory like his older brother was. When the loud screech tore through the cavern and caused the column to halt Rixa found himself wondering if being a mobile armory wasn’t actually such a bad idea.
When one of the other Mando’ade spoke up about not bunching up Rixa couldn’t help but scoff. “We’re all wearing beskar, shooting each other should be the least of our worries.”
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