9-LOM
Character
The heavy trudging of a dewback only a few feet away, and the tinkering of sand particles against their metal shell was all Nine could hear. There was nothing to see – not yet. They were trapped in a cloud of dust kicked up by a passing sandcrawler. "They" being 9-LOM and their client, a heavy Dowutin game-hunter by the name of Lurrgar. The Dowutin was atop the dewback, slowly breaking its spine as they made their way into the heart of the Jundland Wastes. Nine had been to tatooine many times, trekked its dunes and detours in search of many creatures. Most of the time it was something meager, like a womp-rat nest, or after a colony of moundmites. Things that the poor of Mos Entha or Mos Taike couldn't bother the Hutts to take care of. Most of the minor towns' populations were slaves anyways. And though they may be, somehow managing to scrape together enough credits time and again to afford Nine's services as an exterminator of sorts. It was well known the droid could get the job done – and that's precisely the reputation that had landed them here. However, this time it was different. They – Lurrgar – wasn't after a nest of desert vermin. As one might expect from a Dowutin hunter, he was after only the best. Something truly worthy of the massive alien's ego. Something worthy of a one-thousand credit transfer right into 9-LOM's account.
“AaaGhhk!” Lurrgar yelled, swiping at the curtain of dust. “What kind of droid doesn't have a holovid recorder?!”
Nine checked their radar to make sure the sandcrawler had stopped – it had.
“All protocol droids manufactured by Industrial Automaton are equipped with the best portable audio rec-” the droid gurgled in its low, Gand accent, but was interrupted.
“Baah! I have no use for an audio recording of a dying Krayt Dragon! My own mother could fake that.” Lurrgar exclaimed. “No – I'm buying the cheapest astromech these jawas have. And once I have that holodisc, I'll scrap the droid myself.”
The haze began to die down, and the towering silhouette of a sandcrawler stood ahead. A castle of rust and machinery that somehow had been cobbled together by one of the meekest species known in the galaxy. The small, pointy-hooded Jawas had already begun descending the crawler's loading ramp, dragging with them an assortment of general scrap they might sell desert travelers. Lurrgar and his suffering dewback continued proudly forward, displaying the sort of pompness that boasted he could buy the entire sandcrawler if he wanted to, yet still with the disgrace that he'd never be caught transacting with a Jawa. Nine could already see the alien being ripped unwittingly off by the nigh-swindling race of miniature merchants a click away. The droid had reluctantly begun preparations for being an envoy between the two very unreasonable parties.
“AaaGhhk!” Lurrgar yelled, swiping at the curtain of dust. “What kind of droid doesn't have a holovid recorder?!”
Nine checked their radar to make sure the sandcrawler had stopped – it had.
“All protocol droids manufactured by Industrial Automaton are equipped with the best portable audio rec-” the droid gurgled in its low, Gand accent, but was interrupted.
“Baah! I have no use for an audio recording of a dying Krayt Dragon! My own mother could fake that.” Lurrgar exclaimed. “No – I'm buying the cheapest astromech these jawas have. And once I have that holodisc, I'll scrap the droid myself.”
The haze began to die down, and the towering silhouette of a sandcrawler stood ahead. A castle of rust and machinery that somehow had been cobbled together by one of the meekest species known in the galaxy. The small, pointy-hooded Jawas had already begun descending the crawler's loading ramp, dragging with them an assortment of general scrap they might sell desert travelers. Lurrgar and his suffering dewback continued proudly forward, displaying the sort of pompness that boasted he could buy the entire sandcrawler if he wanted to, yet still with the disgrace that he'd never be caught transacting with a Jawa. Nine could already see the alien being ripped unwittingly off by the nigh-swindling race of miniature merchants a click away. The droid had reluctantly begun preparations for being an envoy between the two very unreasonable parties.