Rissk
New Blood
The small settler town of Keetash, built during the Eternal Empire's occupation of Thakwaa, had degraded to the point of near collapse.
That much was obvious to Rissk from the state of their cantina. Helmed by a dirty human behind the bar, holding to life with a few regulars and what off-worlders they managed to entice inside. A dusty radio played dated classics in the corner, that nobody seemed to be paying attention to. The termite-infested walls seemed on the verge of tipping over, held together by what meager credits flowed through it.
It was wonderful.
Rissk sat at the bar, blaster shotgun slung across his back. He'd ordered something to be polite, but hadn't touched the glass. Instead, he'd spent the time hunched over his datapad, engrossed in his reading. Every once in a while, his clawed finger would tap the screen, flipping him to the next page. Other patrons gave him weird looks, but he didn't seem to mind.
He'd been on this job for a few days now, had finally tracked down the Bantam Brothers to the grasslands surrounding Keetash... but there wasn't a chance he could bag them on his own. So he'd reached out to his broker, and his broker reached out to a Mandalorian.
Rissk had heard incredible things about Mandalorian bounty hunters. Nearly all of the greats belonged to the warrior culture, and if Rissk wanted to be one of the greats too... he'd need to learn a thing or two from Vizsla. They'd planned to meet at the cantina, where any respectable meeting between hunters went down, so Rissk could explain the job, and they could decide on a cut. But now, it was a waiting game.
Might as well read to pass the time.
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Hilal Vizsla
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