Shrike
Location: Susefvi, Java the Hut Cafe
Java the Hut was a café a few blocks from his office. It was often the place he visited, when feeling stressed or had a few loose credits to lighten his wallet.
There were nine stools at the bar, nine tables, and windows glazed over with a orange film that gave a cozy atmosphere. Covering the far wall, native wood carved in the likeness of a Hutt serving hot coffee.
Vox made his own brews, good actually and the best Rharrk had found in his near decade long career on the world. After today, Rharrk deserved some of Vox's brew and someone else's cooking.
"Rharrk," Vox greeted as though welcoming an old friend. Vox was a tall, gangly bothan of interminant age. His eyes were soft, and a rare crooked smile.
"Hello there Vox." Rharrk answered, "it has been one of those days. Give me a bantha steak and fries, and some spiced java."
He threw down a couple of credits, and took a seat. The other patrons paid him no heed, a couple giggled in their corner, a group of human officers shared stories of their latest expedition, and a Trandoshan hunter. Bounty hunter most likely.
Vox opened a jar and recoiled as if blasted by a wave of heat. Seregar Scorpion, a pepper that would usually incapacitate most species, or at least confine them to the bathroom. Thankfully, most avian species lacked the taste buds necessary to pick up on the heat, for Rharrk it had a sharp sweetness that made Vox's coffee unique.
As he began to grind the beans, he starred over Rharrk's shoulder into the distance. "Rharrk. You were followed." He said
Rharrk paused for a moment, resting both hands on the table. Showing he was unarmed, all the while channelling the Force preparing to defend himself.
Rharrk laid low. He was to many a nobody, just a blue collar who was reasonably paid and good at his job. A job that didn't make him very many friends mind you, but it was honest work but past that?
He was Rharrk Zaltli, or as the House of Shattered Wings called him Lord Shrike a name well earned as they would discover.
He already sensed their murderous intent, the Trandoshan. He looked over his wing, a claw tearing into his shoulder and blaster placed to his spine. Rharrk liked Vox, he liked Java the Hut Cafe, he liked it enough that he hesitated.
Rharrk shuddered nervously, "Ow! Wha- what is this?" He stammered, he knew fear. He had lived it and emulating those emotions was second nature. Although, it pained him to grovel.
Vox remained calm watching the Trandoshan escort him outside. They stopped at the rooftops, grabbed by the neck and thrown against the wall. Rharrk croaked trembling, "What? What is the meaning of this?" He flinched
The Trandoshan hissed, it hated him. No doubt hoping to find someone who would have least put up a fight. It pulled out a guild marker, pressing a key and Rharrk's hologram flashed up.
Guild. Of course. He would not get any information willingly from him, the bounty however was modest. Enough to catch the attention of veterans, but not so high that his identity was at risk. Very likely, his work had angered some local crime boss, probably laundering money through the programme.
Wasting no time the bounty hunter tightened his grip, attempting to crush his windpipe.
Rharrk pressing his hand to the wall behind him concentrated, he captured the Force and dragged it into the stonework. Suddenly, the Trandoshan released it's grip retreating back narrowly escaping the jet black spear that cut through the air.
Recovering his balance, Rharrk capitalised on his moment of surprise pressing against the Force so it retreated in a wave of energy that knocked the Trandoshan from its feet. It spiralled before crashing into the floor.
"Get up." Rharrk commanded
A delightful hiss followed as the Trandoshan was quick to recover, and rushed at him. Rharrk pulling at the strings of fate chose his path, stepping aside. It should have worked, but this Trandoshan surprised him drawing a vibroblade that sliced his waist.
Rharrk responded without a second thought, leading with a high kick his sharpened talons dug in deep. He pushed the Trandoshan back tearing away a chunk of flesh and sinew.
Heavily wounded the Trandoshan recovered it's blaster and fired. The sound of a muted explosion rung out, the blaster pack exploding and sending the Trandoshan back.
Rharrk flinched touching his wound, the blood already staining his clothes and mottling feathers. With a frown he checked for a pulse. Dead.
Rharrk frowned, searching quickly for any intelligence he might use to identify the client but coming up short he turned to hear the sound of approaching sirens.
He needed the body. With that he could possibly extract the information he needed, but staying was out of the question. He retreated swiftly cursing that he wouldn't taste his sweet java.
Java the Hut was a café a few blocks from his office. It was often the place he visited, when feeling stressed or had a few loose credits to lighten his wallet.
There were nine stools at the bar, nine tables, and windows glazed over with a orange film that gave a cozy atmosphere. Covering the far wall, native wood carved in the likeness of a Hutt serving hot coffee.
Vox made his own brews, good actually and the best Rharrk had found in his near decade long career on the world. After today, Rharrk deserved some of Vox's brew and someone else's cooking.
"Rharrk," Vox greeted as though welcoming an old friend. Vox was a tall, gangly bothan of interminant age. His eyes were soft, and a rare crooked smile.
"Hello there Vox." Rharrk answered, "it has been one of those days. Give me a bantha steak and fries, and some spiced java."
He threw down a couple of credits, and took a seat. The other patrons paid him no heed, a couple giggled in their corner, a group of human officers shared stories of their latest expedition, and a Trandoshan hunter. Bounty hunter most likely.
Vox opened a jar and recoiled as if blasted by a wave of heat. Seregar Scorpion, a pepper that would usually incapacitate most species, or at least confine them to the bathroom. Thankfully, most avian species lacked the taste buds necessary to pick up on the heat, for Rharrk it had a sharp sweetness that made Vox's coffee unique.
As he began to grind the beans, he starred over Rharrk's shoulder into the distance. "Rharrk. You were followed." He said
Rharrk paused for a moment, resting both hands on the table. Showing he was unarmed, all the while channelling the Force preparing to defend himself.
Rharrk laid low. He was to many a nobody, just a blue collar who was reasonably paid and good at his job. A job that didn't make him very many friends mind you, but it was honest work but past that?
He was Rharrk Zaltli, or as the House of Shattered Wings called him Lord Shrike a name well earned as they would discover.
He already sensed their murderous intent, the Trandoshan. He looked over his wing, a claw tearing into his shoulder and blaster placed to his spine. Rharrk liked Vox, he liked Java the Hut Cafe, he liked it enough that he hesitated.
Rharrk shuddered nervously, "Ow! Wha- what is this?" He stammered, he knew fear. He had lived it and emulating those emotions was second nature. Although, it pained him to grovel.
Vox remained calm watching the Trandoshan escort him outside. They stopped at the rooftops, grabbed by the neck and thrown against the wall. Rharrk croaked trembling, "What? What is the meaning of this?" He flinched
The Trandoshan hissed, it hated him. No doubt hoping to find someone who would have least put up a fight. It pulled out a guild marker, pressing a key and Rharrk's hologram flashed up.
Guild. Of course. He would not get any information willingly from him, the bounty however was modest. Enough to catch the attention of veterans, but not so high that his identity was at risk. Very likely, his work had angered some local crime boss, probably laundering money through the programme.
Wasting no time the bounty hunter tightened his grip, attempting to crush his windpipe.
Rharrk pressing his hand to the wall behind him concentrated, he captured the Force and dragged it into the stonework. Suddenly, the Trandoshan released it's grip retreating back narrowly escaping the jet black spear that cut through the air.
Recovering his balance, Rharrk capitalised on his moment of surprise pressing against the Force so it retreated in a wave of energy that knocked the Trandoshan from its feet. It spiralled before crashing into the floor.
"Get up." Rharrk commanded
A delightful hiss followed as the Trandoshan was quick to recover, and rushed at him. Rharrk pulling at the strings of fate chose his path, stepping aside. It should have worked, but this Trandoshan surprised him drawing a vibroblade that sliced his waist.
Rharrk responded without a second thought, leading with a high kick his sharpened talons dug in deep. He pushed the Trandoshan back tearing away a chunk of flesh and sinew.
Heavily wounded the Trandoshan recovered it's blaster and fired. The sound of a muted explosion rung out, the blaster pack exploding and sending the Trandoshan back.
Rharrk flinched touching his wound, the blood already staining his clothes and mottling feathers. With a frown he checked for a pulse. Dead.
Rharrk frowned, searching quickly for any intelligence he might use to identify the client but coming up short he turned to hear the sound of approaching sirens.
He needed the body. With that he could possibly extract the information he needed, but staying was out of the question. He retreated swiftly cursing that he wouldn't taste his sweet java.
