Odyssey of the Lost

[Kiyron]

Everyone hit their Tatooine point. That point when they had nowhere to go, nobody to care, no reason to care about anybody, and like moths to a flame, they flocked here. Sure, this was Techno Union space now, ruled by a government, but it was Tatooine. Who cared? It was just a burning chunk of sand, inhabited by criminals, raiders, slaves, and those the rest of the Galactic Civilization couldn't care less about.

So here Kiyron sat in an ancient cantina, with cracks down the wall, and half-dead lights wearing cobbled together armor, a patchy cloak, and his weapons. Most folks inside gave him a wide berth but a Twi'lek male had kept studying him. It made Kiyron uneasy, and he kept his hands, his new hands, below the table. That was the other thing. His left arm was replaced now, and parts of his abdomen, along with his right hand. All mechanical. Pretty basic usable, but not the best. Certainly not good enough for when he would face down Darth Vornskr and Darth Pyrrhus again. No, he would need upgrades before tackling them once again.

And a team. The hardest part of going solo was that nobody had his back anymore. It was him and him alone. News was still spreading about Balmorra and Contruum, ripples through the galaxy. Had the One Sith finally destroyed the Galactic Republic? What would that mean for the galaxy? Who would the next target be? If Kiyron had hunch, which he did, it would be the Galactic Alliance. They had hit the capital planet itself and destroyed the very center of the One Sith religion by using their own guns. If he ever met the soldier who pulled that off, Kiyron would buy him a drink if it took the last credits he owned.

But he wasn't close to Alliance space yet. He'd gotten out of the core, which was beneficial. As far as the Republic was concerned, he was dead. He'd seen himself in the list of casualties. Killed in action, with honor. Basically. He certainly wasn't the Kiyron he used to be. That was for sure, and as far as he was concerned, his debt was paid.

Nobody knew how to get to Kelchase. It was in no databases and had no known location. It was a lost colony world. No going home then. He'd have to make his own way from here on out with no farm like Kelchase and no military career.

The Twi'lek rose and glided over towards the table. Kiyron's hand clasped the grip of the jack-knife pistol, servos whirring. He hated the sound. Always clicking and setting his teeth on edge. Then the other figure slipped into the seat opposite him. Kiyron pulled the gun from its holster and laid it on his lap, studying this new person. A scoundrel, to say the least. The blue skinned figure leaned forward, speaking in Huttese.

"Yo' wan' some girls, yes?" The alien traced his hand along his lekku. Kiyron remained impassive, trying to place the accent. "I ca' get yo' some." He rubbed his fingers together. Credits.

Kiyron leaned forward, pulling his hand up and setting it on the table, mechanics still showing and still holding the pistol. He brought his other arm up, revealing the cybernetic arm as well. Kiyron spoke quietly.

"Get out of my sight." He moved the pistol. Just a small amount, but enough. The Twi'lek stood and hurried away. Kiyron leaned back in the seat, watching the crowds once more.

 

[Watcher Three]

Unknown to the former soldier in the bar, and definitely unknown to the Twi'lek man he'd just scared off, the latter's daughter had a certain mercenary commander's arm in her grip and was giggling at something terribly witty he'd just said. And giving him a sudden look of mock anger as she moved his hand up from where it had absently slipped down to. But the look was quickly replaced with a grin.

"Oh, my, Mister Watcher... You're not a commodore at all! You're just a naughty rogue."

Watcher grinned back at what he assumed to be a typically beautiful Twi'lek woman, by the feel of her arms and her back.

"Well, Lara... I can't see you, so I have to feel around, don't I?"

Lara waved a hand in front of his face, and he sighed at her.

"Don't do the wavey hand thing. People always insist on doing the wavey hand thing."

"Oh, er, um... Sorry. But, you're blind, and your name is Watcher? What kind of nerf herder parents did you have?"

Watcher just shrugged and smiled at the woman.

"The nonexistent kind."

"Oh."

Lara nervously curled one of her lekku with her finger, then tightened her grip on Watchers arm and brought him towards the bar, which her family's house was attached to.

"C'mon. You're gonna help me see what kind of brain damage bringing a hot blind guy home does to my dad. Or, well, not see..."

[member="Kiyron"]

 

[Kiyron]

[member="Watcher Three"]

Kiyron paused as he noticed a couple begin to leave, including a Twi'lek, which bore a striking resemblance to the one he had just frightened off. Relatives, perhaps? Or more closely, as there was a definite age gap. Maybe even father and daughter. Hopefully she wasn't one the Twi'lek was trying to pawn off on him. Kiyron cringed at the thought. Revolting. This was the Outer RIm though. Things worked a little differently here. He didn't like, but he didn't have much choice. A sort commotion appeared at the door and the Twi'lek strode in accompanied by a few other ruffians. Most were armed in some way or another. Nothing high quality, but would probably hurt through this armor regardless. Probably even cause some serious damage, which he was unable to afford at this point.

He pulled out the second pistol and laid it on the table, tapping it with his fingers, trying to ignore the metallic clicks as his fingers tapped it. He hated that noise. But now things would get interesting. The group pulled to a stop in front his seat. Kiyron stared up at them.

"I ordered some food a while back. If you're not delivering it, don't talk to me." His voice was rough and harsh, even through the helmet. They stared down at him and Twi'lek leaned forward, hands planted on the table.

"Nobody threatens me in my own place," He pointed back over his shoulder with a thumb. "Out."

Kiyron considered that. He didn't have much money left and he dearly wanted that food. It had smelled incredible and his stomach was collapsing for want of good food.

"Food first," He said after a long moment. The ruffians stirred and took a step closer. Kiyron closed his hands around the guns. "These may not be lightsabers, but these will give you hands like mine." He clenched them for emphasis. "Sonic tensor pistols. Each one fires three bursts of exploding sound." He made it a point to examine them all very carefully. "No armor, so they'd hurt you a great deal."

There was an uneasy tension in the air. Nobody was quite sure what to make of the strangely armored man in the corner. Was he mad? Stubborn? Bloodthirsty? Or just indifferent? Or was he really that hungry?

 

[Nicademus Blith]

Nicademus walked into the bar, with his personal bodyguard Dethrik, Dethrik was a wookie, and a pretty large one too, but Nicademus looked different from the other ruffians in the building, he wore a suit and tie, as he had business to take care of. Not many people knew it, but most rich and powerful people dealt with the hutts frequently, there was no way to maintain power without at least some dealings with them. This is why he was here, he needed to speak with the hutts on this planet. He had on the side of his suit a blaster pistol, though he would mostly rely on Dethrik for combat, he needed a holdout blaster, this was Tatooine after all. He sat at the bar and ordered a cheap wine, the bar probabally did not have anything better, due to its appearance. He then looked over at the squabble a few seats down from him, he decided not to get involved.... Yet
[member=kiyron] [member=watcher three]

 

[Ak'lya]

Dal sat nearby [member="Kiyron"], carefully noting the man's actions to the Twi'lek. Not that he much cared about the slaver. Most anyone here did what they had to to get buy. Everyone had a cut to pay, either to the gang boss or whatever company claimed the planet. Without credits, the Rim was a dangerous and harsh place. For those who had some to spare, like Dal, it was a little less so. Still, he watched the slaver approach the man with a group.

The Devaronian slowly stood up, approaching the man's table with his blaster rifle in hand. He walked up, raising it to his shoulder, And spoke tho the Twi'lek in perfect Huttese. <"Back down, or you won't live to see tomorrow."> Leveling the weapon to one of his lekku, he gave a small, twisted smile. "E cu ta"

[member="Watcher Three"] [member="Nicademus Blith"]