Private The Burden of Yesterday

[Adrell Matsha]

K E S T R I
Sasha Kryze
Tank-Top | ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol | Theme

Adrell raised the bottle, pressing it to his lips as the bitter Kri'gee washed through his mouth and down his throat. He put the glass back on the bar- The tavern was a fairly secluded place at this hour, just like every other hour. It wasn't well known, didn't have any fancy sign. Just a good old-fashioned bar set on the the corner of a city block in Tor Valum. He came here often, the beer was always cheap and in steady supply. Sure, the best grub the barkeep could make was tough and barely edible gruel... but when you made every credit count? It was better than the alternative of bark.

The bar wasn't all that big, still looked empty though. Most company Adrell ever got was a few groups of two to three sitting at the booths, spaced apart so nobody would listen into their conversations- Everybody here spoke quietly. Nobody seemed to grab the idea that it didn't matter how far away you are, you'd still hear each other. Only way to not hear each other was to get louder... but common courtesy stopped those good ideas from ever working. People liked it quiet here. It was the only objective appeal the bar had.

Even if the bar had been packed full though, it wouldn't have been hard to spot the relatively massive form of the last Matsha, slouching over the bar and downing the dregs of the bitter ale before ordering another. The barkeep kept close, polishing a glass that hadn't been used all week, the same glass he'd been polishing since Adrell walked in. The middle-aged and wiry man couldn't hide the mild concern on his face whenever he looked at the bulky man. He'd never drank this much before, even on special occasions; but he couldn't turn down the money, he might even be able to send his estranged daughter something nice-

The Mandalorian raised a hand to his jaw line, scratching the scruffy stubble, muttering something about it being too long and needing to shave. If he noticed the barkeep's concern, he didn't care. He had misery to drown out, wouldn't hurt if he drowned himself a bit in the process- Taking the first swig out of the fresh Kri'gee bottle. Adrell shifted around in the seat, trying to work the stiffness out of his legs, even going as far as to reach down and rub one of his calves through the thick weave of his black cargopants; his black leather working boots shifted around on the floor. He pulled his hand back up, setting the bottle down as he leaned both arms back, stretching. The dim light above him highlighting his tree-trunk arms, and the tanned skin covering them. He went back to his drink, muttering again... this time something about his ex, kicking him out on his arse.

Meanwhile, in the very back corner of the bar, a group of five rather scummy looking ruffians were sat, drinking slower. The barkeep hadn't seen them before, and Adrell was too miserable to care about them taking his usual spot. They all wore Mandalorian armour, helmets on the table so they could sip their Ne'tra Gal. The sweeter cousin of Kri'gee. Little did anybody at the bar know, each one of them had a notable little bounty on them, courtesy of the local authorities. Enforcers for a small spice-dealing ring who got away when the authorities busted in on the dealers. Not important enough for the authorities to kick down doors over, but important enough to warrant a small bounty.

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[Sasha Kryze]

No Vode of Mine

The bar's swinging doors would open once more, the fully armored Si'kahya entered with a complimentary glance around. Not too far, as her helmet showed her things that were on the edge of her vision with surprising clarity. In fact, it was capable of showing a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree field of view. Her head seemed to pause briefly as she noted the gentlemen in the corner but didn't look all the way at them. Bingo.

Although there was some reprieve to her location of her original target. It seemed every other name on the Bounty Board was here with him. They wore Beskar'Gam at that. Making what she needed to do... Tricky. Though it would be done. Given, Sasha was a murderous zealot, even she had boundaries. These men had made perversion of the Resol'nare. Had drawn insult to The Enclave, and as far as she was concerned, weren't worthy of the iron that adorned their chests.

Particularly convenient given she herself suffered a moderate spice addiction. Still, she didn't deal, and she certainly didn't enforce for lowlife criminals. Perhaps most insulting was that they thought they could come back to Kestri without challenge. Hmm, no they probably felt safety in numbers. She was going to shatter that fallacy. Though a direct onslaught seemed to be pushing it. Patience would be the name of this game.

The Mandalorian woman walked with her hands hugged over a fearsome and expensive looking Scattergun. Lightly swinging at her side on her hip, a big iron blaster. Though she made no hostile motions to anyone inside, and for a Mandalorian, it wasn't out of place that she was armed. In her Rekr Beskar'gam, as opposed to her own, finding this particular armor fitting for the occasion, she would move to silently sit at the bar, gently resting her scattergun on the counter, and nodding her head to pull her helmet off. It as well, was rested very calmly on the countertop.

When, and if the bartender came to her, she would be frank.

"Gal"

She spoke, the Mandalorian word for Ale, but didn't specify which kind. She would've preferred liquor but knew she was about to attempt to kill five grown men in Beskar'Gam. She still hadn't looked in their direction. Instead however, she did take a quick look left, glaring though she didn't mean to at Adrell Matsha. A brief look, and a very bland nod given to him. Though she didn't spare any words. When the ale came, she would immediately drink a bit, resting the mug down, and stretching a bit. Limbering up as it were.

After a few beats, she would sigh and pull a few bounty pucks from her pocket. Placing them on the counter and continuing to lightly stretch out her ligaments. She had no doubts it was going to hurt, but that was the life. As such, for now she enjoyed her ale. Facial features otherwise shrouded by a veil of raven black strands. Idly toying with bounty pucks. Sliding them around slowly with a finger, and even stacking them atop each other.

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[Adrell Matsha]

K E S T R I
Sasha Kryze
Tank-Top | ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol | Theme

The miserable man lifted his head, turning it along with his body to look at the door. His reaction to the doors swinging was a tad delayed, and he sipped his drink even as he looked. Another Mandalorian, clad fully in Beskar'gam... no, not just any Beskar'gam. Si'kahya Beskar'gam. Admittedly, Adrell never got too involved with the Enclave's officials, his time on Kestri was spent mostly at spaceports, at this very bar, or occasionally collecting a bounty. Still, he could recognise their style when he saw it- He was no accountant, but he knew that those sets of armour weren't the type just any old Vod could put together.

He raised his bottle and turned back to his seat as the barkeep moved down the bar for the first time that night; leaving his perch just in front of Adrell. The stick-like man looked the woman up and down, opened his mouth as if to question the vagueness of her order, then closed it again. He ducked down and reached under the bar, cracking the silvery bottle open as he stood back up and putting it on the table. It was devoid of any label, probably a bar 'special', which always ended up being a fancy way of saying the cheapest possible ale with the most generic taste marked-up just a bit more than it should be.

The barkeep leaned in, placing himself adjacent to the lady as she took out the bounty pucks, "I don't want any trouble in my bar now, ner vod, I can hardly afford to pay the bills. Don't need to clean up any blaster marks." His voice was hushed, and tired, it seemed more a request than a threat as he moved back to his post, now between the two as he kept polishing that one mug.

Adrell didn't seem to mind too much about what went on, keeping to himself and the bitter drink which he, for the life of him, could not figure out why he liked so much- That was, till he heard the bounty pucks sliding around on the table... that got the big man's attention, twisting himself around in the bar stool, looking over, "Shoulda guessed you weren't here for the drink. Or the grub." He kept his voice somewhat low, but he was just naturally loud... his voice seemed to have an accent that just couldn't be placed, as well as the vague clip of a soldier's enunciation, "If you want any leads, I don't come to Kestri often."

There was a light holler from the back, the kind only made by drunkards with too much alcohol and not enough sense... it drew a scowl from the big man, and a light curse in Mando'a, "Haryc b'aalyc..."

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[Sasha Kryze]

Mando'a?

She sipped at the ale again, smirking at the bartender's words about not wanting any trouble. She was going to highly disappoint him in a moment. Though, she could appreciate the peace while it lasted. Her surprisingly soft chocolate eyes fell from him to her bounty pucks. Shifting them about again, then taking another long swig from the mug. This time, a sigh accompanied it. She couldn't tell if she was getting tired of the bloodshed. Or maybe she wanted something more. Foundlings? Natural Born Adiik? Hm, what the hell was she thinking about now...

"Shoulda guessed you weren't here for the drink. Or the grub."

She looked over at him, taking in his features this time, and smirking. A coy, and reclusive smirk that spoke volumes. She didn't mind his dialogue, but she wasn't here to talk to him. Or perhaps it was her own way of flirting? Who knew? In any case, she didn't respond to that. Carrying that smirk back to her front, and sipping again.

"If you want any leads, I don't come to Kestri often."

She was about to finally tell him she didn't need any, when the loud voice from the mentioned drunkards pierced the calm. Again, she paid no attention to that. Instead glancing over to him as he spoke in Mando'a.

"Gar jorhaa'ir gatle lalat" You speak the true tongue

She stated, glancing over to him and offering a nod this time with fervor. Seemingly impressed by it. She actually hated speaking Basic, loving the language of their people far more. Finally, she turned partly, and glanced behind her back, feigning a look at the person who had made the outburst. In reality, simply checking her marks. Eventually she turned back to the man, this time fully turning her seat, so her back was to the bounties, and she was facing him fully.

"Ni ru ret' bat Kestri a'yaou, meg cuyir gar gai Vod?"I haven't seen you on Kestri before, what is your name Vod?

Sasha continued, suddenly interested in the man, though her motivations were very simple. She wasn't daft enough to believe the mountain of a man was anything but a warrior. Perhaps even a bounty hunter. Though, she would vet him first before letting him in on her bounty. Get a feel for him, as it were.
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[Adrell Matsha]

F R I E N D ?
Sasha Kryze
Tank-Top | ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol

The man huffed at the lack of a response, taking a swig of his bitter ale, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Adrell could respect silence, the dedication to the job; not turning a stake-out, or whatever it was the warrior was here for, into a social outing. For the most part, he was content, accepting the silence with a slightly longer swig. He was fortunate he'd built up a tolerance to Kri'gee, most hated the stuff, took a bottle or two to test their mettle and passed out.

With how many Adrell had emptied this night alone? Most people would be dead. But he'd been drinking the stuff since he was a kid, anything sweeter usually had him leaning against a back alley wall, or over a drain. It was definitely getting to him, though, the big man raising an eyebrow towards the lady, turning himself as he started running over the words. His mind was blank for a bit, a sign he should slow down on the ale... or learn how to deal with pretty women better.

It took him a moment, but he mustered a response, "Eh, partly. I'm good for a few phrases, most names too. Sure as hell can understand though- Just can't make my own sentences," The big man returned to his drink, sipping it with a renewed excitement- truthfully, he didn't need as much ale as he'd had, just a bit and some conversation, "Name's Adrell. Adrell Matsha. I suppose the Enclave's nice enough to let you keep your own name?"

Admittedly, Adrell had a predisposition towards any Government or Corporation that liked dehumanising it's soldiers, willing or not. He'd seen war, been a victim and then a soldier, lost his family to it. He'd marched with and against the Confederacy's droid legions more than he could count on his hands. Didn't take him long to abandon the Dauntless lifestyle for the simpler life of a mercenary.

If the woman was like most, she was probably guessing he was a soldier. A front line slugger or a heavy gunner- Not wrong, he'd spent his share of time slogging through knee-deep swampland, holding the big guns, but he was more inclined to close quarters. Special operations. Black Ops. Something justifying in it, breaking the norm, defying expectations.

He leaned back, a rough but well-made leather holster sliding off of his lap and hanging down his side- A big, beautiful looking blaster pistol sitting in it. The Barkeep leaned back, finally swapping mugs as he eyed the two at the bar, just as one of the marks from the back corner stood, moving to leave.

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[Sasha Kryze]

D I S T R A C T E D

Honestly what was Sasha thinking about, bedding the man? She barely met him. He has said a few words in Mando'a. Two words even. Though the facts were the facts, she lost focus on her purpose her. She had souls to collect. Though she wasn't aware one of said souls were about to head outside. Honestly, she was about to offer this man an in on her prize; feeling... Slightly underequipped, as equipped as she was. Though, something had changed. As he spoke, her head panned left, watching the door.

The Barkeep leaned back, finally swapping mugs as he eyed the two at the bar, just as one of the marks from the back corner stood, moving to leave.

Sasha grimaced, seemingly becoming briefly disinterested in what Adrell what was saying. Her hand sauntered, lowering down and gripping the blaster. In the blind spot of the other four, but also the only person that saw this fully was Adrell Matsha. Perhaps the bartender, but she doubted he was going to interfere with Si'kahya business. She drew on him....

The blaster raised firing at the back of his head and hitting him square. As soon as Sasha fired, she reached back, grabbing her helmet and sliding it onto her head in a smooth fashion. She turned instinctively to the rest of the gang, widening her stance and observing the rest.

"Sorry, forget to mention I have business..."

She muttered, left hand now sliding to pull her true hardware off the table. They had a moment to react of course, but any hesitation would be lethal. Sasha wasn't the type to offer fair fights. And they were marked. It was as simple as that.




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[Adrell Matsha]

F R I E N D .
Sasha Kryze
Tank-Top | ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol

Admittedly, Adrell had been expecting the conversation to die off. In terms of flirting, he'd just jumped out of a ship mid-hyperspace jump. He turned lips back to his drink as the lady made her disinterest evident, barely taking the lightest sip as the bartender ducked down and a blaster shot rang out- Adrell was more or less used to it, probably not a good sign but he figured if he was the target then dodging the second shot wouldn't make much difference.

It was when he heard the lady's voice chime in afterwards that he moved his head, setting his drink down; he eyed her, then flicked down to the body as it fell into the wall and slid to the metal floor, armour scraping against metal as his helmet clanged. His head darted round to stare at the group in the corner...

Three of them were in varying states of reaching for blasters or helmets, though one was already standing and aiming a blaster. Adrell reached down to his side, thumb flicking the switch to set his pistol into gunslinger mode. He was only half way up out of his stool as his own shot rang out, catching the man right in the throat and, at this distance, all but decapitating him-

He fired again as the second man stood, catching him full in the chest and knocking him back over onto his thread. He stood fully, keeping his blaster aimed at them, ready to fire again. "This is the Way." Evidently, he wasn't a Child of the Watch, or a follower of the Way... but he seemed to like it's principles.

The three remaining heretics stumbled and fumbled around for their blasters, two of them attempting to untangle themselves as the third stared down at the head of his compatriot, all of them now fully armoured.

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[Sasha Kryze]

T H E W A Y

When the slug thrower found her hands, she rose it immediately, watching another of her marks fall although it wasn't her that fired the shot. She could piece together well enough where it originated though and continued baring down on them as a blaster bolt hit her helmet. She flinched but didn't get off of the firing line for one reason only. Her new associate wasn't wearing Beskar. And while it definitely rung her bell, it was nothing new. She returned fire with the scattergun, watching as a piece of the shrapnel caught the man in the face, not killing him, but certainly giving him cause to dive for his nearest cover.

Her right vambrace rose instinctively at the remaining two, firing her Fibercord line at one and ensnaring him instantly. accomplice fired again, though seemingly trying to fire past her, still holding the one taut, she moved into his firing line again, this time the bolt pinged her chest, and it stung a little, causing her to growl a bit. Though, she certainly wasn't done with them. For now however, using the superior strength the crushgaunt provided, she would yank the one of his feet, and recall the cord, dragging him unceremoniously closer to herself and Adrell Matsha

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[Adrell Matsha]

F R I E N D !
Sasha Kryze
Tank-Top | ENCL-21 Ra'ntisr Heavy Blaster Pistol

Adrell had always been the type to act before he thought. If there was a fight, he was throwing punches for whoever he knew better- it often got him into trouble as a lad. Fortunately, as he grew and matured, he'd developed an imposing stature that tended to scare trouble away. He rarely considered that that size very much became a disadvantage if it didn't scare the trouble away.

Right now? He was very aware of his size, and very much regretted leaving his gam at his apartment. Still, he was not one to shy away from a fight as the lady tried her best to soak up the blaster fire of her marks. He stayed behind her, but didn't crouch or cower like a lesser soldier... no, he stood proud, taking aim even as he leaned his head to the side drastically, a blaster bolt narrowly skidding across his cheek. He gritted his teeth, skin burnt slightly by the hot plasma and regained his balance.

The bear of a man fired again, two shots ringing out. Both were directed at the only man still standing, one catching him directly in in the Iron Heart of his Beskar'gam. He fell back against the wall, the second shot catching him in his exposed side, burning straight through the bodyglove and into his heart.

His eyes latched onto the man being dragged by the fibercord wire, and Adrell marvelled for a moment, then muttered, "Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya..." [1]

He twisted his body around, squeezing the trigger to fire off a volley of three shots as the third and final man popped out of cover, fully covered in Beskar'gam. Though he squeezed the trigger three times, only one bolt came, and fizzled out as the trigger click. Adrell let out a rather verbal curse, "Osik." [2]

Fortunately, the man at the other side met a similar fate, though his case seemed to be a mere jam. Even then, Adrell chose violence and began advancing on the man, slipping his blaster back into his holster as his opponent hurriedly attempted to reload his own sidearm and clear the jam.

[1] "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."
[2] "Dung." (Vulgar)
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