Random exercise in OC building, this. Krii appeared in my head and I couldn't shake her until I finally wrote about her. She's a lot of fun to write for. I've finally decided to just leave this in these two parts, the second part is heavily revised from the first time I posted this. Eternal thanks to qt3.14159 for the advice she gave me about it, your comment helped me understand why I didn't like it myself. You were 100 percent right!
Krii saw the world through a pair of slightly dull eyes that weren't sure whether they were green, yellow, or brown. Those eyes peered out from under a shag of yellow hair that grew messily atop the woman's head, though it was usually short enough not to be a nuisance. It hung down nearly touching a firm, solid brow over a hard-wrung face with a smashed nose jilted by years of breaks. The world this face looked at was, for the moment, Manaan.
Krii hated Manaan.
Her mind wandered over her various (and frequently petty) reasons for it as she glanced absently around the cantina, working stubbornly at a new kind of ale. It tasted like dishwater, but it had alcohol in it and therefore Krii was determined to down the blasted thing. If the Republic hadn't agreed to keep Krii in beer (Well, food and shelter too. But the beer was the important part.) in exchange for her loyalty, she would have probably gone insane by this point. The 'Pubbies, Krii had decided, were alright. Not quite so stuck up as those Sith fellows.
She was drawn out of a brief comparison of the two forces (this comparison not being particularly flattering to either) when she noticed some strange faces coming in the door. Strange faces. Didn't get a lot of those on Manaan. Krii's attention was instantly riveted. New things and people were... new. And interesting. Maybe something would happen, and if Krii was lucky that something would give her the opportunity to break a few heads. That was always fun, and she wasn't too particular as to whose heads they might be.
Krii considered her available courses of action, feeling a minor alcohol buzz fuzzing the edges of her already rather scant thinking capacity. Probably wasn't smart to say anything to 'em, she didn't know who these folks were. Odd looking bunch, two strange women and a man that would have fit in well in the ranks of the local Republic if he'd been in uniform. It was how he moved. Krii had been skulking around the Republic enclave for most of the three months she'd been in their pay. She felt pretty confident in her ability to spot a 'Pubby at up to fifty yards, uniform or no.
Krii didn't have anything in her experience to really compare the women to. They were both entirely unlike herself, light in build but not weak or timid-looking like seas of others Krii had crossed paths with. Both had this indescribable look of capability to them, a cool and easy confidence that seemed to radiate off them. Krii snorted at the contrast, sizing herself up in comparison. She was a big, lumbering, usually drunken tank of a thing and knew it better than anybody. Jaw like a cinder block, shoulders like a prize fighter, vibroblade on one hip and blaster on the other. If there was one thing Krii was born to do, it was to beat the snot out of things. And she wasn't good at much else.
The people were strange strangers. Krii decided she wouldn't say anything. Yet. See what the new guys did, and decide from there whether or not they were worth her time to watch. Maybe they'd do something interesting. Krii was spoiling for a fight, personally, and any excuse would have done for her right about then. She didn't care if she won or not, and hang the Selkath and their obsession with peace. Krii just wanted to hit something. At the very least, she might be able to bum a ride out of here to someplace less mind-numbingly boring. Anywhere with beer and fighting, really. No sense having one without the other.
As she was thinking, one of the two women happened to look her way. The one wearing armor. The hair stood up on the back of Krii's neck as the stranger's pale eyes locked on her own murk-colored ones. There was a wary intelligence in that face, like a feral animal, and Krii got the sensation she was being read like a datapad. She didn't like feeling somebody else's eyes bore through to the back of her skull, so she looked away and made a point of taking a long swig of ale. Krii regretted that immediately, managing not to wince as she clunked it back down on the table. Thankfully, there wasn't enough left for it to slosh over. This stuff really was swill. She'd be damned before getting it again. Krii felt the inebriation horizon creep a little nearer. Just when she might need to think, too. Damn.
The merc continued to watch the offworlders, they could only be offworlders, a little more subtly. Subtle wasn't one of her strong points, but she managed to avoid being looked at again. So far, so good. The strangers talked to people, but Krii couldn't strain her ears enough to pick up what was said. And apparently, they thought Selkath were people too because the armored woman spoke to one of them as well. Krii finished her ale and felt she would rather like to go vomit it up somewhere to celebrate, but alas, there was no time.
When the strangers left, Krii waited a moment before quietly getting up and following. Well, quietly for Krii. She tripped over someone at a nearby table and nearly got herself into a brawl over it. Later! Krii thought fiercely, fingers itching to dive for her sword as she memorized this particular man's face for later retribution. Well, fantasized retribution. Krii rarely managed to make good on her vendettas anymore, and the damn Selkath made it hard to teach anyone a proper lesson here. Oh, Force how Krii hated Manaan!
By the time she got outside, Krii found she had lost track of the offworlders. Damn again. But they shouldn't be hard to find, should they? Offworlders were hard to miss.
Krii cracked her knuckles and blinked a little, looking for anybody she knew. First step was figuring out which way they'd gone. Ahto was a big place.
Thankfully, Krii spotted someone. A thinnish fellow was smoking a cigga, leaning against the side of a building and looking generally put out. Everybody knew Rezos if they'd been here long enough. Rezos was senior to nearly everybody when it came to being on Manaan, and he still only did freelance work. Not picking a side seemed to work for him, though. Rezos was a quiet fellow, given to being withdrawn and for the most part harmless when he was off the job. The only thing he got excited about was swoop racing, and he'd been banned from the track the week before for his, erm, "enthusiasm" when he lost a particularly high-stakes bet.
"Oi, Rezos," said Krii, hailing him with a wave of an arm. Rezos looked warily up at her with not a little suspicion. Like a dog that was used to being kicked confronted with a stranger in steel-toed boots.
"Hello, Krii," he replied sullenly, eyes sliding back down to the street. He hoped she would go away. You avoided talking to Krii if you could help it. She was, at least as told by popular wisdom, a bit insane.
"Yeh seen a pack a' offworlders come outta yarr?" Krii gestured at the cantina. Rezos shrugged one shoulder without looking at her.
"Went that way," he said, flicking some ashes in the direction. He still didn't look up from the apparently fascinating bit of street two feet in front of him.
"Thankyeh," Krii said with a nod, and she was off on her mission again.
Rezos only looked up as she was leaving, puffing smoke as he watched her. Krii and offworlders, he thought. Somehow, this couldn't end well.
