Just fair warning, this story is heavily OC centered, with cannon characters plying small roles at most. This story also ignores a large amount of the EU, mainly because I don't know much about it and I know I'll piss someone off if I don't make it some form of AU. Anything not covered in the Movies or The Clone Wars series is subject to being changed or disregarded completely depending on how familiar I am with them.
I do not own nor did I create anything within the Star Wars universe, and I make no money from this whatsoever. This is simply am attempt at practicing my writing skills that I have chosen to share with others. I did, however, create Fable Ramsair, The Mandalorian Clan Ramsair , Krin Ringhopper, Isshwarr, and the mentioned Bounty Hunter's Order, any similarities are purely coincidental, and I will not allow any use of them without my permission.
Nothing compared to the thrill of conflict. Fistfights, dejarik, sabaac, anything really. Since she was three, she had been told that conflict was instrumental for growth. To her, a competition not only lent to her growth, but her opponent's as well. That's why Fable Ramsair liked to compete against the same people over and over again. So whenever she ran into Isshwarr, a game of dejarik or chess was on, today it was dejarik.
Isshwarr, a black Wookiee just out of adolescence by his species' standard, stared hard at the board. Had he been standing, he would be seven feet tall. As intimidating as the Wookie race was, he gave off a kind disposition, hiding what he was truly capable of. Strapped to his back by a braided leather bandoleer was a bowcaster, Fable noticed that it was new.
Isshwarr gave a displeased grunt, "Are you even paying attention to the board? You're barely trying as is."
Fable gave an apologetic shrug. "A mark is said to come to this cantina whenever he's in the area, I have reason to believe he'll be in the area." She didn't bother lowering her voice. With the volume the music was playing at, normal tones might as well have been whispers. Also, no one seemed to find a Mandalorian female and a Wookiee playing dejarik in the middle of a cantina all that interesting, surprisingly enough.
It made her wonder how much crazy stuff happened here to make this sight uninteresting. Even people highly intimidated by Isshwarr's race and her culture tended to at least raise an eyebrow.
Isshwarr cocked his head at Ramsair, what she said would explain the regular glances at the door, noticeable by the occasional cock of her head in its direction. It was also a good reason why she was on this backwater planet. "One notable town on this planet, with only one cantina. Them stopping by here is a given."
Ramsair glanced at the door again while she snorted. "No kidding. And people call Tatooine a frontier planet. This place doesn't even have a name, just a chart number!" She paused for a moment, seeming to think as she glanced at the doors again. "It's not a bad place though. The forests and the weather remind me of Dxun."
Isshwarr chuckled at that. Ramsair often honored him with facts about herself, such as her having spent several years of her childhood training on the former Mandalorian moon-world of Dxun, and that she was somewhat of a linguist, knowing half-a-dozen languages besides Basic and Mandalorian, including his own tongue. He also knew that her Mandalorian shocktrooper style armor had been initially designed by her father to show others her personality. The black under suit said she had a strong sense of justice and the blue coloration of the metal plates told other Mandalorians that she was reliable. She had later changed the color of her knee and shoulder pads, as well as the coloration around her visor, to red. Ask anyone who knew even a little bit of her culture, and they would say that red announced one phrase when incorporated into armor, "I will honor my father."
Isshwarr was no fool; he knew that a Mandalorian of her clan would only give such a detailed explanation to an outsider when they earned the individuals greatest respect. Not long after, she had started to openly refer to the explorer as her friend. Although, she was still somewhat secretive about some things, such as where she learned her unique hand-to-hand combat style, or how she was able to learn so many languages at such a young age, which was twenty-one at most, seventeen at least. He would not push her for answers to his questions though; she would tell him when she would tell him.
"Now that you know why I'm here, what about you Isshi? Are you after anything particular or just general exploring?"
Wordlessly, Isshwarr handed her a datapad. A quick scan would reveal newly-made maps, a list of natural resources and their locations, and even some drawings and explanations of the local plant and wildlife."I was hired to help an expedition. A scientist I've worked with in the past was in charge. It was the most active job I've had in years."
Ramsair laughed as she handed the 'pad back. "I bet the others were surprised you were there to be more that the big guy that scared away and possible dangerous wildlife."
The mix of bark and howl that was Isshwarr's laugh startled several other patrons and the bartender. He quickly calmed himself down to a hoot-like chuckle.
Ramsair's shoulders seemed to slacken, and Isshwarr imagined her face did the same. Her voice confirmed the deadpan. "I have no idea do I?"
The Wookiee grinned and shook his head. No, no she didn't.
In an instant, Ramsair stiffened. Crisp professionalism had replaced friendly relaxation. Visor trained on the door, she unconsciously readied her GLX Firelance as she prepared to rise.
The mark had just arrived.
"How about you message me from your next base so we can have a proper game later, alright Isshi?"
Isshwarr nodded in agreement. "Good luck in your hunt"
"I'd rather make my own, but thanks."
Ramsair stood, the man who had just entered paled, back up several steps, and bolted out the door. Ramsair was hot on his trail.
Krin Ringhopper openly sulked in his holding cell in one of the cargo holds of the small freighter, which he had noticed belonged to a bounty hunter guild known as The Order of Bounty Hunters. The Mandalorian female was nowhere to be seen, and the room was maddenly silent. But, he was still alive; something most bounty hunters don't normally let 'runners' stay. Now he had to nurse the wound in his pride for being caught by some no-name who had to barrow a Guild ship, and in one Sithdamed stun shot too.
At least the cell had a bed. Sure it was one of those foldable net-cot-things, but it was better than the floor. She was also kind enough to provide a thin (and what looked to be a very itchy) blanket and a (might as well not have one at all) pillow.
Such comforts were probably there in the first place to quell complaining. Most bounty hunters just threw people in a cage. It was pretty smart actually. Krin would feel really stupid complaining how much the blanket itched when he was lucky to have one in the first place. She would probably feed him real food for the same reason, even if it was military rations, as opposed to some tasteless grey goop that other hunter's were said to feed their prisoners.
His musings were interrupted by the sound of the door hissing open. He looked up in time to see the armored figure enter the room, a food tray in hand.
Fable paused a moment too look at the acquisition, information automatically running through her brain as-well-as her HUD. Krin Ringhopper was a smalltime smuggler; age twenty-eight, five-ten, with dark blonde hair and eyes that were such a deep brown that they could be confused for black. Wanted by Nikro the Hutt for smuggling goods that had been stolen from him, all he probably knew was that someone had placed a bounty on his head.
His clothing was thick, with a white vest over his dark colored tunic. He had probably been planning to hide in the jungle lowlands, where it was much cooler than the humid plateau the settlement had been on.
"A stupid plan," Fable decided.
Ringhopper's eyes widened before his rough and roguish face turned into a scowl. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
Fable made her way over to the cell. "You're clothed for cooler weather. That means you were going to hide in the lowlands, right?"
Ringhopper's frown deepened, "You were able to figure that out from the way I was dressed? How the Hell did you know the weather was different there."
Fable shook her head as she crouched to slide the food tray through the slot on the floor. "How I figure things out is a trade secret and beside the point. The point is that you were going out into the wilderness miles away from civilization, which is meager at best because you were on a planet that has only been settled for ten years and is barely explored. You don't see anything wrong with that plan?"
Ringhopper stood than crouched to pick up the tray. "Enlighten me."
Fable stood and crossed her arms. "Only some of the native plants and animals have been recorded, so you have no idea what's dangerous and what's not. And even if the planet was well mapped and the native wildlife fully recorded, going off alone in the wilderness when you have no idea what you're doing is just stupid."
Ringhopper sat back down on the cot, placing the tray on his lap. "Sounds like you know what you're talking about. Any particular reason?"
Under her visor, Fable rolled her eyes. "Other than the common sense aspect, none of your business."
Ringhopper shrugged in a manner that told her he was expecting that kind of answer, but tried for the sake of conversation. "What about the bounty on me, is the reason behind it my business?"
Fable remembered her instructions, it was his business. She moved over to the workbench and placed her Firelance on it. "Three standard months ago, the Exchange stole a large amount of ryll, rylca and ryll kor from Nikro the Hutt. They disappeared on Nar Shaddaa; we managed to track it all to the Taris Lower City before it all dispersed."
Ringhopper cursed. "That shipment was stolen from Nikro? If I'd known that I would have passed it up."
Fable looked at him, surprised. "You're admitting that you smuggled it all for them?"
He shrugged. "The Bounty Hunter's Order is famous for never getting information wrong. What's the point in bothering? So, I'm a dead man walking, right?"
Under her helmet, Fable smirked. "I wouldn't say that. Nikro is full of surprises."
Krin groaned. That didn't reassure him in the slightest. Part of him was positive she said that to mess with him. Dejectedly, Krin ate his meal of broth, bread and water. Meager, but enough to make complaining seem pointless.
The Mandalorian turned her attention to dismantling and cleaning her blaster rifle. Krin couldn't stop glancing at her, the way she ignored him bugged the hell out of him.
She didn't seem to outright reject conversation, so maybe if he kept talking…
"What kind of rifle is that?"
He had barely finished his sentence when she answered. "It's a SoroSuub GLX Firelance."
Okay, she's willing to talk. Krin just had to talk first. "Hell of a stun setting."
She didn't look up. "Best on the market when it comes to that department in my opinion."
"You must have been using it for a while 'cause you're one hell of a shot with it." Krin was not flattering her. He had run all of five steps, and she had taken him down in one shot.
She glanced at him for a moment. "Being the only white thing made you an easy target. I suggest colors that are either worn by everyone else or the color of your environment if Nikro is generous with you."
Krin snorted as he placed the empty tray near the slot. "Says the women in the lovely, yet distinctive blue and red armor."
She started to reassemble her rifle, her voice remained calm, but she moved in jerky motions now. Krin had touched a sore spot, whoops. "One, this armor allows me to take a lot more hits than almost anyone. Two, Mandalorian armor is supposed to be distinctive. We're proud of who we are, we want to announce it to the galaxy." With a final click, and her blaster reassembled, she turned to him once again, crossing her arms. "Besides, each set tells other Mando's important information about who's wearing it. Color, symbols, how well-kept it is; armor tells us something you could never understand unless we sit you down and explain it."
"Do the differences help you identify each other too?" Well, it looks like an actual conversation has started. He didn't even need to think about that one.
"On a personal basis?" She waited for him to nod confirmation before continuing. "To a point. Most armor is entirely unique, but all an imposter has to do is mimic the paint job to fool most non-Mandos who don't know the real deal. Not that any of us worth impersonating is worth getting on the bad side of."
The only Mandalorian that Krin could think of that was worth impersonating was Boba Fett. "No kidding."
Probably not willing to talk anymore, she took the tray, and made her way to the door.
"What's your name?" Krin had no idea why he asked that, maybe it was because part of him was annoyed at mentally referring to her as 'the Mandalorian.'
She turned to him, seeming to consider the question. He thought she wasn't going to answer by the time she spoke.
"My name's Fable, of the Mandalorian clan Ramsair. You'll stick to my clan name if you know what's good for you."
She was out the door without another word.