Well, after a bit of a hiatus, here we are again. The fourth of the eight "player" characters will now have his own story. This time, we follow the somewhat-psychotic bounty hunter, Kryvokk. Hope you enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I own most of the characters in this story. Any other names of planets or characters are owned by Lucasarts and Bioware.
Days of the Old Republic IV: Kryvokk
Chapter 1:
If one could name a seedy place, the first that came to mind would be the moon of Nar Shaddaa. After all, this planetoid was not named the "Smuggler's Moon" for no reason. This was where the criminals and other scum of the galaxy made their home, everything from smugglers to pirates to bounty hunters. Here was where many illegal operations were carried out, where the law of the Republic could never reach. Here was where even the most inexperienced bounty hunters could find all sorts of contracts.
Kryvokk Ondeth, a human with hunting aspirations, entered a cantina, long brown hair in his face. The current patrons paid him no mind, seeing as people with reputations—and, in his case, without them—came in every day. The door remained open for a moment as Kryvokk stepped inside, blaster pistol on one hip and eyes glancing about to assess threats. He approached the bar and sat, reflecting as he waited for the bartender.
Reflecting on the day his parents were killed by a Jedi, simply because they refused to give their Force-sensitive child over to the Jedi Order.
"You want something?" the bartender grunted as he came to Kryvokk.
The young hunter looked up at the bartender.
"A couple things," Kryvokk said. "I want info on where you can find good gear for bounty hunters, and I want to know where you can find bounties."
"You?" snorted the bartender. "You wanna be a bounty hunter? Let me tell you something, a kid like you'll be eaten alive before you can say—"
A blast rang out and the bartender screamed, clutching his shoulder. Kryvokk held the smoking blaster in his hand, smirking.
"What was that?" Kryvokk asked. "Couldn't hear you."
He pointed the blaster directly between the bartender's eyes, and prepared to fire.
"That's enough," an accented voice demanded. Kryvokk rolled his eyes, keeping his blaster trained on the bartender's brain, until a red-haired woman with her hair tied in a ponytail placed her hand on his arm, gripping it tightly. "I said, 'that's enough'."
Kryvokk briefly glanced at the woman before turning back to the bartender.
"Anyway, where was I?" he said.
"That man does not have to die," the woman said.
"And why not?" Kryvokk asked.
"Because I can give you what you want to know," the woman answered.
Kryvokk finally relented, placing his blaster back in his holster and turning to the woman. Now that he saw her more closely, she appeared to be wearing the uniform of an Imperial agent. Although most knew the Imperials to be the dominant force in the galaxy, Kryvokk simply scoffed.
"That so?" he said. "Who are you supposed to be?"
"Shall we sit?" the woman asked. "I will explain once we do."
Kryvokk shrugged and sat down at a table, the woman doing the same.
"Now, let me explain things to you," the woman said. "My name is Trila Karath."
"And?" Kryvokk said casually, leaning back in his chair.
"No comment on my heritage?" Trila asked, clearly confused. "My ancestor was Saul Karath, the man whose ship bombed planets such as Telos and Taris three hundred years ago."
"Well, this isn't three hundred years ago, is it?" Kryvokk commented. "What makes you think you can tell me what I want to know?"
"Because I know about you, Kryvokk Ondeth," Trila said, causing Kryvokk to sit up in his seat in surprise. "I know about your exploits on Metarrid Leykott's space station, and how you are one of the few surviving bounty hunters. The question is, were you spared because of skill…or cowardice?"
Kryvokk ignored her attempt at an insult, instead leaning closer.
"How do you know all this crap?" Kryvokk asked.
"Members of Imperial Intelligence make their living by fishing up the galaxy's secrets," Trila replied. "Now, back to the matter at hand. I can supply you with the weapons you need to support your friend Braden in the upcoming Great Hunt, but first, I need to know if you are worthy of them."
"Of course," Kryvokk sighed. "There's always a catch."
"So it would seem," Trila nodded. "But for a bounty hunter such as yourself, this will be a simple task. You must hunt down this man."
She held out a hologram, which generated an image of what appeared to be a humanoid with a shark's head.
"His name is Rusain Shum," Trila said. "He's a Karkarodon slave trader operating here on Nar Shaddaa. Your task is to hunt him down."
"This is a job, huh?" Kryvokk smirked. "Am I getting paid or what?"
"Oh, don't worry about that," Trila said, waving his concerns aside. "In addition to the information I will provide upon completion of the hunt, you will be compensated for your work."
"Sounds good to me," Kryvokk said. "Where can I find him?"
"His location itself is a mystery, even to me," Trila said. "I can, however, lead you to his chief mercenary."
The hologram changed, this time showing a Zabrak even burlier than Rusain.
"His name is Mennor Tanik," Trila explained. "He usually operates in the lower sections of Nar Shaddaa. Find him, and you find Rusain."
"Guess I'm going diving, then," Kryvokk smirked. He got up, but so did Trila. "What do you want now?"
"I need to accompany you," Trila said, "to see first-hand how you operate."
"Your funeral," Kryvokk shrugged. He left the cantina, Trila following.
"So, how do you plan to enter the lower cities of Nar Shaddaa?" Trila asked.
"Place has speeders, right?" Kryvokk said simply.
Trila stopped for a moment, Kryvokk continuing without her. She put a hand to her chin, contemplating events thus far.
This hunter was going to be interesting.