Post by Carik Bralor on Jun 16, 2013 23:09:09 GMT -8
Morning light drifted through the open canvas as a man sat idly on a makeshift bed sharpening his blade, thoughts of home seemingly taunting the man as he prepared for the day’s venture. A hunt would cure most things, but this kind of hunt seemed almost unworthy these days. The young Mandalorian stood from the cot and began adorning his Beskar’gam, having neglected the upkeep over the last several months dents and slashes were becoming more and more apparent.
Having marked his kills, just so, on the right arm’s shoulder plate the clank of it against yet another piece of Beskar indicated the man had taken a blow to the area. Building up the armor to fortify against another blow, yet removing some of the mobility. A fair adjustment given the situation, even if he did hate losing the range of motion, the pieces fit together well other than the reinforced guard on his shoulder.
Finally placing the assortment of hunting knives into their appropriate places at his belt, boot, and shoulder the mando’ad then picked up a long, seemingly leather, bandolier and pulled it over his head. Two slots contained thermal detonators, and the others were clips for the rifle. After these weapons had been placed the beskad came next, it’s sheath rested beneath the bandolier, completely form fitting for silence, the blades jagged edges gave no question to it’s lethality. Once these were in place Carik’s fingers drifted to the buy’ce and ran across its top. Noticing every divot and dent that it had obtained over the last year, recalling memories of hunts good and bad for whatever reason it did not make the mood any more tolerable.
After a few moments of staring into the canvas wall his fingers brought the bucket over his head and a hiss could be heard from a short distance of his location, the seal took and that was always a good sign. Making a mental note to take a break after this hunt the young Mandalorian decided that it would be in his best interest to get the shoulder fixed, rather than chance an enemy noticing the weakness and exploiting it. There hadn’t been time for such things in the last few months. Having drifted from job to job in hopes of garnishing a bit of honor for his clan, all proving more difficult with each passing cycle of travel.
Truth be told most had not seen his face, he liked it that way, and even further more he wouldn’t allow contractors to see his face. ‘Less liability’ he had told them. ‘You didn’t see me, I don’t exist.’ Words often spoken from his lips when clients wanted to know what their alibi would be in case of problems.
Exiting the flimsy shelter with rifle in hand, the custom visor of the helmet shown a fierce yellow as the perimeter scans began to check through his HUD. Not a single moving beast or being was making notice. ‘That doesn’t always mean it’s right.’ Carik thought to himself as he stepped slowly toward the wilderness shouldering his rifle, looking down the scope toward a small encampment just three clicks from where he stood now. The scope buzzed softly as he twisted a finger on its controls. Focusing on the distant shelters of men that would be waiting to start their day.
“Probably drinking Kaff and eating Uj cake by now. Soft little men.”
Without another thought the Mandalorian began to move toward his destination, and hopeful pay day. Landing a freighter to get off this god forsaken planet had been the hope for a month it seemed. In all reality the young man had made camp just two weeks prior and began gathering intel. Today would be the day however, that Carik Bralor made a name for himself. Today Clan Bralor would return, and Carik would be the sword in it’s hand.
Having marked his kills, just so, on the right arm’s shoulder plate the clank of it against yet another piece of Beskar indicated the man had taken a blow to the area. Building up the armor to fortify against another blow, yet removing some of the mobility. A fair adjustment given the situation, even if he did hate losing the range of motion, the pieces fit together well other than the reinforced guard on his shoulder.
Finally placing the assortment of hunting knives into their appropriate places at his belt, boot, and shoulder the mando’ad then picked up a long, seemingly leather, bandolier and pulled it over his head. Two slots contained thermal detonators, and the others were clips for the rifle. After these weapons had been placed the beskad came next, it’s sheath rested beneath the bandolier, completely form fitting for silence, the blades jagged edges gave no question to it’s lethality. Once these were in place Carik’s fingers drifted to the buy’ce and ran across its top. Noticing every divot and dent that it had obtained over the last year, recalling memories of hunts good and bad for whatever reason it did not make the mood any more tolerable.
After a few moments of staring into the canvas wall his fingers brought the bucket over his head and a hiss could be heard from a short distance of his location, the seal took and that was always a good sign. Making a mental note to take a break after this hunt the young Mandalorian decided that it would be in his best interest to get the shoulder fixed, rather than chance an enemy noticing the weakness and exploiting it. There hadn’t been time for such things in the last few months. Having drifted from job to job in hopes of garnishing a bit of honor for his clan, all proving more difficult with each passing cycle of travel.
Truth be told most had not seen his face, he liked it that way, and even further more he wouldn’t allow contractors to see his face. ‘Less liability’ he had told them. ‘You didn’t see me, I don’t exist.’ Words often spoken from his lips when clients wanted to know what their alibi would be in case of problems.
Exiting the flimsy shelter with rifle in hand, the custom visor of the helmet shown a fierce yellow as the perimeter scans began to check through his HUD. Not a single moving beast or being was making notice. ‘That doesn’t always mean it’s right.’ Carik thought to himself as he stepped slowly toward the wilderness shouldering his rifle, looking down the scope toward a small encampment just three clicks from where he stood now. The scope buzzed softly as he twisted a finger on its controls. Focusing on the distant shelters of men that would be waiting to start their day.
“Probably drinking Kaff and eating Uj cake by now. Soft little men.”
Without another thought the Mandalorian began to move toward his destination, and hopeful pay day. Landing a freighter to get off this god forsaken planet had been the hope for a month it seemed. In all reality the young man had made camp just two weeks prior and began gathering intel. Today would be the day however, that Carik Bralor made a name for himself. Today Clan Bralor would return, and Carik would be the sword in it’s hand.