Post by Deleted on Nov 16, 2015 0:22:04 GMT -5
“Thanks for docking with us, Mr. O’lars. Have a pleasant stay in Cover City.”
The flat, metallic, monotone voice of a chrome protocol droid, with all the politeness and correctness that only one of their type could muster. Even the little bit that Jov’vruum had talked to the droid, and he was already annoyed with how overly polite it’s attitude was. Or maybe it was how damn slow the droid had been at processing his rental of one of the hangars at the spaceport. Probably just because it moved slow. Or maybe cause the the spaceport hadn’t had someone dock all day, and the protocol droid had forgotten how to do it’s job.
Whatever it was, something about the droid hit an annoyed nerve in Jov’. And that was hard to do.
But it was over with, for now, and the Twi’lek was on his way. Without saying a word, he scooped up his backpack, and walked out into the hot Shili sun and the crowded, chaotic city of Cover. Honestly, Jov’vruum had made up his mind from the air as he flew it; the place was a mess. It wasn’t hard to believe that it had been built around the Imperial Garrison here. But it looked like it had been built overnight. Shadly looking lean-tos, rusted metal containers, mud huts. No one had put any substantial thought into what or where they built, turning the whole place into a shifty looking maze. One which Jov’vruum had gotten turned around in, several times.
But that was okay. Despite the look of the city, the people seemed fairly friendly. At the height of the day, the streets were clogged as merchants tried to sell their wares out in the open. It didn’t matter if it was their neighbors or a passing Imperial patrol, everyone got badgered to buy something. Smells invaded the Twi’lek’s nose as people sold food, both raw and cooked, left and right. Thankfully, the Twi’lek’s headphones drowned out the crowd with music, otherwise, his ears would surely be on overload from the deafening multitude of voices.
Truthfully, the Twi’lek had no business being here. It wasn’t a Boska-sanctioned mission, it was out of his own free time. Internally, the Boska had questioned his trip every second since landing about an hour ago. But then it hit. The feelings. The memories. The ache. Everything surrounding his late Wife, Myra. After the massacre at the Grancha Hasa on Abregado-Rae, a body that could be identified as Myra was never recovered. No sign was ever found of the woman. Not blood. Not a piece of clothing. Not a weapon. Declared M.I.A., presumed dead.
When the Miki Boska lost a loved one, they had a ceremony, they kept token items, but they didn’t dwell on it. But Jov’vruum wasn’t like most Miki Boska. He thought he was okay. He thought he had gotten over losing Myra. But every time a hint came up; a sighting of a Jedi, or a place where a group of them might be hiding, the Twi’lek always found himself looking. Investigating. Hoping. It wasn’t like he actively searched. Just when he heard something offhandedly mentioned, he couldn’t help himself. It was hard, and heart-wrenching. But when you had known and loved someone for the better part of your life, you tended to get hung up on them, even if it had been a few years since you last saw them.
This current hint had come to him through an abnormal channel, to say the least. Myra’s old Jedi Master, a Kel Dor by the name of Kalno Kohr, had come to Jov’vruum on New Cov. Like all former Jedi, the man didn’t prescribe to the Order’s ways, anymore. There was no Order. He asked about Myra, and Jov’ told the man what he knew. And then Kohr had given Jov’vruum some interesting information about a Jedi hideout on Shili, a settlement of sorts, and how to find it. Both Kohr and Jov’vruum thought the same way; that if Myra wasn’t there, maybe she had at least stopped by, and someone knew where she had headed.
It didn’t take long to find the right hunting shop, something the Twi’lek was grateful for on this hot, summer day. And stepping inside, he stopped for a moment, and looked around. It was a small shop. Blaster rifles on one wall. Pelts and trophies on another. The lights were off, instead, the natural light through the large windows near the entrance was more than enough. Gently pulling down his headset, one could faintly make out the Twi’lek’s music, if they were close enough. And in this shop, close enough was the whole building. Surprisingly, the place was empty. It was as if everyone else simply walked by, not knowing it was here.
“Heeeeeeelloooo?!”
Taking a moment to look around, Jov’vruum slowly started off, looking at the rifles, and then the pelts. Feeling the fur on each one, and taking a fancy to a small white one with spots. He picked it up, examined it from every angle, and set it back down. Turning on the spot, he ran nose-first into a vicious looking rodent, making the Twi’lek’s eye’s grow wide as he fumbled a little in surprise, catching himself on the taxidermied creature. Really, Jov’vruum just entertained himself until someone came up from the back of the shop to help.
The flat, metallic, monotone voice of a chrome protocol droid, with all the politeness and correctness that only one of their type could muster. Even the little bit that Jov’vruum had talked to the droid, and he was already annoyed with how overly polite it’s attitude was. Or maybe it was how damn slow the droid had been at processing his rental of one of the hangars at the spaceport. Probably just because it moved slow. Or maybe cause the the spaceport hadn’t had someone dock all day, and the protocol droid had forgotten how to do it’s job.
Whatever it was, something about the droid hit an annoyed nerve in Jov’. And that was hard to do.
But it was over with, for now, and the Twi’lek was on his way. Without saying a word, he scooped up his backpack, and walked out into the hot Shili sun and the crowded, chaotic city of Cover. Honestly, Jov’vruum had made up his mind from the air as he flew it; the place was a mess. It wasn’t hard to believe that it had been built around the Imperial Garrison here. But it looked like it had been built overnight. Shadly looking lean-tos, rusted metal containers, mud huts. No one had put any substantial thought into what or where they built, turning the whole place into a shifty looking maze. One which Jov’vruum had gotten turned around in, several times.
But that was okay. Despite the look of the city, the people seemed fairly friendly. At the height of the day, the streets were clogged as merchants tried to sell their wares out in the open. It didn’t matter if it was their neighbors or a passing Imperial patrol, everyone got badgered to buy something. Smells invaded the Twi’lek’s nose as people sold food, both raw and cooked, left and right. Thankfully, the Twi’lek’s headphones drowned out the crowd with music, otherwise, his ears would surely be on overload from the deafening multitude of voices.
Truthfully, the Twi’lek had no business being here. It wasn’t a Boska-sanctioned mission, it was out of his own free time. Internally, the Boska had questioned his trip every second since landing about an hour ago. But then it hit. The feelings. The memories. The ache. Everything surrounding his late Wife, Myra. After the massacre at the Grancha Hasa on Abregado-Rae, a body that could be identified as Myra was never recovered. No sign was ever found of the woman. Not blood. Not a piece of clothing. Not a weapon. Declared M.I.A., presumed dead.
When the Miki Boska lost a loved one, they had a ceremony, they kept token items, but they didn’t dwell on it. But Jov’vruum wasn’t like most Miki Boska. He thought he was okay. He thought he had gotten over losing Myra. But every time a hint came up; a sighting of a Jedi, or a place where a group of them might be hiding, the Twi’lek always found himself looking. Investigating. Hoping. It wasn’t like he actively searched. Just when he heard something offhandedly mentioned, he couldn’t help himself. It was hard, and heart-wrenching. But when you had known and loved someone for the better part of your life, you tended to get hung up on them, even if it had been a few years since you last saw them.
This current hint had come to him through an abnormal channel, to say the least. Myra’s old Jedi Master, a Kel Dor by the name of Kalno Kohr, had come to Jov’vruum on New Cov. Like all former Jedi, the man didn’t prescribe to the Order’s ways, anymore. There was no Order. He asked about Myra, and Jov’ told the man what he knew. And then Kohr had given Jov’vruum some interesting information about a Jedi hideout on Shili, a settlement of sorts, and how to find it. Both Kohr and Jov’vruum thought the same way; that if Myra wasn’t there, maybe she had at least stopped by, and someone knew where she had headed.
It didn’t take long to find the right hunting shop, something the Twi’lek was grateful for on this hot, summer day. And stepping inside, he stopped for a moment, and looked around. It was a small shop. Blaster rifles on one wall. Pelts and trophies on another. The lights were off, instead, the natural light through the large windows near the entrance was more than enough. Gently pulling down his headset, one could faintly make out the Twi’lek’s music, if they were close enough. And in this shop, close enough was the whole building. Surprisingly, the place was empty. It was as if everyone else simply walked by, not knowing it was here.
“Heeeeeeelloooo?!”
Taking a moment to look around, Jov’vruum slowly started off, looking at the rifles, and then the pelts. Feeling the fur on each one, and taking a fancy to a small white one with spots. He picked it up, examined it from every angle, and set it back down. Turning on the spot, he ran nose-first into a vicious looking rodent, making the Twi’lek’s eye’s grow wide as he fumbled a little in surprise, catching himself on the taxidermied creature. Really, Jov’vruum just entertained himself until someone came up from the back of the shop to help.
