[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2wSv1RH.png[/img][/center]
[right][b][color=darkorange]Keldabe Refugee District // Mandalore // Mandalore Sector[/color][/b]
[sup][sup]Mentioned:[@pandapolio] [@Thayr] [@Paingodsson][/sup][/sup][/right][hr]

[color=darkorange]"Yes ma'am, trouble seems to follow us,"[/color] Rask repeated as they walked out of the cantina. The two stood there for a moment, Rask blinking in the day's afternoon light like some nocturnal creature caught out after sunrise. His eyes adjusted and he was able to take in the scene around him.

The street was surrounded on either side by squat prefab buildings made of cheap durasteel and small windows. These buildings, once new and shining bare metal, were now rusting and painted in vibrant and garish colors. Crude additions or second, third, and even fourth floors were added to some habitats, giving the whole street the feeling of being cobbled together. Each building's appearance reflected its inhabitant's tastes. Some walls bore murals depicting brave Mandalorian protectors with blasters in hand, or other artwork the occupant's previous homeworld. Others looked like the art of young children, stick figures of small families and flowers and other doodles. In the narrow spaces between each dwelling merchants hawked their wares in makeshift stalls. Food, trinkets, artwork, anything and everything that anyone could ever want. The entire community grew from a single point, the spaceport exit, and now encircled the spaceport entirely. Rask could see ships of every make and model land or take off from the heart of the district.

Once a refugee camp after the fall of the Republic, it had grown into something much more. Something the residents seemed proud of. 

The streets were packed with people from around the galaxy, and the locals were pleased with these new arrivals. A chance to make some money, and a chance to display their new lives, gifted to them through the protection of Mandalore, many would say.

[color=darkorange]"Didn't tell you who I'm lookin for,"[/color] Rask spoke to Cel over the din of music from the cantina behind them and the voices of vendors calling out their wares. [color=darkorange]"Twi’lek woman, name of Zi'Aii Nenta, though I expect she'd have changed it by now. Hell, probably changed her face too, if she's smart. Which she is. Too clever by half sometimes."[/color] 

Rask looked at the cantina and watched as a team of small droids with flat, oval heads scrambled up the side of the building and set about painting over the sign that read "L4's Place." In a matter of seconds, the updated version said "Z3's Place." The sign had several layers of paint over the first two letters. Apparently, this establishment changed hands frequently. He shook his head ruefully and continued.

[color=darkorange]"She were a Republic agent. Once. Turned bandit the day that well ran dry. Now she's tryin' her hand at somethin new. Representin Confederacy interests on Ryloth, or some such thing. Don't rightly know much about it. All I know is she's on [i]this planet[/i], and I aim to find her, and bring'er to justice."[/color] Rask fiddled with the memory chip in his pocket. He thumbed the scorched half of it that was left. H1-VOK's memory chip. All the droid was, and all it would ever be, all in his pocket. He swiped the chip from the droid's head at the cantina, only to find he'd blown right through it when he executed H1. It would take a miracle to recover anything intelligible from the fragmented data leftover. 

[i]Stupid. Stupid to do it like that. Ain't no description of a fool you fail to satisfy.[/i] 

Rask caught a glimpse of two odd figures in the crowd. Their frames were swathed in bandage-like robes and two narrow tubes jutted from their wrapped faces where eyes might be. They carried strange clubs with spikes on their bulbous ends. Tuskens. 

[color=darkorange]"Well if that don't beat all,"[/color] Rask said, more to himself than anyone else. [color=darkorange]"Fellas must be lost. If those [i]are[/i] fellas. Hard to say."[/color] He'd encountered Tuskens before. He knew very little about them, but he was certain they never left Tatooine. They had neither the inclination nor the technology. Or so he thought. 

More sounds of fighting from the cantina behind them. Rask didn't pay any mind, transfixed on the Tusken casually walking through the crowd with little more than a few curious glances from passerbys. Then a shot rang out. 

Rask spun, blaster drawn, just in time to see a grinning New Imperial holding their gun just as the cantina doors slammed shut. 

[i]Slow. Too damn slow. You coulda been shot. Coulda been dead. [/i]Cel[i] coulda been dead.[/i] 

He'd lose sleep over that, he knew.

He returned the blaster to its holster as a slouching man approached them, garbed in an Imperial Navy dress uniform. Rask couldn't discern much else from the man, cloaked as he was in his coat. Young, but hardened beyond his years. He'd seen that look all too many times on the faces of clones in the late days of the war. Rask rested the heel of his hand on his blaster's grip casually, like a swordsman might place a hand on the hilt of their weapon when at rest. So relaxed that it did not seem a threat, only where his hand might naturally fall. Judging from the man's severe expression, Rask figured he was about to get chewed out for something, at which Rask knew he would laugh. 

Instead, the man asked for directions.

Rask chuckled and tipped his hat to the man. He thought the man might have been drinking at first, but he looked as sober as a Jedi. [color=darkorange]"Well captain, I think they call this place Keldabe, last time I checked. Refugee district, maybe. You want specifics, best ask my friend Ms. O’Royal here. She'll know better than me."[/color]

His words were amiable enough, friendly even, but there was just a hint of distain behind Rask's sharp eyes. Barely perceptible, but there. Rask never had much love for those of the Renkar Imperium. They were a furtive, slavish people to him, all serving some tyrant whose interests were not their own. Everything the Rim was not. The man before him looked like an officer as well. Rask didn't care much for officers.