The captain’s voice echoing through Cargo Bay A brought a cloaked figure out of his deep slumber and back to life. The man had set up a makeshift hammock out of cargo netting between two massive crates in the bay, for there was little room elsewhere in the ship that allowed some sense of privacy. The rugged warrior stood from his bed and carefully slipped into his form-fitting bodyglove, fused to which was a mismatched set of rusted durasteel armor. One shoulder pauldron, two scarred vambraces, a chest plate cracked in half at a 45-degree angle, ragged greaves all gave the set an extremely makeshift and worn appearance. He then covered the unoccupied slots between armor plates with tan rags, ensuring none of the scarred tan skin beneath was exposed, before finally strapping his bandolier on. The luxury of privacy was one the tusken missed. In his tribe, each member was assigned their own tent to live in with their mate, and the punishment for seeing anyone else unrobed was death. Strangely, on this ship the crew were herded together like bantha in the same confined rooms. Even now, the raider had difficulties exposing his face to others, the old habits and rituals refusing to die within him. He did miss the desert planet and all its harshness. The two burning suns drilling into his robes, banthas trotting through the sweeping sands and dunes. Even the constant threat of krayt dragons would be welcome over the cold vacuum of space. Mrak couldn’t help but ask himself why he was in this cramped, alien ship. 

Sre'vkk'lak heard another voice over the intercom as he checked his weapons, a feminine one he knew all too well that reminded him of why he was aboard the Krayt Mother. Her name was Serana, a zeltron who saved his life in quite possibly the most embarrassing manner possibly, especially for a warrior such as Mrak. The tusken had just arrived in the lower, very undesirable levels of Coruscant searching for work, but instead stumbled upon a crew of Chiss eying what few possessions he had and speaking in a language foreign to him. The ignorant raider believed them to be asking for a worker right up to the point where they pressed a blaster to his forehead. In a flash of pink, the Chiss were blinded by what looked to be glittering confetti. Mrak’s new scantily-clad companion managed to ward off his assailants, and if he were not demanded to repay the woman by Tusken law with a life debt, he surely would have killed himself in shame. Now, indebted to this zeltron, Mrak was obligated to pledge his life to protecting and looking after his savior, even if it meant sacrificing his own life. The tusken’s quest to find his place in the universe was momentarily on hold, to say the least. 

At the mere mention of confetti, the warrior cringed. He finished gathering his belongings and tied a slender tan cloth over his ruined right eye that was permanently shut. Mrak ran a gloved hand across the wound and asked himself whether the prize was worth it, but feeling the Krayt pearl in his pocket, he knew it was. Mrak left Cargo Hold A and walked down the stairwell to the center deck, where the bridge was located. Passing a few bounty hunters, the raider made his way to the cockpit, where Captain Thalen Carin stood, along with Serana. Despite their label as smugglers, bounty hunters, or whatever other unsavory name bestowed upon them, Mrak knew they were not bad people. While his Force capabilities weren’t the greatest, he was capable of reaching out and sensing other’s intentions, and he could tell that neither of them were inherently evil, but simply people trying to get by. If he sensed otherwise, Mrak would have refused to serve aboard the ship. While he stopped between the two crew members, the raider almost protectively stood closer to Serana similar to how a bodyguard would behave. “I don’t see why not,” he replied roughly to the captain’s question, though it was asked quite awhile ago. The tusken shivered and crossed his arms, his body still not acclimated to the cool temperature of the ship. He was never one for words, even by silent tusken standards.