Log:There's an Old Marshal in Town

Venturing through the Dune Sea, Hadrix and Valeska happen upon a small town among the sands. There they meet an old Marshal by the name of Cobb Vanth who is certainly more than he appears.

There's an Old Marshal in Town

OOC Date: Friday, February 11, 2022
Location: Freetown, Tatooine
Participants: Cobb Vanth, Valeska Kora, Hadrix Kora

__/< Main Street - Freetown, Tatooine >__/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\

Truly a humble town with denizens made of grit, one look around gives a full tour of Freetown. The main street is less of a road and more a wide stretch of land that splits two rows of adobe-style architecture. A twin, parallel line of connected buildings serves as the entirety of Freetown's business and residential hub. Simple porches of wood running from one end to the other elevate them from the small dunes that collect at the base.

Smaller clusters of adobe housing can be found beyond the central buildings and beyond that, dots of vaporators that support the moisture farming. The rest is just miles and miles and miles of the endless, unforgiving desert known as the Dune Sea.

__/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\____/~~\

--Cobb--

FREE TOWN.

This quaint little mining town out in the absolute middle of nowhere on a planet that can claim the same is...by all accounts, not much to look at. You could likely throw a rock over the whole length of it with enough gumption. But the people here are hard working and honest and that suits Marshal Cobb Vanth just fine.

The Chief Marshal is sitting out on the porch of the Krayt Dragon Saloon whittling away at a piece of scrap wood with a small knife, taking a moment now and then to squint out at a passer-by and offer them a king smile. It's not his beat anymore, but today's his day off and he likes to spend that free time here.

--Valeska--

FREETOWN.

Resourceful denizens who just want to live in peace admist the sands of Tatooine. Good folk who extend a hand out to one another and, when called to action, answer said call in the same vein. A scrappy town populated exclusively by those with a high measure of grit.

Speaking of grit.

A feminine form in crimson-painted Mandalorian armour is making her way down the main road -- what appears to be the /only/ road. Helmet on and masking any kind of features, her head swivels from one side to the other and discovers she has now effectively given herself the grande tour. <"What are we doing here?"> Odd she waited until now to ask that of the purple-and-black Mando with her but hey. She slept most of the way here.

--Hadrix--

The ship that brought the pair of Mandalorians here looks like just the sort of craft that the sort of folks of FREETOWN likely wouldn't be appreciative of. The ship is long, boxy and designed for speed - compounded on by the engines are clearly tuned beyond normal specifications. First glance would color it a smuggler's blockade runner. The hull plates a mix of grays and white from replacement and covering over carbon scoring that give it an unintentional painting of 'winter camo' for lack of better term.

<"Curiosity."> Looming at the feminine form's side is a hulk. Moving with a grace that dips into the uncanny valley for the size of the man in full armor walking with. Helmet on, T-Visor forward but moving with full awareness of surroundings while they make their way up the packed sand 'street'.

<"I've been all over the Dune Sea, but I kept missing this place. Figure I'd complete my map."> Hadrix quiets again, taking note of the whittling figure.

--Cobb--

There's a tell-tale glint that heavily armored folks give off that Cobb is all too familiar with. The Marshal sets his whittling work aside on a nearby table and moves to stand. Regardless of whether or not this is 'his town', he still carries a sizable amount of sway here. He groans a touch as he moves to stand, rolling his shoulders and moving to set his hands on his hips. It's non confrontational, simply an old man resting his hands. "Howdy, strangers. What brings you around?" he asks, the corner of his lips angling upwards and his brows lifting.

--Valeska--

<"Your curiosity takes us to the most interesting places."> Valeska looks around again, this time up at some of the shuttered windows. A few of which aren't quite as shuttered as they were a moment ago. Her brows furrow a little and though unseen under the helmet, the trepidation plays through her voice as she speaks to Hadrix. <"I think we're making some nervous, yeah?">

Movement from the side causes her to stop and turn towards the grey-haired man that approaches. Hands resting calmly at her sides, Valeska leans into her right hip and the bucket on her head tilts a little. <"Haven't heard a nice, rural greetin' since I left home."> Hers is a particular twangy accent; heavy on the good ol' country. Though anyone that's never been to Dantooine might just think it's genuine, generic bumpkin. <"Howdy back. Say, am I crazy or did I see a Sandcrawler with a big, rekkin' skull attached to the top?">

--Hadrix--

Halting and turning with Valeska, the older man is given a inclining of his own head while Valeska talks about 'rural greetings' and all that other Dantooine stuff that her parents apparently subjected her to. Not that he'd say it out loud. She might give him smackings about the head and neck should he get the temerity.

<"Just wandering, personally. Not looking for trouble, unless someone in this town decides to hire us to go looking for it."> head turning slowly to take in the sight of the town again, returning back to the elder man with a lift of one shoulder that screams he expects that no such contract is going to be offered any time soon to Hadrix or the lady he is traveling with.

Ladylorian.

--Cobb--

Marshal Vanth has never been anywhere but Tatooine, so everybody from anywhere else all sounds the same to him. He takes a few steps down off of the porch and gives the two of them a look. It's a trained look; one that's sized up many a no-good in its time. For the moment, though, these two seem on the level. He lets the silence sit there for a few moments longer before he purses his lips and looks out to where the sandcrawler ought to be during this time of day. "Oh, yeah. Krayt dragon skull," he says, reaching up to tap his temple. "Had a hand in that...but had some better hardware those days," he says with a soft chuckle.

"You two don't seem like your here to stir up nothing, so feel free to come up and join me on the porch," he offers, turning and taking the few steps back up, leaning into the door and calling out, "Weequay! Bottle of Spotchka and three glasses. Got company." He retakes his seat and crosses his feet at the ankles, resting his hands on his belly, watching the two of them expectantly.

--Valeska--

The smaller Mandalorian looks over to the larger one. Some kind of wordless conversation or just a form of habit? Regardless, a decision seems to be reached and that settles on the side of not wanting to be rude. Besides, in this Maker-awful heat, some shade and a drink sounds downright heavenly. Kicking up dust as she moves, the woman follows over to the porch in question.

Only once she is safely blocked from some of the twin suns does a pair of hands clap onto either side of the helmet and lift up. A hiss of decompression and the bucket releases to reveal a young, lovely-faced woman underneath. Loose strands of straight black hair whip about in the wind and the brightness of Tatooine causes her hazel eyes to squint in protest. "Sounds like a story to tell, yeah?" She looks to one of the empty seats, but offers a gloved hand out towards the man first. "Valeska of Clan Kora."

--Hadrix--

His own helmet clipped to his belt while settling into one of the offered places, Hadrix's head bows and he shifts to get the right balance with the rocket pack mag-locked to his armor, "Hadrix Kora." the lack of vocalizer distortion only showing the broken gravel voice really is his own - and the oh so high and mighty deep core lilt that splashes glit and finery on his speech.

"Most old stories look more and more golden the further from the grimy present they get, Val'ika." leaning back now that he has the position and moving to rest his hands just over the segmented stomach plates of his cuirass, right hand over left vambrace.

"I've been all over this desert, don't know how I missed this little place in all that time too."

--Cobb--

"Marshal Cobb Vanth," the older man offers by way of introduction, smiling warmly at the two. He seems a bit taken aback by the removal of the duos helmets, but looks to Valeska to answer he question, "A story? Oh, yes." He chuckles and begins swinging one of his feet to some song in his head. "Some years ago we had trouble with a krayt dragon hauling off banthas and getting closer and closer to town. A mite worrying for a small settlement like this with not so much as a gun emplacement. One day of your kind comes along and...well, we struck a deal to take care of it. Partnered with a tribe of Tuskens, even. Don't rightly know how the Jawas got ahold of the skull, but they're crafty critters."

Then he's listening to Hadrix and nodding. "Likely because there's not much to see out this way. Folk here are simple miners and water farmers. Don't get much in the way of excitement. And I think that suits us for the most apart, aside from the occasional youngin' getting a wild hair about something or another."

--Valeska--

Settling into her seat is a bit easier than Hadrix may find. Sometimes -- not often -- it pays to be smaller. Resting her helmet on her lap, she folds her arms over it and leans forward; listening to the tale with a gradual rise of her thick, dark eyebrows. "That's definitely a story, old timer. One of ours, you say? Get a lot of Mandalorians in these parts?" Though the mention of Tuskens has her both a little nervous and curious. She could count the times she's been on Tatooine with only two hands and a lot of those were cargo runs back in the day.

"Seems you get an abundance of peace and quiet out here," she notes, trying hard not to sound lost for words but failing. Even for her upbringing, this place is definitely what one would call the boonies. But it is still nicer than Mandalore. Less radiation to start. "Krayt dragon notwithstanding, yeah? Still, sounds like you earned some retirement just from that."

--Hadrix--

"I hate Krayt Dragons." smirking a bit as he looks out at the street, studying the street on instinct, not quite relaxed, not quite at peace. But he doesn't have a hand near obvious weapons for the moment. "Last one I saw beat me in a headbutting contest." the grin growing on one side of his face.

"I noticed the Raiders moving close. That explains it as well, getting sand people allied to anyone but themselves is a feat in itself." eyes finally stopping on Cobb once again, "I also suppose there's no work to be had out here for the likes of us, either eh?" a cigarra comes out, bit and tucked into the corner of his mouth before being lit with the pilot light of a compact flame rifle lifted from his side.

--Cobb--

"Not especially," Cobb answers Valeska. "But ol' Din was cut from a different cloth. He was out of place everywhere he went, but he ended up there just the same."

"There's all different sorts of Raiders, some friendlier than others. We're lucky enough to have the civil kind out here with us. We trade 'em water and anything else they need, and they patrol the perimeter for us and let us know if there's anybody untoward wandering our way. Helped point me in the direction of some spice runners a few years back."

"As far as work goes, I'm afraid not, Mister Hadrix. I've made a big show of expanding the Marshal Service as of late, and we've got it all pretty much in-hand, so far as I can tell. Least from here to Mos Espa." That is not an insignificant chunk of land.

It's about this time that a heavyset and elderly Weequay comes wandering out of the bar and sets down a trio of glasses and a large bottle of a milky and almost fluorescent blue liquid. "Thanks, Taanti," Cobb says, to the bartender, before leaning forward and pouring a couple of fingers of the concoction into each of the cups. He chooses one of his own and raises it in a small toast to his guests before knocking back half of its contents.

--Valeska--

Not recognizing the name, Valeska chalks it up to just one of the several thousand Mandalorians roaming about the galaxy. "Sounds like you found a good 'un, yeah? Glad to hear it. Though I gotta admit living out here would definitely takes a certain kind of tenacity all itself." Which is to say she can't imagine living here. Then again, she makes her home on a filthy rock orbiting Nal Hutta. What does she know? "If you're in need of another one again, though, we'd be glad to swing back out here. Been wanting to see more of the place myself.I hear---" a glance to Hadrix "---stories."

A nod in Cobb's direction as she takes the offered cup, Valeska lifts it up in a shared 'cheers' then looks closely at the liquid that seems to be... glowing? Well, she's consumed weirder. A tilt of her head and down it goes! "Hey, if we're trading gift, I think I might have something in my bag." Though she doesn't go rummaging just yet. She wants to make sure the older lawman is assured she's not reaching for anything untowards.

--Hadrix--

Curious to what it is that Valeska has to offer, Hadrix's sip of the nigh glowing drink is maintained in silence. No work out here, not surprising - but still unfortunate. Brows lofted since the way 'stories' had been said and letting it roll around his thoughts before finally unable to keep his peace indefinitely.

"Most of the stories of this planet are like Ohnaka Stories." a haze slowly begin to wreathing the big man's head, another sip of the spotchka taken with a look into the glass with lips pressed tight before he adds at last, "Jabba' fall about the only one verifiable in the last forty years eh?" finally slouching some to cross his ankles and blow a lengthy plume into the air above him.

--Cobb--

"Choosing to disregard the local legends is a quick way to let a local legend get the drop on you. Even Mando armor has its limits, partner," Cobb offers knowingly as advice to Hadrix, leaning back in his chair once more and lifting a dismissive hand to Valeksa. "Don't need no gifts. Company's gift enough," he assures. He looks out to the street and lifts a hand to a passing group of kids who run off giggling. He takes another sip from his cup and cradles it between two hands resting on his stomach. "Planet's got a strange way about it, but the people are kind, if a bit on the spinier side. Everybody out here's just the same as anyone else at the end of the day, though; just trying to make it. You'll get out what you put in here," Cobb assures Valeska.

--Valeska--

One finger is held up a 'just a moment' fashion and Valeska hoists her bag onto her lap. It isn't long that she's digging around that her expression tightens. And tightens. And... tightens. "Aw, drek. It ain't in here. Okay, well that settles it." The bag is zipped back up and slung to hang off her shoulder as casual as you like. "I'll make a special trip back here. One good gesture deserves another, yeah?" Said in a way that will not hear of any argument.

Her empty cup is set to the side and Valeska rises. "You said you also work out of Mos Espa? Whereabouts? Might be good to have a point of contact. Afterall, I wouldn't want to keep travelling here too much and drawing unwanted attention."

--Hadrix--

"If the Sand People are keeping tabs on the border, less likely a concern regarding unwanted attention." Hadrix notes as he finishes his glass and sets it down. Rising to his feet when Valeska does, brow lifted somewhat, "And this place is so far out beyond the back end of nowhere you'd be hard pressed to draw wanted attention here.

Helmet drawn from his belt, but held for the time being, silenced now to allow Cobb to answer without too much more ado from the big man.

--Cobb--

"I reckon I'll have to hold you to that, ma'am," Cobb responds to Valeska with a smile. He knocks back the rest of his drink and sets it on the table next to him before he leans forward to stand. It's clear that the man is getting up there in years just by looking at his mannerisms; seems like a man out of time. Though, he doesn't look all that old. Friends in high places.

"Marshals Service has our headquarters there. Ain't too hard to find, just look for the stripes," he says, tapping his belt buckle and showing off the Marshal logo. He takes a deep breath and steps to the end of the porch, thumbs looping through his gunbelt. "Hope to see you folks around. Take care, now," he says, stepping down off of the porch and moseying down the street to continue his rounds.