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Jan. 19th, 2007 08:59 pmAtton could smell Lyman before he could see him. After a day of working with nerfs, he had the distinct smell of wet nerf and manure. It was distinct, if not exactly easy on the nose.
He poked his head out of the hole in his ship to peer at Lyman, raising an eyebrow.
The look Lyman gave him stopped any sarcastic comments dead in their tracks.
“Your ship has a hole in it.” He pointed out flatly.
“Did y’come here to tell me that, or was that just on a whim?”
Lyman didn’t reply for several minutes. He made a point of looking out of the hangar, focusing on a pretty interesting mountain.
“That guy. Keever,” He murmured after a while. “What was going on there?”
Atton shrugged vaguely, dragging himself out of the hole with some effort and leaning on the side of the ship.
“Nothing important.”
Lyman shook his head, staring even more intently at the mountain.
“It is if you’re going to get on his bad side,” He turned to look at Atton. “He’s dangerous, alright? I can tell. He’s just arrogant enough to hold a personal vendetta and just volatile and violent enough to snap at any time.”
“There a point to this, Lyman?”
“Yeah, so shut up and listen, alright?” Lyman glared. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Watch your back for him, alright? And don’t aggravate him any further.”
Atton’s lips quirked into a small smile.
“Y’seem awfully concerned.”
“Don’t start getting ideas.”
Atton opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off as another ship slid into the hangar bay. As large as the Czerka ship, but block shaped and almost completely black, it landed on the far side of the hangar, ramp dropping down with a hiss.
The figures that emerged from it, armoured in silver and red, were both distinctly recognisable and completely out of place. Even this far out on the Rim, Czerka would’ve avoided those figures like the plague.
Lyman stiffened next to him, taking a small step back against the ship.
Atton muttered, barely audible, to Lyman.
”What the kriff?” He paused, swearing in several different languages as the four figures that came from the ship paused, wandering to one side as a motley assortion of mercenaries came forth, bringing with them outdated droids, packs full of weapons and noticeably bad attitudes.
Atton ignored them. The silver armoured figures were striding forward, scattering Czerka workers and spacers alike as they went, moving towards Keever, grinning to himself, arms folded.
“Since when does Czerka pick it’s mercenaries from the farthest and seediest corners of the Rim? Since when does Czerka hire Mandalorian Shocktroopers?”
He poked his head out of the hole in his ship to peer at Lyman, raising an eyebrow.
The look Lyman gave him stopped any sarcastic comments dead in their tracks.
“Your ship has a hole in it.” He pointed out flatly.
“Did y’come here to tell me that, or was that just on a whim?”
Lyman didn’t reply for several minutes. He made a point of looking out of the hangar, focusing on a pretty interesting mountain.
“That guy. Keever,” He murmured after a while. “What was going on there?”
Atton shrugged vaguely, dragging himself out of the hole with some effort and leaning on the side of the ship.
“Nothing important.”
Lyman shook his head, staring even more intently at the mountain.
“It is if you’re going to get on his bad side,” He turned to look at Atton. “He’s dangerous, alright? I can tell. He’s just arrogant enough to hold a personal vendetta and just volatile and violent enough to snap at any time.”
“There a point to this, Lyman?”
“Yeah, so shut up and listen, alright?” Lyman glared. “I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Watch your back for him, alright? And don’t aggravate him any further.”
Atton’s lips quirked into a small smile.
“Y’seem awfully concerned.”
“Don’t start getting ideas.”
Atton opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off as another ship slid into the hangar bay. As large as the Czerka ship, but block shaped and almost completely black, it landed on the far side of the hangar, ramp dropping down with a hiss.
The figures that emerged from it, armoured in silver and red, were both distinctly recognisable and completely out of place. Even this far out on the Rim, Czerka would’ve avoided those figures like the plague.
Lyman stiffened next to him, taking a small step back against the ship.
Atton muttered, barely audible, to Lyman.
”What the kriff?” He paused, swearing in several different languages as the four figures that came from the ship paused, wandering to one side as a motley assortion of mercenaries came forth, bringing with them outdated droids, packs full of weapons and noticeably bad attitudes.
Atton ignored them. The silver armoured figures were striding forward, scattering Czerka workers and spacers alike as they went, moving towards Keever, grinning to himself, arms folded.
“Since when does Czerka pick it’s mercenaries from the farthest and seediest corners of the Rim? Since when does Czerka hire Mandalorian Shocktroopers?”
