Corellia 2 yrs ago

Roth gently squeezed off three shots. Kill, kill, and kill. The gang around him cheered a bit, it was the first blaster in a gang member's hand, since, well ever. One gang member did not say a word, instead he sneered at Roth. His name was Tylek, and the two boys didn't get along together already, they had been strong rivals for almost five years, resulting in many fist fights, as seen by both having crooked noses, signs of them being broken. Roth ignored the cheering younger members, and instead walked to Tylek.

“You got a problem, you guerful,” Roth asked, using the Corellian word for fool. He sneered back at Tylek, still holding the blaster in hand.

“Yeah,” he sneered back, “I would’ve got that blaster ya know. You shouldn’t have it, it should be mine.” He made a swipe for it, but Roth had anticipated such a move, and was pulled back his fist, and let a punch fly. Tylek dodged, and tried to punch back.

Roth let it hit him in the stomach, which absorbed the punch without much difficulty. “Ya, you fracking coward, you could’ve got it, but you were too scared to enter the cantina, scared to even go near the smuggler who I stole it from.” He grabbed Tylek’s arm, still pushing against Roth’s abdomen, and pistol whipped Tylek upside the head multiple times. Tylek’s face soon bloodied, and as he blacked out, Roth fired a shot at his head. Tylek never rose again.

Present

Roth nodded contently at his targets; all three had holes smoking in the head region. He holstered his pistol, and walked out of the range, a rare smile on his face. He headed to the mess hall, enjoying the feeling of firing his prized weapon. He entered the hall, and as it was still early, according to his internal clock, he grabbed some eggs, sausage, toast, and a large cup of coffee. He found an empty table and sat down, his platter and plastic utensils clattered on the table. A friendly type came up, and sat down next to him. Roth hates the friendly types.

“Hi! What’s your name; I haven’t seen you around before.”

Roth turned from the man, “Scram already. Your wasting my time.”

The man laughed. “Touchy, eh?” The man ignored the request to scram, he is apparently the talkative type, wether people want him to talk or not. “So any way, I’m Grottl, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Roth looked at the man, finished his food, and replied, “The pleasure’s all yours, I assure you.” He stood up, and left.

OOC:

WC 436