Post by Gustavo on Apr 26, 2023 13:23:55 GMT -5
Gustavo had been living on the streets of the Mercenary Outpost village for days. He had money with him and could've stayed at an inn. He may have even been able to take jobs and forage resources to rent or build a place of his own. But he was new on the planet Plant, and seeing as he grew up homeless his whole life, the most comfortable way for him to acclimate to a new environment was to make himself one with the lowest grounds it had to offer. Whether this was the concrete jungle of a metropolis' streets or the wild fields of a grassy forest wasteland, he had a habit of scoping out the territory from the vantage point he knew best -- it's depths.
He sat on a curbside, with an animal's pelt on his chest, a metal casing around his arm with claws attached to it and a skull trophy upon his shoulder from the bones of a large alien feline creature. In his hands was a slab of impeccably fine high quality steak meat, that he took a bite out of atop a plate made from aluminum.
The seediest and worst type of people walked by as he ate, eyeing him down and trying to judge his power level and character from a slight glance. Bounty hunters, hitmen and smugglers alike made this ground their home, and Gus wanted to feel their energy. "This is the hunter's way," he thought to himself. "I must know my target, I must know my enemy. I must know the chess board. If I am to acquire power in this land, I must make myself one with the territory," his inner monologue continued as he chewed through another piece of steak meat.
A group of rowdy teenagers approached him, thinking he was just another homeless man. They were laughing and looking for some mischief to get into. "Get the fuck out of our neighborhood old man!" one of the kids exclaimed, kicking a can in Gustavo's direction. "Yeah you dirty prick, you don't belong here. This ain't the jungle! You lost?!" a friend continued. You could cut the tension with a knife as Gustavo reacted completely composed, silent and like the confident animal that he always was.
He placed his steak down and shot the kids a look. They could feel the red fury beaming from his eyes, in a glare alone. "Hey -- let's get outta here," a kid in the back whispered to his friend. Instantly the group made a bee-line for the opposite direction, not wanting any parts of the pent up rage boiling within Gustavo's disposition. He picked his steak up and finished it, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood up. "Puny children," he thought.
Gus decided he would sit outside of a village outpost and continue to survey the area, to see if any jobs, allies or potential enemies would make themselves known. If not, it would still serve as a worthy angle to absorb the black spirit in the air of the Saiba Wasteland. "Welcome home, Gustavo," he said to himself. "These are your new hunting grounds."
He sat on a curbside, with an animal's pelt on his chest, a metal casing around his arm with claws attached to it and a skull trophy upon his shoulder from the bones of a large alien feline creature. In his hands was a slab of impeccably fine high quality steak meat, that he took a bite out of atop a plate made from aluminum.
The seediest and worst type of people walked by as he ate, eyeing him down and trying to judge his power level and character from a slight glance. Bounty hunters, hitmen and smugglers alike made this ground their home, and Gus wanted to feel their energy. "This is the hunter's way," he thought to himself. "I must know my target, I must know my enemy. I must know the chess board. If I am to acquire power in this land, I must make myself one with the territory," his inner monologue continued as he chewed through another piece of steak meat.
A group of rowdy teenagers approached him, thinking he was just another homeless man. They were laughing and looking for some mischief to get into. "Get the fuck out of our neighborhood old man!" one of the kids exclaimed, kicking a can in Gustavo's direction. "Yeah you dirty prick, you don't belong here. This ain't the jungle! You lost?!" a friend continued. You could cut the tension with a knife as Gustavo reacted completely composed, silent and like the confident animal that he always was.
He placed his steak down and shot the kids a look. They could feel the red fury beaming from his eyes, in a glare alone. "Hey -- let's get outta here," a kid in the back whispered to his friend. Instantly the group made a bee-line for the opposite direction, not wanting any parts of the pent up rage boiling within Gustavo's disposition. He picked his steak up and finished it, wiping his hands on his pants as he stood up. "Puny children," he thought.
Gus decided he would sit outside of a village outpost and continue to survey the area, to see if any jobs, allies or potential enemies would make themselves known. If not, it would still serve as a worthy angle to absorb the black spirit in the air of the Saiba Wasteland. "Welcome home, Gustavo," he said to himself. "These are your new hunting grounds."
PL: 24,000
WC: 525
WC: 525