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The incessant beeping of the tracking beacon echoed throughout the crisp air of the crisp planet of ice. The helmeted man shoved the irritating object that was the central focus of his job into his pocket, one of the only parts of his person that was not covered in Beskar armor.
From head to toe, he was easily identifiable. The man was protected by the steel, but his culture was as obvious as the steam coming off of the ice below his feet.
He was Mandalorian, and more pressing at the moment, he was a bounty hunter.
The tracking fob had led him to the frozen planet and the noise coming from the device had become unavoidable as he neared a small village with a walking path made in the inches of frost surrounding him.
The closer he followed the path toward the end, the louder the tracking fob sounded off. It was clear that his destination was a bar straight ahead of the far but narrow path.
This would be a fun bounty, at the very least.
Two of the insufferable men inside the bar were manhandling a blue-skinned Mythrol man. The targeted man was terrified, being attacked by trawlers speaking a language he had never learned. The patrons inside the bar ignored his pleas and went about their business.
