MrNepathy's Blog

Quaydo was growing impatient as he watched the Imperial captain look over the permit.

The Rodian wrapped his long fingers around his elbows as he crossed his arms.

This kept him from drumming the suction cups at his fingertips onto his belt and the pistols holstered there.

“Is there a problem Captain Reeves?” he said in his eerily soothing tones.

“Impatient Rodian? Perhaps that is why you need a x1 hyperdrive?” the captain answered as he looked up from the permit towards Quaydo.

“You look over my permit every time I come to Travnin. It’s like you seek me out. Next you will ask for my hunter’s license and inspect my weapons,” Quaydo said in Basic before switching to Rodese, “I should remind him the open ends are the dangerous ends, I would hate for him to point the barrels at his face and have an accident.”

Beside him, the Devaronian Nalathax grinned. As he already looked like a devil of some sort, the grin just made him seem all the more unsettling. “It would be a shame,” he answered in Devor.

Quaydo chortled as Captain Reeves looked at them, clearly confused by the languages.

“I need the fast hyperdrive so I can catch criminals, criminals that elude your Imperial might and your watchful eye. Also I need it so that I can arrive quickly when your governor summons me. That is who I am here to see…”

“I don’t care if you are here to see Lord Vader himself. If you pass through customs you need my authorization to go farther into Travnin. Do we understand one another, Rodian?”

“You have made that point quite clear on numerous occasions, Captain Reeves and I have always played the part of a supplicant rather well. Perhaps I should have been an actor like so many of my brethren, but I sought a different life and now I am here in your welcoming arms. If the stage had lured me then I would be deprived of the pleasure of your company, so perhaps we should thank the Grand Protector for his wisdom in creating the hunt, for the call of the trade has led me to you.”

Captain Reeves started to glare more with every word, “You and your band of … creatures don’t amuse me, or scare me Rodian.”

The Barabel behind Quaydo and Nalathax leaned forward and bared his double rows of razor-sharp teeth. Quaydo was barely five and a half feet tall and Nalathax was two inches shorter, but Moc was over six and a half feet tall.

The captain pointed the permit at Moc, “That one isn’t even a bounty hunter, so I better not find he has any weapons that he shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t, he prefers to rip things with his claws or his teeth. Very visceral. It’s…” Quaydo took a deep breath through his snout and the antennae on top of his head stretched out, “blissfully macabre.”

Just then a lieutenant arrived at the captain’s side, “Sir, the governor has requested them immediately.” He pointed towards the large Kerestian still waiting to go through customs, “That one as well.”

Plix Klenmoore was even taller than Moc. He stood at over seven feet tall and his shoulders were broader than a human’s proportionally. With a downward-turned mouth, holes in a line along each cheek and his eyebrows forever pinched together he had a very cruel look about him. He reached out a gloved hand and snatched his ID away from Captain Reeves.

“Very well Lieutenant,” Reeves replied. Then he turned to his sergeant, a stormtrooper with a blue pauldron on his right shoulder. “Sergeant, I suppose if they are with the governor we will have time to thoroughly search their ships for infractions and violations. I trust that won’t be a problem for you Rodian? And you… mister Klenmoore, whatever you are.”

“I am a Kerestian, there are not many of us left.”

“Was it because you were so hideous you could not bring yourselves to mate, even with one another?”

“No, it’s because our sun died and with it, the animals, so we ate one another in order to survive,” Plix answered matter-of-factly.

“Yes, well… Go with the Lieutenant.”

Plix nodded.

“Always have to bring up the cannibalism thing,” Quaydo said as they started to walk.

“I like it, it has style. Nothing says ‘do not mess with me’ like, ‘I eat my own people,’” Nalathax responded.

“I sssay it with teeth,” Moc said.

The Kerestian said simply, “I was answering his inquiry with the truth. If my answer happened to be threatening, that is not my fault. A threat would be more like, ‘I can lift you over my head and tear you in half, should I wish it.’ But, I did not say that.”

“Either way, it is good to see you again Plix, you’re always good for a chortle, even if it does mean we may be competing against one another for whatever this is,” Quaydo said.

“I, for one, welcome competition,” Nalathax said as they were ushered onto a speeder.

“Maybe we are being summoned for execution,” Plix replied as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the speeder which was clearly designed for beings of average height.

“That, I don’t welcome.”

Moc tried to imitate Plix’s way of sitting, but it was made a bit awkward because unlike Plix, Moc had a tail. Finally he crouched between two seats. It gave him the appearance of preparing to pounce.

“I don’t like being summoned by the Empire,” Quaydo said quietly in Rodese.

“Me either, especially if means working for them,” Nalathax answered in Devaronian.

Moc started to pick at a hole in the leather on the seat he was holding onto. Soon he was digging out foam with a claw, like an animal searching out insects in a log. Small pieces of foam were drifting about the seat.

“Moc, enough,” Quaydo said.

“Better the sssseat than their thhhroatssss.”

“He does have a good point,” Nalathax said.

The Rodian shrugged. Just then the shuttle pulled up to a private residence.

“This isn’t the capitol building,” Quaydo said as he peered out the window.

“It seems like an unusual place for a meeting,” Plix replied.

“Maybe we are being summoned for execution,” the Rodian said as he stood up and stepped out of the speeder.

He was immediately met by a stormtrooper with a hand up to halt him. “You must surrender your weapons before proceeding and subject yourself to a search.” Behind the stormtrooper were nine more, all with their rifles held at the waist. The one that stopped them had his other hand on a pistol.

Quaydo’s antennae twitched as he took in the surroundings. He slowly reached down for the pistol on his right hip, using only two fingers. His suction cups stuck onto the handle and he eased the weapon out of the holster, then repeated that with the pistol on his left hip. Next he took out a knife from his left pant leg, and a hold-out pistol from his right boot. Last was the rifle from his back. The stormtrooper placed the weapons in a bin. Nalathax handed over a pistol, assault rifle and a spot welder. Moc only had a common blaster pistol. Plix turned over a large morning star with curved spikes of varying size, a large pistol and something that looked like a handle.

“Don’t touch the button,” the Kerestian warned. “I get that back when I come out.” Last he took off his gloves which had small battery packs in the cuffs. The tips of his fingers were black where they had suffered permanent frost damage.

The stormtrooper had some difficulty carrying all of the bins back to the security lock up. Another trooper cleared the four to step through for inspection. They removed all comlinks and datapads as well, then let the four through to the main house. The group was flanked by four troopers who stopped at the door.

A lieutenant and protocol droid met them there. “That will be all,” the lieutenant said to the escort. “This way,” he said when turning to the others.

As they walked through the large house, they each looked at different aspects. Nalathax looked at the art and architecture while Quaydo looked for cover opportunities and exits. Plix paid attention to the people and the aquarium. Moc just watched to not knock over things with his tail. Whenever he would smile at people, they would turn away from him and find something to do in a different part of the house. The lieutenant opened the door to a large study, nodded to the man inside, let the four in and then closed the door behind them, leaving them alone with the governor and the protocol droid.

The governor stayed in his seat and nodded to two on the other side of the desk, “Sit. We needn’t bother with introductions. I am who I am and you’re who I sent for. I prefer using my own troops for things, but this matter calls for discretion so I have to go outside of my normal channels.

I’m paying you for your skills as well as for your silence. Do we understand one another?”

Quaydo glanced towards Nalathax, then towards the governor, “You did say discretion, not subtlety, yes?”

“If you’re done being clever, we’ll get down to it,” the governor said in response. “A ‘man’ stole something from me and I would like you to retrieve it. If you need a crime to satisfy your bounty hunter license, we’ll call it ‘theft of imperial property and conspiracy to commit treason against the Empire.’ Treason, as you know, is punishable by death. If he doesn’t make it back to stand trial, we can consider it that his sentence was carried out. Trials cost the good citizens of Travnin money. They’re expensive and unnecessary, if we could skip that process, perhaps there would be a way to pass the amount saved to you.”

“The hunter creed says we capture by design and kill by necessity,” Nalathax said, “but if you’re saying it’s a necessity…”

“…then we can comply,” Quaydo finished.

“What did he steal?” Plix asked.

“A file. He should have it on a disk. You’ll need to verify if he copied it and find all copies. The vital information is on these cards.” The governor offered a card to Quaydo and one to Plix. Quaydo grabbed his with a suction cup and the governor looked vaguely repulsed. When Plix reached for it with his frost-burned fingers, the governor actually put the disk down for Plix to take it off of the desk. “You are dismissed.”

The four were escorted out by the lieutenant and retrieved their weapons. The shuttle took them back to the starport. When Quaydo, Nalathax and Moc returned to their ship, they were greeted by two stormtroopers and a uniformed Imperial officer walking down the ramp.

“Are you the owners of the Pacifier-class vessel The Last Marker?” the officer asked.

“I am the owner,” Quaydo answered.

“Congratulations you have passed Imperial inspection. You may return to your ship.”

“Thanks, Officer.” They waited for the imperials to disappear into the crowd before they headed inside. They were greeted by the sound of metal sliding along the floor and a very irate Bith. The contents of the ship were in a state of disarray. The cargo hold had been rearranged, various instrument panels were unfastened and now hung. Clothes, weapons and gear were strewn about the floors. Worse still, the hyperdrive had been partially disassembled to verify that the speed was as the registry claimed.

The Bith shook a hydrospanner in rage as he fastened a panel back into place.

The muscles around Quaydo’s multifaceted eyes tightened as did the end of his snout. He spoke in Rodese, “I see they searched everything. How long until we are space worthy Major?”

“A day? I don’t know. They really made a mess of things.”

“Moc, go clean up the cargo bay. Nalathax, let’s look over the gear and make sure it’s all in working order. Was it Reeves?”

“Yes, that…” and Pilanis, a.k.a. “the Major” broke off into a string of profanity in four languages.

Quaydo switched on his comlink, “Plix?”

“Yes, it happened to me as well,” Plix responded over the comlink even before Quaydo asked.

“Reeves?”

“Yes.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I would say you are upset,” Quaydo quipped.

On Plix’s ship, a Firespray-class vessel he named The Frost Bite, things were worse. As he turned off the comlink, he walked to his old Kerestian protocol droid and reactivated him.

“Greetings Commander,” the droid said in Kerestian, using Plix’s rank from when he had been in the army on Kerest. “It seems the Empire deactivated me for the duration of their inspection. I shall begin diagnostics at once.”

“Thank you Flak,” Plix responded in an uncharacteristically kind tone. In the crew cabin he found some of his small animal cages had been inspected and put back incorrectly. There was also a citation for keeping animals without a license. He put the note aside and went back to restoring the cages. All of the animals represented species known to exhibit cannibalism. There was a handwritten log next to each cage and he had to put them back in the proper places. His paints had been inspected and so there were spills all down the side and onto the floor. He reactivated a maintenance droid and pointed it towards the mess.

“Nibbler,” he said in Kerestian as he looked towards the ceiling.

The ship’s computer answered him in Kerestian, “Yes Captain?” Plix had an astromech droid installed into the ship itself and then had a voice modulator added so that the droid did not speak in chirps and beeps. As the droid was not from his homeworld, Plix had instructed it to refer to him as Captain. Only Flak was allowed to call him by his former rank or by name.

“Can we take off?”

“Yes Captain, but you will need to reattach the hyperdrive couplings and reengage the sublight engines. I have taken the liberty of lighting those portions and transmitted the information to the maintenance droid.”

“Good,” Plix said as he got into the captain’s chair.

Flak joined him in the cockpit and placed a lidded container of tea in the cup holder. “I don’t think I like Captain Reeves.”

“I am sure I don’t.”

“Are you thinking of killing him?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“It seems a sensible way to correct the problem,” the droid answered. “Should I begin scanning the information on the disk?”

“Yes, but download it to a datapad. I don’t want it in the ship records.”

“Very well.”

As soon as the maintenance droid was finished with the adjustments, The Frost Bite took off and headed for deep space. While in hyperspace Plix looked over the citations and saw that Captain Reeves also charged him for permits for the animals. Less than a day later The Last Marker left Travnin space.

After a few days, Plix arrived on Eliad. The planet of Eliad was inhabited partially by displaced royalty from other planets. It was a world known for wealth and luxury. But like all worlds it had a seedier side. Plix walked into a cantina in one of such neighborhood and approached the bartender.

He did not wait to be served or even addressed. Instead he walked up, stepped in front of another customer and raised his wrist to the bartender. There in the sleeve of Plix’s jacket was a holo-image of the prey, “I’m looking for this man, and was told he was here recently.”

The bartender eyed the picture then looked up at Plix. He licked his lips before speaking, “Maybe I have, but information costs something.”

“Keeping it can cost you something as well. Where is he?”

“Look, if you pull a blaster here…” the bartender replied nervously.

“Do you really think I need a blaster to best you? Where is he?”

“Cander Street, he’s staying at the hotel there. Don’t tell him I sent you,” the bartender spat out.

“I’ll tell him as I please,” Plix said as he turned towards the exit. “If I reach the door before you say another word, I will assume you have spoken the truth or that you have lied to me and do not wish to live past tomorrow.”

Meanwhile Quaydo and Nalathax were following their own leads, while Pilanis searched the information network.

“If he is staying anywhere he’s not using his real name,” Pilanis told the other two over their comlinks.

“It was a long shot. He’s probably staying at place that takes hard credits only,” Quaydo replied as he walked towards an electronics shop. As he slipped through the door, he stopped just inside of it and stepped to the side.

Nalathax continued on towards the counter, flashing his best smile towards the Twi’lek woman working behind the counter. She was dressed in a tight, revealing outfit but of relatively cheap design. Her jewelry was plentiful, but also quite fake and borderline gaudy.

Nalathax leaned his elbow on the counter and leaned forward a bit, then spoke in Ryl, “Why hello.”

“Hello yourself,” she said with a smile, slightly flirty smile. “How can I help you?”

The Devaronian let a moment pass purposefully, “I’m sorry, what? Are you familiar with the planet of Tridalli?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not.”

“A shame, because I dare say the green of your skin is the same color as the sea there when the moon is perfectly aloft above it, its pale light cast down on the tiny peaks of tranquil water. It, like you, is breathtaking,” he said as his eyebrows flicked slightly upward for a fraction of a second. He risked it and reached out to stroke her forearm with his thumb.

She giggled at him and the tips of her lekku moved ever so slightly.

“But I digress, perhaps you can help me, and even if you cannot I’m going to keep asking questions just to have a reason to stay in your presence.”

She leaned a bit forward, planting her elbows on the counter, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m looking for someone who bought a computer from here recently. He was helping me with my own computer and gave me his card, but it only lists his home address on Travnin and I need to find him while I am here,” he said as he slid his hand along the inside of his cape and withdrew a business card they had printed up. He pressed it into her hand, “Can you help me? I would like to hire him.”

“I’m afraid I cannot, it’s against our policy.”

“An understandable policy. But I could really use the help. You see, he’s a bit of a slicer and I’m working on an enterprise. I’m sure given his profession that’s why he’s lying low.”

“What is it you do?”

“I’m in the jewelry acquisition business,” he said with a bit more of a grin. “Actually, there’s a red gem I’m looking to acquire that in the right setting would look positively radiant when flush against your skin.” He reached out, slipped his fingers under her wrist and ran his thumb over the top, “Say a bracelet. I dare say you would make it shine. If you can wait until I find him, I’d be happy to show it to you. Or if you’re willing to help me find him, perhaps I could offer it as a finder’s fee?”

She thought about it for a moment, imagining the bracelet on her wrist which was easier to imagine given his fingers placed as they were, “I believe I have an address for where we delivered his shipment.” She looked it up onto her datapad, “But it would get me fired if I showed it to you.” There was a little wink and she left the datapad on the counter, “I have to check on something in the back.”

He spun the datapad around as she left, “Splendid.” Nalathax spun towards the door and nodded to the exit as he passed Quaydo. The Rodian stepped out after him, “What did you go with Tridalli?”

“Am I becoming so predictable?”

“She’s green…”

“I almost hated to lie to her.”

“You don’t hate lying to anyone.”

“I said ‘almost.’”

They got into their rented speeder and raced towards the hotel, which was where they ran into Plix. Plix was already outside the door, with the silver handle in his palm. He pressed the button, igniting a small black blade of energy that was at an angle to the handle such that together they formed a boomerang. The blade pulsed slightly, fluctuating at the edges, but maintained an overall steady shape. The Kerestian sliced it through the door and lifted his other hand to point his pistol down the hall, towards Quaydo and Nalathax. Then he looked up to see who it was.

“You are too late, I have come here to claim him.”

Quaydo made a “tsk tsk” noise by puckering the end of his snout, “So I see.” He leaned his elbow against the wall and stood there so as to not interfere.

Nalathax folded his arms, “Should you need us, we will be here.”

“I won’t,” Plix said as he punched the door with all of his might. The thin, almost invisible grid of wires covering his glove flashed bright blue as his fist struck the cheap material. The door fell inward and Plix was moving over it before it settled completely, his morning-star like weapon in the other hand.

“What the-“ a male voice said from within. “Look if you’re here about the-“ and then there was a rattle of chains and the sound of metal striking meat. Next a body hit the floor.

“You have to admire his efficiency,” Quaydo said, more pleased at listening to the violence than he was upset at losing out on the bounty.

“He does have style,” Nalathax responded.

The Rodian stepped towards the door to peer inside. Plix had struck the man in the side of the neck with the spiked ball. The side of the throat had been gashed in a few places, including a large rip down the center. Blood coated the man’s chin and upper torso, as well as some of the floor and even the wall. As Quaydo entered Plix was wiping blood off of the computer monitor. He flicked blood from his fingertips to the floor and then just yanked the tiny computer out of the desk.

“I may need the major’s help.”

“Certainly. You know by the Creed I cannot deny you aid.”

“But it will cost me,” Plix replied.

“Of course, but you might like my price this time. I’ll explain on the way.”

“He’s not even a hunter, I could hire him myself.”

“True, but he could deny you and as he’s part of my crew, I have a feeling he might say no.”

Plix nodded, “Tell me your price then.”

As the three returned to Plix’s ship, Quaydo explained his idea.

A week later the three were in the governor’s house again. They left without the bonus, but very pleased with what they had gotten instead.

Quockra was a vast world covered mostly by desert terrain. Expansive mesas and seas of sand stretched out for both horizons. The Quockrans mostly kept to themselves. There were only two reasons to visit Quockra: to do something out of the eyes of the Empire and to visit the Bureau of Ships and Services. Plix walked down the tunnel towards the cantina and passed a few droids who seemed not to care that he was there.

He pulled out his datapad and went over his various expenditures. It was something to do that would not take the full of his attention. His comlink beeped twice, but there was no follow up transmission. The right corner of his mouth twisted even more downward. Though his head was down, his eyes were not on the datapad. Instead they were glancing up the tunnel.

A human entered the other end of the tunnel and stepped down into the darkness. By the way he moved and by the pressed look of his clothing, anyone could recognize him as a member of the military. Or, former member. Three more people entered behind him, all moving in similar fashion. Then there was a fourth, but he was different. His was not a measured gait but instead a confident swagger.

When the footsteps drew closer, Plix lifted his head from the datapad.

“Ah, Captain Reeves,” he said as he addressed the group of humans.

“It’s Kayor Reeves now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Left the Empire did you?” Plix asked. “What a pity. I always enjoyed your thorough inspections. What will you do now?”

“I was removed from the Empire, and you know that. I guess I’ll become a mercenary, once I’m finished a business here,” he answered as he reached down for his pistol.

Plix withdrew the darkstick handle from his sleeve, “What business would that be?”

“Killing you.”

“Ah yes, that business. Before you do that Mr. Reeves, may I offer a piece of advice?”

Reeves lifted the weapon from his holster and rested it at his side, “What advice is that?”

“You have been on the docks too long. Perhaps before you were a good soldier, and you have maintained the organization and the appearance of one, but you have lost the skill set. You don’t notice certain things, like the subtle way a shadow sweeps across the floor suggesting motion behind you. Or that you have just walked from daylight into a tunnel which means your eyes are adjusting, so perhaps you didn’t notice I have armed myself.”

“In other words,” Quaydo said from behind Reeves, “this is an ambush.” He, Nalathax and Moc had entered while Reeves was talking to Plix.

The smuggler was dead at Quaydo’s feet, with a knife sticking out of his chest, the blade deep in his lung. Moc was holding up another man by the throat. The Barabel’s claws were already sinking into the skin and blood was running down in small trails. His thumb had punctured the man’s throat, preventing him from talking. The two surviving members of Reeve’s retinue turned around to see Quaydo and Nalathax with their guns drawn.

The Devaronian smiled, “Sorry, I don’t do anything fancy, but I have a very nice gun.” With a squeeze of the trigger, his rifle spat out bullets rapidly and the echo of gunfire sounded down the tunnel. Three rounds struck the man on the left in a rough V-pattern and took him off of his feet. The third round went straight through his flesh and cracked off the wall behind him. As he was still falling, Nalathax switched the weapon to fire from the micro-grenade launcher under the barrel.

Quaydo fired from his gauss pistol, launching a narrow spray of metal shards at his target. The shards carved through the man’s blast vest and found flesh beneath. A red cloud seemed to explode out of the man’s side and he staggered back.

Moc simply closed his fist, crushing the throat of the man he was holding onto and then he tossed the man down the hall towards Reeves and the one still on his feet.

The one still on his feet was a former stormtrooper and unlike Reeves had seen his fair share of battle. He dropped to one knee and leveled his blaster up the tunnel. The first few shots were meant to panic his targets, but the third was aimed. It slammed Moc in the torso, burning into the scales there. Moc was tough and his scales were thick, but the blast slowed him considerably. It also greatly angered him.

The man wounded by Quaydo’s gauss pistol regained his footing and immediately returned fire. Quaydo and Nalathax dove in opposite directions as the bolts splattered against the tunnel floor and walls behind them. Nalathax aimed towards the wall near the man and fired off the micro-grenade. It exploded against the wall, throwing shrapnel outward in a wide cone from the source of impact. Ferracrete shards pelted the man and sent Reeves diving for cover. The one that had shot Moc lifted his arm to shield his eyes from the debris and when he blinked away the dust, the only thing he could see was Moc leaping on him. Moc’s considerable weight drove the man to the ground and the Barabel started punching him in the stomach, plunging long claws into his flesh. The Barabel’s other hand kept the man’s elbow pinned to the ground.

When the detritus settled again, Reeves was standing alone, his four companions dead or dying. Reeves’s ears were ringing from the blast and he was not entirely sure that they weren’t bleeding. As his senses began to return, he lifted his arm. A flick of Plix’s wrist sent the darkstick flying through the air. The black energy blade sliced through Reeves’s bicep, burning through the clothes, flesh and bone in one smooth motion. As the darkstick reached its apex it reversed trajectory and looped back to where Plix was standing. The Kerestian plucked it out of the air, grabbing it by the silver handle. Reeves screamed in horror and clutched at his arm. The flesh was hot to the touch and burned his palm. Plix stalked towards him and as Reeves started to backpedal Plix kicked him in the front of the knee, collapsing him to the ground, his leg bent awkwardly.

“We orchestrated this. We wanted you to find us, to know that we did this to you. You are a bigoted little man and have become too great of an annoyance to us. And the Empire that you serve and love gave you up to save a few credits. You parade around, claiming honor but practice corruption, a corruption we manipulated. You were betrayed so the governor could save face. We told the governor that you were demanding bribes. I don’t think he believed us, but he still kicked you out of the Empire just to save himself a paltry amount,” Plix said as he crouched beside Reeves.

“We sacrificed credits for your life, and I love credits,” Quaydo said as he tapped his free hand to his torso, “But unfortunately for you, I love killing even more. The sweet intoxication of unbridled violence.”

Nalathax kept his rifle trained on Reeves, “You’re probably thinking that you want the governor dead. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that for you. You see, we don’t like the Empire much. But don’t tell anyone that. Oh and Plix is wrong, the governor completely believed us, for I am an elegant liar.”

“Any last words?” Plix said to Reeves. Reeves had turned ghastly pale and was going into shock.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Plix punched him in the throat. The mesh on his glove flashed and the stun pulse went through Reeves’s body. His windpipe was also crushed. His breath came out in gurgles and then did not come out at all. The Kerestian stood up and dusted the ferracrete powder off of his jacket. “I look forward to forgetting the sound of your voice.”

Moc wiped off his claws on Reeves’s shirt.

“So drinks then?” Nalathax asked as he reloaded his rifle.

“In this bar?” Quaydo said as he nodded past the debris towards the cantina.

“I was thinking about Eliad.”

“And your Twi’lek.”

“Yes.”

Plix shrugged, “I think I will return to my ship and paint.”

“Some monster eating people, I presume?” Quaydo asked.

“I was thinking of a landscape I saw.”

“Of course,” Nalathax responded.

“With a monster eating people?” Quaydo asked jokingly.

“No.”