The Prodigal Son Returns

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime had left the rest of his crew on board the Black Wyvern. The Mandalorians were distantly respectful of Grime and he did not intend to stress what he had established already. Saving the life of Mandalore had at least some kind of impact in their culture. But they still had an inkling of the frailty that Hawkins Grime kept well sealed beneath his exoskeleton.

The boarding ramp to the Wyvern closed behind him as he had instructed e'Drein. Valeria had pouted about being left behind but to no success. Grime almost felt compelled to say that the Mandalorians surely had some regulation about their camp sites for keeping pets on leashes. He almost started laughing at that, walking out of the shade of the small docking bay the Mandalorians had actually very well camoflauged. It had taken e'Drein and Malchiel some time before they actually spotted the LZ. And that had not even been the difficult part. Negotiating with the Mandalorians in Grime's broken Mando'a was enough to ruin his day further but thankfully the little one, Averre, had a very fluid translation program. The Mandalorians referred to Grime as A'den, Rage. Interesting name but not undeserved he knew. Enough of them had seen him at work all too often that the title had not taken long to stick.

Nearby, there were several circled groups of Mandalorians in full combat armor fighting with all sorts of weaponry. Training, always training. Always enduring trial after trial, baptizing their warriors in the harshest of circumstances in order to ensure... Well, Grime could honestly care less. A lot of good it had done them, looking at their place in the galaxy now in comparison to glory ages long gone.

De'Ville was here somewhere. Upon landing, one Mandalorian had greeted him speaking broken Galactic Standard and with a few words had been sent off running.

"Tell Manda'lor that her A'den has returned."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Eyes narrowed, Lilaena stalked through the camp with the laziness of a predatory tiger. Akasha was running errands for Granoi, the little adept being whipped into shape by the hardened woman. Digging holes and filling them in again, that sort of thing.

And now... Grime. He was back.

She wondered what sort of welcome he was expecting.

De'Ville faced her exoskeletoned apprentice, and folded her arms under her breasts. She was wearing a light linen tunic and tight pants, belted with a thin leather thong, her traditional armor left behind. A light bruise was swelling on her temple, the mark of her second in command who she'd just been battling hand to hand in a practice ring.

She regarded him silently, waiting for him to say something.

[Hawkins Grime]

The blood red rimmed eyes behind the pale face caught a hold of the woman standing before him, lithe and deceptively muscular form. She had recovered well from her torture at the hands of the Imperial Inquisitoriate, physically at least. Grime knew the damage such a thing could reap from the inside, oh how he knew. And she only understood a fraction, a bare fraction of what he did of such... luxurious pain. There was nothing enjoyable in his understanding of this luxury either, it just fit to the egregious depths of that which had been inflicted. One armored hand went to the top of his hat, while the other spread the edge of his cloak out to his side as he bowed at the waist in a stiff, slow manner. Such a length of formality was anything but, and surely laced with sincere sarcasm on Grime's behalf.

"Manda'lor, I have you missed you like a son does his mother."

The tight cough that followed behind that, causing Grime to awkwardly stand and straighten himself out, holding his cloak to his mouth, might have been the residue of a laugh but was otherwise seemingly painful. Eyes that watered but would never shed a tear slowly opened, locking with De'Ville's greener than green eyes.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She raised an eyebrow at his words. "Decided to finish your training, did you? Or are you just here for lunch, A'den?"

A few nearby Mandos stopped what they were doing to watch the reunion, their dark eyes alert.

[Hawkins Grime]

"You wound me to think that I would ever abandon my endeavor to master this ecstatic set of abilities. And after I went through all that trouble to save you from the Inquisitoriate and the casual stroll on Dxun?"

His baleful sarcasm was cut short with another cough but it did not explode into another excursion down painful lane thankfully for Grime. He turned his eyes back to her slowly, speaking now with a bit more stiffness.

"I am yours, Mistress De'Ville..."

His skin squirmed as his heart rate rose. He could feel the pathetic muscles of his face flex and spasm against the exoskeleton. All in response to the mental negotiation of his will power. He slowly and surely, like a clockwork golem, creaked until his knee clumsily fell into the dirt. His other leg did not exactly bend initially into desired position but it eventually hissed into place. Grime knew there was not much to what Lilaena would appreciate, but it was as symbolic in nature to Grime as her title was to her psychotic tribals surrounding them.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Saved her. How irritatingly true.

De'Ville gestured at him impatiently. "Get off your knees. We have much to do. I suppose your... associates... will be joining us for dinner?" To be honest, she knew that his ship and crew might come in handy in the coming days. Armies needed to be supplied, and armies needed transportation.

Not that she could cram a thousand Mandalorian warriors into Grime's tin can. But it was a start.

[Hawkins Grime]

Grime stumbled to his feet. Not like he was expecting much. The skin beneath his face writhed in irritation with the whole situation. And by irritation, it meant something to Hawkins like his face being dipped in acid all over again.

"No need to accommodate them. They are self-sufficient in their needs and will not bother your own."

Neither them nor Hawkins would desire the Wyvern to be jerked around by De'Ville and her plans. Keeping their debts low and the game balanced was the base line strategy Grime would take with De'Ville concerning his crew. They were too efficient to have their capabilities wasted when Lilaena had a small army at her finger tips. A small army of cannon fodder as far as Grime was concerned and he was absolutely positive that De'Ville, at the base of it all, thought the same.

"Much to do?"

Grime's eyes quickly scanned all the Mandalorians standing around, watching them.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She was already turning to walk away, but she stopped. "Yes. While you've been... away," De'Ville's lips curled with irritation, "I have been busy. And we shall be busier still, if you are going to stay for a while."

The dark Jedi pointed to a group of warriors, training with brand new blaster rifles. "I've made a small dent in our needs when it comes to modern weapons. The shell guns and such that the Mando'ade currently use are ancient, but serviceable. Yet the armory of the camp dwindles every year as some are lost into the bellies of beasts, and others simply cannot be repaired or remade anymore.

"But we have other needs, and I have some ideas." She looked at him, meeting his eyes. "If you care to listen."

[Hawkins Grime]

Hawkins was sure the matter that he now had an iron grip on Iziz's black market and was the motivating fear within the slums would have nothing to do with contracting to De'Ville's needs. Grime coughed again lightly before reaching her side as they began to walk through the camp.

"Elaborate then."

If Grime did not care to listen, he would have left her on Coruscant to rot and been done with it. Just like if she had not needed something from him, she might as well have left him to the demons on that blasted demon moon. The mutuality of their relationship was a fine line but necessary nonetheless. Grime was quite in favor of it actually.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Transportation," she said simply. He knew that she would not hesitate to at least try to take the Wyvern for her needs if she thought it would suffice, but she continued, "I have an army and no way to move it from this gods-forsaken planet. A Corellian blastboat or another small, capital ship would be ideal, but nearly impossible to obtain quietly."

She waved her hand at the skies, "And with Iziz' navy supplemented by the Hapan fleet, it would be even more impossible to sneak onto the surface."