A strong stereotype has plagued the Mandalorians for centuries following the long forgotten Mandalorians Wars was that many, if not all, of them were simple mercenaries and guns for hire. Although it is a stereotype, much of it has validity. Having been a Mandalorian Soldier for years, Victus was no stranger to doing random mercenary work. Infact he sometimes enjoyed doing them. He was a popular hire as well because of his big physique, tall stature, and fearsome demeanor. Even though he enjoyed getting new things to kill and do he did not, however, enjoy many of the people who've actually hired him.
Take Amakel Drak, for example. A wealthy Kuati aristocrat who was too timid to do his own dirty work let alone try to even be intimidating. The man was currently profiting from Kuat's militarization and current turmoil. However he needed hands to help keep the turmoil going and keep the competitors from joining in on his bankroll. Enter Clan Ordo and Victus. They were to do two things. Intimidate Drak's competitors off Kuat or give them a one-way ticket to whatever god they believed in. Victus, being the brute he is, opted for the latter most of the time. However because of this, Drak had gained numerous enemies and needed bodyguards to make sure he never received such a ticket. So at the night of one of Kuat City's Galas catered to the rich, Victus and few of his men were paid to tag along.
The glistening light, clinking of various cocktail glasses, and the constant murmur of socialites filled the air of this major ballroom. Victus arrived earlier than Drak to make sure the building was safe for him to enter. The towering beast of a man wore a black suit and tie, totally out of his element but credits were credits. He sipped begrudgingly at his cocktail glass with his free arm pressed up against his back in a 'proper' demeanor. He glared out into the crowd with his thoughts ranging from wanting to depart without the credits to punching that pompous looking man in the face with hope that it broke his neck.
The Former Sith Warrior turned his head slightly to see a fellow Mandalorian comrade, also dressed classy, patting his shoulder. "Don't look so gloomy, big fella. Our employer might be a piece of shit but atleast we're treated to a party." Oh Axel Ordo, always the spirited one. Victus was less inclined to look on the brightside. He was a warrior, one hell of one too, this was no place for him. "Id rather be flogged to the break of dawn then suffer through this one more hour." He retorted with a fierce snort afterwards. Axel couldnt help but pat his shoulder again and give a small chuckle to such an answer. "Suit yourself, big fella, but I'm going to see if I can't get one of this rich dames to be my new sugar mama." Victus watched as his slightly drunken brother-in-arms trotted over to the cocktail bar to 'spit some game' so to speak.
How bothersome, all of this. Something in this galaxy is remaining alive instead of being killed while hes here. Fucked up. </div>
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Take Amakel Drak, for example. A wealthy Kuati aristocrat who was too timid to do his own dirty work let alone try to even be intimidating. The man was currently profiting from Kuat's militarization and current turmoil. However he needed hands to help keep the turmoil going and keep the competitors from joining in on his bankroll. Enter Clan Ordo and Victus. They were to do two things. Intimidate Drak's competitors off Kuat or give them a one-way ticket to whatever god they believed in. Victus, being the brute he is, opted for the latter most of the time. However because of this, Drak had gained numerous enemies and needed bodyguards to make sure he never received such a ticket. So at the night of one of Kuat City's Galas catered to the rich, Victus and few of his men were paid to tag along.
The glistening light, clinking of various cocktail glasses, and the constant murmur of socialites filled the air of this major ballroom. Victus arrived earlier than Drak to make sure the building was safe for him to enter. The towering beast of a man wore a black suit and tie, totally out of his element but credits were credits. He sipped begrudgingly at his cocktail glass with his free arm pressed up against his back in a 'proper' demeanor. He glared out into the crowd with his thoughts ranging from wanting to depart without the credits to punching that pompous looking man in the face with hope that it broke his neck.
The Former Sith Warrior turned his head slightly to see a fellow Mandalorian comrade, also dressed classy, patting his shoulder. "Don't look so gloomy, big fella. Our employer might be a piece of shit but atleast we're treated to a party." Oh Axel Ordo, always the spirited one. Victus was less inclined to look on the brightside. He was a warrior, one hell of one too, this was no place for him. "Id rather be flogged to the break of dawn then suffer through this one more hour." He retorted with a fierce snort afterwards. Axel couldnt help but pat his shoulder again and give a small chuckle to such an answer. "Suit yourself, big fella, but I'm going to see if I can't get one of this rich dames to be my new sugar mama." Victus watched as his slightly drunken brother-in-arms trotted over to the cocktail bar to 'spit some game' so to speak.
How bothersome, all of this. Something in this galaxy is remaining alive instead of being killed while hes here. Fucked up. </div>
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<div class='signature'> <div align=center><img src='http://img440.imageshack.us/img440/2733/yo7w.png' border='0' alt='user posted image'></div> </div>
