Just the Fiction: Notorious Actual Play - Part 1
Malachi's garnet-colored eyes scanned the vast desert landscape as he disembarked his small starship. The Pellucid Nomad pulled his hood over his head, shielding his face from the scorching sun. His robes billowed in the hot, dry wind as he surveyed canyon walls.
Malachi had arrived on Talus to hunt down a wanted smuggler - Kwame Devine. The contract was lucrative, as is most that come through the Nomad guild, he just wished that it didn't lead him to planet like this. Malachi knew he would need to be careful on this arid world. The extreme heat would be taxing on his body, a lingering reminder of a previous ordeal. Either way, the Targ Cartel wanted Devine captured, dead or alive, and were willing to pay a Nomad handsomely to do it.
Footsteps crunching on loose gravel, he calmly made his way through the narrow canyon. He kept his senses sharp, alert for any sign of movement or danger. As he reached the edge of the canyon, Malachi paused. The endless sea of sand dunes stretched out before him, shimmering in the heat. He knew Devine could be anywhere, hiding among the treacherous terrain or blending in with the locals. Malachi took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, and stepped out into the blistering desert.
---
Malachi squinted against the glare of the bright sand as he spotted a large, hulking scrapcrawler lumbering across the dunes in the distance. He set off towards it, hoping the scavengers might have some information that could aid his hunt.
As he approached, the scrapcrawler's exhaust sputtered and churned up clouds of fine, golden sand. Malachi paused, shielding his face until the dust settled. A few Murian scavengers peered out from the open hatch, their beady eyes regarding him cautiously.
"Greetings," Malachi called out, keeping his tone even. "I'm searching for a human named Kwame Devine. Have you seen him?"
The Murians exchanged a series of high-pitched chatters, but Malachi could discern no useful information. One of the scavengers, his fur matted and dirty, finally shook his head.
"No, we haven't seen this Kwame Devine," he replied in broken Basic. "We're just scavenging what we can from the sands. Not much else going on out here."
Malachi nodded, disappointment flickering across his crystalline features. "I see. Well, thank you for your time."
The Murian paused before gesturing toward the scrapcrawler. "We don't ever see any Pellucid here, especially not a Nomad Pellucid. We don't want any trouble but you look quite weary. Why don't you rest with us until nightfall? The heat can be quite brutal out here."
Malachi considered the offer. He was never one to blindly trust strangers, but his body was beginning to feel the strain of the desert environment, and the prospect of respite from the scorching sun was tempting. Perhaps a short rest would do him some good.
"I appreciate the kindness," he said. "I will take you up on that, if you don't mind."
The Murian grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Not at all! Come, climb aboard."
Malachi ascended the scrapcrawler's inclined ramp, grateful for the chance to escape the relentless heat. Scrap metal and piles of electronics rattled loudly as the vehicle lurched forward. Malachi settled into a shadowed corner, his senses alert for any sign of Murian shenanigans.
---
As darkness arose, the scrapcrawler approached a small moisture farm in the distance. The scavengers had informed him that this was a place where desert travelers could find hospitality and rest.
As the vehicle came to a halt, Malachi disembarked, his robes swishing around his slender frame. The air was noticeably cooler here, and he could see a few structures nestled among the tall moisture collectors. Smoke curled from the chimney of one building, signaling that it was inhabited.
Malachi made his way toward the compound, his footsteps kicking up plumes of fine, dusty sand. He approached the main entrance, where a lone human woman stood guard.
"Greetings," Malachi said, inclining his head. "I was told I might find shelter here for the night."
The woman eyed him with surprise. "Well I'll be! A Pellucid on Talus!? I thought you crystal people stayed in the big, rich cities. You're welcome to rest here, shiny stranger, but I'll need to know your business. We don't take kindly to trouble on my land."
"I am simply a weary traveler, seeking respite from the desert," Malachi replied evenly. "I mean no harm."
The woman nodded slowly, then gestured for him to enter. "Well those weapons say different but I believe you. You can find a place to rest in the common area. I am Quan and this is my home and my farm, and yours for the night. Respect it and we will respect you. I will be along shortly to see to your needs."
"Name's Malachi," he said and then tilted his head in gratitude before stepping into the common room, where a few other travelers sat around a crackling fire, sipping from steaming mugs. The welcoming colors of this room was a nice change from blinding orange sand in the daylight.
As Malachi propped his plasma staff against the wall and settled into a cushioned chair, a human man across the room eyed him with open hostility. Malachi met the man's stare evenly, his garnet gaze betraying no emotion.
After a moment, the man stood and approached Malachi, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're one of them, ain't you? One of them Nomads."
Malachi nodded slowly. "I am."
The man's face twisted with anger. "I had a friend who ran off to become a Nomad. You know what happened to him? He ended up dead, that's what. You Nomads are nothing but scum, willing to betray anyone for the right price."
Malachi remained calm, unfazed by the man's hostility. "I am sorry to hear about your friend, but not all Nomads are the same. We have a code that we must follow, one that prohibits us from betraying our contracts."
The man sneered. "Oh, is that so? Well, I don't trust your kind. You're all the same - cold-blooded killers who care for nothing but credits and death."
Malachi remained silent for a few moments, his crystalline features hardening. "I would advise you to tread carefully, human. I am not blind to the injustices some Nomads have inflicted upon others. I am here to fulfill a contract, nothing more. I am not here to cause trouble, but I sense the hostility in your words. Many join the Nomads because they are eager for the thrill of violence. Is that why your friend joined? Is that why he died? Tell me, are you planning to resort to violence with a Nomad?"
The man took a step back, his confidence faltering in the face of Malachi's imposing presence. "Y-you just better watch your back, Nomad. You're not welcome here."
"Just remember that no Nomad is responsible for the actions of another."
---
This fan fiction was generated from my playthrough of Notorious.
You can find my review of Notorious here.
You can find Notorious through this affiliate link if you want to force Drive Thru RPG to give me some pennies when you buy something.
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