There’s a wind coming off the lake. Gentle, only a few kilometers an hour. Not enough to effect a shot, but maybe enough to give prey your position if they’re downwind. Lots of animals spook to the smells of a modern warrior–ozone, kolto, and metal polish. A little bit of dirt and situational awareness can compensate, though. Sights lined up, right over the twitchy head of a warocas. On game animals that aren’t armored, the head is always the best target–less likely to spoil the meat by evaporating it with a torso shot.
Gareth lets out a breath, and squeezes down on the trigger at the same time. The bolt flies true, reducing the bird’s skull to cinders and smoke. He steps up to his kill, looking down at it as he draws a skinning knife. In another world, this would be enough meat to feed an entire family for a few days.
Not a fun thing to think about. A knife soon cuts the carcass to the bone.
Name: Gareth Jorsotal(?)
Race: Human (Mandalorian)
[Clan: (?)]
Age: (?)
Height: 5’ 11"
Weight: 190~ lbs
A young man usually wearing black and red armor in the Mandalorian style, with a Crusader-style helmet and armor, with a prominent defunct jetpack. Insofar as Mandalorians can be considered to have a ‘normal’, he’s close to it: aloof, but with a blunt honesty and, when in a good enough mood, a black sense of humor appropriate to a nomadic military culture.
He is vaguely known for espousing unusual political views and living very, very frugally in the Viscaran brush.