The wasteland.

Sand engulfed everything in sight as if all were trivial to its own presence and the heat emitting from Tatooine's suns gave the impression one dined with Hades. Matters only continued to worsen as beasts could be heard all around, with thunderous howls from atop steep sandy dunes to one's very back, though their appearance alluded, his every gaze. There wasn't much to go on, all he had was a general direction and no trails to lead his way. Tracking his fellow brethren was going to be a task fit for an authentic Mandalorian whether they're still on the planet is up for debate, however.

Days have departed since landing on this desert crowded by false pretences of grandeur pursuits, nothing but sand, the unsavoury and raiders. In the distance, a humanoid silhouette stood tall, its arms rested above the head, shaking frantically and finally aloud came a fearsome shriek. Promptly after the howling shriek, many more silhouettes, varying in shape, appeared adding their voices and provoking an unforgettable symphony of utter nonsense as was the norm for Raiders. They're a vicious group of tribesmen, uncivilised one could quite easily declare but seemed harmless enough as they remained still, whether by fear or choice was anybody's guess. It was as if a barrier held them in place, restricting their resolve to move. Usually, this was a clear indication they wanted something from you or merely wished to hide something by scaring you off. Whatever the case, Kros believed they might prove useful to his dire situation with tracking the Mandalorian trio and, hell, some food along with a drink wouldn't be all too bad in this suffocating heat.

With each step nearing closer to the sand people, their chant grew in volume and strived to be the most irritating thing someone could possibly hear in their limited being. They sounded like a hybrid of both a cat and an obnoxious pig, whose hunger was never satisfied no matter the feast, always squealing for more.

"Alright, alright, you've made your point, now pipe down."

Silence befell the group, if only for a single blissful moment, as what appeared to be their chieftain began to speak with a faint whisper. However, his language felt like a child reciting gibberish rather than words to themselves, and all of it was inconceivable to the ear. Once Kros gestured the dilemma of this meeting to the chieftain, he called for one of the uli-ah near him, mumbled into his ear and, after a moment, the uli-ah returned with a beat-up droid limping alongside him. The chieftain spoke once more but as he finished the busted droid began to glow a blue hue and spoke.

"Translation: sir, my master believes that I may be able to ease communications between the two of you."

More growling came from the Tusken leader, which the droid translated to the best of its capabilities.

"Translation: My master is curious as to what your incentives are for voyaging across his territory."

Kros was somewhat taken aback by the sand people's ingenuity, restoring a droid to working condition is no small feat.

"I'm looking for my people, three to be exact."

The droid relayed his translation to the chieftain who spoke once again.

"Translation: My master confirms he has seen three sentient beings that wear similar attire to your own. He, however, is not willing to give this information to you without a trade."

The thought of just slaughtering them all did occur to Kros, yet he instead stifled himself and decided to indulge their request for the time being.

"Your information for?"

What exactly did these sand people want, steal their holy water from moisture farms, or perhaps raid the local town? No, they wouldn't have an outsider do such tasks surely, regardless, that still doesn't answer the question at hand. Without another second to spare, the chieftain once again spoke yet his voice grew from a whisper to a cry.

"Translation: My master states, you'll gain the information if you can find, and eliminate, the person or creature that is hunting his people. Already a total of six warriors have been slain by this mysterious assailant in the last two weeks alone, the same general location each time."

Hunting down an unknown killer, this could take some days, and there is no guarantee the information would be relevant by then. Still, this is the only thread that might lead Kros to the trio's whereabouts, there was no choice, but to accept.

Two carcasses laid upon the field a couple of miles from the sand people's camp, surrounded by nothing in their final moments. Their faces resembled that of a squashed fruit, out in the open sun for far too long, and each chest had a large hole in the centre smelling of smoke laced with blood. If it was a gun that caused this, then it wasn't a recognisable weapon, no battlefield to compare nor any forgotten bullets, nothing to acknowledge what precisely transpired. The only thing here was that they died without a struggle, never saw their death coming, the assailant most likely snuck up and killed them before they could turn.

"Looks like I'm dealing with a hut'uun."

The warriors were bare, their possessions took from their empty shell, leaving nothing but the clothes on their back. Either their butcher comes from the village, or they live in the sand stalking each before striking. Nevertheless, the only way Kros will gain the information he desperately craves is by taking the head of their killer, man or beast, and bestowing it to the sand people.

Screams beckoned to the Mandalorian from afar, leading towards a cave network filled with strange gems, green, blue and those with a rose hue were not equal to anything he had ever seen before. The clamouring echo of cries only got louder the further one delved into each of the winding passages until finally, the sound of whines were clear as day. The area was enormous in space and size, numerous sharpened jewels dangled upon the ceiling and smooth bends encapsulated various boulders within the chamber as though chiselled by hand. It was hypnotic as the assorted crystals lit up each nook and cranny, filling the space with a scene of colourful harmony. Though serenity was short-lived as a gang of shrouded figures could be seen tugging a uli-ah across the rocky terrain towards a small cliff, that could break an adults legs easily never mind a child's. Upon further inspection there appeared to be six figures in total, each with vastly different physiques. One stood at 7ft whilst another jogged at 5ft, some were plum and others thin, they appeared to be a diverse range of killers indeed. Kros drew his blaster and made his way towards the men, once he was close enough to fire upon them, he spoke.

"Leave the kid alone."

The man who was dragging the uli-ah was over 6ft tall and veered around, surprised to see anybody here, let alone a Mandalorian, and uttered his retort.

"Don't worry about a thing this little monster will be alone soon enough."

"Mir'sheb."

Without a second thought, Kros fired allowing the child to run, though his shot only graced the man's arm, tearing away the surface.

"Ahh, shoot him, he must be working for those desert rats!"

The barrage of gunfire might've been his end if he wasn't able to duck behind one of the foreboding boulders that littered the landscape. This luck was faint, however, as his left arm was injured by the bombardment, leaving it disabled for the entire skirmish. Moreover, the colourful scenery caused by the crystals began to sway towards the leader's gun, emitting a vibrant display of colours and never before heard sounds.

"If you want to save this bane on our planet, then you can die along with it..."