[ Among the droves of newcomers Din Djarin is a difficult figure to miss, standing taller than most in a full suit of armor complete with chest plate, greaves, pauldrons, vambrances, gauntlets, boots, and helmet. His cape is swept back over one shoulder, but his belt and bandolier are missing.

Covered head to toe, with much of it in beskar plating, the sheen of his armor reflects both his environment and those surrounding him. Throughout the entirety of orientation, he remains quiet, with a rapt attention that betrays his willingness to conform and participate. The planet reeks of subjugation, and their principles, while not necessarily wrong, are in direct conflict with his own.

After orientation is through, Mando exits the establishment with his hand close to the place on his beskar where his weapon would typically be, old habits.

The SIN guards here remind him of troopers, and hackles up, he predicts the altercation before it happens.

"Submissive. Present your mark."

Din is quiet, viewing the guard from beneath the helmet, but he doesn't answer. The leather collar is there, but the coloration bleeds into the cape, and with the heat of summer, he'd covered it without thinking when he swept the material back over his shoulder.

"I said, SUBMISSIVE, present your mark."

Din cants his head to one side, but not to display what was being requested, the tilt of the helmet manages to convey the challenge, he stares the guard down with portentous silence until finally, he speaks, his voice channeled through the helmet remarkably well. ]

Your inability to see what's right in front of you isn't my problem.

[ Why should he have to compensate for this man's stupidity? Din goes to turn away, his cape slipping off its perch on the shoulder as he turns, and the guard grabs a fistful of it to yank him back, his electric baton roaring to life with its threatening current. ]

[ After his arrival, Din returns to the provided housing, changes into his gear, and goes through the entirety of what had been delivered to him. Gauntlets without weapons, his helmet without its tech, no whipcords, no flame throwers, no whistling birds, his ammunition gone from his bandolier. No vibro-knife, all of his charges gone, blaster nowhere to be found, and no other signs of anything else beyond the darksaber and the communication device provided to him.

The bandolier is there, empty, as is his belt, and he adds them both to the beskar suit and takes to exploring this new planet and its amenities. With the locals being none too helpful, he, instead of looking to them for information, occupies storefronts and local restaurants and bars for a better grip on what's going on.

Not from a species that typically has to deal with things pheromones, Mando fails to realize at any given moment he may be under the influence or emitting the aroma of candy, a favorite meal, musk, or rose.

But he's not stupid; if he thinks he's being pursued, he's quick to employ his talent to the situation. One minute, you're on his heels, and the next, he's behind you.

How did he do that?

The sound of the dark saber unsheathing curtails into the gruff tone of a man on the edge. ]

Why are you following me?

what side of this planet is the docking and cargo bay located?

[ very, very open to the kites and wind chimes prompts but players are also welcome to reply with anything! an adventure of their own choosing or a hot-take on the above prompts altered to make things more interesting. the world is your oyster. i'm easy peasy. can be found at doggos and newdlle for any questions! feel free to pm this account too if it's easier. ]