My friend sent me a pic of this baby cow, and it made me think of what baby banthas might look like. 🥺 Hence this drawing. I bet he had some baby bantha friends on Tatooine.
This is the cow pic that inspired the drawing lol look at this little guy
Banthas are large, furry mammals that travel in herds through Tatooine's desert wastes. They serve as mounts for Tusken Raiders, and the two share a close, almost mystical bond.
Its been a long time coming but here it is. I give you Tatooine Alpha!
This is my first published world that I’ve been working on for years.
Its not done as there are still many things I need to fix but I figured I may as well share an early version of the world for everyone to enjoy. I’m also looking for feed back to improve the world for future versions.
Download and additional information can be found here.
AU where the Whitesun-Lars farm is a bantha ranch instead of a moisture farm and Luke gets to raise baby banthas.
He loves to let the babies rest their heads on his lap and Owen keeps telling Luke it's not a good idea cause baby banthas become very big banthas and will squish him.
A/N: This is pre-season 1 Mando....and like canonically Mando will adopt useless things that get in his path because of his stupid conscience. So this was a push by @brandyllyn basically as a trade to get her Pero/baby Tao Tei piece which you need to read RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW.
Summary: Mando is not a smuggler or a transporter but this thing is on his ship and now...dammit...if he doesn't keep it he can't live with what will happen to it.
Not intended to be in an existing Mando Universe but I suppose there's nothing really stopping you from tying it to either Nursemaid or Doctor's Wife. Canon Compliant.
New Disclaimer: Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says ‘creator chooses not to use warnings’.
“I am a bounty hunter.” He was on the comm with Karga.
“Yes. But this has a significant fee attached to it– where you are isn’t exactly a route of interest to–”
“To anyone. It’s a scug hole. It’s why the mark was here. There’s nothing here. Nothing at all. Nothing.”
“Yes. And you have a ship and I was just offered a handsome price for you to transport.”
“I am not a transporter or a smuggler.”
“Is that what your resume says or do I have to remind you about where you came from?...Listen some royals a few systems over want some of the local wildlife, they are willing to pay a king’s ransom for some animals. I have no idea why you don’t want this.”
He took two and a half breaths before he grumbled, “Send me the contact.”
A heavily cloaked individual was leading two full grown giant fucking wooly and horned animals and their offspring towards the Razor Crest. There was another person in a simple garb without the hood next to them and they smiled at him and pointed to the animals.
“Banthas.” They said and Mando looked at the cloaked person herding the animals towards him. They started widely signing in something he recognized as desert tribe signage and instead of needing the translator Mando shook his helmet and started
“I know what a bantha is, I thought I was running some exotic pets.”
“These are exotic pets.”
“To who?”
“Nyssian Royalty. No banthas in the Menagerie.” The trader smiled widely, “Very good price they’re offering.”
“What the fuck….how big do you think my ship is?”
“It’s just the one family unit.”
“Physics still needs to be obeyed.”
“They aren’t very energetic, you can put them in cargo as long as there is air return.”
The little one tooted its ugly flat nose at him making a honking-buzzy sound like a broken instrument.
“Oh look, it likes you.” The unhooded person patted the bantha’s head.
This is ridiculous.
But it did cost a lot fuel to get all the way out here.
“Banthas are common as flies.” Mando grumbled.
“Not to the Nyssians.”
He let out a long groan of self-loathing.
“How much?”
The number was good.
“Not in Imperial, right?”
There was a hesitation, so he reiterated, “The Empire is gone, credits or bust.”
A sigh and a sweeping gesture and he nodded, “Ok.”
Fuck.
He typed the code for the Crest’s cargo hold into his vambrace and tried to do the math for fuel and weight adjustments in his head.
He would not admit to thinking that there was something somewhat kind of a little not so terrible about seeing a little family grouping of animals.
He had less than zero desire for this cute family cuddle to be happening in his Maker-damned cargo bay which smelled to high hell and he was going to be picking grasses out of his air return for spans and spans and spans.
Din refused to pet them.
Refused.
They’ll decide they like it and try to get more.
But he figured he should make sure they were generally speaking alright so he took to eating down there.
The little one kept sniffing at Din’s food, not that he would eat it but he seemed to understand they were both eating and took to bringing a bundle of grasses over to the Mandalorian as if offering him a piece.
“Thanks but you take it.” He would push it back over to the little guy with his boot.
He assumed it was a guy, he wasn’t going to be lifting up the fur skirt to check, but after the thing had licked his shin he put up his hands, “Thank you buddy– good boy but no. No.”
It did seem a little dejected it couldn’t sit directly on his lap.
So one day he was down there and the little thing gave its weird toot to him and pawed at his knee.
“What?”
Another little toot.
“I don’t understand what do you want?” He sipped on his broth again, “You can’t have this. This isn’t for you.”
Toot hmmm brrummm.
Din was lucky he was basically done with his food because the whole ship lurched, sirens went off, and then the Crest careened sharply over to a side.
The adult banthas held on but the little one went flying into the side of the ship.
Din sprinted up to the cockpit and saw there was new debris including a particularly nastily large asteroid.
He had to move or the asteroid would annihilate them.
He was spinning and shaking and zigging and zagging.
And nobody even here to applaud. Din smirked under the helmet.
Then he heard a long low whine.
Ah shit.
He went down to the holding area to find the baby tangled up badly in some restraints and ropes. It took a half hour to unknot him and then he limped over to his mother and hid under her great furry belly.
Din sighed when the thing wouldn’t emerge, even for the offer of a snack.
The Nyssians were not his favorite type of people.
The kind of rich where they didn’t know what to do with their money— the spaceport they were using was gold plated and had air fresheners and a line of servants in uniforms offering him hot beverages and hot towels and all manner of comforts.
He could not stand it, he wanted to be gone. Be paid and be gone.
“Hey, one of you come here I got a delivery.” Din called out and it created a flurry of action.
The veritable circus that erupted further irritated him.
He gave over the herd and the little limpy one couldn’t get out. It was a baby. It’s eyes and giant mouth made up the single largest proportion of its body with its shaggy head loping around.
“Hey buddy, move on out.”
The trader put a stick out to stop the little one’s progress, shaking their head, signing, No.
“Uh…yes.” Mando signed Take it.
Hurt. Cannot keep up. The trader shook their head, No.
Not my problem. Take it.
They shrugged, Half price. For food.
Mando craned his neck around wondering if he knew the language as well as he thought, “Hey you, can you come here please? I need to check on something.”
He brought someone over, “You speak local and Basic?”
The person nodded.
“Ok, can you see what they’re trying to tell me about the little guy?”
Nyssians were snobs but they had gone out of their way to hire the right sort of desert herders that were used to banthas.
Still.
He was concerned they were all having a massive misunderstanding.
They will bring it to the pound. The herder nodded and the translator said, “They’re offering to take it to the pound…what’s it hurt? Oh, yeah. No banged and dented models for the Menagerie, it’s a public spectacle.”
“What’s the pound?”
“Meatpacking– they tenderize with ballistics, shave, and roast.”
Din’s body tensed even through the red armor, “What?”
“I mean they euthanize first.”
He rubbed a gloved hand over his helmet.
Sighed with the deep resignation of someone who already regretted their decision.
This was not how the day was supposed to go.
The little limpy bantha looked at the Mandalorian and tooted its sad little nose at him and made that horrible awful sound like a strangled lothcat.
“Is there a penalty for me just keeping it?”
“They don’t want it if it's not in good condition.” The translator confirmed the herder’s signs.
The herder shrugged, They get big.
Mando shook his head and made two signs: one for No Shit and the other a lot more directly rude and needing no translation.
He patted his leg at the baby bantha, “Alright you, back in.”
It tooted at him again and the sigh seemed to echo in the beskar helmet.
Karga was standing by the Razor Crest as Mando landed.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite bo—what is that?”
Mando walked out of the Crest with a bantha now half grown and munching on something as it followed the Mandalorian, smelling him for food, and nudging him.
Mando looked behind him, “A bantha.”
Karga looked shocked, “...Why do you have a bantha?”
“It’s a long story.”
Karga shook his head slowly, “Does it…have a name?”
