The doors of the Starving Sarlacc slid open, momentarily releasing the noise and lights to the streets of Nar shaddaa. The night club was packed tonight just like it was nearly every night, brimming with people who turned out to see ‘The Bettys’ preform (three Coruscanti girls who failed to make it on the capital but struck some level of fame on the moon). The place was loud and bright, the band playing over the voices of hundreds of beings from hundreds of worlds making it nearly impossible to think.
Two cloaked figures entered the Club and pushed their way through the crowd single file to a private room in the back. Their steps perfectly synchronized, the one in back standing almost a whole head taller than the other.

“Master, are you sure this is a good idea?” the younger of the two cloaked persons shouted over the noise of both the band and crowd when they finally reached the doors of the private room. He was a boy no older than 18 with bronze skin and short cut hair save for the braid traditionally worn by Jedi padawans. His cloak was dark beige covering a sandy colored tunic with a belt around his middle that was bare except for a few pouches and his lghtsaber. His face absent any blemish and looking as if it was painted on by the force itself expressed uncertainty and a clear look of disapproval. The young man was a Hapan and one of the very few born outside of the Cluster.
he was raised in the Jedi temple on Corsucant since he was an infant and has known nothing of life outside the Order. His master, a respected JedI knight and one of the order’s rising diplomats is often called away, which has given him the opportunity to see a number of different worlds. Today they were are on Nar Shaddaa. The Hutt’s version of Coruscant, a sprawling city scape that covered the whole planet. But for everything the capitol was, Nar Shaddaa was the opposite.
Coruscant had beautiful, gleaming ivory towers whose top floors sat amongst the stars, it had atriums and gardens, pools so clear you could see the bottom. It had law and peace and a general feeling of safety. Nar Shaddaa had none of those things. The buildings were tall but there was so much pollution you couldn’t see a star until you left the atmosphere. There were no gardens, nothing grew here and the only pools were of toxic sludge. Nar Shaddaa was known as the smugglers moon and for good reason, the only law was that of which ever Hutt lord laid claim to that part of the moon.

The young Jedi never liked going to Hutt space, there was something about the air; it always felt heavy and hot.
He recalled a time years ago when they had gone to Nal Hutta, it was an experience unlike any other he had up to that point. The Hutt they met with was an awful and cruel creature who often times ordered his servants killed just for his amusement. He kept girls on leashes and rented them out as “companions.” The whole experience disgusted the boy not to mention the fact that the slug tried to betray him and his master to the empire for quick credits; he assumed he would never look forward to traveling to independent space. His master on the other hand seemed almost beside herself with excitement.

“You worry too much, Jadar, this man is a friend of mine. We will not be in any danger.” Answered back the elder Jedi; a blue skinned female Twi’lek, who was yet to turn 30; her full lips parted and revealed a shining smile that filled her whole face up to her large violet eyes which sat upon high expressive cheek bones and affirmed Jadar’s suspicions that she was enjoying herself too much. her cloak and tunic which ended at a thigh high skirt on her long legs were both a pearly white color and the silver hilt of her saber sat loosely on her hip.

Jadar was not convinced; he would not allow her to blow him off with reassurances on subjects that clearly weren’t in doubt.
“That is not entirely what I meant, master.”
“Please, speak your mind then, Jadar, while you still have an audience that would like to hear it.”
Jadar paused briefly and took a deep breath; he was not expecting her to actually give him audience while they were already late for their meeting; his master was a stickler about punctuality; “Shouldn’t we be arresting this man if he is indeed smuggling Sith artifacts?” He had been wondering the whole trip over why they simply didn’t confiscate the goods, in his mind there was no good reason to pay the privateer.

Jadar’s master retuned his comments with an all too familiar smile that meant she thought he was being a bit prudish. He hated that look; yes Jadar could be a little overbearing about rules but was that not his duty as a Jedi? Their duty as Jedi!?

“I hardly consider it smuggling if he is turning them over to us, Jadar.”

More dismissal; “He is not bringing them to us to be honorable, he is looking to make a profit; if we ju-“ despite his best efforts Jadar let his frustration slip into his words. And it seemed his master’s patience had finally run out.

“And that is how things are done out here. If I arrest him not only do I lose him as a contact but I probably lose every other outlet I have here and being considered one of the few Jedi on Nar Shaddaa that can be trusted is a valuable tool.” His master said cutting him off, “We are no longer on Coruscant, Jadar, better he sell them to us than to the Hutts or Force forbid, The Empire. Now let us go inside, the more time he perceives wasted the more credits it will cost us.”

Her response, was stern but not angry, and Jadar knew better than to keep pushing. He was not at all happy about it though, he frowned as he followed his master through the door to the private room. The noise from the club disappeared as soon as the door closed behind them; as did the light, the room was hardly lit at all and empty save for two individuals sitting at a table on the other end of the room. One of them was a scantily dressed Cathar woman whom Jadar assumed was a waitress sitting in the lap of a man who must have been their contact. If anyone looked less like what Jadar thought a smuggler would look it was this man; the smuggler was dressed more like a senator than a scoundrel, he wore a blue tux-like suit with thin black pinstripes that ran down the jacket and pants and a white undershirt. His dreadlocked hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail as was his over long goatee that extended down past his neck and onto the very top of his chest. Even sitting down with that girl in his lap Jadar could tell the man was built like he could pin a rancor with his bare hands. ‘Who is this man?’ Jadar thought to himself…