Triko
Purple Haze
WORLPORT - ORD MANTELL
It was a cold day.
The beach was windy, and the waves freezing; Triko hated the cold.
Jawas weren't built for winter, and Triko was, as most tended to guess, a Jawa. Ord Mantell wasn't supposed to be cold, yet, much to his dismay, it was cold.
Shivering gently in a seaside cantina, he debated calling Hatman about where the sporting goods store was while he waited with a Jawa Juice. He was not waiting for anyone; Triko did not wait. Opportunities came to him, and right now, as he stared across the bleak, pale blue waves from his seat in the cantina, he did not doubt an opportunity would arise, be it from a killer who wanted his head or someone who fancied his services. He wasn't really sure what his services were by this point.
He couldn't remember much about himself, come to think of it.
@[member="Lucien Cordel"]
It was a cold day.
The beach was windy, and the waves freezing; Triko hated the cold.
Jawas weren't built for winter, and Triko was, as most tended to guess, a Jawa. Ord Mantell wasn't supposed to be cold, yet, much to his dismay, it was cold.
Shivering gently in a seaside cantina, he debated calling Hatman about where the sporting goods store was while he waited with a Jawa Juice. He was not waiting for anyone; Triko did not wait. Opportunities came to him, and right now, as he stared across the bleak, pale blue waves from his seat in the cantina, he did not doubt an opportunity would arise, be it from a killer who wanted his head or someone who fancied his services. He wasn't really sure what his services were by this point.
He couldn't remember much about himself, come to think of it.
@[member="Lucien Cordel"]