Lilla Syrin
A great leap forward often requires first taking t
“I’m quite mad and even I know that you don’t want to lie down in an alley on Nar Shaddaa. The sort of diseases we have here won’t bother killing you slowly. They’ll just punch you in the face and steal your arms. Do you have any idea what price a disease can get for arms?”
― Dray
Nar Shaddaa was a large moon that orbited Nal Hutta. The other name for Nar Shaddaa was “the Smuggler’s Moon,” and it was apt, for most of its denizens lived there because they were connected with the illegal trade that moved through Nar Shaddaa every day. Running spice, running guns, fencing stolen treasures and antiquities…Nar Shaddaa saw all of that and more. And the nature of the urban sprawl earned it a second nickname – “Little Coruscant.”
The moon was also a convenient stopover on the way to the Outer Rim. It was a place where few questions were asked and criminal transactions were as convenient as a galactic senator’s loyalties.
The spaceport was crowded with every kind of sentient species and droid model that Lilla had ever heard of – and a few more besides. The air was thick with spices and a dense melange of language. Lilla took in her surroundings and was appalled that as each ship disgorged its passengers with no pretence of courtesy, the travellers blended into the muddy stream of life here: pushing, shoving, appealing for passage, or simply standing still and waiting for an opening.
There was no need to pass through security or to change currencies. All forms of credits were accepted here. Lilla considered hiring a speeder but one look at the never-ending stream of traffic, provoking a dozen potentially fatal near-misses every minute, she decided better of it.
So, Lilla walked quickly through the packed streets of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade. Her unassuming features and nondescript Jedi cloak allowed her to blend easily into the crowd.
The moon was a landscape of unfettered urban sprawl, marked by towering sky-towers crammed way too close together and gaudy, glowing billboards that dominated the horizon as far as the eye could see in every direction. Lilla did not see it as a homage to the Republic’s former capital world; in her eyes it was more akin to a grotesque parody.
For Coruscant had been designed with an eye to aesthetics: there was a pleasing flow to the cityscape and a consistent and complementary style to the architecture. The city was carefully divided into various districts, making it easy to navigate. The pedestrian walks were crowded but clean, the endless stream of air-speeders overhead stayed within the designated traffic lanes. On Coruscant, there was an unmistakable sense of order and purpose.
Here on the Smugglers’ Moon, however, it was a glorious free-for-all. Run-down residential buildings were scattered haphazardly among seedy-looking commercial structures; factories abutted restaurants and clubs, with no regard for the toxic clouds of filth spilling out over the patrons. With no traffic rules in force, air-speeders and swoop bikes darted and dived in seemingly random directions, sometimes flying so low the pedestrians ducked and covered their heads.
As Lilla turned a corner, she realized someone was following her. She hadn’t actually seen anyone on her tail, but she could sense it. She could feel eyes watching her, scoping her out, measuring her as a target.
At street level, everything was a chaotic mishmash of bright, flashing colours. A constant assault from an army of pink, purple, green, and blue signs and billboards provided perfect camouflage for whoever might be following her.
And Lilla knew it would not be easy to pick someone who looked suspicious out from the crowd. The population of the Smugglers’ Moon was as varied, unpredictable, and seedy as the surroundings. It was a common gathering place for criminal elements from all corners of the galaxy: slavers, pickpockets, hustlers, stim dealers. Any and every illicit activity was tolerated on Nar Shaddaa, provided someone got their cut.
[member="Seto du Couteau"]
― Dray
Nar Shaddaa was a large moon that orbited Nal Hutta. The other name for Nar Shaddaa was “the Smuggler’s Moon,” and it was apt, for most of its denizens lived there because they were connected with the illegal trade that moved through Nar Shaddaa every day. Running spice, running guns, fencing stolen treasures and antiquities…Nar Shaddaa saw all of that and more. And the nature of the urban sprawl earned it a second nickname – “Little Coruscant.”
The moon was also a convenient stopover on the way to the Outer Rim. It was a place where few questions were asked and criminal transactions were as convenient as a galactic senator’s loyalties.
The spaceport was crowded with every kind of sentient species and droid model that Lilla had ever heard of – and a few more besides. The air was thick with spices and a dense melange of language. Lilla took in her surroundings and was appalled that as each ship disgorged its passengers with no pretence of courtesy, the travellers blended into the muddy stream of life here: pushing, shoving, appealing for passage, or simply standing still and waiting for an opening.
There was no need to pass through security or to change currencies. All forms of credits were accepted here. Lilla considered hiring a speeder but one look at the never-ending stream of traffic, provoking a dozen potentially fatal near-misses every minute, she decided better of it.
So, Lilla walked quickly through the packed streets of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade. Her unassuming features and nondescript Jedi cloak allowed her to blend easily into the crowd.
The moon was a landscape of unfettered urban sprawl, marked by towering sky-towers crammed way too close together and gaudy, glowing billboards that dominated the horizon as far as the eye could see in every direction. Lilla did not see it as a homage to the Republic’s former capital world; in her eyes it was more akin to a grotesque parody.
For Coruscant had been designed with an eye to aesthetics: there was a pleasing flow to the cityscape and a consistent and complementary style to the architecture. The city was carefully divided into various districts, making it easy to navigate. The pedestrian walks were crowded but clean, the endless stream of air-speeders overhead stayed within the designated traffic lanes. On Coruscant, there was an unmistakable sense of order and purpose.
Here on the Smugglers’ Moon, however, it was a glorious free-for-all. Run-down residential buildings were scattered haphazardly among seedy-looking commercial structures; factories abutted restaurants and clubs, with no regard for the toxic clouds of filth spilling out over the patrons. With no traffic rules in force, air-speeders and swoop bikes darted and dived in seemingly random directions, sometimes flying so low the pedestrians ducked and covered their heads.
As Lilla turned a corner, she realized someone was following her. She hadn’t actually seen anyone on her tail, but she could sense it. She could feel eyes watching her, scoping her out, measuring her as a target.
At street level, everything was a chaotic mishmash of bright, flashing colours. A constant assault from an army of pink, purple, green, and blue signs and billboards provided perfect camouflage for whoever might be following her.
And Lilla knew it would not be easy to pick someone who looked suspicious out from the crowd. The population of the Smugglers’ Moon was as varied, unpredictable, and seedy as the surroundings. It was a common gathering place for criminal elements from all corners of the galaxy: slavers, pickpockets, hustlers, stim dealers. Any and every illicit activity was tolerated on Nar Shaddaa, provided someone got their cut.
[member="Seto du Couteau"]