Locke
Puppet Master
Night brought certain peace to many. A quietness sought by some. A blanket within which to hide for others. Silence. Solitude. Opportunity. Nar Shaddaa nights brought all of these things and more. Much more. Those who sought, found. Those who desired, sought. Such was the way of the world. Of the galaxy. Of life.
Armed and armored warriors were a credit a dozen on the planet. His boots trod upon dampness. Dim light glinted dully off his old armor. Ahead walked another. Similarly clad and equally armed, it strode ahead. Its blank faceplate showed no visage. No emotion. It panned left and right at intersections and open areas. Checking the way. Finding threats if any. Behind walked another figure. It, too, wore the same armor as the others, but the similarity ended there. It was swathed in robes. A hood covered its head. From within the darkness cast by the shadows, another faceplate reflected the weak light. It held nothing in its hands compared to the others with their blasters. And yet, was more dangerous. Deadly. A thorn hidden among the undergrowth.
The alleys wound onwards, but no signs guided him. No pull showed him the way. No whispers. No voices. No keening. His work was yet undone. To begin again he needed a key. A part. A final piece. Only then could he proceed. He would find it on Nar Shaddaa where anything could be bought and sold. All that mattered was the price.
The currency didn't matter.
Armed and armored warriors were a credit a dozen on the planet. His boots trod upon dampness. Dim light glinted dully off his old armor. Ahead walked another. Similarly clad and equally armed, it strode ahead. Its blank faceplate showed no visage. No emotion. It panned left and right at intersections and open areas. Checking the way. Finding threats if any. Behind walked another figure. It, too, wore the same armor as the others, but the similarity ended there. It was swathed in robes. A hood covered its head. From within the darkness cast by the shadows, another faceplate reflected the weak light. It held nothing in its hands compared to the others with their blasters. And yet, was more dangerous. Deadly. A thorn hidden among the undergrowth.
The alleys wound onwards, but no signs guided him. No pull showed him the way. No whispers. No voices. No keening. His work was yet undone. To begin again he needed a key. A part. A final piece. Only then could he proceed. He would find it on Nar Shaddaa where anything could be bought and sold. All that mattered was the price.
The currency didn't matter.