Kainan Wolfe
Shadow of War
Attn: [member="Scherezade deWinter"]
- Rundown Cantina
Somewhere in Confederate territory
The ancient and decrepit holographic projector flickering in and out of life in the corner, showed an image of some newscaster droning on about the latest developments on Nelvaan, following the overthrowing of the Eternal Empire by the Jedi regime which now took its place. Through the haze of alcohol, the bad music buzzing out of some speaker and the cacophony of noises in the cantina, the lone man leaning against the bar counter managed to hear some of what was being reported on the news.
In their infallible and infinite wisdom, the Jedi regime had decided to scale back the military and shut down many of the weapons factories on the planet. Coupled with the creation of several bloated welfare programs, the decision caused the planet's economy to take a tumble off a cliff, inflation and unemployment skyrocketing practically overnight as thousands of factory workers lost their jobs after the dramatic downscaling of the military-industrial sector which was the lifeblood of Nelvaan's society.
The lone man simply shook his head, a deflated look in his eyes as he unceremoniously decanted the remaining contents of his bottle into the glass in front of him. "Bartender," he called, voice gravelly and tired, as if he had been running a thousand miles. "Another bottle."
The little cantina's lone employee hurriedly complied, throwing fearful glances at the man. Beneath the coat he undoubtedly stole from somewhere, the man wore the clothes of a prisoner, torn and bloodstained, slitted, cat-like eyes glowing gold beneath his disshelved mane of silver hair. He had the look of an escaped convict and a dangerous aura of violence hovered around him, like a powder keg that could go up at any moment and for any reason whatsoever.
The fingers that gripped the half-empty glass of brandy ended in long, deadly claws that looked like they could disembowel a man with little to no effort.
The bartender's fear went completely unnoticed by the stranger, who, in his current state, could barely count the people in the building and couldn't care less about what any one thought about him. He was lost in his own thoughts, what little attention he allocated to the outside world being solely focused on the bottle of cheap brandy in front of him. Using treachery and underhanded tactics, the wretched servants of the Lightside had usurped his Empire in the span of a few days, turning the Viceroyalty against him with lies and undoubtedly, bribery and blackmail, pulling the wool over the eyes of his supposed political allies and ultimately deposing him, putting their own henchmen in his place.
Now they were busy destroying the careful balance he had forged during his rule over Nelvaan, balance which insured that society on the harsh world could keep functioning and were driving the planet into the ground. Weeks ago, there had been governmental purges, hundreds of governmental officials being sacked, some detained, on charges of 'Darkside corruption', accusation which these Jedi loved to throw at anyone who followed a doctrine other than their wretched Lightside pacifism and beliefs, adherence to which they had made mandatory under their new law.
Of course, for all their talk about justice, the Jedi had no qualms about attempting to secretly eliminate him by having him detained and sent to a private prison outside of the Confederacy. He was too much of a threat, they said immediately before attacking him. It hadn't gone so well for them, though. His would-be captors were now dead. And he, was here, on some planet who's name he couldn't quite conjure up out of the alcohol-induced haze which clouded his mind, a problem which he addressed by refilling the now empty glass in front of him and taking another long drink.