Garo Walduel
Character
It was supposed to be a simple job... Stop a shipment headed from Coruscant to Hutta and slip out none-the-wiser. Now, as Garos' surroundings ever-rise in calamity, it is safe to say that a hitchless mission isn't getting scratched off any list tonight.
He had wandered into some dive cantina, desperate for answers to the question that stood between him and his next paychit. It was over-crowded, packed like canned paddy-frogs were beings of all shapes and sizes, of all backgrounds and beliefs. A sea of faces churning in one big melting pot. Garo wandered around the place, tuning his ear to every back corner that he so happened to pass until finally, he heard the magic words...
"-Freight to Hutta, I'm heading out soon."
This stopped Garo to a dead halt before he slid his lanky frame into the booth seat.
"The fark are you?" The stranger asked, his brow furrowed in frustration.
"I've been hired by certain people with... Outstanding moral obligations to stop you from making that delivery. So... Tell me. What exactly is it?"
Before the question could even settle into the air, the table was being forced into Garos' ribs, pinning him against the wall. The drivers' friend then stood, drawing his pistol and shoving it into Garos' face. Two shots rang out, and the strangers' friend fell screaming onto the dirty floor of the establishment as smoke began to rise from under the table, coming from the end of Garos' own secondary blaster.
The driver shuffles out of the seat, taking the weight off of the table and allowing Garo to shove it into the opposite side of the booth. He raises his pistol, but as his eyes line down the sights, the driver had already dissipated into the sea of clamor and destruction. Any shot taken now would definitely strike a civillian, and that would only make things harder...
Now, with utmost "Oomph," Garo charges shoulder-first into the violent waves of chaos, ducking fists and dodging makeshift weapons including, (But not limited to,) chairs, shards of broken glass, blasters, knives... Even some of the smaller beings are picked up and hurled across the room like some sort of rage-fueled projectile.
"I'll get you, you bastard! No matter how far you run- I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy!"
His words are drowned by the noise of the current uprising unfolding, but in a flash of fear, the driver looks back into the crowd. And during that flash of fear, Garo locks eyes with him. He ducks his head and charges through the bodies like a fish upstream, slipping each gap with the proficiency of a predator chasing its prey.
Suddenly, a hand snags Garo by the jacket and spins him around to allow the other hand to strike a punch square to Garos' nose. A flash of white replaces everything in his vision, and as it all comes to, he is lying on his back, a numb pain dulling his face more and more. Suddenly, he realizes that same hand is coming down at him very quickly. He twists out of the way, allowing the mans' hand to slam into the metal floor. A gruesome, grinding-crunch comes from his wrist upon impact. As the man recoils in paim, Garo siezes the moment and wrestles himself out from under the large man, backing further into the crowd.
His eyes lock onto the driver again as the back of his head slips through the door. Garo licks his lips in anticipation, immediately realizing his nose is gushing blood down his face. Definitely broken...
As he reaches the end of the crowd, he starts throwing elbows and fists, forcing the ocean of violence to part in his wake. As he breaks through, it's like a weight has been lifted from him, and he feels ultimately faster than he ever did. Though, he knows better. As he gets to the door, he swings himself around it by the frame, digs his shoes into the floor, and begins a full-sprint towards his target. Usually by now, Garo would have shot him, but he knows he can catch him...
Just got to close the distance.
He had wandered into some dive cantina, desperate for answers to the question that stood between him and his next paychit. It was over-crowded, packed like canned paddy-frogs were beings of all shapes and sizes, of all backgrounds and beliefs. A sea of faces churning in one big melting pot. Garo wandered around the place, tuning his ear to every back corner that he so happened to pass until finally, he heard the magic words...
"-Freight to Hutta, I'm heading out soon."
This stopped Garo to a dead halt before he slid his lanky frame into the booth seat.
"The fark are you?" The stranger asked, his brow furrowed in frustration.
"I've been hired by certain people with... Outstanding moral obligations to stop you from making that delivery. So... Tell me. What exactly is it?"
Before the question could even settle into the air, the table was being forced into Garos' ribs, pinning him against the wall. The drivers' friend then stood, drawing his pistol and shoving it into Garos' face. Two shots rang out, and the strangers' friend fell screaming onto the dirty floor of the establishment as smoke began to rise from under the table, coming from the end of Garos' own secondary blaster.
The driver shuffles out of the seat, taking the weight off of the table and allowing Garo to shove it into the opposite side of the booth. He raises his pistol, but as his eyes line down the sights, the driver had already dissipated into the sea of clamor and destruction. Any shot taken now would definitely strike a civillian, and that would only make things harder...
Now, with utmost "Oomph," Garo charges shoulder-first into the violent waves of chaos, ducking fists and dodging makeshift weapons including, (But not limited to,) chairs, shards of broken glass, blasters, knives... Even some of the smaller beings are picked up and hurled across the room like some sort of rage-fueled projectile.
"I'll get you, you bastard! No matter how far you run- I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy!"
His words are drowned by the noise of the current uprising unfolding, but in a flash of fear, the driver looks back into the crowd. And during that flash of fear, Garo locks eyes with him. He ducks his head and charges through the bodies like a fish upstream, slipping each gap with the proficiency of a predator chasing its prey.
Suddenly, a hand snags Garo by the jacket and spins him around to allow the other hand to strike a punch square to Garos' nose. A flash of white replaces everything in his vision, and as it all comes to, he is lying on his back, a numb pain dulling his face more and more. Suddenly, he realizes that same hand is coming down at him very quickly. He twists out of the way, allowing the mans' hand to slam into the metal floor. A gruesome, grinding-crunch comes from his wrist upon impact. As the man recoils in paim, Garo siezes the moment and wrestles himself out from under the large man, backing further into the crowd.
His eyes lock onto the driver again as the back of his head slips through the door. Garo licks his lips in anticipation, immediately realizing his nose is gushing blood down his face. Definitely broken...
As he reaches the end of the crowd, he starts throwing elbows and fists, forcing the ocean of violence to part in his wake. As he breaks through, it's like a weight has been lifted from him, and he feels ultimately faster than he ever did. Though, he knows better. As he gets to the door, he swings himself around it by the frame, digs his shoes into the floor, and begins a full-sprint towards his target. Usually by now, Garo would have shot him, but he knows he can catch him...
Just got to close the distance.