Vjun: Bitter End
The scent of salty air, acidic rain and the common pollution made for a strong bitter scent. It was sharp and corrosive, as if the very air was intent on breaking you down. Bitter End, a fitting name. A city that was once great, now a shadow of its former self. While it had been doing better in recent years, it could never quite live up to its former glory, it was depressing how much it reminded Drogh of Coruscant. The entire city was carved into old caves and tunnels, a great labyrinthine of a city in many ways. The cold rock shielding the city from the hail of melting rain that would strip man's flesh bare. The houses were foolishly stacked and slammed into one another, resembling poorly constructed flats, built into the caves, shops and business constructed into the very stone, it was almost impressive if everything didn't look as if they were a about to collapse. The richer districts seemed more fitting, having actual housing, although these were far and few between and often isolated from the rest of the city. And some dark reminders of the past, entire districts were empty, old sullen sunken houses, flats and the ever dreaded mental asylums, that seemed to sprung up like weeds. Madness cloaked this city, while it had waned in the coming onslaught of time, it had never entirely vanished, and for whatever reason insanity was far more prevalent here then any city on Vjun.
Drogh hated it here, it reminded him of home far to much. Yet Drogh would not inflict himself to the decaying city, he had found a nice old bar to drink his worries away. The people of Vjun were not used to outsiders coming in, so at the least that was something that made this place and Coruscant different, as odd glares and snarls were shared as the stranger wearing the black robe walked in. "The Shrieking Gull", a name that seemed fit the terrible condition this place was in. Murky old bar booths, as old greying sofas with chipped tables having a few sparse individuals drinking their days away. It was working hours so the bar was mercifully quite, with only the true dregs of society visiting such a desperate place, Drogh among their number.
Drinking had become a much more recent habit to him, sure he liked to drink but now it had become a true and genuine addiction. It was hard to go a day without drinking and his body was hating him for it. Yet if he relented, if he allowed the force to flow through him fluently, his mind would suffer in turn. There was no way to win, no way out of his own little cage. But Drogh wasn't here to feel sorry for himself, he had done enough of that, he had done that for most of his life even. He was trying to make things right, as much as he could. Ra and Drogh didn't get on, at all. Drogh totally disrespected the "master apprentice" relationship, and Ra had lashed out in turn. Exiled from Bast Castle and sent to the dog Drogh had come back from his 'punishment' of being basically beaten up. The bruises still hurt and his chest ached, yet the lesson was learned. Drogh was a liability, he knew this. And despite himself, Drogh didn't want to be one. He had contacted Ra to meet him here, to speak with her to bury the past and perhaps finally, become something more than he was.
[member="Riamah"]
