Leviathan
LOCATION: CORUSCANT, LEVEL 1313
EQUIPMENT: IN BIO
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:
Caltin Vanagor
CURRENT MOOD: FOCUSED
How far will you go to complete the job?
Every Bounty Hunter has to ask themself that question at some point in their career. At what point are the costs not worth the reward? Are you the type to cut early, avoiding losses by bailing? Do you have the drive to fight to the bitter end, in pursuit of honor and glory? Where is the line?
Everyone's got a different line, and that's alright. There's no right answer (despite what some might think). You gotta figure out for yourself how far you'll go. But if you insist on asking for something solid, I'll say this much;
The best Bounty Hunters don't have lines. They'll do whatever it takes the bag a score.
But the best people know when to reassess.
1313 was Ghorua's stomping ground.EQUIPMENT: IN BIO
CURRENT OBJECTIVE:
Caltin Vanagor
CURRENT MOOD: FOCUSED
How far will you go to complete the job?
Every Bounty Hunter has to ask themself that question at some point in their career. At what point are the costs not worth the reward? Are you the type to cut early, avoiding losses by bailing? Do you have the drive to fight to the bitter end, in pursuit of honor and glory? Where is the line?
Everyone's got a different line, and that's alright. There's no right answer (despite what some might think). You gotta figure out for yourself how far you'll go. But if you insist on asking for something solid, I'll say this much;
The best Bounty Hunters don't have lines. They'll do whatever it takes the bag a score.
But the best people know when to reassess.
He'd cut his teeth on these streets, playing with the gangster kids on his block. Sure, someone could learn a city after a time. A few years spent in a new town, and an entrepreneurial bounty hunter could discover the ins and outs. But no one knew a place like those that were molded by it. Ghorua spent his young years in the gutters of 1313, sussing out it's secrets with the thoroughness and curiosity of a child. He knew it like the back of his hand, was intimately comfortable with it's twists and turns.
The undercity must have seemed like a labyrinth to an offworlder. But to Ghorua, it was home.
It was evening, but one could barely notice this far beneath the surface. Blazing neon signs lit up every corner and window, advertising the next big dive bar or speeder salesman with gaudy, eye-assaulting pinks, oranges, and greens. People of all species, creeds, and walks of life flooded the streets, holding purses and holsters tightly to their sides. There was a general feeling of fear and excitement, as citizens found equal parts reckless abandon and greed in this dark corner of the Galactic Alliance.
And if one were looking hard enough, they might see a behemoth of a man, ready to pounce.
Plated in heavy armor, the Shark looked more like a dark beskar statue rather than a bounty hunter. The being's helmet turned at regular intervals, scanning the mobs of people. Four nigh-imperceptible probe droids flitted among dark corners and shadowed streets, an extra layer of eyes and ears. The Herglic was littered with weapons, with a plethora of knickknacks across a belt and bandolier. He was a living, walking armory, giving off an aura of predatory might.
Under the helmet, Ghorua felt a little less sure of himself. He didn't often work for anonymous employers, neither did he often go after former Jedi. But Ghorua needed to make a name for himself again, and this was the best way to do it. Besides, if what said shady employer had said was true, this particular mark deserved his wrath.
So he continued his vigil, waiting for his score to arrive.
