Darth Abyss
Eldritch
Nar Shaddaa, Slums - Black Market
In theory there wasn't a black market on Nar Shaddaa, as the whole world was more or less one gigantic trade hub for everything despised or illegal in the more civilized places of the galaxy. Yet as on any non illicit trade world there existed hotspots where vendors sold their products in direct competition to others without any rules enforced upon them. It was true, pure capitalism, only guns or credits talked here on the smuggler moon were supply and demand were the only gods known to the people.
The Tainted Chorus, the organisation of Darth Abyss or rather the Prophet as he was known in underworld circles, had set up shop in the slums as well, pandering their drugs, slaves and weapons to their many customers, between caged wild animals, illegal scramblers and bafflers and pretty much anything else that could raise an interest in the lawless elements of the known galaxy. Behind the curtain of a tent placed right besides the wares he offered rested the metallic, hollow figure of the Prophet himself, empty eyes watching over everything happening around them. There recently had been a hit on a few of his dealers, so he had upgrade his security in the most terrifying way possible: By watching and guarding his business personally.
On the outside he suddenly sensed trouble, followed by the sound of metal falling to the ground. In a matter of seconds the twisted sith Lord rose from his secluded hideout, stepping out into the open. The eyes of the thug that had aimed his small gun at the merchant selling the products of the chorus widened when they meet the Prophet in the metal. He didn't had as much time to gasp, before a claw like hand locked on his throat, lifting the man up into the air effortlessly. The fixed grin below the wooden mask that served as replacement of a face looked almost taunting as the left, free hand reached for the man's forehead.
From one moment the eyes of the thugs became empty, the mind inside devoured by the might of the Mindeater. The body dropped to the ground, still breathing but with nothing inside to act, feel or think. There was a sound of metal teeth grinding over metal teeth in slight annoyance, while the sith lord returned to his resting place. Anyone on the market had seen what had happened, so there was little chance that someone would try something stupid anytime soon.
[member="Veryiana Greivex"]
In theory there wasn't a black market on Nar Shaddaa, as the whole world was more or less one gigantic trade hub for everything despised or illegal in the more civilized places of the galaxy. Yet as on any non illicit trade world there existed hotspots where vendors sold their products in direct competition to others without any rules enforced upon them. It was true, pure capitalism, only guns or credits talked here on the smuggler moon were supply and demand were the only gods known to the people.
The Tainted Chorus, the organisation of Darth Abyss or rather the Prophet as he was known in underworld circles, had set up shop in the slums as well, pandering their drugs, slaves and weapons to their many customers, between caged wild animals, illegal scramblers and bafflers and pretty much anything else that could raise an interest in the lawless elements of the known galaxy. Behind the curtain of a tent placed right besides the wares he offered rested the metallic, hollow figure of the Prophet himself, empty eyes watching over everything happening around them. There recently had been a hit on a few of his dealers, so he had upgrade his security in the most terrifying way possible: By watching and guarding his business personally.
On the outside he suddenly sensed trouble, followed by the sound of metal falling to the ground. In a matter of seconds the twisted sith Lord rose from his secluded hideout, stepping out into the open. The eyes of the thug that had aimed his small gun at the merchant selling the products of the chorus widened when they meet the Prophet in the metal. He didn't had as much time to gasp, before a claw like hand locked on his throat, lifting the man up into the air effortlessly. The fixed grin below the wooden mask that served as replacement of a face looked almost taunting as the left, free hand reached for the man's forehead.
From one moment the eyes of the thugs became empty, the mind inside devoured by the might of the Mindeater. The body dropped to the ground, still breathing but with nothing inside to act, feel or think. There was a sound of metal teeth grinding over metal teeth in slight annoyance, while the sith lord returned to his resting place. Anyone on the market had seen what had happened, so there was little chance that someone would try something stupid anytime soon.
[member="Veryiana Greivex"]