Lord Gaius
Chosen
Trepidation. That was a choice word for what Gaius Vel felt in this moment, overlooking the Coruscant Underworld Portal. Deep down in the dark depths below, a place where it was prudent to never travel alone. A smuggler, who was taking him down, clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in and conferring to him, "Just be careful down there. Those swoop gangs will take a shot at anybody. Even the Sith patrols have come under fire before." Gaius took an involuntary gulp of despair, but right now this was business, and business was booming. The Mandalorians were slowly starting their machines of war. A reckoning was coming. His task would help pave the way.
Gaius didn't hold any support to the One Sith cause, but neither did he with the Republic. He was a single being in a galaxy of centillions. He simply couldn't care less about political movements. He liked to put it into perspective sometimes. A centillion has one hundred groups of three zeroes more than a thousand. The highest conceivable number, and the population of the galaxy existed within that number. It was mind boggling, and incredibly hard to wrap ones head around, but looking over Coruscant, and into the portal below, he had a sense of understanding.
He shifted his weight and turned to look upon the chiseled face that met his. He said his name was Lysle of the Hydian Way, or something along the lines. He wore a loose white t-shirt that was ill fit, and his blonde hair was greased back. His smile was a sincere one, and somehow contagious. Gaius let off a half-grin and allowed himself to be led him into the mans BT-12 Thunderstrike.
The BT-12 was state of the art, the armor plating, heavy laser cannons and modular shield systems were the best available. The hull was also shaped to help deflect laser bolts in case of shield failure. It had lodgings for several troops and contained a command center, a briefing room, a very spacious cargo bay, a medical bay and an armory. There was also room for recreational activities. Though many of these features were unnecessary luxuries for Gaius, but clearly Lysle was a different type of man. A scoundrel and rogue.
That thought reminded him, he scrounged around in his pocket and took out the credits. He was running low with just sixty-seven. He needed this job or he would have to sell his slugthrowers, and if things got worse; his beskar'gam. Gaius tossed a glance over his shoulder as they ascended into the ship, directly below the cockpit. Coming to the first intersection, leading right was down into the cargo hold, and they turned left - towards the command center that branched off to nigh every other room in the ship, and a staircase up into the cockpit.
Lysle waved Gaius into the co-pilot seat but Gaius left Lysle to the controls and moved back into the bowels of the vessel, diverting into his temporary cabin. He picked up the rest of his equipment, a machine pistol, combat shotgun and a sonic carbine. He stumbled and caught himself on a pipeline, the roar of the propulsion drives became deafening, and he knew that the ship was taking off, and into the Underworld.
The Underworld lay literal thousands of stories below the skyscraper pinnacles, Coruscant's urban canyon floors never saw the light of day. Due to its enclosure by larger buildings, air was trapped in the lower levels, creating a micro-climate of which there were at least three layers. Trapped moisture contributed to rainstorms and convective wind patterns within the canyon floors. A realm of artificial illumination, the lower levels of the galaxy's largest city were the only affordable areas for many of the planet's citizens.
Rumbling with machines that served the elite above, its streets haunted by exploiters and thugs, and its walls riddled with vermin, Coruscant's underworld toughened the strong and consumed the weak. The underlevels harbored a larger population than many entire star sectors, leaving millions beyond the protection of the world's security force. Local neighborhoods were at the mercy of hired thugs and extortionists. But the toughest faces sometimes belonged to vigilantes, who chose to defend the people on their own land from criminals.
Crrk!
The landing gear buckled under the weight of the BT-12, the ramp lowered. A loud groan came from the ship as metal scrapped against metal, and with a great thud, the ramp was down. "I'll see you on the flip side," Lysle said, clicking his fingers and pointing at Gaius in the fashion of a finger-gun. It was dark down here, indescribably, but yet there was still light. It was an imbalanced ying and yang, for what light down here was that of artificial. To see the light of day this far down into the core of Coruscant was not only improbable, but likely a miracle. If not for the illuminating neon lights, the entire underworld here would be consumed in utter darkness. What a horrible place Gaius had found himself in. He was well and truly behind enemy lines.
He took a courageous step forward into the unknown, and into the throng that crowded the spaceport. Splash! "Euk," he moaned as he glanced down, pulling his foot out of a puddle of what appeared to be Trandoshan urine. He rung his large boots and continued on, uncertain and unsure of what to expect. If his informant was lying, Vraask would have more than a broken wrist. He gently brushed past the crowd, not wanting to force his way through lest he receive a blaster through his stomach. He decided the best place to start was a cantina.
{ [member="Sanus"] }
Gaius didn't hold any support to the One Sith cause, but neither did he with the Republic. He was a single being in a galaxy of centillions. He simply couldn't care less about political movements. He liked to put it into perspective sometimes. A centillion has one hundred groups of three zeroes more than a thousand. The highest conceivable number, and the population of the galaxy existed within that number. It was mind boggling, and incredibly hard to wrap ones head around, but looking over Coruscant, and into the portal below, he had a sense of understanding.
He shifted his weight and turned to look upon the chiseled face that met his. He said his name was Lysle of the Hydian Way, or something along the lines. He wore a loose white t-shirt that was ill fit, and his blonde hair was greased back. His smile was a sincere one, and somehow contagious. Gaius let off a half-grin and allowed himself to be led him into the mans BT-12 Thunderstrike.
The BT-12 was state of the art, the armor plating, heavy laser cannons and modular shield systems were the best available. The hull was also shaped to help deflect laser bolts in case of shield failure. It had lodgings for several troops and contained a command center, a briefing room, a very spacious cargo bay, a medical bay and an armory. There was also room for recreational activities. Though many of these features were unnecessary luxuries for Gaius, but clearly Lysle was a different type of man. A scoundrel and rogue.
That thought reminded him, he scrounged around in his pocket and took out the credits. He was running low with just sixty-seven. He needed this job or he would have to sell his slugthrowers, and if things got worse; his beskar'gam. Gaius tossed a glance over his shoulder as they ascended into the ship, directly below the cockpit. Coming to the first intersection, leading right was down into the cargo hold, and they turned left - towards the command center that branched off to nigh every other room in the ship, and a staircase up into the cockpit.
Lysle waved Gaius into the co-pilot seat but Gaius left Lysle to the controls and moved back into the bowels of the vessel, diverting into his temporary cabin. He picked up the rest of his equipment, a machine pistol, combat shotgun and a sonic carbine. He stumbled and caught himself on a pipeline, the roar of the propulsion drives became deafening, and he knew that the ship was taking off, and into the Underworld.
The Underworld lay literal thousands of stories below the skyscraper pinnacles, Coruscant's urban canyon floors never saw the light of day. Due to its enclosure by larger buildings, air was trapped in the lower levels, creating a micro-climate of which there were at least three layers. Trapped moisture contributed to rainstorms and convective wind patterns within the canyon floors. A realm of artificial illumination, the lower levels of the galaxy's largest city were the only affordable areas for many of the planet's citizens.
Rumbling with machines that served the elite above, its streets haunted by exploiters and thugs, and its walls riddled with vermin, Coruscant's underworld toughened the strong and consumed the weak. The underlevels harbored a larger population than many entire star sectors, leaving millions beyond the protection of the world's security force. Local neighborhoods were at the mercy of hired thugs and extortionists. But the toughest faces sometimes belonged to vigilantes, who chose to defend the people on their own land from criminals.
Crrk!
The landing gear buckled under the weight of the BT-12, the ramp lowered. A loud groan came from the ship as metal scrapped against metal, and with a great thud, the ramp was down. "I'll see you on the flip side," Lysle said, clicking his fingers and pointing at Gaius in the fashion of a finger-gun. It was dark down here, indescribably, but yet there was still light. It was an imbalanced ying and yang, for what light down here was that of artificial. To see the light of day this far down into the core of Coruscant was not only improbable, but likely a miracle. If not for the illuminating neon lights, the entire underworld here would be consumed in utter darkness. What a horrible place Gaius had found himself in. He was well and truly behind enemy lines.
He took a courageous step forward into the unknown, and into the throng that crowded the spaceport. Splash! "Euk," he moaned as he glanced down, pulling his foot out of a puddle of what appeared to be Trandoshan urine. He rung his large boots and continued on, uncertain and unsure of what to expect. If his informant was lying, Vraask would have more than a broken wrist. He gently brushed past the crowd, not wanting to force his way through lest he receive a blaster through his stomach. He decided the best place to start was a cantina.
{ [member="Sanus"] }
