Drakul
Keeper Of Stories
Serenno
Cael had found his way to the home of some of the richest benefactors in the entire travelable galaxy. The planet was ripe with people holding cold hard creds and anti-Republic tendencies, it would have been easy pickings if the gun for hire had come here boasting of his hatred for Jedi or talking of war stories against the Republic troops. This trip was much less conventional however, he was planetside on business to discuss taking out some…darker targets. Something considered taboo still considering the Sith Empire had only recently dissolved and there were still many people on the planet who were far more scared of the Sith than they were a bounty hunter.
The person who had sent out the ambiguous call said to meet at the Gritty Rancor, one of the few undesirable spots left on the wealthy planet. The nearly six foot tall soldier of fortune stood outside the establishment parking his battle worn body against the wall near the trash with a half smoked cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Slade would never dare think of wasting his cigarette and was far too greedy to put it out and finish it later. For all he knew he would get his face blown off before the meeting started for even considering taking out a Sith, he would never put entrapment past them.
It was nearing darkness, shadows cloaked the back of the alleyways as the streetlights danced ahead, slowly kicking on and casting its artificial glow over the city as the dinner crowd started making their way around. The area of town that Cael in was not one you wanted to be in after dark and ‘dinner crowd’ meant incoming know it all drunks and degenerates who carry guns and have a wealthy family they suckle from like an angry Bantha pup at its mother’s withered teat. It had only been single day cycle since Cael landed, but the merc had already discovered the local population didn’t like outsiders, especially ones that wore masks and carried weapons bigger than their own.
For as big of egos and mouths as the populace had, their nerve and backbone to follow up was surprisingly weak. They left the gray agent alone, his dusty almost cinereous mask and tightly rolled braids were enough to give the locals a bad taste. The pungent odor of cigarettes and week old blood only solidified their ignorant and unneeded bias, which only provided Slade a chance to go about his work unbothered by the plebs. He was dressed in all gray armor, covered loosely by a slate colored tunic which hid his weapons from plain sight. His tunic was cinched with a leather tie, keeping it over his armor at all times but allowing him some breathing space under the warm Serreno sun.
The meeting was to begin in a few minutes, so taking the last few puffs of his cigarette, Cael discarded the butt and made his way into the bar through the back door, uncaring if he were to walk through the kitchen. The chefs and waiters stared mostly, hoping he wasn’t there to rob them or bringing unneeded police heat in behind him. They allowed him to pass through; they didn’t want to be a part of whatever it was he was there for if it didn’t directly affect them. It was time, the booth that was supposed to be reserved had been, three rows back along the wall, Corellian Sunset red bantha leather seats, and three pitchers of what Cael assumed to be beer. But why were there three? Was there another person involved? Was this an open call? Or was this something else entirely, something much darker? It seemed that Slade was first so whoever was next to sit down would likely answer his question.
If they wanted a fight, his blasters and resilience would prove a worthy adversary.
Cael had found his way to the home of some of the richest benefactors in the entire travelable galaxy. The planet was ripe with people holding cold hard creds and anti-Republic tendencies, it would have been easy pickings if the gun for hire had come here boasting of his hatred for Jedi or talking of war stories against the Republic troops. This trip was much less conventional however, he was planetside on business to discuss taking out some…darker targets. Something considered taboo still considering the Sith Empire had only recently dissolved and there were still many people on the planet who were far more scared of the Sith than they were a bounty hunter.
The person who had sent out the ambiguous call said to meet at the Gritty Rancor, one of the few undesirable spots left on the wealthy planet. The nearly six foot tall soldier of fortune stood outside the establishment parking his battle worn body against the wall near the trash with a half smoked cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Slade would never dare think of wasting his cigarette and was far too greedy to put it out and finish it later. For all he knew he would get his face blown off before the meeting started for even considering taking out a Sith, he would never put entrapment past them.
It was nearing darkness, shadows cloaked the back of the alleyways as the streetlights danced ahead, slowly kicking on and casting its artificial glow over the city as the dinner crowd started making their way around. The area of town that Cael in was not one you wanted to be in after dark and ‘dinner crowd’ meant incoming know it all drunks and degenerates who carry guns and have a wealthy family they suckle from like an angry Bantha pup at its mother’s withered teat. It had only been single day cycle since Cael landed, but the merc had already discovered the local population didn’t like outsiders, especially ones that wore masks and carried weapons bigger than their own.
For as big of egos and mouths as the populace had, their nerve and backbone to follow up was surprisingly weak. They left the gray agent alone, his dusty almost cinereous mask and tightly rolled braids were enough to give the locals a bad taste. The pungent odor of cigarettes and week old blood only solidified their ignorant and unneeded bias, which only provided Slade a chance to go about his work unbothered by the plebs. He was dressed in all gray armor, covered loosely by a slate colored tunic which hid his weapons from plain sight. His tunic was cinched with a leather tie, keeping it over his armor at all times but allowing him some breathing space under the warm Serreno sun.
The meeting was to begin in a few minutes, so taking the last few puffs of his cigarette, Cael discarded the butt and made his way into the bar through the back door, uncaring if he were to walk through the kitchen. The chefs and waiters stared mostly, hoping he wasn’t there to rob them or bringing unneeded police heat in behind him. They allowed him to pass through; they didn’t want to be a part of whatever it was he was there for if it didn’t directly affect them. It was time, the booth that was supposed to be reserved had been, three rows back along the wall, Corellian Sunset red bantha leather seats, and three pitchers of what Cael assumed to be beer. But why were there three? Was there another person involved? Was this an open call? Or was this something else entirely, something much darker? It seemed that Slade was first so whoever was next to sit down would likely answer his question.
If they wanted a fight, his blasters and resilience would prove a worthy adversary.
