Lost in the crowds.. (Isabet Kote)

[Tathra Khaeus]

When it came to finding yourself, you'd need to get lost first.
And that, is what Astrian was here to do. The crowds of Nar Shaddaa were full of things of all different sized and shapes. Ranging from little ewoks to large wookiee's and the like. Whilst Astrian was not entirely comfortable with being in the yoke of the Bounty Hunter and smuggler guilds. He found it to be the best place for peace of mind. Something about Nar Shaddaa drew you to it. The excitement, the opportunity, the danger of it all. There was a 75% chance that if you walked around for an hour or so; that you would get stabbed or drugged or mugged or witness one of the three possibilities and various other crimes. Such as illegal swoop racing, something Astrian would try before he died. Well, that depended on when he did die, not that it was a subject he wanted to talk about.

But, there he was in the crowds. A vibro blade and blaster at his hip and some light duraplast armour for safety. Maybe he'd come across someone or something worth taking interest in, who knew.

 

[Jai-Fohro Krava]

@[member="Astrian Callus"]The White Knight, as he was known, always felt more at home in places like this. Nar Shaddaa was a focal point of criminal activity in the Galaxy, a crime cesspool. The bounty hunter had taken many a mission to and from here. He liked it here, he liked the attention he got. He'd spent many years making a name for himself throughout the galaxy. The notorious White Knight, the famous GasMask, who'd killed Kylo the Hutt's brother. Sent a gas bomb into his room and stood in front of him while he choked on his own breath. He'd spent years developing the skill to hunt and track down the bounty hunters who'd killed his father and, inadvertently, his mother. It had fufilled nothing. Only left him feeling nothing but pure emptiness. He clung to the dark side of the force, he wanted to leave but he felt attached, it was in his blood. He had been born on Korriban after all.

The White Knight strode down the busy streets of Nar Shaddaa, his gas mask helping him breath the air. It was his curse, born with so much power, only to be crippled by lung cancer. He needed the gas mask, or risk choking to death, painfully. So he strode down the streets, his orange guardian-blades strapped to his back and his DC-17's on his hips. His white coat tailing behind him. He knew to keep his head down or risk getting stopped, such was the problem with being notorious among criminals. A few people pointed and called out, but he ignored them. He was just walking, uncaring of the world around him. That was until he bumped into a gigantic, seven foot (or taller) man. He was clearly metahuman. He had hunks of metal and scars throughout him. He was huge, monstrous even. The White Knight apologized, his low raspy voice scratching it's way out, daring him to breath harder. He felt sickly, he'd have to clean out his mask soon, or risk dying. "Sorry," He coughed, hoping the man wouldn't recognize him. He didn't feel like being patronized by a fan or tormented by an enemy. He looked up at the large man, waiting for his response.

The White Knight could sense this mans power. He was strong in the force. The White Knight half expected a Shatterpoint or premonition, but none came. It was either blocked, or there truly was one straight path ahead.
@[member="Astrian Callus"]