Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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First Reply Music to Your Ears

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MUSIC TO YOUR EARS
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Location: Coruscant Underworld, Level 2685

Coruscant’s Undercity had a history of being a thriving seedbed of criminal activity. It didn’t really matter who it was that was in control of the planet, it was always there. Even during the height of the Galactic Alliance, it existed unimpeded in the lowest levels, hidden and interwoven the higher you got. The criminal underworld grew more bold in recent years. With the Dark Empire’s invasions; followed by its subsequent occupation and eventual changing of hands to the Sith Covenant.

That was where the young Emilia Vale had found herself. Prior to the Core Worlds falling, she had managed to hitch a ride to the galaxy’s core. Convincing a ship captain that a child; barely entering her teens at that point, was able to fix up his ship. But she had ultimately managed to, and found herself on Coruscant.

Only to be abandoned when the Dark Empire attacked for the second time, and it became clear that the Alliance wasn’t going to hold this time around. The crew left, leaving Emilia alone on the planet. Not that she expected anything else, after all she was seen as nothing was more than a hitchhiker; a freeloader.

So Emilia did as she always did, found a cozy spot to set up shop; that inevitably became more of a home, and slowly started building up enough resources in order to leave the planet. That was until roughly a month ago, when she had a run in with Rhugo Kesyk.

A male Twi’lek, a gang Underboss, whose name was one that Emilia hadn’t paid much attention to. They were fairly low on the ‘middling scale’ of the criminal totem pole. But Rhugo had taken notice of her talents with tech, and had one of his underlings steal her music player in order to blackmail her.

It was a precious item to Emilia, she needed to get it back.

So she was forced to play along, to do seemingly random tasks in order to ‘work her way up’ to reclaim what they stole. But it had all been useless stuff so far, just stealing seemingly pointless items just for the fun of it. Emilia suspected there was something else going on, but she didn’t know what exactly. All that mattered to her, was getting the music player back.

It’s what had brought the teenager to her current…predicament. She had entered a notable pawnshop to steal an old-school radio the old shopkeeper kept on a shelf. It hadn’t taken much to swipe it, but the man had realized just as she had left the establishment.

You little thief, get back here!” His booming voice yelled out, as Emilia darted through the crowd of people, bobbing and weaving around them. She had tucked the radio underneath her jacket, clutching it tight so she didn’t accidentally drop it.

Only to wind up running straight into someone, Emilia’s smaller stature causing her to practically bounce off them, landing on her rear with a dull thump.

Ow…
 
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Pogo the Lesser — In a Good Mood
"I make you fall down!"


Fresh from his victory at the underground arena, a fated meeting was about to occur. The kind that made for the beginning of storybooks or fairytales. The unlikely crossing of paths of that which was in need, and that who's solitary lifestyle was about to be upended. Not with a resounding trumpeting, nor a clash of great titans... but with a dull thump.

Pogo was a bit more than someone. He was a Hutt. Perhaps one of the biggest seen outside of Hutt Space, and his reptilian eyes and gigantic size made him quite intimidating. Unlike Hutts from Nal Hutta, he was big, but he rippled with muscle, while also carrying that distinctive Hutt smell and that distinctive Hutt look. His eyes were tinted with immediate recognition of the girl's plight, and his slimy body slid forward, his massive bulk hiding her within his tail.

The shopkeeper with his angry eyes and vengeful look turned to shock and a little fear as he beheld the gigantic creature. In a bellowing voice, he said, "YOU GO THAT WAY," and thrust his short stubby arm in the direction of a dark alleyway. Not 'she go that way,' or some misdirection, but rather an order that could not be denied. The shopkeeper hesitated, then disappeared down that alley. Whether he got through safely was none of Pogo's concern.

The Hutt puffed up, pleased with himself. He had won two battles today. One in the arena and now one in the streets of Coruscant. One with a decisive blow to the neck vertebrate of his opponent, and one with four decisive words. After a moment of riposte, Pogo leaned back, then rippled his sluglike body in an impressive display of holding his bulk up by his massive tail.

"You safe now. He gone." He said, his languid tongue slurping at the corner of his hideous mouth.

"He no come back. You no need worry." Pogo's grasp of Galactic common was good, but he still had much work to do. He spoke with the accent of the Hutts, and rarely had a chance to practice with 'normal' galactic folk.

The cheers of the arena still filled his ears, the 'boos' of the few who had bet against him thundered amongst them in his memory. Both gave him great pleasure. He was in a good mood. Now he was in a better one. He had rescued a youngling, and for that, he felt a deep welling of self-gratitude. The tip of his gigantic tail came around and flipped her up to her feet.

As good as his intentions were, his slime was everywhere and had likely gotten into her hair and clothes.

"Get up, little thing. I no mind the smell of human. It no bother Pogo. You need ride? Hop on Pogo." The big creature jabbed his thumb at his massive back.

The streets of Coruscant bustled with activity but they gave him a wide berth. No one would risk the ire of a Hutt, let alone the one who had bested a rancor in the arena this day. Pogo's mottled skin still bore the bite marks and claw slashes, but he looked none the worse for wear. His bulk was wrapped in chains, some huge and some much smaller, adding to his weight. In combat he used those chains to crush his enemies, not depending on his physical 'gifts' or natural 'attributes.' In public, he depended on his stellar weight and rarely attacked with a weapon.

Ironic, his choice in weapons, as it had been a chain that had ended the life of his most famous of brethren.



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