Leviathan
LOCATION: FRIDA'S SPACEPORT CANTINA, NAR SHADDAA
MOOD: TIRED
Ghorua the Shark stood behind a counter, absent-mindedly wiping down a section of the stainless steel surface. The cantina was a friendly enough place, for residing on Nar Shaddaa. The reason for this tranquil setting was Ghorua himself. The Shark was Frida's go-to bartender, and for good reason. You don't want to piss off a half-ton pile of blubber and death. Rumors of Ghorua's life as a bounty hunter have circulated, as well as his criminal lineage. Ghorua tried to keep it all mostly hush-hush when he was working. But soon, he would be on break.
With a bored sigh, the ten-foot-tall Herglic accepted a request from a man at the bar, filling his drink with something frothy. A couple of Bith in the back were talking quietly, their band in between sets. It was late night, and the heavy drinkers had long since passed out. This was the least rowdy this place has been for a while.
Ghorua wore a black wifebeater under his stained apron, showing off his gargantuan frame. He was intimidating, for sure, but a warm smile never left his lips. He enjoyed his work here. It was an escape from his normally hectic life of crime and prejudice. Here, he wasn't judged, but feared, and possibly even liked. It was nice.
- [member="Helen Louie"] - [member="Echo Kora"] -
MOOD: TIRED
Ghorua the Shark stood behind a counter, absent-mindedly wiping down a section of the stainless steel surface. The cantina was a friendly enough place, for residing on Nar Shaddaa. The reason for this tranquil setting was Ghorua himself. The Shark was Frida's go-to bartender, and for good reason. You don't want to piss off a half-ton pile of blubber and death. Rumors of Ghorua's life as a bounty hunter have circulated, as well as his criminal lineage. Ghorua tried to keep it all mostly hush-hush when he was working. But soon, he would be on break.
With a bored sigh, the ten-foot-tall Herglic accepted a request from a man at the bar, filling his drink with something frothy. A couple of Bith in the back were talking quietly, their band in between sets. It was late night, and the heavy drinkers had long since passed out. This was the least rowdy this place has been for a while.
Ghorua wore a black wifebeater under his stained apron, showing off his gargantuan frame. He was intimidating, for sure, but a warm smile never left his lips. He enjoyed his work here. It was an escape from his normally hectic life of crime and prejudice. Here, he wasn't judged, but feared, and possibly even liked. It was nice.
- [member="Helen Louie"] - [member="Echo Kora"] -