Corvus Raaf
Adieu...
Corvus Raaf walked quickly through the packed streets of Nar Shaddaa’s Promenade. her unassuming features – pale skin, brown hair, average build – allowed her to blend easily into the crowd, despite the Jedi cloak. For anonymity was popular here, so hooded cloaks were ten a credit ship. Her violet eyes were her most recognisable feature, but given the gloomy lighting, they did not draw unwarranted attention.
The moon was controlled by Hutts – regardless of which government claimed ownership and was a landscape of unfettered urban sprawl, marked by towering skytowers crammed too close together and gaudy, glowing billboards that dominated the horizon as far as the eye could see in every direction. Sometimes called Little Coruscant, it was hard to accept Nar Shaddaa as a true homage to Corvus’ home world; in Corvus’ eyes it was more akin to a grotesque parody.
Coruscant had been designed with an eye to aesthetics: there was a pleasing flow to the cityscape and a consistent and complementary style to the architecture. The city was carefully divided into various districts, making it easy to navigate. The pedestrian walks were crowded but clean, the endless stream of airspeeders overhead stayed within the designated traffic lanes. On Coruscant, there had been an unmistakable sense of order and purpose.
Here on the Smugglers’ Moon, however, it was a glorious free-for-all. Run-down residential buildings were scattered haphazardly among seedy-looking commercial structures; factories abutted restaurants and clubs, with no regard for the toxic clouds of filth spilling out over the patrons. With no traffic rules in force, airspeeders and swoop bikes darted and dived in seemingly random directions, sometimes flying so low the pedestrians ducked and covered their heads.
As Corvus turned a corner, she realized someone was following her. She hadn’t actually seen anyone on her tail, but she could sense it. She could feel eyes watching her, scoping her out, measuring her as a target.
Even though her conscious mind was distracted by the details of her coming mission, her subconscious one had been alerted by the Force that had instinctively picked up on something that had triggered alarms in her head. She knew better than to ignore them. Careful not to break stride, turn her head, or do anything else that might tip off her pursuer, Corvus used her peripheral vision to scan the area.
At street level, everything was a chaotic mishmash of bright, flashing colours. A constant assault from an army of pink, purple, green, and blue signs and billboards provided perfect camouflage for whoever might be following her. Fortunately the intensity of the inescapable neon was muted by the layer of grime that clung to every surface – a reminder of the unchecked pollution in the atmosphere that would eventually transform Nar Shaddaa into an uninhabitable wasteland.
It wasn’t easy to pick someone who looked suspicious out from the crowd. The population of the Smugglers’ Moon was as varied, unpredictable, and seedy as the surroundings. It was a common gathering place for criminal elements from all corners of the galaxy: Black Sun slavers, Rodian pickpockets, Twi’lek hustlers, Chevin stim dealers. Any and all illicit activities were tolerated on Nar Shaddaa, provided the Hutts got their cut. The government be damned.
Still, there were those too greedy or stupid to cut the Hutts in on their action. When that happened there were consequences. Things got messy.
[member="Ulgra"]
