Myles Velum
Wannabe Han Solo v.2
music:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6120QOlsfU
The Smuggler's Moon.
It was almost like a second home for Myles. Well, not really. He just found himself caught up in that urban mess of a moon so often he almost lived there half the time. Quite frankly, it was shady, crime-ridden, and one of the dirtiest places in the galaxy. Dirty, in both ways. It may seem like this is the perfect place for a person like Myles. But he held himself up to a higher standard, as if he were somehow above the people who did the exact same things he did. Maybe it was because he did it better. Or maybe it was because he thought himself to be just and right, despite his past deeds and actions. Perhaps he was simply no different from the rest of the scumbags in this galaxy.
"U wamma wonka wa jakola see moulee rah, Spacer..."
Ah, Ogo... Ogo the Hutt. One of the many Hutt crimelords infesting this galaxy like a cancer. A large portion of them liked to huddle up around Nar Shaddaa, like a bundle of maggots feasting on the rotting corpse of a womp rat. Given, he was one of the smaller bosses around these parts, but he still held power. His main spot, 'The Velvet Underground', was like any other typical Red Light District club. Except it was slightly more grotesque than the others. That was where this meeting was taking place, in the back room with muffled music blaring in the background.
"He says that you owe him a considerable amount of money." repeated a robotic voice coming from the Hutt's protocol droid.
"Uba chespo uhobaw cay mah yanee che bom bom janse!"
"You have been meddling with his affairs for much too long..."
If there were two things that didn't mix in this galaxy, they'd be Myles and the Hutts. There was something about the Hutt's business model that Myles just didn't exactly like... One would suppose that was the cause for several of his raids on Hutt shipments, crashing deals, the works. There was a deeper underlying cause for his distaste for the Hutts, one that only Myles would understand. He just assumed they had their reasons too.
"We've been over this too many times, Ogo..."
"An hocan uba bancaie mewipa bai wamma mee uiuba, Spacer!"
"He says that even after so many second chances, you have neglected to pay your debts time and time again!"
"Yeah, whatever, Lard-sack Prime... Take your debts and-"
He was interrupted by the Hutt's sudden rage and shouting in Huttese. What followed was an exchange in which the protocol droid struggled to translate each of the Hutt's lines.
"Y-You have deeply angered sir Ogo! I am afraid he is much displeased with your disrespect-"
"Doh jen bantanh!"
"O-Oh dear..."
An expression of short confusion took over Myles' previously lax demeanor. Before he could say anything or react, a intense blunt force collided with the rear of his skull, sending him crashing to the floor. His vision blurred. His mind was a haze. At some point, he fell numb. It was hard to tell how long it lasted, but the beating he took was something as bad as a ship crash. He could hear some of his ribs cracking, but it the sounds were louder than his numbed pain. He could taste the blood in his mouth, even smell it dripping from his nostrils. And then, black-
The music kept playing.
[member="Dinah Vekarr"]
NAR SHADDAA
RED LIGHT DISTRICT
'The Velvet Underground'
The Smuggler's Moon.
It was almost like a second home for Myles. Well, not really. He just found himself caught up in that urban mess of a moon so often he almost lived there half the time. Quite frankly, it was shady, crime-ridden, and one of the dirtiest places in the galaxy. Dirty, in both ways. It may seem like this is the perfect place for a person like Myles. But he held himself up to a higher standard, as if he were somehow above the people who did the exact same things he did. Maybe it was because he did it better. Or maybe it was because he thought himself to be just and right, despite his past deeds and actions. Perhaps he was simply no different from the rest of the scumbags in this galaxy.
"U wamma wonka wa jakola see moulee rah, Spacer..."
Ah, Ogo... Ogo the Hutt. One of the many Hutt crimelords infesting this galaxy like a cancer. A large portion of them liked to huddle up around Nar Shaddaa, like a bundle of maggots feasting on the rotting corpse of a womp rat. Given, he was one of the smaller bosses around these parts, but he still held power. His main spot, 'The Velvet Underground', was like any other typical Red Light District club. Except it was slightly more grotesque than the others. That was where this meeting was taking place, in the back room with muffled music blaring in the background.
"He says that you owe him a considerable amount of money." repeated a robotic voice coming from the Hutt's protocol droid.
"Uba chespo uhobaw cay mah yanee che bom bom janse!"
"You have been meddling with his affairs for much too long..."
If there were two things that didn't mix in this galaxy, they'd be Myles and the Hutts. There was something about the Hutt's business model that Myles just didn't exactly like... One would suppose that was the cause for several of his raids on Hutt shipments, crashing deals, the works. There was a deeper underlying cause for his distaste for the Hutts, one that only Myles would understand. He just assumed they had their reasons too.
"We've been over this too many times, Ogo..."
"An hocan uba bancaie mewipa bai wamma mee uiuba, Spacer!"
"He says that even after so many second chances, you have neglected to pay your debts time and time again!"
"Yeah, whatever, Lard-sack Prime... Take your debts and-"
He was interrupted by the Hutt's sudden rage and shouting in Huttese. What followed was an exchange in which the protocol droid struggled to translate each of the Hutt's lines.
"Y-You have deeply angered sir Ogo! I am afraid he is much displeased with your disrespect-"
"Doh jen bantanh!"
"O-Oh dear..."
An expression of short confusion took over Myles' previously lax demeanor. Before he could say anything or react, a intense blunt force collided with the rear of his skull, sending him crashing to the floor. His vision blurred. His mind was a haze. At some point, he fell numb. It was hard to tell how long it lasted, but the beating he took was something as bad as a ship crash. He could hear some of his ribs cracking, but it the sounds were louder than his numbed pain. He could taste the blood in his mouth, even smell it dripping from his nostrils. And then, black-
The music kept playing.
[member="Dinah Vekarr"]
