Derriphan
Failure
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SB2Vj1gToig
Nar Shaddaa - Headache Bar
Only in the darkest corner of the already dimly lit bar, on a table that was riddled with dirt that probably already had been there a few generations ago, Derriphan felt a sense of security. The almost equally dirty confines of his ugly flat never felt like they could keep out the hostile environment of the endless galaxy, at least not in the way some cheap booze and a bunch of more important thugs around him could. It was one of the few places where he allowed himself to pull the ski mask of his face, revealing the crooked nose and myriad on scars that contrasted to his vibrant blue eyes and perfect blonde hair.
Right besides his disgusting looking drink rested his shotgun, angled so that it could hit whoever would come close without being properly aimed. His left reached for the liquid that was meant to be clear but oddly always came out of the bottle as an opaque sludge, while his right calmly remained on the trigger of his weapon. The hand hadn't moved away from the weapon once, since he had sat down in his corner three hours and eight drinks ago, and Derriphan had no intention to change that.
It wasn't like the enforcer for hire had many enemies, or friends for that matter, nor was his name and appearance of any fame or meaning around here. Still the young mercenary had come to the conclusion that he could never be save enough that no one planned to put a bullet in his head to let his guard down. He had seen what happened to people who did, he had even done it to them in more then a few cases.
[member="Cedric Grayson"]
Nar Shaddaa - Headache Bar
Only in the darkest corner of the already dimly lit bar, on a table that was riddled with dirt that probably already had been there a few generations ago, Derriphan felt a sense of security. The almost equally dirty confines of his ugly flat never felt like they could keep out the hostile environment of the endless galaxy, at least not in the way some cheap booze and a bunch of more important thugs around him could. It was one of the few places where he allowed himself to pull the ski mask of his face, revealing the crooked nose and myriad on scars that contrasted to his vibrant blue eyes and perfect blonde hair.
Right besides his disgusting looking drink rested his shotgun, angled so that it could hit whoever would come close without being properly aimed. His left reached for the liquid that was meant to be clear but oddly always came out of the bottle as an opaque sludge, while his right calmly remained on the trigger of his weapon. The hand hadn't moved away from the weapon once, since he had sat down in his corner three hours and eight drinks ago, and Derriphan had no intention to change that.
It wasn't like the enforcer for hire had many enemies, or friends for that matter, nor was his name and appearance of any fame or meaning around here. Still the young mercenary had come to the conclusion that he could never be save enough that no one planned to put a bullet in his head to let his guard down. He had seen what happened to people who did, he had even done it to them in more then a few cases.
[member="Cedric Grayson"]