Open Coruscant A Momentary Lapse of Reason

[Aamaw Jokolto]

Sitting on the edge of the docking platform with his legs dangling over the distant abyss of Coruscant's lower levels, Aamaw Jokolto leaned his head back as if to bask in a sunbeam that had not penetrated this deeply beneath the duracrete and plasteel towers above in generations beyond counting and let out a slow, contemplative sigh. The air was stagnant with the acrid scent of ventilation systems long overdue for maintenance, piled refuse and debris in the alleyways, and the cooking foodstuffs of the street vendors lining the walkways. Sentients of every size, shape, and color flit behind him in a bustle that never ceased, their thoughts racing with the cares and anxieties of daily life or simply numb from exhaustion of another hard days work. The sounds of city life crowded around him and the Ithorian took a moment to breath it all in.

Coruscant was alive in a way that few other places were, and while it pained Aamaw to see such a dearth of growing things in the ecumenoplis there was a certain charm and spark to the planet-city that never slept. Rising to his feet with a grunt, the Ithorian paused a moment to get his bearings before setting off in a seemingly random direction, his wooden staff leaping from its place leaning against his ship into his hand with a soft gust of displaced air. Aamaw may not know what had brought him to Coruscant, but he wasn't concerned about the diversion.

The Force would provide.

 

[Ty'kh]

Ty'kh had always loved Coruscant. What was not to like? Exquisite women from all corners of the galaxy willing to trade their virtue for a taste of adventure, politicians so preoccupied by their day-job that they were almost begging to conned out of their hard-earned credits, and museums so enticing that it would have been a crime not to help them to prune their collection, for while Ty'kh might have embraced his life has a crook, he was still a man of culture. In fact, there was an exposition of the work of one Sabine Wren – a Mandalorian-born artist that had lived nearly a century ago – that he had sworn to pass by before leaving the ecumenopolis, for anthropological research purposes.

As he wondered carelessly through the streets of the undercity, Ty felt compelled to take paths he had never walked before, abandoning the dimly lit alleyways for overpasses bathed in sunlight. Strange, he thought taking in the new sights that surrounded him. Finding himself on some docking bay, he noticed an Ithorian positioned dangerously close to the edge of a platform as though about to jump in the void below.

Perhaps fortune was smiling upon him as it had so often in the past. He had always had a knack to identify his would-be victims, to find the most gullible amongst a crowd. Always the charmer, Ty resolve to approach the stranger with a smile drawn into a hard line across his face. "Good sir, how might you be feeling today? Is there anything I could do to help you?"

@Rom

 

[Aamaw Jokolto]

Looking up from a pair of tooka gamboling around the trunks of his feet as he walked, Aamaw's eyestalks crinkled in an Ithorian smile as he regarded the young human approaching from a side street. To the tall alien's eyes the man was not much to look at; fair skinned and dark haired like many human passerby, there was nothing particularly distinguishing about him. In the Force, however, Aamaw could feel conflict and amusement and the hint of a darker greed swirling around the young human like a whirlwind.

'Well, if nothing else, it's been awhile since I was last mugged.'

Scooping up one of the Tooka and depositing it in the young man's arms without so much as a by your leave, the Ithorian picked up the mewing second creature and settled it on his shoulder, the whole motion much smoother and swifter than was typical of his species. His throats rumbled like thunder as an almost musical sequence of trills filled the air in stereo before his translator kicked in and a deep Core-accented voice began speaking in Basic.

"Good day, young one. I was just following my little friends here to their home; it seems they've several kits in need of food and the vendors are a little more canny about theft than these two are used to."

Without a word of explanation as to how he knew about the creatures situation, the Ithorian set off into the crowd with a speed unnerving for such a large frame. With the tapping of his staff against the duracrete leading the way, Aamaw paused only a moment to exchange a handful of wupiupi for an aquatic looking creature dangling from a hook with a Theelin vendor before resuming his long strides down the thoroughfare, confident that the human was still following behind him.

@Aberforth

 

[Ty'kh]

Having had no time to voice any opinion on the matter, Ty awkwardly accepted the furry little creature he had been handed. Unsatisfied with its new perching arrangement, the Tooka rapidly clawed its way through the scoundrel's leather jacket and climbed to the top of his head. Dumbfounded, he started to regret having approached the stranger in the first place. You really couldn't help yourself, could you? You just had to find to the most mentally unstable alien on this entire platform, he scolded himself.

Resolving that all might not be lost and that might yet find a way to turn the situation to his advantage, he followed suit when the Ithorian promptly departed in direction of a nearby stall. His head heavy with the added weight of the feline, Ty'kh struggled to keep it in balance as they sprinted. The stranger proved to bed surprisingly nimbler than he looked and once he had cached up to him, Ty realized that he was panting. Inhaling profoundly to recalibrate his oxygen levels, he noticed that the Tooka seemed to be interestedly humming the pungent aroma that was emanating from the object of the trade between the Ithorian and the vendor.

Only had Ty just caught his breath, as his companion had finished doing business with the merchant, that they were once again dashing through the busy market streets. "Hey! Mind telling me where we are going?" he cried out struggling to keep pace with the Ithorian.

@Rom

 

[Pidge Batana]

It had been a rather unsuccessful day for Pidge. She just needed work. She counted her credits as she weaved throughout the stalls. Keeping her head down meant she was more likely to avoid trouble. Yesterday, she had gotten into a fight when someone had tried to mug her and steal her few credits. She left shaken, bloodied, and terrified. Yet here she was, again, just here to buy bandages for her father and look for work. I might be stuck treating hungover cantina goers forever, she thought. Well, not if she could help it.
Pidge jumped as a human with some sort of creature perched precariously on top of his shoulders raced by. Unusual behavior for the marketplace. Unless he was running away from something... Well this could be interesting. Information sells and I might just find some buyers. I sure need something to get enough credits to repair L4D. Pidge, lifting her cowl so it obscured her face, began to follow the man. She kept losing him in the crowd, but every so often, she would spot the perched feline. Eventually, panting slightly and trying not to blow her cover, she closed in on him, only a few meters behind. What was he so eager to get away from or... where was he going?
Pidge chided herself as sho took in her surrounding. In the heat of the impromptu chase, she had gotten herself lost, somewhere on the other side of the marketplace. The throngs of people behind her moved like a nauseating holovid of an ocean. She was adrift in the vast sea of Coruscant.
@Aberforth @Rom