Z
Zor
Guest
SWRP Writer
Rank
Zor's modest office was located in Lower Coruscant, a place for which he felt a profound disdain. Despite his contempt however, maintaining the appearance of closeness with the populace of the undercity whom he had professed to serve as a testament to his faith was of prime importance. His entire public persona rested on the idea that he stood apart from the corrupted Coruscanti elite.
Comprised of a seemingly endless network of tunnels and debris of buildings from a bygone era, the underlevels of the ecumenopolis represented a mixture of ancient and forgotten ruins from the planet's prehistory on top of which modern-looking, crime-ridden venues, clubs, and overcrowded apartment complexes had been build haphazardly. There had been no grand design to lay out the placement of the civil constructs leading to a form of organized chaos that gave way to an endless maze plunging into the depts of the planetary core.
The headquarters of Pius Dea could be found inside the converted ruins of a partially restored obsolete Jedi alcove that had been purged from all its blasphemous content and re-sanctified in the name of the Goddess. The small cathedral stood between a dreary cantina and an industrialized supersized trash compactor that seemed to have fallen in a state of disrepair given the putrid miasma that emanated from it and clung to the surrounding air.
Despite its outward appearance, the interior of the sanctuary looked pristine, almost regal. A radiance shone through the vault of the sanctum where a crystalline construct reminiscent of a chandelier seemed to reflect and amplify the rare rays of lights that permeated through the undercity giving the immaculate white walls an ethereal luster. An aurodium-treaded carpeting led the way from the entrance to the apse where the administrative offices were located.
Zor's office was small but serviceable. Furniture made from the wood of Wroshyr trees imported from Kashyyyk contrasted the minimally decorated monochromatic room. Everything appeared to have been arranged and ordered in a very deliberate way, for the Patriarch would not tolerate it otherwise. There were no personal memorabilia laid anywhere, no greenery of any kind; simply a desk parting two identical chairs facing one another in perfect symmetry.
As he sat across from his ajar office door waiting for the brilliant tech tycoon he hoped would become his new business partner, Zor reflected on the consequences of the great wealth disparities that afflicted most of the Core Worlds. When credits are focused into the hands of a few, when they are easier to gain by criminal means, when money is power, sentient beings devolve to their more primordial instincts, he sighed as he noticed a Duracrete slug outside slowly making its way across the metallic pavement through the panoramic window to his right.
@The Good Doctor
OCC: Sorry for the long post, I got carried away since I had not written in such a long time. I'll rectify that on my next post
Comprised of a seemingly endless network of tunnels and debris of buildings from a bygone era, the underlevels of the ecumenopolis represented a mixture of ancient and forgotten ruins from the planet's prehistory on top of which modern-looking, crime-ridden venues, clubs, and overcrowded apartment complexes had been build haphazardly. There had been no grand design to lay out the placement of the civil constructs leading to a form of organized chaos that gave way to an endless maze plunging into the depts of the planetary core.
The headquarters of Pius Dea could be found inside the converted ruins of a partially restored obsolete Jedi alcove that had been purged from all its blasphemous content and re-sanctified in the name of the Goddess. The small cathedral stood between a dreary cantina and an industrialized supersized trash compactor that seemed to have fallen in a state of disrepair given the putrid miasma that emanated from it and clung to the surrounding air.
Despite its outward appearance, the interior of the sanctuary looked pristine, almost regal. A radiance shone through the vault of the sanctum where a crystalline construct reminiscent of a chandelier seemed to reflect and amplify the rare rays of lights that permeated through the undercity giving the immaculate white walls an ethereal luster. An aurodium-treaded carpeting led the way from the entrance to the apse where the administrative offices were located.
Zor's office was small but serviceable. Furniture made from the wood of Wroshyr trees imported from Kashyyyk contrasted the minimally decorated monochromatic room. Everything appeared to have been arranged and ordered in a very deliberate way, for the Patriarch would not tolerate it otherwise. There were no personal memorabilia laid anywhere, no greenery of any kind; simply a desk parting two identical chairs facing one another in perfect symmetry.
As he sat across from his ajar office door waiting for the brilliant tech tycoon he hoped would become his new business partner, Zor reflected on the consequences of the great wealth disparities that afflicted most of the Core Worlds. When credits are focused into the hands of a few, when they are easier to gain by criminal means, when money is power, sentient beings devolve to their more primordial instincts, he sighed as he noticed a Duracrete slug outside slowly making its way across the metallic pavement through the panoramic window to his right.
@The Good Doctor
OCC: Sorry for the long post, I got carried away since I had not written in such a long time. I'll rectify that on my next post