Amun Seti had travelled to Mos Espa. The planet was deep within Independent Systems Consortium space but now seemed to belong to the Hutt Cartel. The situation that led to that was probably deeply intriguing but utterly unimportant to the Sith Acolyte turned Merc. Instead he was here looking for one thing. Well, two things. Opportunity and Credits.
The deal he had with Acklay put him in debt and he wanted to pay it off quick. He'd rather not spend years in indentured servitude to the Crimson Dawn slicer. A few other slicers on Omega had pointed him in the direction of Tatooine and the... insert bodily function here amphibious animal drinking establishment. He wished he could remember the name of the place but the slicer had been well into his cups by the time he told Amun where to go. The Crimson Dawn had lots of opportunities of their own, but as a Sith he found their pace to be glacial. He hated sitting around, waiting to be shepherded into more credits, wondering if it was on purpose to keep himself in servitude longer.
He was a seeker.
So he had come to Tatooine, seeking. He wore dark fatigues and long sleeves, a cap that covered his black hair and a mask over his lower face as he walked around the dusty city of Mos Espa. Blaster on his hip, a vibrosword slung across his back, and several knives visible and not. A blast vest encased his torso, protecting the most vital spots, and he wore dueling gloves lined with phrik. He hadn't come looking for a fight though, just a job. Of course, fighting usually came along with the job these days.
By the time he found the place it was only through a gentle regulation of his body temperature through the force that he wasn't dripping sweat. Belching Frog Saloon, that was the name. Stepping into the place, he was thankful as a draft of cool air hit him. Tugging his mask down off his face, he stepped up to the bar. It took a moment for the bartender to look his way and when he did, the man raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't you a bit young to be... sporting all that?" The man gestured to the gear that Amun wore. Amun frowned. He didn't look that young. Did he? Ever since the Crimson Dawn had messed around with his face to fool any recognition programs that might hold his old features he had been getting that more often. He ignored the comment, instead taking a stool at the bar and looking at the man.
"I'm looking for a drink... and a job." He said, glancing around. "Heard this was somewhere a man could make a few credits." Or more than a few if everything worked out well.
@Eccles
The deal he had with Acklay put him in debt and he wanted to pay it off quick. He'd rather not spend years in indentured servitude to the Crimson Dawn slicer. A few other slicers on Omega had pointed him in the direction of Tatooine and the... insert bodily function here amphibious animal drinking establishment. He wished he could remember the name of the place but the slicer had been well into his cups by the time he told Amun where to go. The Crimson Dawn had lots of opportunities of their own, but as a Sith he found their pace to be glacial. He hated sitting around, waiting to be shepherded into more credits, wondering if it was on purpose to keep himself in servitude longer.
He was a seeker.
So he had come to Tatooine, seeking. He wore dark fatigues and long sleeves, a cap that covered his black hair and a mask over his lower face as he walked around the dusty city of Mos Espa. Blaster on his hip, a vibrosword slung across his back, and several knives visible and not. A blast vest encased his torso, protecting the most vital spots, and he wore dueling gloves lined with phrik. He hadn't come looking for a fight though, just a job. Of course, fighting usually came along with the job these days.
By the time he found the place it was only through a gentle regulation of his body temperature through the force that he wasn't dripping sweat. Belching Frog Saloon, that was the name. Stepping into the place, he was thankful as a draft of cool air hit him. Tugging his mask down off his face, he stepped up to the bar. It took a moment for the bartender to look his way and when he did, the man raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't you a bit young to be... sporting all that?" The man gestured to the gear that Amun wore. Amun frowned. He didn't look that young. Did he? Ever since the Crimson Dawn had messed around with his face to fool any recognition programs that might hold his old features he had been getting that more often. He ignored the comment, instead taking a stool at the bar and looking at the man.
"I'm looking for a drink... and a job." He said, glancing around. "Heard this was somewhere a man could make a few credits." Or more than a few if everything worked out well.
@Eccles