Taris was one of the galaxies most renowned ecumenopolis’. Ruled by oppressive oligarchs for generations, the Tarisian landscape carried many of the hallmarks of the oppressed. The upper city was a paradise of the wealthy while the lower city wallowed in crime-soaked poverty. Not much had changed with Sith Rule. The Oligarchs had surrendered to Darth Stolas in an effort to save their skins. It had worked and allowed them to maintain the status quo. For now. Unhappiness had been brewing before the capitulation and that sentiment had only grown. It was time to capitalize on that sentiment.
Caris had taken his non-de script shuttle from Ifrane to Coruscant. His transponder a civillian transport vessel. Once on Coruscant, he landed in the lower city to slowly make his way to Taris. If you were smart, you could take mostly public transportation into the planetwide city. A few entrepreneurs still crossed galactic battle lines. Caris considered himself smart enough. He had arrived in the bowels of Taris two days ago. The worst sections of the undercity were poorly monitored and poorly maintained. Just for what he was looking. His dark robes carefully concealed his body with his mask in a pocket. He presently wore an ordinary black clothe mask with his saber hidden in the sleeve. Caris’ yellow blade left at home…the corrupted Sith saber riding with him. He shut out the constant pulse of Darkness. It was a tool. Nothing more.
His mental walls remained high, and his signature suppressed. He was supposed to meet his partner today so that they could entertain some of the local rebel leaders. The Shadow made his way quickly to the seedy undercity bar designated as their meeting place. He took a seat with his back to the wall so that he could watch the entrance. Caris waved over a waitress to order whatever awful ale they had on tap. Piss water soon arrived. He waited.
@Logan