- Joined
- Dec 21, 2013
- Messages
- 47
- Reaction score
- 0
The city moon was buzzing with activity like always. A bar fight there, a shakedown there, a woman's scream in that alley, blood pooling out of that one, all under the guise of rampant pollution and the constant wizz of speeders going by.
This was the Galaxy's breeding ground for crime. The lower levels of Coruscant may as well be Naboo compared to Nar Shadaa.
The only laws in this place were ones against the Hutts, which aren't so easy to come by, if you're careful.
This place was a playground for all the filth of the galaxy.
Perfect, all completely, absolutely perfect.
But where to start?
N'ghftor stood outside of the spaceport, surveying the present neighborhood. A street full of shady characters and buildings ranging from decent to practically run-down. Of course, one building stood out in particular; The Aurodium Acklay, more of a club than a Cantina, but it would do. Any hangout on this planet probably had some kind of Cartel ties, and Cartel meant bounties. The Cyborg stepped in, hands in pockets, head down. He didn't have much experience to speak of, but he didn't remember Cyborgs being treated with much tolerance, but perhaps here things were different? It didn't matter much if he could factor a hot vibroknife into the situation, and preferably, into someone's ribs.
The club was loud, shaking with that strange outer rim music, a pop-y type of music that only Hutts enjoyed. The club was typical of a place like Nar Shadaa. Twi'leks and other scantily-clad female creatures danced against poles, or as backup for the band on stage, and most notably, busy with the bouncers, an overweight Gamorean and a very scarred Trandoshan. This presented N'ghftor an opportunity to step in while armed. Which he proceeded to do unseen by the occupied aliens.
One could easily pick out an individual in this club. Employees dressed like thugs who didn't want to be seen, but didn't seem to count in their female companions in that regard. Guests dressed in gaudy fashions, a mix between the latest trends from Coruscant and the usual trash Outer Rimmers wear. Offworlders, like N'ghftor, were likely the most obvious of characters.
N'ghftor stepped up to the bar, sitting a couple of seats to the left of the bar tender, a young Besalisk woman, and to the right of a Wookie and his Zabrak companion.
"What can I get'chya honey?" The barkeep asked in Huttese, using two of her hands to wash a glass behind her back and placing the other two on the counter.
"Sullustan Gin. " N'ghftor requested briefly, transferring over a couple of credits.
The besalisk placed his drink on the counter with a pretty smile, or a smile as pretty as Besalisk's got, and turned to her other customers. N'ghftor took the bitter drink, and sipped casually, making himself aware of his surroundings, classifying individuals of note, and contemplating his next move...
This was the Galaxy's breeding ground for crime. The lower levels of Coruscant may as well be Naboo compared to Nar Shadaa.
The only laws in this place were ones against the Hutts, which aren't so easy to come by, if you're careful.
This place was a playground for all the filth of the galaxy.
Perfect, all completely, absolutely perfect.
But where to start?
N'ghftor stood outside of the spaceport, surveying the present neighborhood. A street full of shady characters and buildings ranging from decent to practically run-down. Of course, one building stood out in particular; The Aurodium Acklay, more of a club than a Cantina, but it would do. Any hangout on this planet probably had some kind of Cartel ties, and Cartel meant bounties. The Cyborg stepped in, hands in pockets, head down. He didn't have much experience to speak of, but he didn't remember Cyborgs being treated with much tolerance, but perhaps here things were different? It didn't matter much if he could factor a hot vibroknife into the situation, and preferably, into someone's ribs.
The club was loud, shaking with that strange outer rim music, a pop-y type of music that only Hutts enjoyed. The club was typical of a place like Nar Shadaa. Twi'leks and other scantily-clad female creatures danced against poles, or as backup for the band on stage, and most notably, busy with the bouncers, an overweight Gamorean and a very scarred Trandoshan. This presented N'ghftor an opportunity to step in while armed. Which he proceeded to do unseen by the occupied aliens.
One could easily pick out an individual in this club. Employees dressed like thugs who didn't want to be seen, but didn't seem to count in their female companions in that regard. Guests dressed in gaudy fashions, a mix between the latest trends from Coruscant and the usual trash Outer Rimmers wear. Offworlders, like N'ghftor, were likely the most obvious of characters.
N'ghftor stepped up to the bar, sitting a couple of seats to the left of the bar tender, a young Besalisk woman, and to the right of a Wookie and his Zabrak companion.
"What can I get'chya honey?" The barkeep asked in Huttese, using two of her hands to wash a glass behind her back and placing the other two on the counter.
"Sullustan Gin. " N'ghftor requested briefly, transferring over a couple of credits.
The besalisk placed his drink on the counter with a pretty smile, or a smile as pretty as Besalisk's got, and turned to her other customers. N'ghftor took the bitter drink, and sipped casually, making himself aware of his surroundings, classifying individuals of note, and contemplating his next move...