Indarkestknight
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Sep 21, 2008
- Posts
- 245
Coruscant, 11:20 Hours
Imperial Center, or Coruscant, as any but the diehard imps would always think of it, was a built planet. Not in the literal sense. No one had laid the core of the world by hand, and there had certainly been a natural terrain there at some point; but whatever had once been natural and organic was now a technological metropolis. The entire surface was surmounted by buildings stacked one on top of another, to such dizzying heights that made the actual landscape of the planet impossible to determine.
As he made landfall, or skyfall in his case, Drax Ragnos found himself wondering what sort of planet it had been. Maybe a gas giant, whose outer atmosphere had been turned into fuel? A water world, whose lifeblood had fueled a thousand year republic? It was difficult to say, and honestly outside of his interest to determine. As far as he could tell, it might as well have been a sandtrap, like his previous port of call, a little known planet called Tattooine, famous for nothing, except one rather notorious employer, under whose contract he now operated.
Jabba was a slimy, double crossing, lascivious slug, and that was putting his traits in their best light, in that order. But, as his father had always told him, the credits still spent the same.
Jabba, crime lord that he was, had commissioned Drax for a very simple objective, the elimination, without mercy, or a rival crime cartel that was moving in on his turf on the outer realm. That was a simple enough objective, albeit with a higher than average body count. The issue came in with where the target was located. Killing anyone this close to the core worlds was a tricky business, and it was further complicated by the fact that the cartel in question had imperial protection. Jabba had even theorized, in their brief discussion, that they might be backed by their expansion plans by a high ranking imperial.
That made things a whole lot more complicated. As a result, Drax wasn't going to go anywhere guns blazing, and he had instead opted for a more measured approach. Which is why his body armor and tactical weapons were stored away in a locker, and why he only had a small holdout on his person. Short of these items, he was dressed in standard spacer wear. Just a pair of black slacks, his duster, gray shirt, and a pair of worn leather boots. With his shorn head, and close cropped goatee he could easily pass himself off as what he was presenting himself as, a trader working potential clients on the core world.
It wasn't a perfect cover, but it got him through customs, and onto the planet. From there it only took a short shuttle ride, and he was here, darker underbelly of Coruscant. He dropped off his case at the cheap lodgings he had procured, and then made a beeline for the local cantina; planning on taking in the local color, and looking for a line on this rival cartel, the Red Star Ring.
Maybe for once he could get the information he needed without killing anyone.
Imperial Center, or Coruscant, as any but the diehard imps would always think of it, was a built planet. Not in the literal sense. No one had laid the core of the world by hand, and there had certainly been a natural terrain there at some point; but whatever had once been natural and organic was now a technological metropolis. The entire surface was surmounted by buildings stacked one on top of another, to such dizzying heights that made the actual landscape of the planet impossible to determine.
As he made landfall, or skyfall in his case, Drax Ragnos found himself wondering what sort of planet it had been. Maybe a gas giant, whose outer atmosphere had been turned into fuel? A water world, whose lifeblood had fueled a thousand year republic? It was difficult to say, and honestly outside of his interest to determine. As far as he could tell, it might as well have been a sandtrap, like his previous port of call, a little known planet called Tattooine, famous for nothing, except one rather notorious employer, under whose contract he now operated.
Jabba was a slimy, double crossing, lascivious slug, and that was putting his traits in their best light, in that order. But, as his father had always told him, the credits still spent the same.
Jabba, crime lord that he was, had commissioned Drax for a very simple objective, the elimination, without mercy, or a rival crime cartel that was moving in on his turf on the outer realm. That was a simple enough objective, albeit with a higher than average body count. The issue came in with where the target was located. Killing anyone this close to the core worlds was a tricky business, and it was further complicated by the fact that the cartel in question had imperial protection. Jabba had even theorized, in their brief discussion, that they might be backed by their expansion plans by a high ranking imperial.
That made things a whole lot more complicated. As a result, Drax wasn't going to go anywhere guns blazing, and he had instead opted for a more measured approach. Which is why his body armor and tactical weapons were stored away in a locker, and why he only had a small holdout on his person. Short of these items, he was dressed in standard spacer wear. Just a pair of black slacks, his duster, gray shirt, and a pair of worn leather boots. With his shorn head, and close cropped goatee he could easily pass himself off as what he was presenting himself as, a trader working potential clients on the core world.
It wasn't a perfect cover, but it got him through customs, and onto the planet. From there it only took a short shuttle ride, and he was here, darker underbelly of Coruscant. He dropped off his case at the cheap lodgings he had procured, and then made a beeline for the local cantina; planning on taking in the local color, and looking for a line on this rival cartel, the Red Star Ring.
Maybe for once he could get the information he needed without killing anyone.
