Ssallei had been on Illum for months, atoning himself to the force and carefully crafting his lightsaber. Yet it was here on Coruscant that he had gotten the parts. The force pulled him here, to this deep dark metallic dungeon he had called home for so many years. Pulling the black hood over his horns and crimson flesh he would stalk the cramped hallways of one of the deeper levels of the Ecumenopolis. Rule number one: don't draw attention to yourself, one of the many rules that kept you alive this far down and he had learned by heart. In reality it wasn't so bad down here, compared to active war-zones a little gang violence and extortion was tolerable and something he had gotten used to. As he turns a corner he finds a group of five men.. no not men, thugs, gathered in the walkway smoking and chatting. The leader of the group looks down the hallway towards Ssalei, the smoke lazily drifting upward and obscuring his face yet his piercing eyes glared straight at the lone wanderer. Soon his friends eyes would follow his and Ssalei would freeze. Walking away was an invitation to a challenge, a sign of weakness.. but Ssalei questioned if he really did need that drink or not. Taking a deep breath he'd skulk forward, keeping his head down as he pushes past the first of the five his eyes locked on their leader as he could almost feel the tension in the air. A knife, a blaster, either could find itself pressed to his ribs demanding money yet as he passes the second and then the third no metal finds his skin.
As he passes the fourth the fifth and the leader steps forward, obscuring his path. Ssalei almost turns tail but pauses, standing his ground as his eyes drift down towards the man's boots "Excuse me..." He would voice quietly, barely louder than a whisper. A few long drawn out seconds later the guy laughs, going to flick Ssalei's forehead "Jus' messin' mate. Get goin'" he'd mock as he'd press himself to the wall like his comrades and gives Ssalei a clap on the back as he continues on his way down the cramped metallic hallway. Maybe an active war-zone wasn't so bad..
The Hole in the Hull was exactly what its name suggested, a tiny little bar set up in the depths of a maze of hallways connecting dormitories to old factories to old hydroponic farms filled with nothing but dust and dirt. It was bizarre how any business could survive here especially since so few people lived at this section of Level 1313 yet when Ssalei slides past the barely functioning automatic door he's met with at least two dozen people crammed into the circular room. A dozen or so drinking at the massive circular bar tended by two barely functioning but repurposed protocol droids with the rest sitting in smaller groups at the tables surrounding the room. A dull thumping techno beat permeates the air, a kind of background noise to keep the place humming even if those here barely spoke except for the whispers at the smaller tables which were barely audible over the low thumping rhythm.
Finding his way to the bar, Ssalei would slide into the middle seat of an empty group of three. One of the droids, apparently deactivated, brightens to life, jolting and sputtering as its eyes glow and it straightens from its hunched position and walks over to him in an almost comical goose step. "G-G-Greetings! I am C9-XL! Protoc-" The droids programmed greeting sputters out and is replaced by a gruff voice in huttese "What'cha want?" Ssalei's grimaced look slowly spreads into a small comical grin, he half missed this place especially the wackjobs stealing droids from up top and putting them in places like this with no idea how to actually keep them running. "Whisky.. cheapest you got." He'd hum before the voice bursts out again "Credits first! Drink second!" Ssalei would squint before rolling his eyes and tossing a dozen or so credits onto the table that the droid scoops up and plops into a large bowl behind it and beginning to prepare his drink at a painstakingly slow pace, its jolting and twitching almost spilling the liquid all over the floor.
Adjusting his sleeves Ssalei would glance around the room at the individuals clearly not happy with his attention to them. Cheery place huh?
As he passes the fourth the fifth and the leader steps forward, obscuring his path. Ssalei almost turns tail but pauses, standing his ground as his eyes drift down towards the man's boots "Excuse me..." He would voice quietly, barely louder than a whisper. A few long drawn out seconds later the guy laughs, going to flick Ssalei's forehead "Jus' messin' mate. Get goin'" he'd mock as he'd press himself to the wall like his comrades and gives Ssalei a clap on the back as he continues on his way down the cramped metallic hallway. Maybe an active war-zone wasn't so bad..
The Hole in the Hull was exactly what its name suggested, a tiny little bar set up in the depths of a maze of hallways connecting dormitories to old factories to old hydroponic farms filled with nothing but dust and dirt. It was bizarre how any business could survive here especially since so few people lived at this section of Level 1313 yet when Ssalei slides past the barely functioning automatic door he's met with at least two dozen people crammed into the circular room. A dozen or so drinking at the massive circular bar tended by two barely functioning but repurposed protocol droids with the rest sitting in smaller groups at the tables surrounding the room. A dull thumping techno beat permeates the air, a kind of background noise to keep the place humming even if those here barely spoke except for the whispers at the smaller tables which were barely audible over the low thumping rhythm.
Finding his way to the bar, Ssalei would slide into the middle seat of an empty group of three. One of the droids, apparently deactivated, brightens to life, jolting and sputtering as its eyes glow and it straightens from its hunched position and walks over to him in an almost comical goose step. "G-G-Greetings! I am C9-XL! Protoc-" The droids programmed greeting sputters out and is replaced by a gruff voice in huttese "What'cha want?" Ssalei's grimaced look slowly spreads into a small comical grin, he half missed this place especially the wackjobs stealing droids from up top and putting them in places like this with no idea how to actually keep them running. "Whisky.. cheapest you got." He'd hum before the voice bursts out again "Credits first! Drink second!" Ssalei would squint before rolling his eyes and tossing a dozen or so credits onto the table that the droid scoops up and plops into a large bowl behind it and beginning to prepare his drink at a painstakingly slow pace, its jolting and twitching almost spilling the liquid all over the floor.
Adjusting his sleeves Ssalei would glance around the room at the individuals clearly not happy with his attention to them. Cheery place huh?
