Private A Night on Nar Shaddaa

[Balun Dashiell]

In the dimly lit streets where Balun wandered, darkness waged a futile battle against the brilliant luminosity emanating from nightclubs, storefronts, and various establishments, each exuding its own distinct allure. At the tender age of sixteen, Balun remained largely uninitiated in the myriad experiences that awaited him within these bustling thoroughfares. Like any adolescent, he found an irresistible allure in the prospect of exploring a world steeped in shades of criminality, where individuals skirted the boundaries of legality in pursuit of easy gains.

What adventures lay in wait? What forbidden realms could Balun dare to tread, where the norms of law-abiding societies held little sway? Within the sprawling expanse of this metropolitan labyrinth, teeming with its enigmatic charm, lay a tapestry woven with countless untold tales and mysteries yet to unfold.

Solitary amidst the throngs of bustling pedestrians, Balun navigated the lively street, occasionally weaving his way through the boisterous crowds. Among them, some were visibly under the influence of intoxicants, whether from synthohol or unfamiliar substances foreign to the sheltered confines of Balun's upbringing within the New Jedi Order on Coruscant. His gaze darted incessantly in all directions, flitting from the diverse array of beings—alien and humanoid alike—to the kaleidoscopic array of signage that adorned the thoroughfare, their luminosity threatening to overwhelm his senses and obscure his path forward.

Contemplating his next move, Balun pondered which establishment held the greatest allure for him. The notion of indulging in a drink that would surely elicit disapproval from his former mentors in the Jedi Order brought a mischievous smirk to his lips. Balun was not one to adhere blindly to the rules set forth by others; in his eyes, who were they to dictate the course of his existence? He believed in learning and evolving through firsthand experiences in the tangible world, liberated from the stringent scrutiny of the Jedi.

Perhaps his instinctive rebellion against authority figures stemmed from a lingering sense of resentment—whether directed towards the absent parents who had callously relinquished him to the Jedi or towards a society that had imposed its expectations upon him without regard for his autonomy. Or perhaps it was simply a manifestation of his inherently independent, free-spirited nature—a determination to seize control of his own destiny. These introspective musings spawned a torrent of unanswered questions, the kind that plagued his restless nights, yet Balun preferred to relegate them to the depths of his subconscious, lest they disrupt his equilibrium.

So forward he went, placing his past behind him, determined to let it die in obscurity.

Olorion Fossk

 

[Olorion Fossk]

Nar Shaddaa was a planet known for its criminal element. One in which I intended to use to its fullest capacity. The premise of building a network of individuals who would be able to be under my command was one of the many things a Sith Lord would perform. As such, to prove such worth to my illustrious father, I would start small, and work my way up. Openly, I was not Sith. Instead, I decorated myself as just another Mercenary. Wearing a simple body glove with clothing over the top. A pistol on my hip held by a holster. Yet my saber was hidden on my body. Should I need it, I had it. However, It would more likely be use as a last resort.

Currently though, I handed credits to this Captain. He was part of a group of individuals who were seeking to work for someone. Just finding any kind of job. Hence payment for him retrieving a Holocron for me.

"As I said, I'd pay you the rest after you produced the holobook I required."
"Well that's what I doing."
"Were you?"

The Holobook opened up to just be a listing of various documentations that was not what I requested. The man either got the wrong one, or was attempting to deceive me.

"This is not what I paid you for. The Holobook I requested was that of The Empress. This is not it."

Holding onto the holobook, the Captain was sputtering about thinking it was the right one. Trying to provide some kind of idea that he wasn't swindling me. Shaking my head, My off hand reached out and held him in place. The force suspending him in stasis.

"I paid you to get what I required. I will give you a chance to rectify this mistake. Get the right one. Payment will be deducted from you for failing to procure the correct objective. If you do not follow through as per our agreement, You will sorely regret the consequences."

He couldn't speak. Holding his mouth shut. Looking to his other men who were frozen just as much as he was, I looked to them.

"If one of you should fulfill this contract instead of your captain, I shall reward you instead."

Releasing the man, I turned around starting to head out of the spaceport dock when I heard a weapon raised at me. Stopping in place, I looked over my shoulder.

"You don't get to humiliate me and just walk away."
"I'll do it again. Pull the trigger. I beseech you to. Gives me an excuse to kill you in self defense."

The man thought for a moment before he lowered his weapon and put it away. Walking completely out of the dock, the door closing behind me. I readjusted my clothing. Really wishing I did not have to do such things to potential employees. Shaking my head, I began to walk away from the port. Heading further into the urban swamp of the despot planet. Looking for another mark to employ.

Balun Dashiell

 

[Balun Dashiell]

Balun had barely ventured beyond the transport depot when a ripple in the Force stirred his senses, beckoning his attention from somewhere nearby. An ethereal tremor, subtle yet undeniable, compelled the young traveller to pivot on his heels, casting his gaze back toward the hangar where he had parted with his credits in exchange for passage to Nar Shaddaa. But this sensation wasn't the benign aura of a civilian; instead, it bore the weight of dominance, suffused with a palpable darkness that felt distinctly foreign amidst the currents of the Force as he had known them within the hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

Balun dashed forward on sheer instinct, driven by an innate compulsion to lend aid. His concern for another eclipsed any regard for his own safety. As he approached the threshold of the spaceport corridor, which would open into the expansive hangar, he eased his pace to a cautious stride, pressing himself against the nearby wall to stealthily observe the unfolding scene between the freighter crew and the ominous newcomer.

A dark figure loomed beside the crewmen, cloaked in an aura as foreboding as his attire. Though Balun couldn't discern the details of their conversation, the pilot's evident distress and the threat hanging palpably in the air left no doubt that this encounter was far from friendly.

Driven by either valour or foolhardiness, Balun ventured closer, feigning ignorance of the tension as he addressed the pilot with practised nonchalance. "Hey man, I think I left something aboard. Mind if I quickly go grab it?" His words were deliberately projected, ensuring both parties were aware of his approach, a subtle gesture to forestall any rash actions by the aggressor and to offer solace to the beleaguered pilot, potentially averting a tragic outcome.

As Olorion Fossk had already begun his departure, the two opposing figures would pass one another. Olorion, being of greater skill and experience, would notice the youths careful gaze as they briefly brushed the other by, yet Balun would busy himself for a time, not so foolhardy as to directly follow in the wake of such a display but instead give pause before his inevitable tail of the Sith Lord.

Olorion Fossk