Venris Helion
Forming my own path
Nar Shadda, the Smuggler's Moon, the Vertical City, Little Coruscant...
That last title might be why Venris found it about as appealing as his actual home world. Towering spires all over, alleys choked with garbage, disease and death enough to make most unseasoned newcomers topple over and throw up...which usually gives some mugger the chance to knock them out and slice out an organ or two to sell. In the years since he had first visited this wretched moon with his deceased master Venris had learned how to avoid grabbing the attention of the average local, something that had come in handy throughout the majority of his life.
Unfortunately from time to time there'd be somebody who he couldn't use a mind trick on, somebody who might have friends with him who attack while his back is turned...he had to give credit where it was due to quite a few of these individuals: they were persistent and surprisingly organized in how they went about trying to mug a single target whenever they were in groups. But then again to survive on this place you usually had to either be one tough or laser brained moron, or operate in a pack and pray a bigger pack didn't pick you apart.
That's not to say the place didn't have its bright sides or even somewhat safe places, such as the club where Venris had chosen to hide himself in after an encounter with one such pack that he had a bit of history with. The leader, a Trandoshan, had been an acquaintance of his at one point and even worked alongside him on a few jobs before things went sour. To make a long story short somebody betrayed somebody else, a hand was cut off, and it hadn't been Venris'. Needless to say the Trandoshan had been all too happy to see Venris and had brought a few friends once he'd discovered the young human had landed on Nar Shadda-as stated before, surprisingly well organized and informed.
Words were exchanged, threats were made, and in the end somebody had lost their head.
And again, obviously, it hadn't been Venris.
With one more old acquaintance now feeding a civilization of maggots at the bottom of a trash chute, Venris had decided to lay low for a bit and let the Trandoshan's pals tire themselves out looking for him before resuming his previous business.
The club was specifically a gentleman's club, though Venris always felt the term was heavily misused on most worlds. It had bars for those who sought to forget a few bad memories by drowning them in booze, dancers who more than likely were slaves (and he didn't just assume this because the majority were Twi'leks), some displeased looking bouncers who did their job of looking intimidating and dragging out any unruly customers when needed, and most of all it had a policy against weapons unless you were a VIP, meaning you were a trusted friend of the owners.
Thankfully Gamorreans tend to lack the brains that the Force gave a turnip, so a simple mind trick was all that was needed to get past this obstacle.
"This man is on the VIP list," The bouncer grunted, and allowed Venris through with every one of his blades and thermal detonators safely stowed but still visible. He kept his hood up and kept to the sides of the room where it was darkest, making sure not to pass too close to anybody who looked less than half dead of alcohol poisoning. If anybody did take notice of Venris they either didn't show it or he didn't notice, and he set down by a bar counter off to the side where a droid served drinks.
Venris quietly made his order and then relaxed in his seat, softy exhaled and let the adrenaline from being chased a few city blocks after fighting (and decapitating) a live Trandoshan slowly work its way out of his system. He rolled his left shoulder, grimacing beneath his hood at the dull aching that came from the old injuries his arm had taken, injuries that still made it harder to use that arm in a fight, especially when an alien almost thrice his weight in muscle tries crushing it in one scaly hand.
Now just to wait out the next few hours and then get back to the real reason he had come to this kriffing pit of a planet.
That last title might be why Venris found it about as appealing as his actual home world. Towering spires all over, alleys choked with garbage, disease and death enough to make most unseasoned newcomers topple over and throw up...which usually gives some mugger the chance to knock them out and slice out an organ or two to sell. In the years since he had first visited this wretched moon with his deceased master Venris had learned how to avoid grabbing the attention of the average local, something that had come in handy throughout the majority of his life.
Unfortunately from time to time there'd be somebody who he couldn't use a mind trick on, somebody who might have friends with him who attack while his back is turned...he had to give credit where it was due to quite a few of these individuals: they were persistent and surprisingly organized in how they went about trying to mug a single target whenever they were in groups. But then again to survive on this place you usually had to either be one tough or laser brained moron, or operate in a pack and pray a bigger pack didn't pick you apart.
That's not to say the place didn't have its bright sides or even somewhat safe places, such as the club where Venris had chosen to hide himself in after an encounter with one such pack that he had a bit of history with. The leader, a Trandoshan, had been an acquaintance of his at one point and even worked alongside him on a few jobs before things went sour. To make a long story short somebody betrayed somebody else, a hand was cut off, and it hadn't been Venris'. Needless to say the Trandoshan had been all too happy to see Venris and had brought a few friends once he'd discovered the young human had landed on Nar Shadda-as stated before, surprisingly well organized and informed.
Words were exchanged, threats were made, and in the end somebody had lost their head.
And again, obviously, it hadn't been Venris.
With one more old acquaintance now feeding a civilization of maggots at the bottom of a trash chute, Venris had decided to lay low for a bit and let the Trandoshan's pals tire themselves out looking for him before resuming his previous business.
The club was specifically a gentleman's club, though Venris always felt the term was heavily misused on most worlds. It had bars for those who sought to forget a few bad memories by drowning them in booze, dancers who more than likely were slaves (and he didn't just assume this because the majority were Twi'leks), some displeased looking bouncers who did their job of looking intimidating and dragging out any unruly customers when needed, and most of all it had a policy against weapons unless you were a VIP, meaning you were a trusted friend of the owners.
Thankfully Gamorreans tend to lack the brains that the Force gave a turnip, so a simple mind trick was all that was needed to get past this obstacle.
"This man is on the VIP list," The bouncer grunted, and allowed Venris through with every one of his blades and thermal detonators safely stowed but still visible. He kept his hood up and kept to the sides of the room where it was darkest, making sure not to pass too close to anybody who looked less than half dead of alcohol poisoning. If anybody did take notice of Venris they either didn't show it or he didn't notice, and he set down by a bar counter off to the side where a droid served drinks.
Venris quietly made his order and then relaxed in his seat, softy exhaled and let the adrenaline from being chased a few city blocks after fighting (and decapitating) a live Trandoshan slowly work its way out of his system. He rolled his left shoulder, grimacing beneath his hood at the dull aching that came from the old injuries his arm had taken, injuries that still made it harder to use that arm in a fight, especially when an alien almost thrice his weight in muscle tries crushing it in one scaly hand.
Now just to wait out the next few hours and then get back to the real reason he had come to this kriffing pit of a planet.
