Private Inheritance and Debt

[Kayden Lind]

CORUSCANT-LEVEL 1313-Lilliths Helm Cantina

OUTFIT: Brown work clothes and work boots.

Trayze Tesar

Kayden leaned forward in his chair, running his fingers through his hair with a sigh of frustration.

"Look Balchoga, I can't pay a down payment right now. We've discussed this. But I'm on my way to some big things right now. Real big. Just help her fix up the bar, and I'll pay you back tenfold... Eventually.

The sludge green gammorean sitting across from him uttered a few grunts before shaking his head in disappointment.

Kayden rolled his eyes, and downed the rest of his drink in one go, beforing turning back to Balchoga.

"Look you fat pig, me and Norroku housed your sorry ass in that bar more times than we can both count and you know it. Do me a favor pal, please! Without it she's got nowhere to go!"

Balchoga grunted again, this time clearly offended, and stood up at the table. Uttering a few Gammorean curses, he waddled off back to the bar for another drink.

Kayden buried his face in his hands dejectedly, and took in his surroundings. The Lilliths Helm was one of the seedier spots on Coruscant, but to be expected from one who ventured down this many levels near the planets core. He had made his way down seeking an investor, someone to spot him cash, who wouldn't be all too worried about how he acquired the means to pay them back. He had called in a couple of acquaintances that owed him favors, but upon hearing the sum required, and the means of repayment, they had all quickly bailed out of the situation.

Kayden peered around the cantina, his eyes scanning for anyone who might've had a little coin in their purse.

 

[Trayze Tesar]

CURRENT MISSION - Banal Bequeathment
Immediate Goals -
1: Find and bequeath the inheritance to one " Kayden Lind "

BLUFOR - Allies Unknown

OPFOR - Enemy Unknown

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Kayden Lind || OPEN FREQUENCY

---

He hated being on Coruscant - the whole damn thing was what Jutrand was aping, so it was far far worse. From the glittering heights of pompous stratoscraper denizens, to the depths of depravity that haven't seen the sun in centuries, untold masses huddled and devoured one another in a seething mass of buzzing buzzing buzzing that peeled beneath his nerves. The "balance" the Jedi hoped to attain was clearly done through cranking both extremes to tragicomic levels, and ignoring the consequences - the mark pustulating and flaking over his Mind's Eye when the Dark Empire loomed over the Core like leprosy in the walls.

It hadn't been the first time he swung coreward due to his occupation - he was probably one of the few Sith in the galaxy that actually had some semblance of a "day job" - the Sith-Imperial Banking Clan had clientele of all sorts, and it was up to him to ascertain the presence or absence of assets. Which was why he was here right now, a Shadow-Shareholder, a Lord Among Sith of anonymity of considerable influence had finally had their financial resources thaw. They had clearly passed for quite some time, but the inertia of bureaucracy and consequence had found out someone's inheritance needing to be dealt out.

Being the hardest working and lowest ranking member of Sith Society that wasn't within the Academy full-time, Trayze Tesar, former detective, turned sheriff, turned acolyte, turned captain-under-marque, turned governor of his own homeworld... was given the inglorious charge. Because nobody karking else would.

Resuming to the cantina, his investigations had concluded that this was where the offspring of this Sith - a great-grandchild if his calculations were correct - would work at. He had lingered around the lower levels, investigating the echoes gleaned from psychometry and information gained through his connections in the Sith Imperial Law Enforcement, corroborating, disproving, consolidating to it's inevitable conclusion. The young lad, the Kiffar had marked, was in desperate straits - seeking out wealth in order to take a ship off this blasted pile of slag, since the Kashyyyk Reprieve was relatively well-to-do. But mere survival wasn't enough for the presumed "Young Master Lind" or his adoptive parents.

The Kiffar was an enticing mark, wearing clothes that helped him blend in with the scum of the underlevels, but clearly carrying himself well enough to indicate him being from off-world. And the suitcase - large enough for a lightsaber and some other means of data display, not that Trayze would be foolish enough to put it there - but he seemed... sure of himself, lost.

Good enough to be sweet-talked into, and if the blond man were to use the Force, indicate there was something... more. Like what he had been, like what his father may have been... but not quite.

 

[Kayden Lind]

CORUSCANT-LEVEL 1313-Lilliths Helm Cantina


OUTFIT: Brown work clothes and work boots.


Trayze Tesar


As he peered around the cantina, his eyes locked on a man, short and stout, who stood hunched over the bar, his face half buried in his drink. He had a small purse of credits tied around his waist, precariously easy to access. Considering the mans current drunken state, negotiations and bartering probably were probably out of the picture.

Quinn was giving Norroku monthly payments anonymously, helping rebuilding efforts, but Kayden knew that she would need more. Without him, how was she going to take care of herself? With some extra credits maybe she could buy herself a caretaker...

He eyed the pouch of credits. It would be all to easy to just take them and go.

And what does he need the credits for huh? Drowning himself in drink?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed a morally understandable choice. He would save this man from drowning himself in the bottle, and in return, he would be able to send the money to someone who needed it. Desperately.

Kayden locked his eyes on the bag of credits, and tried to remember what Quinn had begun to teach him. He felt the shadows of the Force around him, felt the shades of darkness that filled the room, and attuned to them. He closed his eyes, and willed the bag of credits towards him, all with a flick of his hand.

He watched as the bag of credits flew from the mans waist, and across the cantina towards his table.

It hadn't been enough however.

The bag fell to the ground about halfway through it's journey, and spilled out on the ground. Kayden cursed underneath his breath, as he watched the other patrons of the bar turn their heads, and begin trampling over each other to grab this now unclaimed currency.

Playing it off, the Sith apprentice, leaned back in his chair, pretending to watch in amusement. In actuality, his eyes darted from side to side, making sure nobody had noticed his disappointing harnessing of his power.