S H A D O W
A city planet that rivaled Coruscant in the golden era of the Republic. A concept that seemed like a fairy tale. Coruscant was the Jewel of the Republic during that time, and Troithe struggled to keep up with the Coruscant's innovative ways. Yet, there was an undeniable charm to Troithe, a city that, despite its corruption and filth, held a unique allure. Unlike Coruscant, Troithe wasn't recovering from an invasion, and people here were willing to talk.
Recently, a small vassal state of the Dark Empire had taken root, absorbing the core worlds of Tython and the like. With the invasion of Coruscant, it made finding information a top priority. Allyson took a break from her investigation into the Sith Empire. The Emperor had granted her to stay but also dropped hints about something more significant. The thought drove her insane, knowing that he was someone she couldn't manipulate into giving up more information. He was secretive, but most Sith were.
Allyson wandered into a place where more information was passed around than a bottle of good Corellian whiskey. It was cliche that a cantina was a goldmine for intel; the drunker the person, the easier it flowed. The venture was far from Allyson's first time, and it wouldn't be her last.
Lightly nudging through the crowd, the Corellian found herself at the bar. She quickly concealed her force signature to the point that Allyson was just a typical Corellian smuggler to anyone here. Another cliche thing to add to the pile. She leaned onto the bartop, eye scanning the area quickly to see if there was anyone she easily recognized. The Core was a cesspool of a melting pot. Everyone found their way here whether they like it or not. Someone caught her eye, white hair, pale skin, and a toned lithe frame - Echani. Allyson smiled, then turned her attention to the Torgruta, who was minding the bar. "Corellian Whiskey, neat, warm the glass if possible." smooth, not too sweet, and to the point, no suspicions yet from the handful of Sith she found celebrating their survival of Coruscant.
The whiskey found her hand as the bartender slid it towards her. She quickly exchanged the credits and waited. Allyson examined the glass. She could feel the warmth of the cup, and the smell of the amber liquid was normal. There was nothing sinister felt from the bartender, so she brought the glass to her lips and sipped quietly.
Now was the time to observe, to look for anything or anyone that caught her attention. The tension in the air was palpable as Allyson scanned the room, her senses heightened, ready for the next steps in her investigation.
