James Justice
Charting new Paths
Dal'Bor. His town. Arguably, this was his planet too.
James sat back on the lounge sofa overlooking his massive club that served as the virtual city hall of the crime city. He let out a breath of smoke from his cigarette, basking in the revelry of his patrons. Oh, yes. He was the king of this world. This was his town. And the galaxy had been seeing more of him, it was only fair that he agree to this interview.
The Republic Fiasco. His take over of Dal'Bor. His rapid rise to power in the shipping business. His endless philanthropy. The accusations of piracy, smuggling, and mercenary work. His alleged ties to the Black Ties, the Underworld, and of course, every secret society to exist.
The tabloids loved him. And the sudden discovery of his daughters and his endless womanizing were not exactly giving them reason to stop. Hell, he didn't mind, he liked the rumors surrounding him.
But now it was time to dispel some. He had to let the galaxy know who they were dealing with, that he was a good man, not some gun touting criminal. Alright, well, maybe he was a criminal. And, yes he had a DeathHammer strapped to his thigh. But he was a good man. And he wanted them to know that he was trustworthy and the People's Criminal.
The spacer took another drag from his cigarette before taking a drink of ale strait from the bottle. It was time to do this.
[member="Eire Saf'Voak"]
James sat back on the lounge sofa overlooking his massive club that served as the virtual city hall of the crime city. He let out a breath of smoke from his cigarette, basking in the revelry of his patrons. Oh, yes. He was the king of this world. This was his town. And the galaxy had been seeing more of him, it was only fair that he agree to this interview.
The Republic Fiasco. His take over of Dal'Bor. His rapid rise to power in the shipping business. His endless philanthropy. The accusations of piracy, smuggling, and mercenary work. His alleged ties to the Black Ties, the Underworld, and of course, every secret society to exist.
The tabloids loved him. And the sudden discovery of his daughters and his endless womanizing were not exactly giving them reason to stop. Hell, he didn't mind, he liked the rumors surrounding him.
But now it was time to dispel some. He had to let the galaxy know who they were dealing with, that he was a good man, not some gun touting criminal. Alright, well, maybe he was a criminal. And, yes he had a DeathHammer strapped to his thigh. But he was a good man. And he wanted them to know that he was trustworthy and the People's Criminal.
The spacer took another drag from his cigarette before taking a drink of ale strait from the bottle. It was time to do this.
[member="Eire Saf'Voak"]