Gash Jiren
Feb 19th, 2002, 08:20:17 PM
Of all the filth-ridden places to die, Nar Shadda ranked as the worst among them.
Even the slimy Hutt residents of the world the Smugglers' Moon orbitted did not deem the crime-infested metropolis worthy of their time. Perhaps, yes, they farmed smuggler work off of the many criminal inhabitants of the Verticle City; but you'd be hard-pressed to find a Hutt on the whole of the place.
From the window of an approaching shuttle, the surface of Nar Shadda appeared almost like Coruscant- that is, Coruscant, if it went to hell in the holdster of a gang lord. Graffiti littered the tired durasteel walls, and the buildings themselves seemed to spring from the core of the eternal abyss below them. Like Coruscant, no one ventured into the lower levels- unlike the surface of the famous Imperial Center, the surface of the infamous Hutt moon was totally unreachable.
Gash Jiren had visited the former core Galactic Empire, on occasion, and had hoped Nar Shadda would bear at least some semblance to it. It did not; though one was a darker reflection of the other, Nar Shadda was more akin to a very grey, very dreary version of the palace once held by the crime syndicate leader, Jabba the Hutt.
Which meant Jiren's mind was frantically searching for a way out of his currently impending fate. In his endless search, the Sith had stumbled into the wrong place, standing opposite the wrong person.
That wrong place happened to be the Corellian Gambit cantina, and that wrong person happened to be Sevres Fel.
'Give it up, Jiren... I always knew you'd come scrambling back onto this rock.' The burly man muttered, tossing a durasteel table onto it's side.
Sevres wasn't related to the Fel family in any fashion other than a thin bloodline- and, to begin with, that connection was questionable, at best. His mother, Telris Fel, had been a relative- cousin or second cousin- of the Baron Soontir Fel. And though his father had been a common farmer on a back-alley rim world, he'd chosen to carry the Fel name- though, fortunately for Gash, he lacked any of the latent piloting talen the Fels were known for.
A common thug.
Unfortunately, possessing quite a few equally common friends.
Gash ducked a transparisteel mug tossed his way, and ignored the obscene hollar accompanying it. The Sith snatched his lightsaber from the belt he wore, bringing the crimson blade to bear on his opponent.
"Call off your thugs, Fel. This is between you and me- not you, me, and Nar Shadda's incest-bred slime."
The comment got the reaction desired- the two gang members on either side of Sevres leapt into action, driven on by their own blind and stupid rage. Gash kept his eyes on Fel, feigning ignorance to their angered charge, monitoring them through the Force. At the last possible moment, the Sith ducked right, under the oncoming thug, his head turning stupidly as his body continued running.
Gash plunged his lightsaber into the man's back, as the smell of ionized flesh floated up to greet him. Instead of being repulsed by it, he took it as a sign of weakness, and added it to his rage. He stepped over the crumpling corpse of the gang member, and, supplementing his leg's natural strength with the Dark Side, thrusted his foot into the stomach of the other. The man flew several meters, into the duraplast wall. He, too, crumpled to the ground, as dust and debris from the damaged wall rained down on him like a morbid Hoth snowstorm.
Gash faced Fel.
"See how pointless this is?"
The impostor Fel suddenly did not look so imposing- his posture seemed to have slackened, and his face betrayed his fear. It needn't have- Gash could sense it through the Force.
"Come to think of it, though, you can help me. A friend of your's has something I need- something that belonged to my father."
'I d-do-'
"You don't what? Know what I mean? Of course you do. Don't play games, Fel, or I'll have you joining your friends on the floor."
'The Hermes?'
"The Hermes."
'Terga has it... yes... I can't get it for you... how could I? Terga doesn't trust-'
"Just give me the access codes to his palace."
To add extra malice to his words, the Sith brought his crimson lightsaber up, pointing it vaguely at the man's neck. An experienced Jedi or Sith would know the grip and positioning with which he wielded the blade put him in a position for a sloppy strike, a best- but Sevres didn't.
'XV24-113Ossus should g-get you past...'
"Thank you."
Though the name of the former Jedi capital rang odd to be present in the addmitance code for a crime lord's base, Gash paid it no mind. He was actually quite pleased he'd turned a losing situation into a way to benefit.
So it was almost a shame, he though as he strode confidently from the Corellian Gambit, that Sevres Fel had to die anyway.
Almost.
Even the slimy Hutt residents of the world the Smugglers' Moon orbitted did not deem the crime-infested metropolis worthy of their time. Perhaps, yes, they farmed smuggler work off of the many criminal inhabitants of the Verticle City; but you'd be hard-pressed to find a Hutt on the whole of the place.
From the window of an approaching shuttle, the surface of Nar Shadda appeared almost like Coruscant- that is, Coruscant, if it went to hell in the holdster of a gang lord. Graffiti littered the tired durasteel walls, and the buildings themselves seemed to spring from the core of the eternal abyss below them. Like Coruscant, no one ventured into the lower levels- unlike the surface of the famous Imperial Center, the surface of the infamous Hutt moon was totally unreachable.
Gash Jiren had visited the former core Galactic Empire, on occasion, and had hoped Nar Shadda would bear at least some semblance to it. It did not; though one was a darker reflection of the other, Nar Shadda was more akin to a very grey, very dreary version of the palace once held by the crime syndicate leader, Jabba the Hutt.
Which meant Jiren's mind was frantically searching for a way out of his currently impending fate. In his endless search, the Sith had stumbled into the wrong place, standing opposite the wrong person.
That wrong place happened to be the Corellian Gambit cantina, and that wrong person happened to be Sevres Fel.
'Give it up, Jiren... I always knew you'd come scrambling back onto this rock.' The burly man muttered, tossing a durasteel table onto it's side.
Sevres wasn't related to the Fel family in any fashion other than a thin bloodline- and, to begin with, that connection was questionable, at best. His mother, Telris Fel, had been a relative- cousin or second cousin- of the Baron Soontir Fel. And though his father had been a common farmer on a back-alley rim world, he'd chosen to carry the Fel name- though, fortunately for Gash, he lacked any of the latent piloting talen the Fels were known for.
A common thug.
Unfortunately, possessing quite a few equally common friends.
Gash ducked a transparisteel mug tossed his way, and ignored the obscene hollar accompanying it. The Sith snatched his lightsaber from the belt he wore, bringing the crimson blade to bear on his opponent.
"Call off your thugs, Fel. This is between you and me- not you, me, and Nar Shadda's incest-bred slime."
The comment got the reaction desired- the two gang members on either side of Sevres leapt into action, driven on by their own blind and stupid rage. Gash kept his eyes on Fel, feigning ignorance to their angered charge, monitoring them through the Force. At the last possible moment, the Sith ducked right, under the oncoming thug, his head turning stupidly as his body continued running.
Gash plunged his lightsaber into the man's back, as the smell of ionized flesh floated up to greet him. Instead of being repulsed by it, he took it as a sign of weakness, and added it to his rage. He stepped over the crumpling corpse of the gang member, and, supplementing his leg's natural strength with the Dark Side, thrusted his foot into the stomach of the other. The man flew several meters, into the duraplast wall. He, too, crumpled to the ground, as dust and debris from the damaged wall rained down on him like a morbid Hoth snowstorm.
Gash faced Fel.
"See how pointless this is?"
The impostor Fel suddenly did not look so imposing- his posture seemed to have slackened, and his face betrayed his fear. It needn't have- Gash could sense it through the Force.
"Come to think of it, though, you can help me. A friend of your's has something I need- something that belonged to my father."
'I d-do-'
"You don't what? Know what I mean? Of course you do. Don't play games, Fel, or I'll have you joining your friends on the floor."
'The Hermes?'
"The Hermes."
'Terga has it... yes... I can't get it for you... how could I? Terga doesn't trust-'
"Just give me the access codes to his palace."
To add extra malice to his words, the Sith brought his crimson lightsaber up, pointing it vaguely at the man's neck. An experienced Jedi or Sith would know the grip and positioning with which he wielded the blade put him in a position for a sloppy strike, a best- but Sevres didn't.
'XV24-113Ossus should g-get you past...'
"Thank you."
Though the name of the former Jedi capital rang odd to be present in the addmitance code for a crime lord's base, Gash paid it no mind. He was actually quite pleased he'd turned a losing situation into a way to benefit.
So it was almost a shame, he though as he strode confidently from the Corellian Gambit, that Sevres Fel had to die anyway.
Almost.