Byblos, the land of Opportunity

[Cripple Wil]

"Get'cher tours. Tours, right'en here! William's LX Tour Package comes wif all the sights from the perstigious University to the Drive Yards, and er'thing in betwinx. There's even a stop at the Hygiene Museum. Very posh. Purchase now and get free sausages and meat pies while you tour!"

The sun was rising once again over Byblos City, the capital of the planet of the same name. The sunlight was muted and blocked by the dozens of skyscraping towers that composed the city. The richie riches up at the top got plenty of sunlight up at the top. By the time it filtered down here to the ground it was all gray and used up. It was still more than enough to illuminate the stranger figure standing just outside hitting range of Tower 74's front door. It was a human man, or had once been, and was dressed in what was likely his cleanest dirty suit. The gray pinstripe suit was stained and smudged in places, but had a well maintained look to it, as if the owner regularly got it tailored and patched but did not have access to a sonic washer. His hair was slicked back and in his hands he held a sign that said "Tours". The fourth aurabesh letter was written backwards.

Beside him was a warming tray with the aforementioned sausages and pies sizzling in the morning light.

"Heh, what's that? Don't like them sights? That's fine. I can take yous anywheres. I know this city like the back of my wossname... Eyelids."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Adorned in heavy, olive green pants, white shirt and rustic, brown jacket, the Corellian moved through the busy streets and having read up on the world, was amazed at how much Byblos City reminded him of his home of Coronet City. Both worlds colonized by his people, Torgeir's steel-blue eyes appreciated the architecture which hadn't changed much from one world to this one. Vendors plying their wares, some with droids while others used traditional methods, grabbing his attention in both directions as he moved. His hair seemingly uncombed and askew, the dark jedi fit right in to this crowd which could help in the long run.

Soon, his journey took the mechanic within earshot of a voice shouting his knowledge of the city and also offered a meal, which at this point Torgeir admitted to himself, was getting hungry. Moving toward the man who apparently had spent his whole life down here in the shadows, he noticed the misspelling as well as how the man pronounced certain words. By the look of him, apparently too much Corellian Whiskey mixed with rhyll. Smelling the delicacies, Torgier slowed and nodded to the man.

"How much for the tour," Torgeir inquired, glancing to the breaded pies and back.

[Cripple Wil]

Looking the man up and down with a bloodshot eye, Cripple Wil wasn't so sure he liked what he saw. The man was clean and well dressed, but not in a posh denizen of the towers sort of way. He liked those kinds. They were easy to pull the ol' wossname, blanket over their eyes. This man instead looked healthy and strong, like he had benefited from the work of his own hands. This was not his target clientele.

"Yous a copper? Two hundred credits. Very good tour. Praised in You Magazine. Don't have a copy. Hafta take me word on it."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Torgeir mused on the first query and figured he was asking if the dark jedi was a police officer, a thought that made Torgeir chuckle as he dug out his credstick and handed the man the money. He knew most of what this guy was going to feed him with were half truths, but at least he would see this city. Grabbing one of the meat pies, he tried it and liked the spicing, not regretting making that choice now. Glancing to it as he assumed the older man would begin his tour, "This is pretty good. You make it?"

Gaining the attention of a few passersby, Torgeir wondered now how long this guy had been doing this particular tour and also now wondered if his two hundred credits had just been for the meal.

[Cripple Wil]

"I, um, that is..." He watched the man eat the entire pie without vomiting or complaining. Looking down at his warming tray he tried for the life of him to remember where he had scraped together the material to make them, but he was fairly certain that it was mostly sawdust and unidentified meat. He regained his composure quickly. As a proper salesman he could not, even for a moment, allow anyone to think he did not know everything about his product.

"That is, made with the finest ingredients. Swear on me mum, it'sa secret family recipe. Also, no refunds." The cred chit disappeared into a greasy pocket. The hat on his head was adjusted into a more dapper position and the warming tray was picked up and hung from his neck by a strap. "Need n'thing 'fore we start? Another pie, some water, or a visit to the wee boys room?"

[Torgeir DeHaan]

The hesitation would be a warning to everyone else, but Torgeir's constitution had always been strong and he now realized that trip to the refresher would eventually overpower every other desire. Warning signs that continued to bug him as the Corellian mechanic moved to follow the older conman. "Nah, I'm good for now," he replied, brushing his hands against one another, dusting off the crumbs. Steel-blue eyes turned to the avenue they stood on and took in the architecture of the buildings framing it, the people strolling among both sides as speeders passed by.

"How long you lived here?" The words preceded a gravely feeling in the back of his throat and as he listened, Torgeir grabbed a bottle of water to take with him, sipping as they walked.

[Cripple Wil]

"Les'see, it's Kantuary next week, so... three weeks. 'm from Coruscant 'riginally, or was it Nar Shaddaa. I did spent some time on Corellia. Not important. I've been all ova'. Very respectable business man, I am. Here we are, Bublos Drives headquarters."

With a wonderful display of outstretched jizz hands he indicated the structure before them. Like all the other structures in this city, it was a giant tower. Circular like the others, made of the sane off-white material that gave the whole city a scrubbed clean look. Unlike the other towers this one had a fence and checkpoint towers to be bypassed in order to get up to the building. A big sign on the side of the building declared BYBLOS DRIVES in big illuminated words for the whole city to see. A patrolling guard on the inside of the fence told them to bugger off. Wil gave him the Verpine peace symbol.

"As you can see, very posh place. Bottom stories are all speeder parkin' and the officers are way at th'top. Of course, the real business is done up there." He pointed straight up into the sky. The overcast clouds revealed nothing. "If'n the clouds weren't there you would be able to see the starship construction ring that circle the planet you would. Shame. Over there you can see the BlasTech tower, SoroSuub tower, and Sienar Fleet Systems." He pointed out each tower in turn, despite the logos being prominently displayed.

"That one there is Sheegoth Technologies. Bunch of nasty chaps that one. They say the boss is a wossname, crocodile. That one there is Tower 49. Nothin' good goes on there. Imperial facility or some other. I heard they nick all the strays and turn them into soylent blue. Won't touch the stuff. Tastes like buttocks anyways."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Nodding in interest, Torgeir realized that this man was a conman indeed, the signage giving off the companies that worked here, but there had to be more to this whole city than just being an Imperial hub. Secrets were no doubt hidden within their computer cores and as he listened, the Imperial presence on the populace didn't surprise him in the least. It seemed to be the modus operandi on every world they touched.

"What's Sheegoth Tech build," Torgeir asked with genuine interest. Having never heard of that company before, it had to be a subsidiary of some kind.

In the warmth of the noonday sun, the smells of industry reminded him a bit of Corellia and home.

[Cripple Wil]

"Terry down by the pub says they make comm-un-i-cation devices. You know, comms and radios and daft things like that. They've gotten a bit big for their britches from what I hear; buying up lots of small businesses for them fancy copyrights and trademarks. Bunch of mean blokes that'll kick you in the nads and dump ya' in the gutter as soon as look at you. Probably got secret laboratories poking gents like you and me in the brain to see what happens. It's like this, if the Empire and Black Sun had a baby, Sheegoth wouldn't even feel bad for smothering it with a pillow. Bunch of bastards, is what I'm gettin' at."

Wil absently grabbed a sausage from his tray and slotted it into a chunk of bread and took a bite. He made a face and looked down at the sausage accusingly before shrugging his shoulders and finishing off the morsel.

"Come on then, plenty more t'see in this City of the Future. Over here they've got an icecream parlor wif five hundred and twenty-two flavors. They've even got Galactic Blueberry and Radical Sunspot. Turns your poo orange, but it tastes like it's made between a pair of Togruta tits. Oh, right, forget I said that. Empire doesn't like aliens and all that. Don't want them jackboots kicking down my door and standing on me neck. You look like a jackboots type, sir. No offense. You a soldier?"