There was an excitement unrivaled drawling across the area. A harmony of feet played eternally through the durasteel jungle. Species of all kind stampeded along side speeders. Not a single non-humanoid could be found about the bunch without a face of distress. Even with the broad sense of enthusiasm, humans still reigned supreme. Amid the busy voyage throughout the flashy headlines running a top complex doors, and walls were plastoid troopers. Stormtroopers could often be found within all herds across the whole galaxy, and nothing less could be expected at the center of the Imperial operation.

Coruscant carried a note that no other planet could play. The melancholy, bittersweet tone denoted all prior beliefs herald in such areas as the Senate, CoCo and Palace Districts. Uscru Entertainment District provided the truth, but it wasn't as harsh as it could get. It was a taste, a nibble of the pain found even in the heart of the galaxy. Many called the agonizing land home, but Jaarn Tii didn't despite all the fame he attained on the world. Vigor was in its essence and it could be felt in the Togruta's soul from his first step in Westport.

The sweetness, which cascaded the sour middle, was the entertainment. Uscru provided it in the bundles, and was the fallen athletes first stop. On stage he felt at home, playing on improv with an unfamiliar band in the Snapping Sepoid. People listened with glee, while others converse indifferent at the bar. Everything fell into place, from the blow of his kloo horn, touches of omni box and beats of the nalargon. The tune swung punches of passion and thrill. Feet could be seen throughout the crowd possessed, continuously beating to the ground in cadence.

Falling into recline as his solo ended, the band took to a forward bow. Initially they gained a subtle applause, but Togruta was in no way unnerved. In moments time the claps burst into a cheer. Jaarn had done well. Before a single face could remember him and his fateful career as a Grav-baller, he was out the door. Even the bartender searched with curiosity. Talent was always hard to find.

He had an appointment, as always. Recently he had altered his life from leisure to diligence. Very few moments, such as the one in the cantina, were allowed. Enjoyment escaped him, and in replacement came a goal. The appointment was just another pazaak move for an eventual win. Heading aboard the nearest taxi speeder, he was off toward the Taapes District.

Words weren't hard to come by, especially with his growing notoriety. People always talked, and therefore people were easy to find. Some, like Jaarn, were harder, but the he had been told once the persistent attained all. The young Togruta took those words to heart, taking to it's power as he ventured into the underbrush of the Black Sun. Almost three standard weeks had past since his idea's wake. There was always need to form alliances.

Distribution was not a line work that was easy in any format. The galaxy, though with more voids than surface, was commonly turf of others. In the end there was always reasons to align with an organization, and who better than the infamous Black Sun. The Black Sun name could be heard since his birth date, renown for their vice grip of the underworld. Since the fall of Jabba, the Hutts were not much, at least in comparison to Jabba's strong operation. All throughout the Outer Rim people looked upon the villainous Hutt with fear. A terror untouched, even by the Black Sun. Yet that had changed in recent months. Jaarn just hoped to get a piece of the pie remaining. He had a build to keep fit, no need to be greedy.

Abruptly the taxi speeder came to a stop. It was clear…the driver was uncomfortable. The district held hardiness, unseen in many other's across the Coruscant worldly metropolis. A smile came to Jaarn at the thought, allowing him to bare the Togruta's toothy jewels. Leaping out, he paid the driver. Commonly he would follow the exchange with a wave, but before his hand could lift the man was off. All Jaarn could do was shake his head, before he took a swift turn.

At his waist was a belt, while his body was draped in the fine wear. He wasn't easily distinguishable, but he managed to uphold class. However the season beckoned for more than the normal attire. About him lay a cloak, dangling as a cover to the foreign artifact at his waist. It was some sort of forgotten hilt, but it matter none. Even a studious eye could catch it.

Finally he reached the door, prepared. Hopefully this wouldn't be a waste of time.

[Note: In the title, Jizz is a word that derives from the playing of music that the Modal Nodes and Max Rebo do. It is similiar to Jazz. If there are any further questions, give me a PM or simply check the link.]