Post by silithcangleth on Jun 7, 2018 6:11:57 GMT -5
Falleen Throne. Because only a species as arrogant as the Falleen would literally name their capital something as Imperial as that. Well, maybe not only them, but definitely them. It was gently raining as the Trandoshan paced back in forth beneath an awing outside the starport. Bits of water occasionally splashed down onto his suit, causing Silithcan to hiss and mutter curses under his breathe in Dosh. He had been tempted to go find a local cantina in order to avoid a massive dry cleaning bill from all the mud and wonderful debris getting on his attire. As well as get a drink and relax while waiting for this woman. But, unfortunately, that brought with it the chance of losing her while in the chaos of patrons and travelers. Which, on a planet full of cloacaheads with sticks thoroughly shoved up their posteriors, was not something the reptile wanted. Being alone in a place like this made it easier to be picked off by those who knew the world better.
There was also the chance Silithcan could talk to or around the wrong person in that kind of public setting. Reveal things better left unknown to strangers, and cause problems. Especially given who they were looking for, he couldn't imagine that Falleen looked to kindly on one of their being part of Mando'ade. Two different kinds of conflicting discipline, one more passionate and one more stoic. Philosophy was an interesting thing, but better left to smarter men than him. Or, at least, ones who were paid to do it. Unbuttoning his jacket, the reptile reached a clawed hand into one of the interior pockets and removed a datapad. Flicking it on, he shifted over towards what the woman had sent him. Former Jedi, apparently. Based on how she described herself anyway. She seemed a little too friendly to be a Sith anyway, and her relationship with the Republic would make that exceedingly unlikely. But who knows anymore? Looking for this Mandalorian Falleen, this 'Mister Right.' His homeworld seemed like a good place to start, perhaps find family. Or close friends, ones that didn't resent him hopefully. Putting the datapad back, and buttoning back up his jacket, Silithcan focused back on those coming in and out of the starport terminal and that walked in the street.
Most were Falleen, befitting of the planet that was their homeworld. But there was the occasional alien, like him. None that matched the woman's description though, not yet. Nalani, that was her name. Not much to go on, but it was something. And hopefully her pleasantness on the Holonet was genuine. Too many hid behind false identities It was enjoyable to meet new people, ones that hopefully wouldn't be the typical bigots whose first word to him was a disgusted 'lizard.' If it was, oh well. He could just drag her into an alley, gut her, paint 'kriff biggots' on the wall in her entrails, and then go back to looking for contracts. Would be fun either way!
There was also the chance Silithcan could talk to or around the wrong person in that kind of public setting. Reveal things better left unknown to strangers, and cause problems. Especially given who they were looking for, he couldn't imagine that Falleen looked to kindly on one of their being part of Mando'ade. Two different kinds of conflicting discipline, one more passionate and one more stoic. Philosophy was an interesting thing, but better left to smarter men than him. Or, at least, ones who were paid to do it. Unbuttoning his jacket, the reptile reached a clawed hand into one of the interior pockets and removed a datapad. Flicking it on, he shifted over towards what the woman had sent him. Former Jedi, apparently. Based on how she described herself anyway. She seemed a little too friendly to be a Sith anyway, and her relationship with the Republic would make that exceedingly unlikely. But who knows anymore? Looking for this Mandalorian Falleen, this 'Mister Right.' His homeworld seemed like a good place to start, perhaps find family. Or close friends, ones that didn't resent him hopefully. Putting the datapad back, and buttoning back up his jacket, Silithcan focused back on those coming in and out of the starport terminal and that walked in the street.
Most were Falleen, befitting of the planet that was their homeworld. But there was the occasional alien, like him. None that matched the woman's description though, not yet. Nalani, that was her name. Not much to go on, but it was something. And hopefully her pleasantness on the Holonet was genuine. Too many hid behind false identities It was enjoyable to meet new people, ones that hopefully wouldn't be the typical bigots whose first word to him was a disgusted 'lizard.' If it was, oh well. He could just drag her into an alley, gut her, paint 'kriff biggots' on the wall in her entrails, and then go back to looking for contracts. Would be fun either way!