Gender: Unspecified Location: With Cinderella and the 9 Dwarves
"I am looking for old acquaintances." Con replies abruptly, then continues "I have been gone for a while, but I know this is not a regular republican badge. What is it's meaning?"
The officer proudly polishes the metal insignia on his chest.
"I am under the employ of the Luon Syndicate, in aid of the Republic," he says, smugly. "Now, I'm asking the questions, here. Who are you looking for?"
"Then you have no official weight here," he says, slapping your lightsaber into your hand. "You may go about your business, but I warn you... do not mess with the Syndicate."
The other security personnel at the checkpoint all have the same insignia, and more than one of them are holding stun batons and looking at you unpleasantly.
"If I hear that you've used that anywhere," the officer says, gesturing to your lightsaber before handing back your blaster, "things will not be well for you. Fair warning, I hope?"
"The Syndicate does not deal with Jedi, former or not," he says. "Now get lost."
One of the other security officers roughly hands you your bag of belongings and gestures towards the exit.
Strange that the Syndicate should have official standing in an intergalactic starport, Con. You cannot think of a reason why the Republic would want their support.
The architecture of Luon City is much like the starport- dull concrete with reflective glass making up large ugly buildings. The starport is on a main street, with lots of people bustling about and speeders humming by.
The starport-associated cantina is nearby, as are several other drinking establishments.
You also notice that there is an armed guard wearing Syndicate-color uniforms- green with the circle-dagger insignia and a black kepi hat- standing at a post on every street corner. You somehow doubt that they are the Luonese military.
Like the starport, despite its clean yet boring appearance without, within the cantina has seen better days. All manner of damage can be seen on the walls, the floors, the ceiling, the surface of tables and the bar, either naturally occurring from aging or inflicted by patrons who couldn't hold either their liquor or their temper.
Right now things are pretty quiet. Many of the patrons are crowded around a large viewscreen. A debate is on between a pair of politicians, and the patrons- spacers and locals alike- are watching religiously.
"You ordering anything?" the bartender asks as you walk in.
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Jun 13th, 2009 12:29 AM
