The man spits.
"You go with your ways, I'll go with mine..."
You are sensing two people approaching, Roan.
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Neimodia
Imagine a world comprtised entirely of insurance salesmen, fill most of it with water, and you are close to what Neimodia is like. In fact, no less than three dozen people have tried to sell you something since you left your ship, and paid your share of the docking fee, handling fee and services fee plus tax.
The cacophonus noise of the sing-song tone of the Neimodians surrounds you, like Nute Gunray had sent you to hell itself to hear him forever. Very few you hear are not doing one of a. plotting b. moaning or c. selling. Still, it was exactly these instincts that have made Neimodia the richest planet in civilised space. Mind you, that doesn;t mean the plnaet is better faciltied than, say, Coruscant,. The money lines the pockets of the top businessmen; the luxury is in their own privately owned moons elsewhere. No Neimodians perform menial tasks, of course. Droids are everywhere for that kind of thing- they are big on droids.
Well, you are in the starport- what now?
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On Coruscant, 24 hours earlier, it is time to take the Viceroy back toi the Courthouse. Any objections?
Ok, where are the Anzat crowd heading?
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"What?" says the Neimodian. "Get out of my way, you irritating human! I have business to get to!"
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The Viceroy refuses to move incognito. It is beneath his dignity. He tells you that you must protect him as is, as was promised.
Time to go!
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"Your powers are unsuaully sensitive," says Mundi. "Perhaps they would benefit from closure exposure to the matter at hand. I know, Gallagher, that it is not usual for you to be assigned to such an active mission... but perhaps you could make useful support for Master Gundark's protection mission fore the Viceroy."