Gaven Terrik. Born on Coruscant, probably. Raised by himself and the street. Pick pocket, petty criminal, and will do many things for money, alcohol, or something similar.
“…I don’t understand. Last week, I came by and you were terrified. Now, I come back to collect my rightful belongings.” The good-looking, 20-year-old Zeltron male shifted his long, slender arm in the direction of his newly crafted matching blasters. They were state-of-the-art, just stolen from a Republic armory vessel. Apparently someone had met quite a crooked quartermaster.
“And, suddenly, you’ve grown a pair of balls and no longer want to sell these to an old friend like me?” He put on the snide, lopsided smiled he was known for, and leaned forward across the counter, face-to-face with the much older human shop owner. Gaven was tall, around 6’0, and skinny, no more more than 160. His skin was a slight crimson red, which was in stark contrast to his messy short black hair and deep blue eyes. The combination was unsettling, especially since it was rare to see a Zeltron with such blue eyes. Unfortunately for Gaven, the human was not very fazed by his natural approach.
“Listen, kid. I didn’t expect the shipment to be so rare and high quality. What I thought I was giving you was two standard blasters, military issue. These are customized, with upgrades all over. Even the grips are customized for duel-wielding. I can’t give these to you for 1,000 creds. I can’t even give them to you for 5,000. If you want these, it’ll be 10,000 creds easy. Come back when you have the money.”
Gaven swore under his breath. He was normally a loudmouth, but knew to keep silent when he should. Gaven was really good at getting people to like him or hate, even without influence through his pheramones. He needed those blasters. Physically, he was not strong, and never bothered to learn advanced combat; only enough to keep him alive in a bar fight. He was good at flying planes, deception, quick-thinking, and blasters. Damn, was he good with blasters. And he needed those blasters. They were perfect. So, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and stared daggers into the eyes of the human. His pheromones raged.
“I asked nicely. Now you get the bad me. Give me those blasters now, and I won’t slit your throat open, shove some mints up your ass and make you my human pez dispenser. Instead I’ll only take my knife and cut off the hand you use to please yourself with every lonely night.” Now the human was terrified.
“Listen, Gaven, I can give you the blasters for 5,000. That’s all I can do! Please!” Wrong answer. Gaven already had his vibro knife unsheathed. With ease, the vibrating blade cut like butter through the middle of the shop owner’s hand and the metal counter under it. Gaven then shut off the vibrating function, successfully pinning the poor man’s hand against his own shop’s counter. There was nothing he could do but whimper as Gaven vaulted over counter and grabbed the two beautiful blasters from their storage shelf. Gaven examined the guns closely, noting almost every part was aftermarket upgrades. The grips were auto-conforming, and felt like gloves when he gripped them. They were truly incredible. Gaven holstered them both, leaving his old blasters on the shop counter as he vaulted back over.
“Here, I feel bad. You double-crossed and lied to me, on multiple occasions, but I did just stab your hand through your counter. I’ll leave 1,000 credits and my old blasters. But, sorry, I’m taking my knife.” Gaven grabbed his knife and tore it out, leaving behind a trail of blood from the owner’s hand. As soon as he let the owner free, Gaven bolted out of the shop, laughing with glee as to his luck on finding the new blasters. He really did feel bad about duping the poor shop owner. But a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do, and he had to have those blasters. He couldn’t very well defend himself with his fists. From there, he probably went to a bar to drink and socialize, perfereably with the ladies.
“…I don’t understand. Last week, I came by and you were terrified. Now, I come back to collect my rightful belongings.” The good-looking, 20-year-old Zeltron male shifted his long, slender arm in the direction of his newly crafted matching blasters. They were state-of-the-art, just stolen from a Republic armory vessel. Apparently someone had met quite a crooked quartermaster.
“And, suddenly, you’ve grown a pair of balls and no longer want to sell these to an old friend like me?” He put on the snide, lopsided smiled he was known for, and leaned forward across the counter, face-to-face with the much older human shop owner. Gaven was tall, around 6’0, and skinny, no more more than 160. His skin was a slight crimson red, which was in stark contrast to his messy short black hair and deep blue eyes. The combination was unsettling, especially since it was rare to see a Zeltron with such blue eyes. Unfortunately for Gaven, the human was not very fazed by his natural approach.
“Listen, kid. I didn’t expect the shipment to be so rare and high quality. What I thought I was giving you was two standard blasters, military issue. These are customized, with upgrades all over. Even the grips are customized for duel-wielding. I can’t give these to you for 1,000 creds. I can’t even give them to you for 5,000. If you want these, it’ll be 10,000 creds easy. Come back when you have the money.”
Gaven swore under his breath. He was normally a loudmouth, but knew to keep silent when he should. Gaven was really good at getting people to like him or hate, even without influence through his pheramones. He needed those blasters. Physically, he was not strong, and never bothered to learn advanced combat; only enough to keep him alive in a bar fight. He was good at flying planes, deception, quick-thinking, and blasters. Damn, was he good with blasters. And he needed those blasters. They were perfect. So, he closed his eyes, concentrated, and stared daggers into the eyes of the human. His pheromones raged.
“I asked nicely. Now you get the bad me. Give me those blasters now, and I won’t slit your throat open, shove some mints up your ass and make you my human pez dispenser. Instead I’ll only take my knife and cut off the hand you use to please yourself with every lonely night.” Now the human was terrified.
“Listen, Gaven, I can give you the blasters for 5,000. That’s all I can do! Please!” Wrong answer. Gaven already had his vibro knife unsheathed. With ease, the vibrating blade cut like butter through the middle of the shop owner’s hand and the metal counter under it. Gaven then shut off the vibrating function, successfully pinning the poor man’s hand against his own shop’s counter. There was nothing he could do but whimper as Gaven vaulted over counter and grabbed the two beautiful blasters from their storage shelf. Gaven examined the guns closely, noting almost every part was aftermarket upgrades. The grips were auto-conforming, and felt like gloves when he gripped them. They were truly incredible. Gaven holstered them both, leaving his old blasters on the shop counter as he vaulted back over.
“Here, I feel bad. You double-crossed and lied to me, on multiple occasions, but I did just stab your hand through your counter. I’ll leave 1,000 credits and my old blasters. But, sorry, I’m taking my knife.” Gaven grabbed his knife and tore it out, leaving behind a trail of blood from the owner’s hand. As soon as he let the owner free, Gaven bolted out of the shop, laughing with glee as to his luck on finding the new blasters. He really did feel bad about duping the poor shop owner. But a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do, and he had to have those blasters. He couldn’t very well defend himself with his fists. From there, he probably went to a bar to drink and socialize, perfereably with the ladies.
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