Randon was a new planet to Artorigas, granted much of the galaxy was new to him. His life revolved around Serenno as a child and young man and since his elevation into the Sith, it had only expanded slightly to cover the small amount of worlds that the reborn empire covered. Even though the planet was new the people where not, like everywhere they had simple needs and simple desires and Randon appeared to be a place for your desires.
Yes it had its uptown areas, full of shiny office buildings were many a citizen sat on their arse and earned millions doing it, but much of the rest of the planet was built for the common folk, those who worked sixty hours a week just to live and whatever else they had at the end of that week was spent on excess. The planet itself was to much for the young Sith, he preferred the quiet, open spaces and the fresh smell of the wild. Not the loud, claustrophobic and disgusting smells of a metropolis such as this. But needs must and he had need.
He was tired of waiting and watching as his family wasted away what little they had, a time ago he would have just shrugged his shoulders and went with it, relaxed in the knowledge that most of what he ever needed would be paid for by the families holdings. But his exposure to the Sith, their teachings and their knowledge had opened him up to the folly of his blood. No, he needed to take action to save his family and his lineage from their self destructing ways. It was ironic, as he dwelled on his he watched a man in a nearby alley shoot himself up with all kinds of spice. A way to get out of his life, Artorigas assumed.
It was early evening, the tops of the buildings around him still lit by the falling sun, the ground around him lit by the hundred artificial lights which tried to sell him everything he could ever want in the galaxy. Though the one thing he was here for was not purchasable from this neon lights, he walked into the restaurant he had arranged to meet his contact in, a fancy Hapean Joint a little too good for the surrounding area it seemed by first glance but he would see.
Artorigas took his seat, his three piece suit was dark grey, his white shirt had the top two buttons undone. It was one of his older suits, showing small signs of wear and age better to fit the motif of the lower rungs of Randon. A shallow weeks growth of beard sat on his face, his hair pulled back and a blaster holster shown under his suit jacket. Again a sign more to fit in with the crowd than to intimidate anyone, his lightsaber had been left back on the Wyvern sat on some mid-town dock Cydric probably listening away to his Post Modern Republic Jazz. A waitress placed a holo-pad down in front of him with the menu, leaving a second on the seat opposite as he waited for his contact. "Perhaps the soup?"
@Morse