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The day was winding down on the planet of Tatooine, allowing the crimson sun to finally rest upon the sandy dunes where only the brave and foolish dare tread. The hustle and bustle of the crowd never ceases in this city, creating a hot spot for trade and buisness. Of course with buisness comes credits and sometimes these buisnesses take out loans here and there to keep things looking up. And with such an action you can sometimes find yourself looking up in a different type of situation.
Looking up while falling off a cliff some where. A man by the name of Davos Kashaiel had skipped out on payment for a local gang and were willing to part with a sum of credits just to make sure the man got back and track. The description was not too hard to follow. A rather obese man with thining hair, usually seen sporting a black overcoat and white shirt underneath and a scar running down the right side of his chin. Along with that he was fond of prostitutes and sometimes blew his whole check on a one night ride. Wasting no more time, Kuursk entered the fearsome Mos Eisely Cantina.
Slinging his repeater blaster rifle, he passed through the crowd which was practically an orgy of species colliding with one another to drink in the poisons. There was enough bounty hunters and mercenaries in the Mos Eisley Cantina to hide himself appropriately of course all he had to do was stay in the crowd but this created a visual issue. But Kuursk found his target. Davos was sitting in a booth situated to the right side of the Cantina, consorting with twileke "companions". Flaunting his credits about by spreading them on the table. It was almost embarrasing to watch this fellow.
The galaxy would certainly not care if he disposed of him but for now he decided to play it cool and collectively by seating himself on the opposite side of the bar, giving him a perfect view of the swine. Kuursk then ordered himself a small reactor core and occasionaly had it refilled as the fat slob continued to consort with the alien women. Kuursk never appreciated inter-species romance of any kind. It just gave him all the more reason to drive his scaly fists into the target's skull. Oh the joy of being a gun for hire! Life was almost too good.
Looking up while falling off a cliff some where. A man by the name of Davos Kashaiel had skipped out on payment for a local gang and were willing to part with a sum of credits just to make sure the man got back and track. The description was not too hard to follow. A rather obese man with thining hair, usually seen sporting a black overcoat and white shirt underneath and a scar running down the right side of his chin. Along with that he was fond of prostitutes and sometimes blew his whole check on a one night ride. Wasting no more time, Kuursk entered the fearsome Mos Eisely Cantina.
Slinging his repeater blaster rifle, he passed through the crowd which was practically an orgy of species colliding with one another to drink in the poisons. There was enough bounty hunters and mercenaries in the Mos Eisley Cantina to hide himself appropriately of course all he had to do was stay in the crowd but this created a visual issue. But Kuursk found his target. Davos was sitting in a booth situated to the right side of the Cantina, consorting with twileke "companions". Flaunting his credits about by spreading them on the table. It was almost embarrasing to watch this fellow.
The galaxy would certainly not care if he disposed of him but for now he decided to play it cool and collectively by seating himself on the opposite side of the bar, giving him a perfect view of the swine. Kuursk then ordered himself a small reactor core and occasionaly had it refilled as the fat slob continued to consort with the alien women. Kuursk never appreciated inter-species romance of any kind. It just gave him all the more reason to drive his scaly fists into the target's skull. Oh the joy of being a gun for hire! Life was almost too good.
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