Bitter End was a busy city for its size. It's population dwindled, by modern standards, in the hundreds of thousands. It was no thriving hub, on the planet Vjun, at the wayside of the galaxy. Nor was it a tourist destination, its acid rains making it a perilous place in the monsoons, and its arid, rocky landscape made it far from the sort of picturesque, stereotypically Alderaanian hotspot for holidaymakers. But to some, the city held a kind of solemn beauty. It's old fashioned beige and brown buildings standing on the edge of the Bay of Tears, a harbour that seemed to swallow the bare sunlight pouring down upon it and rippled an eerie greenish colour.
The only noteworthy native life on Vjun (as Bitter End's citizens were immigrants, thousands of generations down maybe, but immigrated nonetheless) was the fish that inhabited it's few and vast pools, such as the bay. It was upon one such fish, a whip-smelt as it was called by the locals, that Nescius Caedo was eating, sitting at a small restaurant by the edge of the city, his seat overlooking the bay. He made no attempt to hide who he was, the powerful Dark Jedi sitting there in conspicuously ominous garb, all black, his lightsaber, a plain silver and black hilt, hanging from his belt and his face, unrecognisable from his alter ego, bearing an aura of foreboding about his expression. He had no need to pretend to be another, there was little sign of the war on Vjun, life went on here as it always had, irrelevant of the great battles between the Republic and whomever was fighting against it.
He took another mouthful of the fish, and washed it down with a sip of wine, enjoying his brief moment of peace in a life otherwise full of chaos.
The only noteworthy native life on Vjun (as Bitter End's citizens were immigrants, thousands of generations down maybe, but immigrated nonetheless) was the fish that inhabited it's few and vast pools, such as the bay. It was upon one such fish, a whip-smelt as it was called by the locals, that Nescius Caedo was eating, sitting at a small restaurant by the edge of the city, his seat overlooking the bay. He made no attempt to hide who he was, the powerful Dark Jedi sitting there in conspicuously ominous garb, all black, his lightsaber, a plain silver and black hilt, hanging from his belt and his face, unrecognisable from his alter ego, bearing an aura of foreboding about his expression. He had no need to pretend to be another, there was little sign of the war on Vjun, life went on here as it always had, irrelevant of the great battles between the Republic and whomever was fighting against it.
He took another mouthful of the fish, and washed it down with a sip of wine, enjoying his brief moment of peace in a life otherwise full of chaos.