03-01-2018, 08:00 AM
Monsters in the lower tiers, which were described as vaguely Heartless in nature, candidates abounding in the slums and criminal hives, and an all-too mischievous shapeshifter, eager to display its newly found prowess in mimicry, these were all the things that Jaixe had to deal with all too soon. But the flurry of sudden activity only made it easier to ignore the existential dilemmas that he had yet to fully confront, so it was a welcome distraction.
The first step was to establish his forces and power base in Coruscant, however meager it may be. The shapeshifter provided a veritable cornucopia of potential targets, mostly criminals and the poverty-stricken denizens who were particularly desperate, which came as no surprise to the Seeker. The lower tiers were always rife with a level of despair that, even when mixed with the near-toxic air and claustrophobic, chaotic landscape that disgusted him, still gave him a measure of joy and comfort. It was a paradise almost unregulated by Imperial Authorities.
He concluded that it was these thoughts that made him return here, as he walked the streets with these second-rate thugs and shoddy vagrants. Compared to them, he clearly showed he was from the higher tiers. Wearing a dark, double-breasted, waist-length trench coat with a dark-blue undershirt, and forgoing the ever-despicable ties, his fine and clean choice of attire stuck out sorely against the tide of riffraff, though a discerning scowl, with a modest boost provided by his telepathy, often kept the more brazen beggars at bay.
With his personal space and authority over the commoners solidified for the moment, Jaixe returned to his thoughts.
“I sent the shapeshifter ahead, though whether this “Inkeeper” will take the bait is another matter entirely.” Jaixe pondered, barely noting the wide berth that most of the crowd was giving him thanks to his telepathic aura discouraging them. “We shall have to see whether I must turn him or if this will be a mutually profitable relationship…”
He idly went through possible avenues of discussion and manipulation, gathering his thoughts for the mental and verbal battle that lay ahead of him. Though, when he finally arrived at his destination, he had to admit his own level of surprise. The Innkeeper ran a series of establishments, disguised safehouses really, that helped maintain a level of control and organization to this sector’s underworld organizations. While his was the smallest of these groups, it was by far one of the more influential, as every thief and assassin needed a place to hide, every boss needed a place to meet with others on neutral grounds, and every client needed somewhere to place their contracts. The Innkeeper’s “inns” were just the sort of place they needed, and thus were frequently busy with a rush of inbound and outbound traffic.
It was the lack of traffic through the front of the hotel and the group of armed guards that met him when he turned down the alleyway to one such establishment – a twelve story tall hostel of brick and stone that visually appeared to be in disrepair, which allowed it to blend in with its surroundings – that surprised him. That the Innkeeper would even regard him highly enough to take such precautions was not what he expected.
“An escort? How quaint.” Jaixe commented to the group, who seemed to be expectant of his arrival. Without a word, they stepped aside, waiting for him to walk on inside of the back entrance of the hostel. After they had entered one of the hotel’s dimly lit corridors, with its filthy maroon carpets, a color choice with more meaning than Jaixe cared to assume, flaking, stained wallpaper, and a series of heavy, wooden doors denoting rooms, arranged in a measured pattern, Jaixe had a feel for what this Innkeeper was likely to be.
“The Innkeeper received your message. She and your “pet” are waiting above.” One of the guards finally spoke to the Seeker, as the group of six continued to escort him through the hallways. He seemed disgruntled, but the Heartless was momentarily distracted by the revelation that they ascertained the shapeshifter’s identity. No matter. He was already achieving his goal.
On occasion, people glanced, cracking their door open just enough to peer into the hallway as the convoy passed, but soon they quickly retreated inside. It came as no surprise to Jaixe that these tenants would be paranoid and suspicious of anything that deviated from the norm.
Aside from the guards that escorted him, there were several staff and additional security members that patrolled the hallways, keeping watch. While the staff seemed to retreat at Jaixe’s mere presence, likely a side-effect of the telepathic aura that he kept up, the guards merely glowered at him briefly as he passed and continued. They were mentally sturdy, these guards. He took a mental note, and then began prodding at some of the guards escorting him, peering into their minds to pass the time.
“I will have to compliment the Innkeeper on selecting his guards well.” Jaixe thought at the difficulty of doing so, but with time to spare, he had managed to access the mind of at least two without notice.
Several minutes passed before Jaixe was brought to the room where the Innkeeper deigned to meet him. At the front of the door was an aide, idly flipping through notes, and yet more guards, standing sternly and more visibly armed than the group of escorts, with each shouldering a blaster rifle and appearing far more disciplined than the standard thug. Former soldiers, Jaixe concluded, given their stern posture and the brief glance that served as the only acknowledgement they gave to him.
“Quite the interesting dilemma I have found myself in.” Jaixe thought, as the aide stepped forward, waving a hand at the guards to return to their patrols as she addressed the Heartless. She was of a smaller, slimmer frame than most, rigid in her demeanor, with a sharp face and piercing, studious verdant eyes. She did not seem like pleasant company, but by her appearance alone, Jaixe knew her to be dedicated to her work.
“Mr. Furiael, I presume?” She began rhetorically, looking the Seeker up and down quickly, and with an even, calculating gaze before continuing to thumb through her notes, searching for something specific amongst the two datapads and several sheets of paper in her hands. “There is little point in asking a Prime if they are armed, however, I will request that you behave appropriately in front of the Innkeeper.”
Jaixe responded only with a slight scowl, emphasizing his displeasure with telepathic prodding. He noticed, for a brief moment, that the aide flinched at that, but quickly steeled herself.
“I did not come here to speak to attendants and guards,” He retorted coolly, taking a step forward to the door. The aid seemed at first as though she was going to speak, but then relented and nodded to the guards, who opened the door for the Heartless to enter through.
Despite the outside and interior disrepair of the building, Jaixe was surprised to find that inside of the Innkeeper’s office was clean, organized, and rather tastefully decorated, at least by his standards. It was still simple by comparison to the higher-tier’s offices, but for a crime lord, it was intriguing all the same.
The office was white, with dark wooden floors and three hanging lights, positioned in a triangular formation above. Bookcases and file cabinets dominated an entire wall to themselves, and the array of texts, datapads, and folders was vast enough to rival a small library. To the other side were hanging portraits of people Jaixe did not recognize, a widescreen TV, and a pair of potted plants, likely synthetic. In the center of the room were a pair of soft armchairs atop a red, circular carpet. In one of them, the shapeshifter, having taken the form of a young man of an unknown identity, seemed enamored with the comfort they provided than the arrival of its master, or the threat that lay beyond the sturdy, gilded wooden desk.
The Innkeeper was a curvier woman than her aid, more elegant in her features, though had the same, sharp face and piercing, ever attentive green eyes, though faintly, bags were forming underneath. She was also clearly older by at least a decade, with wrinkles just beginning to form across her face. She wore a fitted, black suit with a red, collared undershirt and a white tie. When Jaixe entered, with the two guards taking positions on either side of the doorway, she stood up and nodded to the Heartless.
“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Furiael. I hope the guards weren’t too curt when they escorted you here?” She spoke with clarity and dignity, motioning toward the other free chair for him to sit down.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. You are the Innkeeper, I believe?” Jaixe replied in kind, walking over to the chair and seating himself, crossing his legs as he did so and watching the Innkeeper attentively. As an afterthought, he prodded the shapeshifter telepathically, commanding it to sit straight rather than snuggle the chair. It obliged, though he sensed a tinge of disappointment in being made to do so. Once Jaixe was seated, and the shapeshifter straightened itself, the Innkeeper also reseated herself, returning the Seeker’s even gaze.
The first step was to establish his forces and power base in Coruscant, however meager it may be. The shapeshifter provided a veritable cornucopia of potential targets, mostly criminals and the poverty-stricken denizens who were particularly desperate, which came as no surprise to the Seeker. The lower tiers were always rife with a level of despair that, even when mixed with the near-toxic air and claustrophobic, chaotic landscape that disgusted him, still gave him a measure of joy and comfort. It was a paradise almost unregulated by Imperial Authorities.
He concluded that it was these thoughts that made him return here, as he walked the streets with these second-rate thugs and shoddy vagrants. Compared to them, he clearly showed he was from the higher tiers. Wearing a dark, double-breasted, waist-length trench coat with a dark-blue undershirt, and forgoing the ever-despicable ties, his fine and clean choice of attire stuck out sorely against the tide of riffraff, though a discerning scowl, with a modest boost provided by his telepathy, often kept the more brazen beggars at bay.
With his personal space and authority over the commoners solidified for the moment, Jaixe returned to his thoughts.
“I sent the shapeshifter ahead, though whether this “Inkeeper” will take the bait is another matter entirely.” Jaixe pondered, barely noting the wide berth that most of the crowd was giving him thanks to his telepathic aura discouraging them. “We shall have to see whether I must turn him or if this will be a mutually profitable relationship…”
He idly went through possible avenues of discussion and manipulation, gathering his thoughts for the mental and verbal battle that lay ahead of him. Though, when he finally arrived at his destination, he had to admit his own level of surprise. The Innkeeper ran a series of establishments, disguised safehouses really, that helped maintain a level of control and organization to this sector’s underworld organizations. While his was the smallest of these groups, it was by far one of the more influential, as every thief and assassin needed a place to hide, every boss needed a place to meet with others on neutral grounds, and every client needed somewhere to place their contracts. The Innkeeper’s “inns” were just the sort of place they needed, and thus were frequently busy with a rush of inbound and outbound traffic.
It was the lack of traffic through the front of the hotel and the group of armed guards that met him when he turned down the alleyway to one such establishment – a twelve story tall hostel of brick and stone that visually appeared to be in disrepair, which allowed it to blend in with its surroundings – that surprised him. That the Innkeeper would even regard him highly enough to take such precautions was not what he expected.
“An escort? How quaint.” Jaixe commented to the group, who seemed to be expectant of his arrival. Without a word, they stepped aside, waiting for him to walk on inside of the back entrance of the hostel. After they had entered one of the hotel’s dimly lit corridors, with its filthy maroon carpets, a color choice with more meaning than Jaixe cared to assume, flaking, stained wallpaper, and a series of heavy, wooden doors denoting rooms, arranged in a measured pattern, Jaixe had a feel for what this Innkeeper was likely to be.
“The Innkeeper received your message. She and your “pet” are waiting above.” One of the guards finally spoke to the Seeker, as the group of six continued to escort him through the hallways. He seemed disgruntled, but the Heartless was momentarily distracted by the revelation that they ascertained the shapeshifter’s identity. No matter. He was already achieving his goal.
On occasion, people glanced, cracking their door open just enough to peer into the hallway as the convoy passed, but soon they quickly retreated inside. It came as no surprise to Jaixe that these tenants would be paranoid and suspicious of anything that deviated from the norm.
Aside from the guards that escorted him, there were several staff and additional security members that patrolled the hallways, keeping watch. While the staff seemed to retreat at Jaixe’s mere presence, likely a side-effect of the telepathic aura that he kept up, the guards merely glowered at him briefly as he passed and continued. They were mentally sturdy, these guards. He took a mental note, and then began prodding at some of the guards escorting him, peering into their minds to pass the time.
“I will have to compliment the Innkeeper on selecting his guards well.” Jaixe thought at the difficulty of doing so, but with time to spare, he had managed to access the mind of at least two without notice.
Several minutes passed before Jaixe was brought to the room where the Innkeeper deigned to meet him. At the front of the door was an aide, idly flipping through notes, and yet more guards, standing sternly and more visibly armed than the group of escorts, with each shouldering a blaster rifle and appearing far more disciplined than the standard thug. Former soldiers, Jaixe concluded, given their stern posture and the brief glance that served as the only acknowledgement they gave to him.
“Quite the interesting dilemma I have found myself in.” Jaixe thought, as the aide stepped forward, waving a hand at the guards to return to their patrols as she addressed the Heartless. She was of a smaller, slimmer frame than most, rigid in her demeanor, with a sharp face and piercing, studious verdant eyes. She did not seem like pleasant company, but by her appearance alone, Jaixe knew her to be dedicated to her work.
“Mr. Furiael, I presume?” She began rhetorically, looking the Seeker up and down quickly, and with an even, calculating gaze before continuing to thumb through her notes, searching for something specific amongst the two datapads and several sheets of paper in her hands. “There is little point in asking a Prime if they are armed, however, I will request that you behave appropriately in front of the Innkeeper.”
Jaixe responded only with a slight scowl, emphasizing his displeasure with telepathic prodding. He noticed, for a brief moment, that the aide flinched at that, but quickly steeled herself.
“I did not come here to speak to attendants and guards,” He retorted coolly, taking a step forward to the door. The aid seemed at first as though she was going to speak, but then relented and nodded to the guards, who opened the door for the Heartless to enter through.
Despite the outside and interior disrepair of the building, Jaixe was surprised to find that inside of the Innkeeper’s office was clean, organized, and rather tastefully decorated, at least by his standards. It was still simple by comparison to the higher-tier’s offices, but for a crime lord, it was intriguing all the same.
The office was white, with dark wooden floors and three hanging lights, positioned in a triangular formation above. Bookcases and file cabinets dominated an entire wall to themselves, and the array of texts, datapads, and folders was vast enough to rival a small library. To the other side were hanging portraits of people Jaixe did not recognize, a widescreen TV, and a pair of potted plants, likely synthetic. In the center of the room were a pair of soft armchairs atop a red, circular carpet. In one of them, the shapeshifter, having taken the form of a young man of an unknown identity, seemed enamored with the comfort they provided than the arrival of its master, or the threat that lay beyond the sturdy, gilded wooden desk.
The Innkeeper was a curvier woman than her aid, more elegant in her features, though had the same, sharp face and piercing, ever attentive green eyes, though faintly, bags were forming underneath. She was also clearly older by at least a decade, with wrinkles just beginning to form across her face. She wore a fitted, black suit with a red, collared undershirt and a white tie. When Jaixe entered, with the two guards taking positions on either side of the doorway, she stood up and nodded to the Heartless.
“I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Furiael. I hope the guards weren’t too curt when they escorted you here?” She spoke with clarity and dignity, motioning toward the other free chair for him to sit down.
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. You are the Innkeeper, I believe?” Jaixe replied in kind, walking over to the chair and seating himself, crossing his legs as he did so and watching the Innkeeper attentively. As an afterthought, he prodded the shapeshifter telepathically, commanding it to sit straight rather than snuggle the chair. It obliged, though he sensed a tinge of disappointment in being made to do so. Once Jaixe was seated, and the shapeshifter straightened itself, the Innkeeper also reseated herself, returning the Seeker’s even gaze.