Custom Aspect (located on Character Sheet as Wiki Bio is forth-coming):
A Job A Day Keeps The Doctor Away: Laren Uscot is driven by taking tasks, overcoming its obstacles and succeeding. Though money is necessary to perform any job he may be given, he is neither driven by revenge or bloodlust. His pragmatic approach to work is a means of occupying his thoughts away from painful memories of his torture and time as a slave. However, sometimes he takes on too many jobs at once, leaving him struggling to find a way to maintain his reputation, and his head.
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Cartao
Roaki's Blade Cantina
33 ABY
Though Cartao still felt some of the pull of the New Republic, even in the Expansion Regions, places that attracted vile scum and malicious individuals always existed for the potential to commit crime for profit. Roaki's Cantina, located in the capital of Cartao's lower levels was dark, the lighting subdued for the benefit of its customers, masking faces, weapons, and motive. The establishment, if it could be called that, was a large cylindrical room, with a bar occupying the entire wall to the left upon entering the main door. The rest of the cantina was a combination of linen-lined booths complete with corroding metal walls and tables, and a set of ten stand-alone plasteel tables with a total of forty chairs surrounding a small dance floor. Soft yet psychedelic music was produced from the bar, as the owner was too cheap to want to buy a stage and have live music. There was a holo for that, customers would joke.
Laren Uscot sat at a booth close to the bar, at its left-most side, the side of which the front door was located. His booth was empty save for him, and its location gave him perfect coverage of the entire establishment. He could see the bartender manning his post, a fat Toydarian named Lif with an apron caked with what Laren only wanted to think was dirt, though he was surely wrong. Only two people sat at the bar listening to Lif's haggard voice drone on about various happenings on the planet. The first was a human, or perhaps a near-human male, dressed in the garb of a dangerous criminal, blaster holstered at his waist. He fingered it without noticing as he was forced to continue listening to Lif, seemingly comforted by the drink he held in his other hand. The second was an Iktotchi male, the lower half of whose face was covered by a scarf, showing only dark eyes that were staring at something beyond the bottles lined without regard for organization or type on the bar's far wall.
Other patrons occupied tables, and Laren could spot a group of Duros speaking in hushed tones off in the distance, two Twi'lek females who were too relaxed, a dangerous trait in a cantina that had forced Laren to sit where he was now. Anyone with the confidence to seemingly enjoy their time in the cantina was either a fool, or extremely dangerous. Judging by their knives, Laren took a safe guess to mind his distance. He was in no mood to start trouble or have it find him. He had just completed three jobs for three clients, and he had arranged for them to arrive within thirty minutes of each other since he was owed payment. He had taken out three targets in the Inner Rim, the convenience of which was granted by his reputation providing him the ability to pick and choose his jobs. He had taken out a rival bounty hunter, Yeaazin Poal, a Trandoshan who had taken contracts with a rival faction of his client. He had been quite the challenge, and Laren had been more than satisfied to take a blade to his throat after a fierce duel. He had also been contracted to kill a juniour New Republic diplomat who had information regarding a complex embezzlement scheme on Mimban connected to the Hutt family, and a retired Bothan spy who had formerly worked for the Rebellion. Though the second job was a filler for credits to keep his own enterprise afoot, the final operation was one of his best. He had somehow managed, with heavy assistance from the technology of the day, to sneak up on this Bothan in broad daylight and stab him in the back. The satisfaction he had had walking away with the Bothan's prized medallion as proof of success for his client was immeasurable to but a few moments in his life.
Laren's eyes caught the soft light from the front door, signaling its opening from the dimly lit street outside. Sure enough his first client was walking through the door, a wealthy looking human female flanked by two guards, humanoid by their form but covered from head to toe in black robes and armed with a sword each and blasters. She had no trouble spotting the Pantoran in the sparse crowd, and she sat opposite Laren at his booth as her guards took flanking positions, looking outward on the crowd. This was the client who had contracted the Trandoshan mission.
"Mister Uscot, news is spreading in the underworld that Yeaazin Poal was murdered during a drunk brawl." She paused, her fingers drumming on the table rhythmically. She seemed hesitant, almost. Nervous? Not likely. "He was bested by an unknown assailant, and his throat was cut. Excellent work."
"Lady Kora, only the best is reserved for you," Laren said, a deliberately excessive bow of his head as a sign of respect. He wanted more jobs from someone well placed in the spice trade, as going up against his rivals was proving quite the challenge.
"Your relatively unknown reputation among other bounty hunters gave you a unique edge I am glad you used to its fullest advantage. Your credits have been transferred to your account, and if we have something else for you, I will contact you personally."
Suddenly the door opened again. If it wasn't for the man who had stepped through the door next, Laren would not have cared. Instead, he recognized the individual not only by his distinct helmet, but also by his armour. It was his second client, sentient Laren only knew as Corsair. And judging Lady Kora's guards' reaction, Laren wasn't the only one to make his acquaintance.
"Corsair! Karabast, I have been set up." She almost threw herself with the speed of which she got up from her seat, drawing a blaster from under he clothing and readying the weapon for battle. "LAREN! Did you do this?"
"Lady Kora," Corsair's voice rasped from under his mask, his true tone masked by a voice emulator. "A pleasure, as always. And Laren?" He laughed, the voice emulator providing a uniquely horrific tone that sent shivers down Laren's spine. "Laren, you just find yourself in quite the - situation. Swindling enemies for maximum profit." His blaster was drawn, though he made no move to attack.
The room was tense, and Laren had no opportunity to move. He sat dumb-founded behind his table, his hands reaching for his DL-44 he had holstered to his left thigh, quickly released it from its bonds.
"Now this has all been a misunderstanding. I took contracts from the both of you, and I came through! I had no idea, absolutely zero idea that you two were competitors -"
"Enemies of the highest caliber is a more accurate term," Corsair rasped, having reached the far side of the dance floor, a tactically superior position in the case of a firefight against a superior number of opponents.
Finally the door to the Roaki's Blade opened a third time, and Laren's luck seemed as if it had completely turned around and run away this day. His third client walked in the door, weapons already drawn as he had probably guessed something was amiss when patrons slowly began filing out of the Cantina. Orik Joyurn, a Zabrak slaver and bounty hunter who was a contact for the Hutts had made his appearance. He was smart enough to know that when scum of the sort that laid their credits down here only left when the heat was akin to an out of control inferno, and thus it was best to escape with their skin while they had a chance.
"I come here to meet with the Pantoran who exceeded my expectations, and I find two low-rate thugs pointing their weapons at each other. I knew you were a damn fine bounty hunter, Uscot, but this sort of villainy is simply beyond what I had imagined," Orik's voice boomed as he waited by the door. "Seems like you won't be getting paid after all."
Laren had to do something, he had to act. This was a powder-keg that was going to explode with or without him, though come to think of it he was the root cause of the incoming explosion of gunfire.
"I really don't want to keep repeating myself, but I took contracts from all three of you. I came through on my work, and I had asked to meet with you at three very separate times within a short period so I could get off world and go about my business." Though he couldn't see the faces of two of his adversaries, he knew the look given to him in his direction was blank and unforgiving.
Suddenly one of Lady Kora's guards charged Corsair, though the guard was quickly cut down by a blaster shot to the chest. Blaster bolts erupted everywhere, from both his former clients and those who remained who wanted in on a piece of the action. Laren barely noticed Lif scurrying for his own blaster rifle behind the bar as he bounded from his table, rolling over and landing adeptly on the ground before he set his feet and ran for the door. He kept his head low and his cloak up, hoping his unassuming clothes would aid in his escape. He saw the backdoor to the right of the bar, only a few meters away from where he was now. Before he could reach the door, he was stopped in his tracks by a dead Duros knocked over the table, a small knife embedded in his skull and a look of surprise etched upon his eternally still face. Laren shook his head, taking a second to re-assert himself, and then he continued his escape, passing through the door into the alley and running like hell as fast as he could from the scene of his stupidity.
"Great, Laren. You find yourself three good jobs and three new murderers, if they all survive." Even as he ran he couldn't think these words, as his mind was focused on escape and evasion. He was muttering them through quick and hoarse breaths as he sprinted through the lower levels of Cartao, knowing his only escape was off the planet unless he wished to die within the next hour.
"Time to find a ship."