ΜØŦĦ€Ř Đ€ΔŘ is a sims story in which the motherplant isn’t a captive in crater lab, but a crime boss residing in her own fortified lair. To achieve this end, I transplanted the Strangerville mystery ...
Tanglewood, despite being dominated by Godmother’s spores, isn’t exactly a one-biome planet. The north and south polar regions have a cold enough climate that doesn’t allow her spores to survive. Here a number of city-states can be found, the largest of them being San Myshuno, that also houses the planet’s only space port.
Because of its importance for commerce, San Myshuno is affectionally called “the capital” by the people of Tanglewood. In truth, the city state is rather isolationist and would drop everyone but their own settlements on a moment’s notice if it benefited from that.
When Hank arrives in town, he regrets not having donned a warm coat for several hours already. He severely needs a full meal, a schnaps and a warm bed. At least the first item on this list has to get satisfied before meeting the fence.
A junior officer of the First Order in casual uniform hogs the vendor stall, a reminder of their far-reaching influence.
In a galaxy full of turmoil, the First Order has risen from the ashes of the old Empire, that in turn had succeeded the Old Republic. Gone for a mere two generations now, the republic already seems like a myth to the people. The First Order had deemed many a banner to flock to, until it had become apparent that the order they brought was a stifling one that suffocated individualism. Their idea of combating poverty was to pay a small sum for every toddler that was given to the military for lifelong indoctrination. The result was a more costly than normal, but scarily efficient army.
Hank tries his best to ignore the officer when he approaches the stall.
Vendor: “Hello and welcome to San Myshuno! What would you like? We have a great iceberg salad today!”
Danilo: “Can recommend!”
Hank: “You know what? I’ll buy one. The one this man here hasn’t paid for, to be precise. And a spicy soup for myself.”
The gesture could be meant for any person on the square and Hank makes sure to not follow immediately after having seen it. Only after wiping the last bit of soup with a piece of bread and returning the empty bowl to the vendor, does he casually stroll into the same direction as the Twi’lek.
In Hank’s back the Lieutenant takes out his comlink.
Hank had noticed in passing the marks that looked like scars on a casual glance. On closer inspection they would have turned out to be assembly joints. Except for half of an arm, this man’s limbs are robotic prostheses, and the same goes for his right eye. He is more machine than human.
After a few meters, the Twi’lek breaks into a dash. Hank gives chase, but isn’t a match for an at least twenty years younger scoundrel, especially not one who knows every nook and shortcut in San Myshuno’s space port district.
“You want me to be out of breath for the haggling, don’t you?” the space pirate curses under his breath. “Congrats! You just raised the price of the goodies.”
The Twi’lek is nowhere to be seen anymore. Having done her part, she has slinked into an alley. No one wants to be present when Roan Ren deals with a target, after all.
Of all the Knighs of Ren, Roan is an oddity in that he is just as ruthless, albeit less emotional than the rest. His force sensitivity also leans greatly towards subtle mind powers. A supreme assassin, these two traits nonetheless impede Roan’s advancement to the point where he is seen as still a squire by Kylo Ren.
Hank, to the contrary, sees only one thing in Roan: The murderer of his son. This mask was the last thing six year old Cole Anderson had seen in his life.
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