Telos, Citadel Station
Gelvik Verokin sat on a stool in one of Citadel Station's many Cantina's.
He held in his hand a shot of Juma, the drink he had wasted the last bit of money of his on. He probably wasn't even going to drink it, he'd had enough. That was the problem when you help the Jedi fight their enemies, they leave the mercs with hardly any jobs left, at least here on the Citadel, where he was now stranded.
"Barkeep...I think I'll..." He suddenly slipped off his stool and hit the ground hard, the glass of Juma crashing with him. This was rather humiliating for the sole survivor of Mand'alor's Elite Verokin Clan.
The Barkeep looked down at Gelvik.
"You'll be payin' for that."
Gelvik bonked his helmeted head on the cool durasteel, he felt absolutley miserable. He was getting an early headache from the alcohol, he had no means of transportation, or money to help, he didn't even have a place to bunk down for the night. And no money to pay for the glass.
He missed the days of action back in the Mandalorian War, conquering worlds in the name of Mand'alor the Ultimate. Well, that ended due to the Jedi Revan, and his friend, the Exile. The last of Gelvik's brothers had been slaughtered at Malachor, also due to The Exile. He ended up fighting alongside her, but of course, she didn't notice, so there was no pay or recommendation, and he was fine with that. At least he was able to help the galaxy, a little redemption after he and many others had tried to conquer it.
Gelvik stumbled back up, and ignoring the jeers of the Barkeep and the other patrons, he wobbled outside of the Cantina.
He needed to find some money.
you very much
If a tree would fall in the woods.....would the other trees laugh at it?