Tales Of the Treasure Hunters

Era: 33 BBY

Dramatis Personae:

Qarnaeus Fosan: Human Male Treasure Enthusiast
EGL-I: Assasin Droid (Sniper)
Malr Keening - Female Twi'lek - Professional Contract-Only Thief
Arval Gnar - Devaronian Conman
Dornicus Hart - Human Male Hireling

Motivations -
QS - Just likes treasure
EGL-I - Hired by QS
MK - Hired by QS
AG - MK's unofficial PIC
DH - Teh monies. And adventure.

Treasure ends up at Nar Shadaa

Part I

Coruscant. 33 BBY. The Crimson Corridor. The bustle moved in silence, save for the shuffling of a thousand dragging feet. The teeming masses too jaded to want to go anywhere. Not that anyone had to. Down a side alley, a fight breaks out, blasters are drawn and the disagreement is ended promptly. Among the throng of deviants and degenerates moves a man, more out of place than a Muun at a Pazaak table. Dressed in sophisticated, yet functional attire, he could not move with the crowd, though no-one could come close to seeing this in the shadows of the throne rooms of the fortunate. He was human, that much for sure. Not being used to the norms of Coruscant's very own Netherworld, he moved out of sync with the flow of the horde of strangers; too fast, too slow, wrong direction.
"Surely", thought the alien to the Corridor; "If there are Nine Hells, this must be one".
He continued down the Corridor, looking at a Holopad with the feverency and determination of a man on a mission. Turning into an alley, trying his best to ignore the pleas of the sick and the weak, he found his way to a barely-lit doorway, and rang the comm. Immediately, what looked like the severed head of a 3PO droid protruded from the wall.
"Name", grunted the head, distorted by age and neglect.
"Qarnaeus Fosan", declared the man, confident in his reputation. Seconds passed, as information was moved, collected, and confirmed. The door slid open, halting halfway and having to be pulled open by a beaming Devaronian.
"Doctor!" exclaimed the devil-man, moving to put his arm around Fosan, collecting him into the building. "You made it! You know I am only way to go for this line of work, yes?" The Devaronian let out a bellow of laughter.
"Arval Gnar?" Inquired Fosan, brushing the huge arm away from his shoulder.
Unfazed by Fosan's bluntness and formality, the Devaronian spread his arms wide and laughed again
"Of course is me! You see other Devaronians down here? No, I thought not. Now come, come!" Said Gnar as he motioned Fosan into the edifice. Walking into the building, his features were somewhat clearer now in the unnatural greenish light of the hallway; he looked to be in his late twenties, going by standard years, with short, neat hair and sharp features. He wasn't strong, or large, nor was he thin and small, but he looked like he could handle himself, should the situation arise. Signalled into the main room, half-hearing the pleasantries from Gnar, who was talking and laughing the whole time. It was a short walk past several doors before they reached the right one, about halfway down the hall. Gnar punched in a lengthy code and the door groaned open. The occupants of the squalid room were an old Rodian couple, watching the Holonet. They looked up briefly, before resuming watching a story about some planet in the Outer Rim having elected a new Queen. Continuing through the living quarters, Gnar opened a temperature-controlled food storage unit, opened a back panel, revealing an ancient comm screen.
"Our client is here" stated Arval, turning around to smile at Fosan. Incomprehensible static fell from the comm and a storage unit behind them retreated into the wall, revealing a stairway leading even further down into the city planet.
"If you don't mind me asking" asked Fosan, curious about the Devaronian's history, "Why the security?"
Arval laughed confidently. "I had a, uh, misunderstanding, shall we say, with a Hutt. Well, some. Well, a clan. Well, two clans." Gnar laughed and made a dismissive wave of his hand "No worries now, observe my highly trained security team", motioning to the old Rodian couple and roaring with laughter at his own joke.