Space yachts are the primary occupants of this port. Far from the commoners and grime of the lower levels, this spaceport is well guarded and much cleaner. Although still busy, the clientelle appear to be more upper class than usual, thos that can afford to live in the upper levels. Ships take off and land regularly, a constant flow of traffic in and out. Any unusual ships would definately look out of place, and be inspected immediately.

Another fine day on Coruscant, if one could call Coruscant fine. A constant flurry of ships fly overhead and all around, screaming back and forth between the mighty space above, and the chaotic ground below. People, as well, stroll from place to place on the walking straights near the port. Speeders scream about in their dutiful tasks. And droids service the ships, transport goods, and all manner of things to which they're accustomed.
And, in the midst of it all, strolling quietly through the crowds, trussed up in some vaguely nice clothes, the brooch supporting his pants setting him at least partially apart from the rest of the folks around. A Damascus, one of the noble-ish houses on Coruscant. And he's just a kid.
Wandering he goes, head bobbing this way and that to glance at shops, ships, passerbys, and droids.

As the shuttle slowly decends upon the Coruscant spaceport, Aric Cardigan stands and straightnes his clothing preparing to disembark he glances towards the front of the shuttle awaiting his chance to be let off. Stepping down off the shuttle, Aric slowly surveys the hustle and bustle of the Galaxy's core planet. Moving away from the shuttle and landing pad, Aric begins to walk towards the local shops wondering who and where his journies shall take him today.

Wandering, wandering, goes James Damascus, hands tucked firmly in pockets, eyes gazing and pondering. Finding an emptier part of a nearby sidewalk, he stops, and leans up against the side of a building, hands still tucked away. One foot comes up to rest on the side of the building, and he just stands there, peering about. For the most part, he is ignored, and uncared about.
It's more or less how he likes it, that way.

Aric suddenly begins to get jostled about as a large throng of people push forward trying to get to thier destination quicker and faster than the next person. Aric gets turned around and his sense of direction twisted six ways to Sunday. Running his hand through his hair, Aric stops and slowly turns trying to find a building or a object that might help him regain his sense of direction.
Not finding one, Aric happens to notice a small man or child leaning up against a building just standing their with his hands in his pockets. Smiling, Aric hypothesises that this one might be able to help him regain his directions. Slowly walking forward to the child, Aric gives the child a nice smile as he says, "Greetings and salutations there young lad. Perhaps you could help a traveler regain his way?"

Looking up, James blinks a few times towards Aric. His face is young, but at least late teens, perhaps even his early twenties. For several moments, he just continues to stand there, peering at the other, looking him over. "Aye, I could," He replies simply enough, unsmiling and more or less objective to the entire question.
"Where are you trying to get?" He inquires casually, eyes peering about even while he half-converses with the man, seemingly disinterested in anything.

The man standing before you is dressed in a completely black regalia. He stands about 6 feet in height and weighs about 182 or so pounds. His short straight jet black hair is neatly combed forward in front of his face. His appearance is chiseled and very attractive, dispite the thin scar that runs down from his right eyebrow to his right cheek. His slightly unshaven face gives him a rugged look. His eyes are conceled by a pair of reflective glasses. You can't see where he is looking but you almost feel his cold gaze pass over your way. His build is not huge, but from the way that the human carries himself, very defined and able. The man wears, what looks like a royal cape, but nothing shows if he actually is royalty. This black cape is open on the front and it has a split down the tail. The black cape prevents you from seeing any weapons, but who knows what he could have concealed. Underneath the shiny black cape, lies a matte black body armor. It is shaped to fit and conform to his well defined body. His belt has pockets and various small attatchments. His pants are slightly baggy, and look as if they cover some sort of protective padding or armor as well. The pant-legs are neatly tucked into a high pair of boots. The boots are strapped tightly. They are sturdy and are in great condition, even with the obvious frequency of use. Each hand has a black pair of gloves on it with the fingers cut off. The gloves themselves seem to be reinforced His back contains a backpack as well, and you cannot discern what might be in it. Overall, this human gives off an eerie look. His mere presence make others around somewhat uneasy. You can almost feel his observant gaze taking in every last detail about what is going on around him. He is calm, cool, collective and does not look like the type of person you would want to cross paths with.

At a mere 1.7 meters, this man's appearance is less than imposing. What he lacks in stature, however, is quite replenished with his looks. Fair, unblemished skin, and well formed musculature that carefully defines his facial features, as well as the rest of his generally average height body. Dark blue eyes highlight the round glimmery globes in his eyesockets, shining forth like a beacon in the night. His hair, in a rather distinct change, brown and full, has been undone, and lopped off voraciously, leaving it about as long as his face is tall. It dopples about his face in a messy way, clumped together at the tips rather disorderly, flowing with the slightest bit of movement. The face shows very little age and wear at all, himself easily passing as a teen to a middle-twenty year old.
His clothing, like his hair, is a radical and ungainly style. Loose black slacks cover his legs, dexterity a prime concern there as they move and stretch easily. Black boots cover his feet, laced tightly, the tops covered by his pants. The pants are held up simply with a belt with inordinate buckle. Tucked into his pants is a tight white shirt long-sleeved, the cut an inch and a half below the base of his neck. Over the shirt is a black vest, trussed up with little at all, button-up style with a long v-shaped cut that strides down to the center of his chest. On his right hip, a small bulge is produced under the black fabric of his vest. Around his neck, a simple silver chain lies there with a tiny pendant on the end hanging out over his white shirt.
The only, well, proper thing that covets his clothing at -all- is a silvery brooch that acts as a belt buckle, ornate and exquisite. Definately out of place. It is a circular coat of arms with a starscape for the background and Coruscant's sun in the top left corner; the top corner of a man's face/head with bright blue eyes looking straight out. In the bottom left corner, between the face and the sun, is the hilt of a sheathed sword pointing downward. From the center streaking to the top right corner is an indistinguishable starship entering hyperspace, with a lush, beautiful planet beneath it.

Nodding his head, Aric slowly turns his head glancing towards the Coruscant skyline while raising an arm and pointing. "Somewhere out there lad. A place of comfort but also of business, yet I have no name of the place nor a location. I saw an ad for it on Corellia, and decided that I must venture here to find it." Aric glances down to the child and notces the childs disinterested look.
"Perhaps I was mistaken, perhaps you cannot help me. Maybe it is something I must find myself. Perhaps more of a quest than I assumed." Aric glances down at his time piece and then back to the child, "But aye it is getting a bit late and I have traveled long and hard. Perhaps you could help me find a place of lodging? Or a place that I might get a bite to eat before I retire for the night? I would surely appreciate it my young friend."

James peers towards Aric curiously as he speaks in riddles, pondering quietly. "You're more confusing than those mystics in the spire," He offers plaintively, before moving from his position on the building, and pulls a hand out of a pocket, pointing down south, "There are a number of places for lodging down that way. As well as a number of restaurants." He looks towards the man once more, and offers, "There are also a few hostels, if you have need of them."

Aric's grim look suddenly breaks into a wide smile as the young child begins to talk about hostels and the dregs of society. "Ahhh my young friend, you seem to know much for a child of you age talking about hostels and such. But no I have no need for thoose...but this spire you speak of. It intrigues my mind and query's my thought. What goes on in this spire and where might I find it? Perhaps I should pay it a visit after my resting period."

"Some say that there are dark things amiss there," Damascus offers plantively, tucking hands back in pockets, quite ignoring the comment of his own knowledge. "Others, say that there are mystical beings there that shape the destiny of trillions. Training, lying in wait until the day that they might arise from their palacades, for some unknown fate and purpose. The most prominant things I've heard, is that they are a clandestine group of people, going about protecting everyone from evil, dark things." He shrugs, "But then again, what would I know? I'm just a child." Yes. That's it. A child with a noble accent, and whatnot. And who has family members who enlisted in that cult of cults.

Aric frowns at the sound of this child's explination, for death and destruction are his job not thoose of mystic beings. Shaking off his thoughts, Aric smiles and then bows to the child, "Well my young friend thank you for your direction and you cryptic messages. I shall remeber you and if you have a need for me I shall be around. Thank you once more." With that, Aric turns and heads southward his cape billowing in the air behind him as Aric continues on his unknown quest.