Watching the environment around him. He stood in a surreptitious fashion, contemplating the lifespan he lived.

Walking around in the crowds of Coruscant was daunting for Reathe. He was a Gurlanin, birthed far away on Qiilura.

After a quarrel on Point Nadir concerning a Charlatan the unseasoned Reathe was ditched, stationing him on the planet Coruscant. Reathe stood behind several people clad in ebony hooded cloaks. Beneath their hooded guise, their eyes were amber. But one wore a mask, their masquerade a semblance of a foreign culture. Chronicles officiated Reathe's mind, unable to interpret the concord behind him. But the young Gurlanin continued the journey to the famous Golden Slug bar, don in a farmers attire. Eventually the untried Reathe encountered the bar, blending into the diverse amount of crowds stationed there. He held only a trivial amount of credits. But that was enough to incur a expensive beverage and the flock of recollective ebony cloaks surrounding him. Surrounded by a trio of Sith Acolytes. Reathe recognized their presence, attempting to establish a impersonal tie between him and the three. However, their mouths didn't move. Instead their Force-enabled wristblades emerged from their wrists, jabbing the Gurlanin's shoulder. These unsuspected blades dabbled in a Sith poison. Several of the Mind Walkers watched conservatively, concealed as wandering phantoms. Until they infiltrated the Gurlanin's unseasoned mind, inducing him as an applicant of Mindspeech. Confused the Gurlanin fled as anger spanned the benevolence of his spirit. Reathe was bewildered, disoriented from the retiring events.