Follow the Wolves
Join Date: May 2004
Location: between my ears
Current Game: Dead Space
Yun Liula watched as the man ordered a Tarisian Ale. This guy must not have many reservations about spending money, Yun thought to himself. Tarisian Ale was getting more and more expensive as the years past by in the Galaxy due to its demand among the elite and the relatively few makers. Once a very popular drink due to its potency, Tarisian Ale had largely been replaced by Trandoshan Vodka as the preferred potent drink, well, at least among commoners. And the best of it was a particular brand that was based on the original formula developed on Taris itself.
One would think that Taris would have made a rebound in the Galaxy since the destruction one of the Sith Lords wrought on its surface had been thousands of years ago, but that wasn't the case. After the bombardment of its surface, the few Tarisians that survived moved into the underwater facilities that had been used to harvest kelp from its oceans. Now, where there had been towering cities that rivaled the metropolis of Coruscant, ghostly shells of an era long past still lie rotting on the surface. Although life was slowly beginning to creep out of the oceans, the surface was still a massive wasteland. On the Outer Rim, Taris was never truely considered to be a vital part of the Republic, so it never recieved the funding it needed to clean up the surface. Thus, the Taris metropolis slowly rebuilt itself underwater over the course of time.
Few parts of the Tarisian culture remained intact, and the lone brand of Tarisian Ale that is manufactured there is surprisingly one of its largest exports. this also reflects an ongoing problem for Taris: a lack of trade. The most valuable commodity out of Taris is its kelp which is used by the Republic to help provide food to the impoverished of the Galaxy. Otherwise, Taris has little the rest of the Galaxy wants.
As Yun downed the last of his own drink, he continued to study the man with the Tarisian Ale. He didn't really seem like the type that would order such a thing. He was dressed fairly plainly and had a couple of facial scars. Probably an independant freighter pilot. Or a smuggler. Bah, what's the difference these days? Yun asked himself. Still something wasn't quite right about the man. Yun had noticed that this man had been quite occupied with examining the bar, particularly the security. Although the man seemed to be caught up in his own personal issues, something else seemed to take precedence for him.
As the man finished his ale and walked back over to the bartender, he looked straight at Yun. He wasn't just looking at Yun: the man seemed to know that Yun wasn't just a customer in a cantina. Yun began to focus on the man and felt that he wasn't a threat, at least not to him. As the man looked away and sat at the bar, Yun realized that he was gripping the hilt of his lightsaber. He quickly relaxed his grip and breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I need would be for me to reveal myself here and endanger the Council's mission, he thought. Yun listened in as the man ordered not just a drink, but also a prostitute.
This is what Yun had been waiting for. Yun didn't want to order a prostitute himself because of the implications it could hold in the Council. As the man looked through the selections for the night, Yun waited patiently. The man finally made a selection and paid his tab for the night. Probably a thousand credits, if not more, Yun mused to himself. As the man headed into the back, led by security, Yun decided to wait a while before heading into the back himself. As a waiter came by, Yun ordered another cocktail. Whenever the cocktail came back, Yun leaned back in his lounge chair and listened to the jazz playing in the backround.
"Another drink, ehh? Well, its going to cost you," Mr. Overwatcher told his wife in a drunken stupor. "Cost me what? A night ofv' fun?" she replied. Both of them were now at their home after the party. Tsunin was already on her way back to the Jedi Temple, and both of the Overwatchers had gotten drunk on their way back in the speeder. "No, it'll cost you the bed," he replied as he burst into laughter. As they stumbled into their bedroom, Mrs. Overwatcher tried to grab the flask that Mr. Overwatcher was holding, but he pulled it away causing her to promptly collapse on the floor. She rolled over on the marble floor and burst out laughing. "Here, let me help you up, dear," he stated, holding out his hand. Instead of using him to pull herself up, Mrs. Overwatcher pulled him down on top of her.
"You clumsy oaf. I don't need any help from you," she stated with a drunken slurr. "Oh really? You're worse off than me and you call me clumsy, ehh?" he replied.
"Well, why not? I wouldn't have married you if you weren't so clumsy."
"Every good man has his bad qualities."
"And you have a few too many bad ones, I'm afraid. But thats why I love you so much," she said while smiling at him. With that, they began to kiss, and Mr. Overwatcher carefully began to feel around her neck for the clasp that held the halter part of her dress on.
See the struggle of the faithless lot as they negate their time
How low to sink to the depths of their frame of mind