Galaxy's Edge Space Bar (archive)

[Myitt]

"I believe he expects payment," Myitt replies.  "Unless you want to open a running tab.  I wouldn't suggest it.  Do you need cash?"

[Darth Revan]

Thordon's face slightly lifts with clarity. "Oh, 'currency'. Right, what would you accept as a substitute?"

The BT continues to stare plainly into Thordon's eyes.

Thordon turns to Myitt, "He doesn't talk much, does he? Is he mute?"

[Chad32]

"He might as well be mute, as he never talks. He accepts Galardian currency, though you may not have any. If you want, I can start a tab and you can repay me later in favors. That is, unless you brought currency of your own."

[Darth Revan]

Thordon pats himself down purely as a gesture. "No currency. We haven't required it for quite some time. What can I do for you?"

[Chad32]

Temrash placed some money on the table, which the Barkeep took, and filled up the glass again with the same stuff from before.

"Nothing big. If something comes up that I need some help with, like carrying some supplies, then helping me will go towards paying off the debt."

[Darth Revan]

"You got it. Ask, and it's yours. Thanks." Thordon turns to the BT and gives him a pleasing nod, the BT returns nothing and goes back to drying the all ready dry mug. Thordon, with a contented look turns back to Temrash, raises his glass, and takes a smaller drink.

"So, Temrash, what manner of spieces are you inhabiting?"

[Myitt]

"I think he can talk," Myitt says quietly, behind a hand, as if it were taboo, "but I don't ever want to hear whatever would come out."

[Darth Revan]

Thordon looks puzzled, "Why? He seems a temperate fellow."

[Myitt]

"Yeah, that's what scares me," she hisses quietly.

[Chad32]

"My host is a Hork-Bajir. They were created on a planet previously inhabited by the Arn in order to cultivate the trees there. for the most part the Hork-Bajir were created with low intelligence because they wanted to distance themselves from their creations. Even an adult Hork-Bajir like this one only has the intelligence of a small child of another species."

"There is an exception to this, as one in every 10,000 Hork-Bajir are born with normal intelligence. It is at these times that the culture began to grow substantially. Jagill is a normal Hork-Bajir, and I don't know of any members that the Hork-Najir call Seers since Dak Hamee died after the invasion of their homeworld had begun."

[Darth Revan]

"Ah, well, low intelligence, able bodies. They sound perfect for your kind. Are the Hork-Bajir not welcoming of your influence? Or did you all just start off on the wrong foot;" Thordon looks down at Jagil's feet, "or, 'talon'?"

[Chad32]

"The beginnings of the empire was just starting out when they found the Hork-Bajir homeworld. The one in charge of the operation didn't care for diplomacy or trying to win some over to become voluntary. Yes, they certainly got off on the wrong talon, but these were the radicals who decided to steal an Andalite ship instead of working with the Andalites. It wasn't surprising."

[Shenmue654]

Mar smirks. "And what a bloodbath of a war resulted from that action, and all the actions that came later. The Yeerks, despite being a race that prefers their captives alive for good reason, has caused an incredible amount of damage in barely fifty years. Then again, human beings have done far more to their own race. One Andalite created a genocide rather than allow their enemies to take a planet. And my old boss wonders why I argue that free will should be curtailed and controlled with regards to mortals. It's true that as individuals a great many of the people here and elsewhere are truly good. But when you gather in groups...a strange thing sometimes happens, no?"

"As for you..." Mar gives Thordon a bit of an inquiring look. "What is your wish? Do you want to stay with us or would you rather find a way back? We're a resourceful Bar. One of us could find a way to give you a lift."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

<Deep thoughts from deep minds I suppose.>  Ossanlin chuckles.  <Ahh radicals, the source of strife.  Wonderful, no?>

Ossanlin directs a stalk-eye to Mar, relaying a private thought-speech.  <<Ixnay on the enocide-jay.  The Andalite responsible for that travesty happens to have a daughter standing at the bar right next to me....and she's very touchy about her father.>>

Ossanlin smiles with his main eyes.  <The logistics of such an operation are mind-boggling if not impossible, but I suppose it's enjoyable to hypothesize.>

[Breekan1]

Breekan smiles. "I don't think a species is going to fork over its right to poop in privacy and eat what it wants, no matter how 'delayed' their development is." He browses the drink menu, wondering for a moment what the hell a Mickey Slim is. "Besides, maybe they're brighter than you think. There's a planetoid a few galaxies over where the people literally can't conceive of any number beyond 7, but they've bred these little guys to work as computers for them, to handle all of the information they don't get. They think it's magic wisdom from the gods, of course, but the things they've figured out about breeding were absolutely mind-blowing, at least the bits I understood before I fed their sun to a- erm. Well." Breekan frowns. "This was... back in my off days, mind you."