Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[AmberKatira]

"A walk would be nice," Ewa replied to Al. Get an idea of how large an area we have to work with here.  She slid her drink back and forth between her hands a couple of times and then finished it all in one gulp.  Should have done that when it was still a bit colder, she thought, but her expression remained politely bored.  No point in offending the Sub-Visser over something like a drink.

"Well then," she stood and stretched her shoulders a bit.  "What are we off to see?"

[Chad32]

<<I guess we are, for better or worse.>> Derrel said. <<It's been an interesting experience, and if we can all get there without anyone dying or being grievously injured, our new lives will begin.>>

[Ember Nickel]

An octoped clambers in.

This is stretching matters a bit; the creature doesn't actually have eight legs, or at least not eight that are being used as legs. Rather, one of its equally-spaced limbs seems to be nervously clutching something, while the other seven ungainlily propel it across the floor.

The creature eventually makes its way up to the bar. "Hello," it says, the voice coming out of a hole on the top of its body. "One Nagrin Blend, if you please."

[Terenia]

Zorish raises his eyebrows as yet another unfamiliar creature makes its way into the bar.

<<Interesting,>> he comments quietly to Tamora. <<It appears the Empire has a much wider space in which to stretch its palps than we ever knew.>>

<<Do you think you can bring the Empire here?>> Tamora asks. Zorish shrugs his host's shoulders, sipping his water and watching as the silent bartender gives the octoped a baleful look and sets aside the glass that he is ever-cleaning to prepare the requested drink.

When he returns, he sets the drink down in front of the octoped, pulls a small, battered notepad from his shirt pocket, and flips to a well-worn page, showing it to the new patron.

It reads: Cash or Tab?

[Ember Nickel]

The octoped reaches for the glass with the limb next to the one still clutching the small, plastic object, and raises it to its mouth, taking a short sip.

"Hmm," it says, pausing the drink to put it back on the bar. "I will pay with cash, but I left my money outside. You can start a tab until I go back and get it."

[KitsuneMarie]

Illim nods in mute agreement with his host. <<It should be a smooth ride. You know, assuming the Andalite doesn't get too testy. Or Terenia for that matter.>> He glances at the holoscreen readout that confirms his Madra is in tow, and then sits back in the chair, settling in for the trip to the base.


Serid starts as the strange eight-limbed creature enters the door not far from where he is sitting, and he watches curiously as it approaches the bar.

What is this species? he wonders, tempted to order a drink so that he can find out. Leaning back in his chair to peer out the dingy window, he finds no sign of Ossanlin outside, so he tips his chair back forward and follows the peculiar newcomer at a distance.


Elayne yawns and, after a cursory survey of the ramshackle building does not reveal Mar, she begins searching for Trey. He is not difficult to find, however, curled up fast asleep just one seat away. With a small smirk, she watches the boy rest, tempted to wake him up. She sinks back into her filthy, cushioned chair, drapes one leg over the other and dangles her foot while she waits, but the waiting doesn't last long. Her boredom wins out and she leans over to shake Trey's shoulder lightly.

[Terenia]

The bartender puts his notepad away, looking unimpressed, and returns to cleaning his glass.


Zorish drains his water and rises, taking the glass with him up to the bar counter. "Another water," he says to the bartender, pushing his empty glass over. While he waits for his order to be filled he looks the strange species up and down without bothering to be discreet.

"And what manner of species are you?" he asks bluntly, flipping Tamora's hair over her shoulder.


Trey grunts in his sleep, his eyes opening ever so slightly.

"Whaddyawant?" he slurs, reaching a uniformed arm up to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth.

[Chad32]

A new ship enters the bar, looking like a dragon woth an engine in the back instead of a tail. When it landed, out came a Humanoid dragon with huge wings that did have a tail. "Well, I'm back." Zoshonel said. He walked over to the bar, taking in the sights and smells. He noticed Parker's scent was fresh, so he must be here. Unfortunately he also noticed Keshin's scent. He didn't like Keshin, and it annoyed him that she was still here. He never understood why Corliss would submit to blackmail when he obviously didn't have to, but that was his problem. He decided to follow Parker's scent, which mingled with Claxter's and led away from the bar.

He saw Claxter and Mar walking towards a ship, and casually strolled towards them. Claxter's stalk eye spoted him, and he gave a short wave.

<Welcome back Zoshonel. We're kind of busy, so we can't stop and chat.>

Zoshonel nodded and kept moving.

[Ember Nickel]

"Of...species?" repeats the creature dubiously. Its "back" legs (the pair opposite Zorish and Tamora) tap up and down on the floor, as if nervous. "I...I am Sheyran."

[Terenia]

Zorish tilts his head ever so slightly, taking up his cup of water and sipping slowly. Tamora is definitely becoming less light-headed now, he notes. A good thing for him. The last thing he wants is to provoke an unknown alien while his host is drunk.

<<Sheyran, sound familiar?>> Zorish asks his host, sizing up the strange creature.

<<You would know better than me,>> comes the reply. This is true, and Zorish can see nothing from Tamora's memories to indicate any knowledge of this species.

<<I wonder if they can be infested,>> he murmurs, surreptitiously surveying the Sheyran for something resembling an auditory orifice similar to that in humans. <<Or if they even have a centralized brain.>>

"Welcome to the bar...Sheyran," Zorish says, shifting so that he is facing the creature, leaning one elbow on the bar counter casually. "My name is Zorish Five-Eight-Three. I trust you have a name as well?" He doesn't bother introducing Tamora. He never does.

[Ember Nickel]

The Sheyran is, somewhat like an Earth octopus, rather radially symmetric, with its eight limbs extending down from a large, round body. It also has eight eyes, distributed around the body with one above each leg. If you looked closely, you would see a small hole of sorts on each "knee."

So it's a little hard to tell whether it's facing forwards, but it seems to be attending to Zorish and Tamora, more or less. "Yes. I am..." After a moment it gives up on translating its title into Galard; it would sound about as stupid as "Five-Eight-Three." "I am Fybmufe-Pof Bivsitz."

[KitsuneMarie]

Serid slowly approaches Zorish and the unfamiliar octopod, giving a pleasant nod of greeting, belatedly hoping the action is not some kind of rude gesture in Fybmufe-Pof's culture. "Greetings," he says cautiously as he reaches them, turning his gaze on the alien. "I see you have already been greeted. I am called Serid."

The nothlitized Andalite certainly appears as human as Zorish's host, although they look nothing alike in features. Serid's dark skin is complimented by even darker curly hair and brown eyes. His morph's descent appears to be Middle Eastern.


Elayne smirks at the young man's sleepy response and she leans against the table. "You've been sleeping a while, Trey," she says. "Granted, I have too..." She watches him a moment and raises her eyebrows in concern. "Are you feeling any better?"

[Ember Nickel]

"Hello, Serid." After quaffing another sip of the drink, Bivsitz sets it down very gently. "For an edge of the galaxy I'd never run across, you know how to make a Nagrin Blast. Guess we're not as isolationist as we thought if word of this beauty has gotten out--so much the better."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

~Ossanlin~

Ossanlin groans groggily.  He tries to look around but fails to make his head or stalk eyes move in the ways he intends.  Something is very wrong...he can only hope...what was hope again?  A sort of drink, yes.  But why would he want a drink when he cannot think?  But hope wasn't a drink was it?  Or was it?  Why had he thought of it?  Had he really thought of it?  Did he really think at all?  Was any of this real?  Real...



___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________

~Rathien~

Rathien watches Salem's interchange and trails him as he leaves the bar demesnes.  Even so he notices an odd alien he'd not seen before entering, and outside one that resembles a dragon...Draconian. ..perhaps not but perhaps so.  He looks young to be away if he is.  Rathien chuckles to himself as he keeps the same distance from Salem...the dragonoid is no less an oddity than he himself.

He keeps his active camo engaged as he continues to follow Salem.

[KitsuneMarie]

"If your species values its isolation, why have you emerged from its insular culture?" Serid asks, sitting down on a nearby barstool, his feet helping him balance by hooking onto its bottom rung. "That is," he adds pleasantly, "if I may be so bold as to inquire."