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<blockquote data-quote="Kaodi" data-source="post: 7267985" data-attributes="member: 1231"><p><em>An indeterminate amount of time prior...</em></p><p></p><p>"This swill you're selling ain't worth what you're charging, and I'm not gonna p-"</p><p></p><p><em>CRASH</em></p><p></p><p>Tolar looked up just in time to see the surly korasha be tossed bodily across the room by the hulking four-armed proprietor of the <em>Thrash Landing</em>, a craggy faced shobhad. </p><p></p><p>"You pay," it growled, taking a step forward menacingly.</p><p></p><p>The stunned lashunta stumbled to his feet.</p><p></p><p>"I p-pay," he replied, voice quaking.</p><p></p><p>The kasatha turned his gaze away at this point, mindful of his own business. This bar was a bit of a dive, a bunch of old shipping containers welded together to form a rough and tumble structure. The outer wall facing the dusty street could be lifted up and locked into position so that the whole bar was open to the outside, though there was a side entrance for use when the dust storms kicked up and the "patio" had to be closed. But despite its crudeness the <em>Thrash Landing</em> had a charm that Tolar appreciated. </p><p></p><p>He sat alone at a table near the street, sipping his drink through a long straw piercing the folds of his russet scarf while he scanned the readout of a gunmetal computer strapped to his upper left forearm. From time to time he would reach up with one his free hands to dust off the screen, or to shake the stuff out of his long robes, a mix of grey and the same colour of his scarf. A long black staff lay propped up against the edge of the table just to his right.</p><p></p><p>After a while Tolar impatiently tapped to deactivate the screen and leaned back in his chair. </p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: #FF8C00">Kala, would you check my messages? That fixer said he might have something for me soon,</span>" he said, his voice deep and gravelly. </p><p></p><p>A light blinked on his forearm computer and a soothing if slightly robotic voice like a female kasatha's chimed in, "<span style="color: #EE82EE">Sure thing, sir.</span>"</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kaodi, post: 7267985, member: 1231"] [I]An indeterminate amount of time prior...[/I] "This swill you're selling ain't worth what you're charging, and I'm not gonna p-" [I]CRASH[/I] Tolar looked up just in time to see the surly korasha be tossed bodily across the room by the hulking four-armed proprietor of the [I]Thrash Landing[/I], a craggy faced shobhad. "You pay," it growled, taking a step forward menacingly. The stunned lashunta stumbled to his feet. "I p-pay," he replied, voice quaking. The kasatha turned his gaze away at this point, mindful of his own business. This bar was a bit of a dive, a bunch of old shipping containers welded together to form a rough and tumble structure. The outer wall facing the dusty street could be lifted up and locked into position so that the whole bar was open to the outside, though there was a side entrance for use when the dust storms kicked up and the "patio" had to be closed. But despite its crudeness the [I]Thrash Landing[/I] had a charm that Tolar appreciated. He sat alone at a table near the street, sipping his drink through a long straw piercing the folds of his russet scarf while he scanned the readout of a gunmetal computer strapped to his upper left forearm. From time to time he would reach up with one his free hands to dust off the screen, or to shake the stuff out of his long robes, a mix of grey and the same colour of his scarf. A long black staff lay propped up against the edge of the table just to his right. After a while Tolar impatiently tapped to deactivate the screen and leaned back in his chair. "[COLOR="#FF8C00"]Kala, would you check my messages? That fixer said he might have something for me soon,[/COLOR]" he said, his voice deep and gravelly. A light blinked on his forearm computer and a soothing if slightly robotic voice like a female kasatha's chimed in, "[COLOR="#EE82EE"]Sure thing, sir.[/COLOR]" [/QUOTE]
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