No is for Nevarro

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Zeto Tirel
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Joined: Wed Jan 01, 2020 2:19 pm

No is for Nevarro

Post by Zeto Tirel » Wed Jan 01, 2020 5:38 pm

It was a hot day on Nevarro. The sun raining down oppressive rays of heat. Dreary to anyone from a world covered in water you could drown in. This was a pool of endless sand and rock without the warm touch of acidic rain. A pool with a molten rock of scum dropped in it from Imperial orbit. Some might even call it a settlement. Zeto almost felt comfortable.

The sand clawed against his boots as he made the slow walk into town, slowing him to a pace that could almost be described as counterproductive. He could already smell what the locals considered food. It probably tasted like ground up stormtrooper and smelled half as bad as one after a long day. At least there wasn’t a sandstorm.

His jacket clapped against the warm breeze. His hair curled up under his cap. Zeto slipped his hands into his pockets and played with an old coin within. Sand had already infiltrated his pockets, because of course, it had. Sand planets were all the same. Infuriating.

3 weeks of traveling had led to this. 3 weeks of staring at bulkheads and listening to endless whining about profits and the wonders of adaptable regulations. There wasn’t enough jizz in the galaxy to cover up that in its catchy beats.

Well, where was he? Oh yes, Zeto made his way into town. The future never looked so… ready for a makeover.

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Zasabi Ray
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Joined: Mon Aug 26, 2019 1:37 am

Re: No is for Nevarro

Post by Zasabi Ray » Mon Jan 06, 2020 3:18 pm

A shoulder thumped into the man, followed by the rest of a slight figure that slid off of him onto the ground.

The crumpled form was evidently a twig of a human male, the top of his oddly plump yet narrow face covered in a mop of brown frizzy hair that defied the dry heat. He wore an ill-fitting suit that announced his presence loudly, clashing with the drab environment and emphasizing his slim shape. Looking up at the newcomer with drifting eyes, it was clear that when confronted with the arid desert the man had opted to drown himself in alcohol.

"Oh, sorry there buddy," he slurred. Rising unsteadily to his feet, he draped a heavy arm across Zeto's shoulders. "Didn't see you there. You look new to Village?" A moment passed as the drunk considered his words. "Port," he declared decisively. "You look new to this port. How about I get you a drink to make up for running into you like that?"

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