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Blood & sweat dripped off your nose into the rocks glass. Your face is lax, staring as it blooms outwards & dyes the blue spittle malt a dirty plum color, reminiscent of engine degreaser or those Shandrellian showls you keep seeing about...what a waste.
<span class="mu-s"> siiips </span>
With great effort & no small amount of trembling you lower your left arm with the assistance of the right onto the rubber tabletop, only spilling a little in the procedure. For the good of your stomach you drift your eyes down from the ceiling pipes hissing fume infused air and ungulating through the heat haze.
Staring through your eyebrows across the packed & rowdy Syzlak's Canteena you notice more than a few eyes glancing your way, whispering.
You frown, what are they staring at...what are they saying? Painfully you raise your hand & weakly tap the translator pip implanted behind your ear.
<span class="mu-s"> tap tap tap</span>
Pulling your hand away, you see no small amount of blood covering your hand. Oh...guess that could be why...
You close your eyes
<span class="mu-s"> Sigh </span>
<span class="mu-i"> I can't believe - </span>
>I successfully escaped Alliance space...it's only a matter of time before my face is on the database of every lawman & drone from here to the galactic core. I'm an Outlaw...
>I failed the job...I know the Uvol'Ker care about their members, but what were Darraki high guards doing at a Vaygach Gene-Ranch? They must be up to something big.
>I lost my crew & ship to pirates...that damned slaver Ripscale's could've jumped anywhere in the Σ quadrant by now. It's my responsibility to get revenge & save them all. It's what Captain Moretti would've wanted.
>I let them get the jump on me...Now i've lost my only lead on the smugglers AND my ships in ruins, stranding me on Arak of all places. Low sec space surrounded by criminal scum is NOT where I want to be right now. Marshal Wells is going to kill me.
>Write in
<span class="mu-s"> siiips </span>
With great effort & no small amount of trembling you lower your left arm with the assistance of the right onto the rubber tabletop, only spilling a little in the procedure. For the good of your stomach you drift your eyes down from the ceiling pipes hissing fume infused air and ungulating through the heat haze.
Staring through your eyebrows across the packed & rowdy Syzlak's Canteena you notice more than a few eyes glancing your way, whispering.
You frown, what are they staring at...what are they saying? Painfully you raise your hand & weakly tap the translator pip implanted behind your ear.
<span class="mu-s"> tap tap tap</span>
Pulling your hand away, you see no small amount of blood covering your hand. Oh...guess that could be why...
You close your eyes
<span class="mu-s"> Sigh </span>
<span class="mu-i"> I can't believe - </span>
>I successfully escaped Alliance space...it's only a matter of time before my face is on the database of every lawman & drone from here to the galactic core. I'm an Outlaw...
>I failed the job...I know the Uvol'Ker care about their members, but what were Darraki high guards doing at a Vaygach Gene-Ranch? They must be up to something big.
>I lost my crew & ship to pirates...that damned slaver Ripscale's could've jumped anywhere in the Σ quadrant by now. It's my responsibility to get revenge & save them all. It's what Captain Moretti would've wanted.
>I let them get the jump on me...Now i've lost my only lead on the smugglers AND my ships in ruins, stranding me on Arak of all places. Low sec space surrounded by criminal scum is NOT where I want to be right now. Marshal Wells is going to kill me.
>Write in
