Weite - Breaking the Shackles

Catching up

From landing to now..... (In progress i need details from everyone on a few things)

Floki Rangarson looked down at the blood spatter quickly being absorbed by the dry sand they call earth here on Enos. “least I didn’t kill the little bastard” he thought as the wounded punk limped away from his new group of compatriots. Damn that sun is freaking hot for a giant turdball in the sky. he said as he wiped sweat away from his brow. thinking to himself the whole time how nice a drink would be right now.

The group had made their way a click or so away from the landing site. First mate in tow. he needed fuel to get off this god forsaken rock, and I dint blame him in the least for wanting to do it fast. The horizon was little more than a landscape of mud in the distance with barely a horizon line distinguishable through the dust. This place sucked.

The familiar smell of petroleum, in some or another crude form clung to the dust as we approached a dimly building in the distance. it was strangely comforting to have any familiar smell in this alien place. We all paused and turned to the colonel… I mean David, and asked what next. The sweat droplets dripping off his corpulent frame showed that David was most likely the most distressed out here. with a short breath catch he said. " well lets see what’s going on in that tavern. get some Intel. and with few words he stepped past me and continued on. I do like him I must admit. he is the no nonsense command type I like. No micromanaging. means he doesn’t keep an eye on us as close.

As we approached the “camp” the ground hardened beneath our heels. looking down we saw that the locals spread tar and other clinging petroleum’s on the ground and made a makeshift road. Nice and all but smells like duck ass.

Ted was the first to the door of the bar. little more than a gigantic POD of steel dropped in the middle of no fucking where. but hey they had Vodka in there. I cant get a fair read on this ted guy. He moves like a marine but has the eyes of a spy. Black bag I am betting but ill have to wait and see. Above the door swung a rusty sign marking this high class establishment as “the bar place”. 28 years of service I avoided spitballs in space like this place. now they make it a going away present trip. Yay….

Inside was better if for no other reason that damned sun wasn’t exposed. felt less like sunshine and more like a microwave. The place was what you would expect.

Comments

Mandolorean

I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.