Keerrourri Feessaarro
Jan 19th, 2003, 09:52:06 PM
He traveled without customary entourage, strolling amongst the bustle of Coruscant as if the care of the common man was not his to possess. Indeed it wasn't. Keerrourri Sarrtarroa was possibly the most lavished slave in the entire galaxy. Of course, he had to be properly presented, to represent his mistress in her affairs. He was extremely well educated, even among the scholars of the New Republic. It would not be an injustice to call him a genius. However, his talents spread as broad as the horizon. Far more than a genius, he was a renaissance man...a creature that dabbled in all manner of disjoined hobbies, delving into them extensively. Dance, art, chess, music, culinary craft, writing, and many more. Yet incredibly, he was not cursed with a scholars looks, as he was classically sculpted and quite handsome. His innate gifts of the mind and gifts of the body were honed to perfection by a swarm of lower lackeys...all so he could represent the Empire in which he was an unquestioning servant.
Yet, there were times when Keerrourri Sarrtarroa was not called upon. Moments in which his time was his to use as he saw fit. Such times were these, as the Senate of the New Republic called recess for two days. Now, he was on Coruscant, jewel of the galaxy, with the exception of Carshoulis Prime. He considered his options. There were 264 seperate operas and/or symphonies being performed within the next 2 hours...none of which particuarly caught his eye. 433 art museums were on open exhibition, though most with works he had seen. However...there was always Master Yoghurt's Bar and Grill, which despite its coarse appearance was quite an appealing establishment, as well as an excellent place to be a fly on the wall. No being in the universe could be as boring and as insatiably interesting in the same breath as a Jedi. His ears perked as the thought dwelled in his mind...until he finally decided upon a course of action. 30 minutes later, he arrived at the B&G. He passed his ornate silken coat off to a guard of some type, who handled it in a boorish manner. No trouble...he had twelve of the same coat, should a defect arise.
Taking a seat at an occupied table, he initially ignored those around him, more intent upon the menu in front of him. He flipped it over, and scrutinized the wine selection, drumming his clawed fingers on the tabletop as he narrowed his eyes. There was a particular Ithorian merlot of interest. A Ryll merlot. Quite an interesting spirit. The Bar and Grill had never let his curiosity down. After all, a well stocked winery speaks volumes.
"jI'll have the jIthorrrjian Rjyll Merrrlot....Carrrrrrjivalla '62."
The droid beeped and rolled away, leaving the Cizerack Emissary to the vulgar mob that inhabited this place. Nothing certain could ever be expected of common people, except the constant prospect of suprise.
Yet, there were times when Keerrourri Sarrtarroa was not called upon. Moments in which his time was his to use as he saw fit. Such times were these, as the Senate of the New Republic called recess for two days. Now, he was on Coruscant, jewel of the galaxy, with the exception of Carshoulis Prime. He considered his options. There were 264 seperate operas and/or symphonies being performed within the next 2 hours...none of which particuarly caught his eye. 433 art museums were on open exhibition, though most with works he had seen. However...there was always Master Yoghurt's Bar and Grill, which despite its coarse appearance was quite an appealing establishment, as well as an excellent place to be a fly on the wall. No being in the universe could be as boring and as insatiably interesting in the same breath as a Jedi. His ears perked as the thought dwelled in his mind...until he finally decided upon a course of action. 30 minutes later, he arrived at the B&G. He passed his ornate silken coat off to a guard of some type, who handled it in a boorish manner. No trouble...he had twelve of the same coat, should a defect arise.
Taking a seat at an occupied table, he initially ignored those around him, more intent upon the menu in front of him. He flipped it over, and scrutinized the wine selection, drumming his clawed fingers on the tabletop as he narrowed his eyes. There was a particular Ithorian merlot of interest. A Ryll merlot. Quite an interesting spirit. The Bar and Grill had never let his curiosity down. After all, a well stocked winery speaks volumes.
"jI'll have the jIthorrrjian Rjyll Merrrlot....Carrrrrrjivalla '62."
The droid beeped and rolled away, leaving the Cizerack Emissary to the vulgar mob that inhabited this place. Nothing certain could ever be expected of common people, except the constant prospect of suprise.