Shayleigh De'Marco
Nov 17th, 2019, 04:46:31 PM
People tend to see what they want to see.
Grasslands swept for kilometers in every direction, rising and falling across rolling hills. The tall grass had begun its transition in color as the new season came in, and chill winds ushered from the north. Nestled atop one of the tallest hills in any direction was a large domed structure, with an attached smaller domed structure. Down the hill the buildings were sparse, aside from vendor stalls, until the terrain leveled out to a myriad of structures. There was no semblance of order to the varying heights of the buildings, but the tallest reached no higher than three stories.
On the western edge of the town, the wall surrounding the outpost opened at its widest. On the south side of the dirt path that entered the town a large garage stored speeders and speeder bikes alike, keeping them sheltered from the elements. Just across the wide dirt path, the parting of large double doors briefly let the raucous music within escape, the cantina at the edge of the outpost set strategically to welcome visitors from Temba Port to the west.
The cantina was as busy as one might expect from an isolated outpost, with the structure being the primary form of entertainment for any passing through or even the residents of the Dinland Outpost, creatively named for its isolated location in the Dinland Steppes. The Cantina was what anyone would have expected from a near lawless planet operating just outside the bounds of the Empire and the Republic.
The inner ring of the establishment, closest to the bar, was reserved for regulars and the more boisterous but smaller groups of patrons. Just outside that, a collection of open-air tables that seemed far more reserved contained patrons that would have represented the farmers and workers within the outpost. The outer edge was a bit of a wild card for patrons, from a mix of quieter individuals that wanted privacy, to more boisterous groups take took over one of the many alcove booths.
An armored figure, appearing rather androgynous due to the helmet and fitting of the armor, sat at one of those outer edge tables. “Need anything?” Any feminine voice queried, followed by a silence that lasted longer than a few moments. The helmeted figure turned their head back enough to reply in an equally mystifying voice. “Phattro.” The server nodded and left to fetch the order. As she moved to the bar, a Twi’lek server moved in parallel and joined her at the countertop. “Personality of a Bantha on that one, huh?” The blue skinned female questioned, provoking a half smile from the blond woman. “Not surprising from an off-worlder. I need a Phattro.” Shay agreed, before leaning towards the bar to place the order she received with the serving droid.
While she waited for the drink to be made up, she turned to properly give her attention to her co-worker, a Twi’lek named Shyvara. “Don’t expect much of a tip from that one.” Syvara’s lekku twitched as she glanced back at the armored figure, then back to Shay. “I don’t expect much of a tip from anyone.” She remarked with an exhale, Shyvara proceeding to click her tongue as she picked at the blue not-quite flattering tunic Shay wore. “Well dressed like that, of course not. If you come by later, I could probably part with some of my outfits I no longer wear.” Shyvara presently was garbed in a dark purple long skirt, with slits down the side that let her legs extend out with every step. Above that, a cream-colored crop top contrasted the exotic blue of her skin. “Yeah, I’m not interested in being eye candy.” Her friend quipped back quickly. “Obviously. Did you even wash your hair today?” She teased, plucking at some of Shay’s blond hair with just the tips of her index and thumb like it was contaminated by some foreign agent.
“One Phattro.” The droids mechanical tone forewarned the placement of the drink atop the counter. She took up the drink, and began to move away, Shyvara calling after her. “You won’t get noticed like that.” Her eyes downcast as she walked across the bar, presenting a more meek disposition as she mumbled. “Maybe I don’t want to be noticed.”
Grasslands swept for kilometers in every direction, rising and falling across rolling hills. The tall grass had begun its transition in color as the new season came in, and chill winds ushered from the north. Nestled atop one of the tallest hills in any direction was a large domed structure, with an attached smaller domed structure. Down the hill the buildings were sparse, aside from vendor stalls, until the terrain leveled out to a myriad of structures. There was no semblance of order to the varying heights of the buildings, but the tallest reached no higher than three stories.
On the western edge of the town, the wall surrounding the outpost opened at its widest. On the south side of the dirt path that entered the town a large garage stored speeders and speeder bikes alike, keeping them sheltered from the elements. Just across the wide dirt path, the parting of large double doors briefly let the raucous music within escape, the cantina at the edge of the outpost set strategically to welcome visitors from Temba Port to the west.
The cantina was as busy as one might expect from an isolated outpost, with the structure being the primary form of entertainment for any passing through or even the residents of the Dinland Outpost, creatively named for its isolated location in the Dinland Steppes. The Cantina was what anyone would have expected from a near lawless planet operating just outside the bounds of the Empire and the Republic.
The inner ring of the establishment, closest to the bar, was reserved for regulars and the more boisterous but smaller groups of patrons. Just outside that, a collection of open-air tables that seemed far more reserved contained patrons that would have represented the farmers and workers within the outpost. The outer edge was a bit of a wild card for patrons, from a mix of quieter individuals that wanted privacy, to more boisterous groups take took over one of the many alcove booths.
An armored figure, appearing rather androgynous due to the helmet and fitting of the armor, sat at one of those outer edge tables. “Need anything?” Any feminine voice queried, followed by a silence that lasted longer than a few moments. The helmeted figure turned their head back enough to reply in an equally mystifying voice. “Phattro.” The server nodded and left to fetch the order. As she moved to the bar, a Twi’lek server moved in parallel and joined her at the countertop. “Personality of a Bantha on that one, huh?” The blue skinned female questioned, provoking a half smile from the blond woman. “Not surprising from an off-worlder. I need a Phattro.” Shay agreed, before leaning towards the bar to place the order she received with the serving droid.
While she waited for the drink to be made up, she turned to properly give her attention to her co-worker, a Twi’lek named Shyvara. “Don’t expect much of a tip from that one.” Syvara’s lekku twitched as she glanced back at the armored figure, then back to Shay. “I don’t expect much of a tip from anyone.” She remarked with an exhale, Shyvara proceeding to click her tongue as she picked at the blue not-quite flattering tunic Shay wore. “Well dressed like that, of course not. If you come by later, I could probably part with some of my outfits I no longer wear.” Shyvara presently was garbed in a dark purple long skirt, with slits down the side that let her legs extend out with every step. Above that, a cream-colored crop top contrasted the exotic blue of her skin. “Yeah, I’m not interested in being eye candy.” Her friend quipped back quickly. “Obviously. Did you even wash your hair today?” She teased, plucking at some of Shay’s blond hair with just the tips of her index and thumb like it was contaminated by some foreign agent.
“One Phattro.” The droids mechanical tone forewarned the placement of the drink atop the counter. She took up the drink, and began to move away, Shyvara calling after her. “You won’t get noticed like that.” Her eyes downcast as she walked across the bar, presenting a more meek disposition as she mumbled. “Maybe I don’t want to be noticed.”