Post by EmperorMyric on Dec 17, 2017 13:45:44 GMT
The small Inn had the air of centuries to it, the collective history of a place that has sat and watched eons pass, seen change and progress, chaos and collapse.
Nestled among trees and fields of rolling grass, the small 2-storie bed-and-breakfast was nuzzled up against a towering Kolivar tree that had been but a sapling when the structure was first built. The thin branches and blood-red leaves drifted silently in a gentle breeze, sending flickering shadows across the building. The windows were shuttered with ancient wood panels, and some of the paint was chipped and peeling away from the edges and corners.
Silently in the morning breeze, as the sun climbed into the sky, one set of these shutters swung open, banging gently against the outer walls of the quaint building as a white sheet billowed out into the breeze.
A petite woman with large eyes and a pixie cut of blonde hair deftly aired out the sheet in the wind, her delicate hands gripping the material to keep it from blowing away. Though few people used the bedrooms anymore, it was always prudent to keep them neat and organized. The tiny whitewashed rooms were basically large closets with a bed, table with lamp, a rug, and a chair or two. The two “master suites” had a set of drawers for a few articles of clothing. The accommodations were cozy, if a little tight, but seeing as most of her clientele were one-night-layover spacers, all they wanted was a bed.
Or…something else. considering that her establishment was one of the last places outbound of Tenebraean space that sold alcoholic beverages where the drinker could be absolutely certain of what was in their glass( the freelance stills in the wild space between governed territories gave a new meaning to the phrase “fire water”) outgoing spacers looking for a drink would often swing by her place, barely a 15-minute speeder drive from the customs office at the spaceport, to “top up” as their ships were loaded or unloaded.
The woman’s large blue eyes fell on the Ankor-esque spires and cranes of the Spaceport, arcing up over the low hills on the horizon. Tenebrae had had a major influence on the development of the planet, and she had seen a great deal of the old world disappear beneath their systems since she was a child. It was as though the rolling mounts were a divider between the hectic atmosphere of the space port and the peace of the open fields. She could hear muted chatter in the restaurant below, as those spacers who actually wanted a meal co mingled with some of her local customers as they partook in a hearty breakfast that, while not necessarily healthy, was certainly filling. Her employees were, for the most part, old friends, including a few of her fellow dancers. A large bouncer/handler worked behind the counter during the day: at night, he served to oust unruly drunks.
Her place was so popular, she thought, because it gave people a chance to look out a window and see something besides the wall of the skyscraper next door or the infinite blackness of Space.
Shaking the sheet once more, the woman pulled it back inside, deftly folding it in her hands as she padded across the floor in her stocking feet: she hated wearing shoes if she could avoid it, save for the kitchen of course, and besides, she rarely left the Inn, so why waste the shoe material?
Anyone who looked upon Tamara Drake would find themselves looking upon a women blessed with the grace of Aphrodite and entirely out of place in her setting, as she almost glided across the small bedroom: she was short, barely 5’9, but well proportioned, with a petite but well-curved body that was accented by her simple blue sundress that swung loosely about her knees. Her large blue eyes seemed weathered, but showed few wrinkles around them to mar the freckles that danced across her cheeks. Her long Dancers legs, sheathed in black stockings at the moment, had carried her across multiple cabaret clubs and dance stages before she had decided to settle down after a one-night stand with a Sailor who had proceeded to foolishly get himself killed.
And that one night stand had resulted in…..
“Mother?”
Tamara turned, smiling at her daughter Theresa as she appeared in the doorway, Laundry basket in her hands. The young woman, at 16, was the spitting image of her mother, save for her father’s Green eyes. Theresa often joked that she kept her blonde hair long just so people could tell the two of them apart from behind. She wore a sundress of a pale purple with an apron, and like her mother wore black stockings on her long legs, though she chose to at least wear slippers. Her perennial smile grew wider as she stepped into the room.
“We’re expecting company” she said quietly as she handed the basket of freshly-washed blankets and pillowcases to her mother. Tamara didn’t flinch, or register surprise. But her smile grew a bit wider itself.
“Well” she said “I’d better prepare the Master suites then.”
The shadow of the Kolivar tree danced in the breeze as, off in the distance, a ship lifted off from the space port and raced into the infinity.
Lies Arcman flew down the road in the leave vehicle he had been assigned, as he had been under the command of one of the Carnaithian Empires' more generous cargo cruiser pilots. He took in the landscape as he went, not bothering to look behind him as the hovering vehicle he was in threw up dust from the road and ground near it, obscuring all vision behind him. He pondered the strangeness of a massive spaceport transforming into landscape with almost no building size or population decline in-between, but it didn't matter much as he neared his destination. He slowed, as to keep the dust down on his approach, and went into the parking area, lowering the landing legs of the vehicle. He took a sip of the drink he had been given by his temporary captain, it was a thin, green-brown tea made from a unique, exotic plant that was native to one of the Carnaithian Empire's agricultural planets, and despite the color it was a very sweet-smelling, relaxing beverage, boiled into a drink then chilled before consumption. It was an expensive drink, but most of the ship was automated and the small crew's taking wouldn't be noticed. He grabbed his wallet and the drink as he opened the slide-up door of the vehicle. This mode of opening was simply the standard; it could open in any of the four directions other than in and out for safety reasons. He looked about; it was somewhat quiet today compared to what his fellow spacers had told him of its popularity for its natural landscape-and for its sale of alcoholic beverages. He approached the door, remembering the instructions given to him by his commanding officer at the CIGO substation at Saudra.
The air beside the tree which rested so peacefully near the Inn began to ripple like a disturbed pool of water as a drake portal began to open. A humanoid figure stepped out from the portal as one would a doorway, dressed in a white and gold suit, his hair blood red and spiked at the front like a crown, his eyes seemed to glow golden yellow. Helios gave a warm smile as he scanned his surroundings. The portal he had stepped through began to fade away as he made his way to the entrance of the Inn.
Tenebrean Administrator Tomas Wryante Cruised down the dirt road in the Tenebrean built Personal A-grav cruiser that was assigned to him while on the planet, A reserved craft from the Tenebrean trade compound at the spaceport that he had commandeered for his business at the inn. While Tenebrae held a great deal of sway over this planet, it was still nominally independent, and he tried to abide by convention and custom. The Crafts Entity guided and adjusted its route as it somewhat quickly made its progress towards the destination. Allowing him the chance to gaze out of the rolling fields of grass on either side of the road, prompting a small feeling of nostalgia for the landscape:
A natural thing that would have been felt by any member of the Tenebrean race, considering that their ancestors had developed in similar landscapes, and he found himself wondering how the meeting would go. Although from the information he had received on the meeting. he would certainly know at least some of them.
"Good" he said. musing to himself. At least He wouldn't have to undergo the process of establishing new diplomatic relations with any of the parties present. Although from the calling they had received, the meeting was on an entirely different matter. one that, as he sat in the craft. he could only speculate roughly on.
He leaned forward in his seat as the inn appeared over the next rolling hill. The Tree top appearing well before it did, and he leaned forward over the dashboard slightly to glimpse at its size as the small Beige colored A-Grav personnel cruiser pulled off of the road and into the front parking area of the small, but cozy tavern, slowing to a stop just adjacent to the Carnaithian craft. Settling silently with a deep bass hum on its pads before its supports struts lowered to catch its weight, its engines dying down with a sigh of cycling down turbines and the sound of the hatch on his side of the craft opening silently.
He stepped out, readjusting his Red, beige and black administrators’ uniform and collar as he stepped away from the craft, his hair well trimmed and shaped and his face hard with his races deep Latin features. the door sliding shut behind him. Looking across the parking area towards the inn and the Massive tree it was settled up against, the rolling fields in the distance, surrounding the small building beyond the small garden's edges on all sides. Turning back momentarily to look at the half hazy form of the spaceport in the distance.
His attention, was drawn back to the inn as he heard the sound of footsteps on the grass nearby, and he turned to see the sight of Helios stepping out onto the lawn and making his way into the front of the inn. He paused for a moment as he took in the slightly odd sight, before making his own way up the footpath towards the porch and the classical wooden doors that marked the entrance.
As the others made their way into the bed and breakfast, a blocky DHR ship arrived at the spaceport, docking at it’s registered bay. The vessel resembled something akin to a modified cruiser: it lacked percentage of the guns the latter possessed, and it’s engines were larger. a hatchway on the side opened, linking up with a cargo ramp that extended from the docking bay.
a well-made and polished hovercar exited the vessel and, after proceeding through customs and through the city streets, sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Leaves and loose grass scattered as the cars sped past, the tiny dot of the inn rapidly growing in their windscreens.
the blue reptilian creature in the driver’s seat slowly pulled into the parking area, amongst the other few vehicles already present. Parking and locking down the vehicle, the figure steps out of the car, smoothing a purplish plum suit and holding a briefcase. He looked serious: Such was his approach, having little ability to feel emotion. Quickly consulting a set of directions on his datapad, and recalling the instructions from Councilor Rowen, he walked briskly up the steps to the doors and entered.
Nestled among trees and fields of rolling grass, the small 2-storie bed-and-breakfast was nuzzled up against a towering Kolivar tree that had been but a sapling when the structure was first built. The thin branches and blood-red leaves drifted silently in a gentle breeze, sending flickering shadows across the building. The windows were shuttered with ancient wood panels, and some of the paint was chipped and peeling away from the edges and corners.
Silently in the morning breeze, as the sun climbed into the sky, one set of these shutters swung open, banging gently against the outer walls of the quaint building as a white sheet billowed out into the breeze.
A petite woman with large eyes and a pixie cut of blonde hair deftly aired out the sheet in the wind, her delicate hands gripping the material to keep it from blowing away. Though few people used the bedrooms anymore, it was always prudent to keep them neat and organized. The tiny whitewashed rooms were basically large closets with a bed, table with lamp, a rug, and a chair or two. The two “master suites” had a set of drawers for a few articles of clothing. The accommodations were cozy, if a little tight, but seeing as most of her clientele were one-night-layover spacers, all they wanted was a bed.
Or…something else. considering that her establishment was one of the last places outbound of Tenebraean space that sold alcoholic beverages where the drinker could be absolutely certain of what was in their glass( the freelance stills in the wild space between governed territories gave a new meaning to the phrase “fire water”) outgoing spacers looking for a drink would often swing by her place, barely a 15-minute speeder drive from the customs office at the spaceport, to “top up” as their ships were loaded or unloaded.
The woman’s large blue eyes fell on the Ankor-esque spires and cranes of the Spaceport, arcing up over the low hills on the horizon. Tenebrae had had a major influence on the development of the planet, and she had seen a great deal of the old world disappear beneath their systems since she was a child. It was as though the rolling mounts were a divider between the hectic atmosphere of the space port and the peace of the open fields. She could hear muted chatter in the restaurant below, as those spacers who actually wanted a meal co mingled with some of her local customers as they partook in a hearty breakfast that, while not necessarily healthy, was certainly filling. Her employees were, for the most part, old friends, including a few of her fellow dancers. A large bouncer/handler worked behind the counter during the day: at night, he served to oust unruly drunks.
Her place was so popular, she thought, because it gave people a chance to look out a window and see something besides the wall of the skyscraper next door or the infinite blackness of Space.
Shaking the sheet once more, the woman pulled it back inside, deftly folding it in her hands as she padded across the floor in her stocking feet: she hated wearing shoes if she could avoid it, save for the kitchen of course, and besides, she rarely left the Inn, so why waste the shoe material?
Anyone who looked upon Tamara Drake would find themselves looking upon a women blessed with the grace of Aphrodite and entirely out of place in her setting, as she almost glided across the small bedroom: she was short, barely 5’9, but well proportioned, with a petite but well-curved body that was accented by her simple blue sundress that swung loosely about her knees. Her large blue eyes seemed weathered, but showed few wrinkles around them to mar the freckles that danced across her cheeks. Her long Dancers legs, sheathed in black stockings at the moment, had carried her across multiple cabaret clubs and dance stages before she had decided to settle down after a one-night stand with a Sailor who had proceeded to foolishly get himself killed.
And that one night stand had resulted in…..
“Mother?”
Tamara turned, smiling at her daughter Theresa as she appeared in the doorway, Laundry basket in her hands. The young woman, at 16, was the spitting image of her mother, save for her father’s Green eyes. Theresa often joked that she kept her blonde hair long just so people could tell the two of them apart from behind. She wore a sundress of a pale purple with an apron, and like her mother wore black stockings on her long legs, though she chose to at least wear slippers. Her perennial smile grew wider as she stepped into the room.
“We’re expecting company” she said quietly as she handed the basket of freshly-washed blankets and pillowcases to her mother. Tamara didn’t flinch, or register surprise. But her smile grew a bit wider itself.
“Well” she said “I’d better prepare the Master suites then.”
The shadow of the Kolivar tree danced in the breeze as, off in the distance, a ship lifted off from the space port and raced into the infinity.
Lies Arcman flew down the road in the leave vehicle he had been assigned, as he had been under the command of one of the Carnaithian Empires' more generous cargo cruiser pilots. He took in the landscape as he went, not bothering to look behind him as the hovering vehicle he was in threw up dust from the road and ground near it, obscuring all vision behind him. He pondered the strangeness of a massive spaceport transforming into landscape with almost no building size or population decline in-between, but it didn't matter much as he neared his destination. He slowed, as to keep the dust down on his approach, and went into the parking area, lowering the landing legs of the vehicle. He took a sip of the drink he had been given by his temporary captain, it was a thin, green-brown tea made from a unique, exotic plant that was native to one of the Carnaithian Empire's agricultural planets, and despite the color it was a very sweet-smelling, relaxing beverage, boiled into a drink then chilled before consumption. It was an expensive drink, but most of the ship was automated and the small crew's taking wouldn't be noticed. He grabbed his wallet and the drink as he opened the slide-up door of the vehicle. This mode of opening was simply the standard; it could open in any of the four directions other than in and out for safety reasons. He looked about; it was somewhat quiet today compared to what his fellow spacers had told him of its popularity for its natural landscape-and for its sale of alcoholic beverages. He approached the door, remembering the instructions given to him by his commanding officer at the CIGO substation at Saudra.
The air beside the tree which rested so peacefully near the Inn began to ripple like a disturbed pool of water as a drake portal began to open. A humanoid figure stepped out from the portal as one would a doorway, dressed in a white and gold suit, his hair blood red and spiked at the front like a crown, his eyes seemed to glow golden yellow. Helios gave a warm smile as he scanned his surroundings. The portal he had stepped through began to fade away as he made his way to the entrance of the Inn.
Tenebrean Administrator Tomas Wryante Cruised down the dirt road in the Tenebrean built Personal A-grav cruiser that was assigned to him while on the planet, A reserved craft from the Tenebrean trade compound at the spaceport that he had commandeered for his business at the inn. While Tenebrae held a great deal of sway over this planet, it was still nominally independent, and he tried to abide by convention and custom. The Crafts Entity guided and adjusted its route as it somewhat quickly made its progress towards the destination. Allowing him the chance to gaze out of the rolling fields of grass on either side of the road, prompting a small feeling of nostalgia for the landscape:
A natural thing that would have been felt by any member of the Tenebrean race, considering that their ancestors had developed in similar landscapes, and he found himself wondering how the meeting would go. Although from the information he had received on the meeting. he would certainly know at least some of them.
"Good" he said. musing to himself. At least He wouldn't have to undergo the process of establishing new diplomatic relations with any of the parties present. Although from the calling they had received, the meeting was on an entirely different matter. one that, as he sat in the craft. he could only speculate roughly on.
He leaned forward in his seat as the inn appeared over the next rolling hill. The Tree top appearing well before it did, and he leaned forward over the dashboard slightly to glimpse at its size as the small Beige colored A-Grav personnel cruiser pulled off of the road and into the front parking area of the small, but cozy tavern, slowing to a stop just adjacent to the Carnaithian craft. Settling silently with a deep bass hum on its pads before its supports struts lowered to catch its weight, its engines dying down with a sigh of cycling down turbines and the sound of the hatch on his side of the craft opening silently.
He stepped out, readjusting his Red, beige and black administrators’ uniform and collar as he stepped away from the craft, his hair well trimmed and shaped and his face hard with his races deep Latin features. the door sliding shut behind him. Looking across the parking area towards the inn and the Massive tree it was settled up against, the rolling fields in the distance, surrounding the small building beyond the small garden's edges on all sides. Turning back momentarily to look at the half hazy form of the spaceport in the distance.
His attention, was drawn back to the inn as he heard the sound of footsteps on the grass nearby, and he turned to see the sight of Helios stepping out onto the lawn and making his way into the front of the inn. He paused for a moment as he took in the slightly odd sight, before making his own way up the footpath towards the porch and the classical wooden doors that marked the entrance.
As the others made their way into the bed and breakfast, a blocky DHR ship arrived at the spaceport, docking at it’s registered bay. The vessel resembled something akin to a modified cruiser: it lacked percentage of the guns the latter possessed, and it’s engines were larger. a hatchway on the side opened, linking up with a cargo ramp that extended from the docking bay.
a well-made and polished hovercar exited the vessel and, after proceeding through customs and through the city streets, sped off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Leaves and loose grass scattered as the cars sped past, the tiny dot of the inn rapidly growing in their windscreens.
the blue reptilian creature in the driver’s seat slowly pulled into the parking area, amongst the other few vehicles already present. Parking and locking down the vehicle, the figure steps out of the car, smoothing a purplish plum suit and holding a briefcase. He looked serious: Such was his approach, having little ability to feel emotion. Quickly consulting a set of directions on his datapad, and recalling the instructions from Councilor Rowen, he walked briskly up the steps to the doors and entered.