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Festival of the Lost | CIS Dominion of Krant (Y,44)

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Varick Lechner

Varick Lechner

    The Alpha

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    • Character Bio
  • 20 posts




Location: The Near Rest Bar

Attention: Antoine RhysJorge

Objective: Drinking & mingling while looking fabulous

Garments: A perfectly tailored suit in spite of Antoine's opinion

Post Count: 2


There was an unmistakable amalgam of species and sentients within the bar, alongside the native denizens of Krant. It was one of the defining traits of the Confederacy, this level of acceptance of difference, whether species, ideology, religion, or simple opinion. And perhaps the one trait Varick was most grateful to see, considering the backwater human clodhoppers that lived on Stewjon. Backwards was not nearly strong enough of a word, but the vitriolic intent behind it left a bitter taste in his mouth at the thought.


He sipped from his drink and uttered a faint sigh of pleasure. There was certainly something to be said for a good brew, and this was lightyears ahead of such a simple descriptor. He would have to see about procuring a barrel or two before they left, to be added to the collection he’d begun since his freedom had been attained.


Those thoughts, however, were neither here nor there, and they served only as a distraction from the pleasant sounds and even more pleasant sight before him. His free hand swept up into his hair, pushing it back from his features, and taking out the small tie that had held it loosely. That soon found itself tucked into a pocket, while his blue-green eyes settled on the dark-haired gentleman that had approached and begun a question to him before changing his mind and simply ordering at the bar before speaking to the handsome blonde he’d been admiring.


The blonde, for all that he was distractingly beautiful to look at and attired in an impeccably tailored suit, was likely a bit bored of the evening and accustomed to a different sort of company. Varick, however, was more than happy to make acquaintances within the Confederacy, and perhaps even a few friends, which he had been distinctly lacking upon Stewjon, outside of his siblings.


Turning slightly, he strode forward and offered a smile to each, the expression a bit warmer as his gaze lingered on the blonde. He nodded to the dark-haired gentleman and spared a glance for the glass of ale he held in his hand. “An excellent choice. The local festival brew is fantastic. Debating getting my hands on a keg or two to take back when we leave.”


He offered his free hand to each of them in turn, his handshake firm. “My apologies, my manners seem to be lacking this evening. I am Varick Lechner, recent member of the Confederacy. Who might I have the pleasure of addressing?” he said, voice rumbling softly through his accented Basic.