Jartris Entumaa
Inactive
The sun had all but vanished behind a horizon of skyscrapers as the Limiting Factor left behind the clear, starry sky to descend into the thicket of buildings below. Soon the ship was navigating through a dense forest of stems glowing with light. It was rare for a well-kept personal transport such as this to descend below the highest layer of the ecumenopolis of Taris, though the Middle City was well-equipped to accommodate ships on its size on account of the large number of freighters it was used to receiving. The Limiting Factor made its way through airspace between the buildings that was prohibited to local traffic, guided by the approach vector data she had received.
Minutes later, the ship sat firmly on the landing pad, and from its lowered ramp emerged a single figure clad in flowing dark green robes that harmonised well with its yellow--green skin. Without halting his steps, the man raised his hand and made a wiping motion as he strode past the port officer who had come to register the visitor.
The man Jartris had come to visit had very enthusiastically insisted on his choice of venue, and the Sith had indulged him. As he entered the pub in question, he understood the reason and smirked with mild amusement. The place was spacious and despite its proximity to a spaceport, surprisingly quiet. Its design was far behind the times, perhaps centuries old, and aimed at comfort. Most strikingly, the walls were densely covered in paintings in a seemingly random arrangement of periods and styles. Arms resting behind his back, the Sith took his time to survey the collection. It was nothing special, of course, but the idea had its charm.
Eventually, he took a seat in an armchair that accompanied a small table in a corner. The other would have to make do with the regular chair that stood on its other side. He pulled out a data pad from his robes and began to read, only to look up briefly when the waiter approached to order a glass of Alderaanian wine.
Minutes later, the ship sat firmly on the landing pad, and from its lowered ramp emerged a single figure clad in flowing dark green robes that harmonised well with its yellow--green skin. Without halting his steps, the man raised his hand and made a wiping motion as he strode past the port officer who had come to register the visitor.
The man Jartris had come to visit had very enthusiastically insisted on his choice of venue, and the Sith had indulged him. As he entered the pub in question, he understood the reason and smirked with mild amusement. The place was spacious and despite its proximity to a spaceport, surprisingly quiet. Its design was far behind the times, perhaps centuries old, and aimed at comfort. Most strikingly, the walls were densely covered in paintings in a seemingly random arrangement of periods and styles. Arms resting behind his back, the Sith took his time to survey the collection. It was nothing special, of course, but the idea had its charm.
Eventually, he took a seat in an armchair that accompanied a small table in a corner. The other would have to make do with the regular chair that stood on its other side. He pulled out a data pad from his robes and began to read, only to look up briefly when the waiter approached to order a glass of Alderaanian wine.
[member="Nybbas Dremine"]
