Sazaku
Character
Location: The Wheel
“Another round barkeep… “ Sazaku said as his glass of Corellian brandy was empty. He was too broke for spice, so instead the liquor was cheaper. One way or another he always found himself like this, in some another chithole of a cantina. “I think you had enough..” Came the rough sound of the vocabulator of the Ithorian bartender who had already served Sazaku for several hours now. “C’mon you know I got the creds…” He said as he banged his gloved hand against the plastoid table. “I know, but we keep going through this over and over Sa… You drink yourself into a stupor and I cut you off… you got fuel to pay for too ya know.”
The Ithorian bartender had sounded like a disgruntled father than anything else. The look in his eyes told this wasn’t the first Chiss to drink themselves to death. Sazaku acted like an entitled child, as he buried his head onto the countertop of the table. “To hell with you then… I’ll just be back tomorrow for more.” The Ithorian rolled his eyes, as he took away the bottle of Corellian Brandy away from the table. “Sure you will, we can go round and round with this.” He wiped down the table with an old rag, before going back to his other customers.
The Chiss smuggler groaned to himself, he often drank more when the brand given to him by the Maw reminded him of the pain. Burying his face into his arms, he tried to ignore the Force even more so since his escape. Everywhere he went, he was surrounded by death. It got to a point where if it wasn’t spice it was the brandy to calm him down. His eyes were heavy, and all he desires was endless slumber. To be with his family again, and then knowing the pain that he would never see them again. The thought caused him to weep, as with every drink he couldn’t hold back the pain anymore.
He wallowed in his grief, looking as if another rogue down on his luck. He felt a chill down his spine, as he felt something, or someone. Choosing to ignore the bothersome feeling, he drank what little drops he could get from his glass. There was a feeling he couldn’t shake off, it wasn’t the Force but he felt odd. As much as the liquor tried to numb whatever feeling he had. He just wanted everything to disappear, to shake off this despair and to feel something, anything but the pain.
Eli-Mae Forrest
“Another round barkeep… “ Sazaku said as his glass of Corellian brandy was empty. He was too broke for spice, so instead the liquor was cheaper. One way or another he always found himself like this, in some another chithole of a cantina. “I think you had enough..” Came the rough sound of the vocabulator of the Ithorian bartender who had already served Sazaku for several hours now. “C’mon you know I got the creds…” He said as he banged his gloved hand against the plastoid table. “I know, but we keep going through this over and over Sa… You drink yourself into a stupor and I cut you off… you got fuel to pay for too ya know.”
The Ithorian bartender had sounded like a disgruntled father than anything else. The look in his eyes told this wasn’t the first Chiss to drink themselves to death. Sazaku acted like an entitled child, as he buried his head onto the countertop of the table. “To hell with you then… I’ll just be back tomorrow for more.” The Ithorian rolled his eyes, as he took away the bottle of Corellian Brandy away from the table. “Sure you will, we can go round and round with this.” He wiped down the table with an old rag, before going back to his other customers.
The Chiss smuggler groaned to himself, he often drank more when the brand given to him by the Maw reminded him of the pain. Burying his face into his arms, he tried to ignore the Force even more so since his escape. Everywhere he went, he was surrounded by death. It got to a point where if it wasn’t spice it was the brandy to calm him down. His eyes were heavy, and all he desires was endless slumber. To be with his family again, and then knowing the pain that he would never see them again. The thought caused him to weep, as with every drink he couldn’t hold back the pain anymore.
He wallowed in his grief, looking as if another rogue down on his luck. He felt a chill down his spine, as he felt something, or someone. Choosing to ignore the bothersome feeling, he drank what little drops he could get from his glass. There was a feeling he couldn’t shake off, it wasn’t the Force but he felt odd. As much as the liquor tried to numb whatever feeling he had. He just wanted everything to disappear, to shake off this despair and to feel something, anything but the pain.
Eli-Mae Forrest