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View character profile for: Nomad
Location Horker Space Station - Zanadoo 5 system - Faryan Expanse
Nomad docked at one of the many Horker docks. He knew the place would still be here and operating like nothing had happened and a war hadn't decimated vast swathes of the Galaxy.
The owner, and his father before him, ran an operation based on bartering. Also had done so even before the fall of the UBC. The disgruntled old man had never believed in digital currencies. And his son had kept to that tradition.
Fuel for graph and graph for fuel the saying went round these parts.
This space station had always been a popular destination in this sector with smugglers, raiders and corsairs. And by keeping a low profile they managed to avoid the attention of the authorities. That and the amazing void shields the station seemed to possess. Inside the relative peace, and structural integrity of the place, was kept by a group of enforcer cyborgs. Of course there were scuffles and fights every night amongst the patrons , but this would not be a watering hole for rogues if a few bones and a bit of blood was not spilled every now and then.
Nomad disembarked from his ship without an helmet or chest piece, letting his proud scars announce who he was. The Archangel tattoo covering his back announcing to all who recognised it his allegiance to the Armada.
His trusted kukri knives hung from his side and a heavy bolster strapped to his leg. He rolled his massive shoulders and motioned one of the nearby cyborgs. He pressed a few bottoms on his left vambrace. The cargo hold of his vessel opened with a loud hiss.
"Hey bucket head. Get those four warp fuel tanks. An offering from the Armada to Harry . Well 3 of them. The other is mine and its to pay for my entertainment tonight."
He said and turned looking for some fun. Sometimes after a battle Nomad had to look for more base release triggers to release all the built up adrenaline. Alcohol, narcotics and loose women. And the Horker had it all.
He chuckled and headed to the nearest bar. Harry was a hard nose cat. He ran a tight operation, the booze was not diluted down, much anyway, the pharmaceuticals as pure as you could get out here and the women... Ah the women were a delight...
He would grab the first two peaches he saw, a bottle of the hardest liquor he could barter for, maybe a handful of psilocybin and disappear into a dark room somewhere and forget about the Galaxy burning, the Armada and the new Council and all the rest. Let the Galaxy burn.
He moved to the first bar he reached with his usual assurance and swagger, gracefully economical movements, coiled, ready to strike at a moments notice.
Those that lifted their heads from their drinks and conversations recognised him for the predator he was, aware, prepared to spring to action at the first sign of danger, at the first slight, real or imaginary.
His body language spoke of a contained rage that could explode at any moment.
He saw an empty booth in a corner near the bar and he moved to take it. From the corner of his eye he saw the gigantic figure of Jerrod. Harry's personal cyborg bodyguard was a monstrous being. Nomad had often, when reaching the bottom of several bottles, imagined what it would be like to pit himself against such a being. He sat waiting for service, scanning the room for pleasure and hoping Harry would come and have a word.
Nomad liked Harry. Well liked was a strong word to one such as this savage corsair. But he owned his favourite watering hole in the sector, so it paid to be courteous...