Characters in this post
View character profile for: Nomad
Location - Horker Space Station - Zanadoo 5 system - Faryan Expanse
Nomad was on his third bottle, enjoying the two purple tattooed dancers gyrating suggestively in front of him. The psilocybin was now coursing through his system giving him a distorted perception of time.
He took another swing from his bottle looking at the undulating sensual shapes of the dancers and how their tattoos appeared to move independently from their bodies.
~ Nothing more beautiful than a purple skinned Azurian female. ~ He thought closing his eyes, imagining what they would do in a large bed as soon as he pulled them into a room.
Closing his eyes gave birth to multicoloured geometric shapes and vivid imaginative sequences dancing in front of his eyelids. He allowed himself a smile. He loved this feeling. But he couldn't keep his eyes closed for too long as the dreams of blood and fire would return and the need for killing rise in his body even in this state of calm.
He beckoned the dancers to come closer and grabbed both by their waists, pulling them against his large scarred frame, burying his face on their necks and drinking their spicy, slightly sweet odour. His hands
Just has he was about to propose they take the party to more private surroundings, a hooded figure walking into the bar caught his eyes. The man walked with the assurance of a pro. A long trenchcoat over a red and black exosuit and military grade boots. He fought to clear his head, shaking it. The figure appeared to have a pure bluish hued aura like light emanating from his frame. Well that could be a trick of light or the psilocybin. Or both.
Nomad took another swing from his bottle, running his hand through the dancer on his right's hair spikes enjoying their harsh touch. He kept an eye on the newcomer. Something in the corner of his mind has raised his hackles.
He poured some of the Vamentar wine for the dancers. He hated drinking alone. Potent and expensive it was. Much better than the common bioethol and liquid fuel grog made in the bowels of the Armadan vessels.
Would make almost anyone drunk. Well anyone that wasn't used to drinking bioethol and liquid fuel grog for breakfast. He grinned looking at the girls trying to pull his gaze from the stranger.
The red hair dancer whispered in his ear, running her hand through his scarred chest and arms and kissed him lightly. Nomad ran his calloused fingers through her hair spikes enjoying their harsh touch.
"So many scars..." she said almost moaning. He had to admire her for hiding the disgust that his scarred features provoked in most people that dared gazed at him.
"Each represents a life that intersected with mine..." he tried to explain what they truly meant but saw that she was not one for the finer points subtlety looking at her
"Each one for someone I killed." he told her flatly and let her gaze wash over the thousands of small nicks and scars he had in his arms, face and body. The realisation eventually hit her and she wavered.
~So many...~ her eyes now wide.
He took another swing pretending he could not see that the stranger had positioned himself in a table across the room observing him.