The Dirty Space Dog's Den
High Port Space Center
Muunilinst, The Sith Empire
Whether true or not, the song did not reveal as no names were said. What was clear was the encounter did not go well as the lyrics spoke of repeated lightening shocks, Force pushes and the serpentine cackles of the vile Sith Lady that had tortured him for hours. Perhaps the singer was into that sort of thing and that's why he had remembered the trauma in such an affectionate and lecherous fashion.
When he plucked the last note, we stood up and ripped into a unnecessary solo that dragged with little style. Finally finishing, he declared his opus' end with a shout to the ambivalent crowd who replied with a scarce applause and a few heckles. Slimo Hallikset, the bard to the stars, sauntered over to the bar after tucking his hallikset into its case.
The Zabrak bartender cocked a dark brow as he poured Slimo a drink.
"That was awful," he grumbled.
"Eat a poker," Slimo replied spiritedly as he grabbed his drink.
"Heh, whatever," the Zabrak replied, "Like that really happened."
"You and a Sith Lady."
"Please."
Slimo slammed the scratched steel tankard down and rubbed the backwash from his lips with his sleeve.
"Oh it did. It did," he reaffirmed.
"Sith Lady of the worst order, genocidal maniac, and a total dom," Slimo bragged.
"Laughed like a snake, palest skin and had sorcery that could wake the dead."
"Alas, twas not meant to be."
Slimo spun on his stool to look out into the crowd at the tavern. He leaned back, placing his elbows on the bar and cracking his neck by rolling it about. He groaned and sighed.
"Still, I must admit I am starved of inspiration," he admitted.
"That's why I came to the Empire, I'm sure I will witness something truly dark and mysterious, or the Force prevail something truly kark'd up."
The Zabrak laughed, "Feth all happens here you idiot. Want some kark'd up shit, go to one of the world the Sith are devouring."
"Naw, kark that, I have an allergy to 'things that might kill me and thus my career'," said Slimo.
"Surely you Imperials know how to have some fun around here?"
High Port Space Center
Muunilinst, The Sith Empire
[TUNE]
I heat up
I can't cool down
Your lightening got me frying, in a meltdown, meltdown
Meltdown, meltdown, meltdown oh woes
When it stops nobody knows
Abra-Abracadabra
Sith Lady I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra-abracadabra
Abracadabra
At the back of the pilot, smuggler, and off-duty Sith Imperial patrol trooper filled space station tavern - The Dirty Space Dog's Den, a Zeltron-Human singer plucked away at his seven string Hallikset instrument. He sang some salacious ballad of an alleged encounter with an old Sith Lady from one of the older Sith Imperial incarnations of the current Sith Order.
I heat up
I can't cool down
Your lightening got me frying, in a meltdown, meltdown
Meltdown, meltdown, meltdown oh woes
When it stops nobody knows
Abra-Abracadabra
Sith Lady I wanna reach out and grab ya
Abra-abracadabra
Abracadabra
Whether true or not, the song did not reveal as no names were said. What was clear was the encounter did not go well as the lyrics spoke of repeated lightening shocks, Force pushes and the serpentine cackles of the vile Sith Lady that had tortured him for hours. Perhaps the singer was into that sort of thing and that's why he had remembered the trauma in such an affectionate and lecherous fashion.
When he plucked the last note, we stood up and ripped into a unnecessary solo that dragged with little style. Finally finishing, he declared his opus' end with a shout to the ambivalent crowd who replied with a scarce applause and a few heckles. Slimo Hallikset, the bard to the stars, sauntered over to the bar after tucking his hallikset into its case.
The Zabrak bartender cocked a dark brow as he poured Slimo a drink.
"That was awful," he grumbled.
"Eat a poker," Slimo replied spiritedly as he grabbed his drink.
"Heh, whatever," the Zabrak replied, "Like that really happened."
"You and a Sith Lady."
"Please."
Slimo slammed the scratched steel tankard down and rubbed the backwash from his lips with his sleeve.
"Oh it did. It did," he reaffirmed.
"Sith Lady of the worst order, genocidal maniac, and a total dom," Slimo bragged.
"Laughed like a snake, palest skin and had sorcery that could wake the dead."
"Alas, twas not meant to be."
Slimo spun on his stool to look out into the crowd at the tavern. He leaned back, placing his elbows on the bar and cracking his neck by rolling it about. He groaned and sighed.
"Still, I must admit I am starved of inspiration," he admitted.
"That's why I came to the Empire, I'm sure I will witness something truly dark and mysterious, or the Force prevail something truly kark'd up."
The Zabrak laughed, "Feth all happens here you idiot. Want some kark'd up shit, go to one of the world the Sith are devouring."
"Naw, kark that, I have an allergy to 'things that might kill me and thus my career'," said Slimo.
"Surely you Imperials know how to have some fun around here?"