Come one, come all! Meet Pyros Thrull Westwood, the Leader of Nepleslia! The only cost is to read this lengthy follow-up! All characters from world leaders to world serfs welcome!
Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2237 Hours
8 days ago.
York's bar had never seen much life after the Great Attack On Nepleslia. In the old days, when Nepleslia Prime was a dusty colony world, the Lucky Lady as the spot to get a drink in the forward construction zones. Crater Miners, Nano-Constructionists, and Tech Sentries alike sought out the classy Lucky Honey and Lady's Smile homebrew. People talked, cheered on their favorite teams, and washed away every single worry they had. Those rose-colored memories held quite a number fond moments for the grizzled bar-keep.
Unfortunately, after the move of the central government, York's business shriveled up and blew away like leaves in winter. Bitterness always slouched his lips whenever he spoke of the 'Senate' or the 'Primier', their cowardly move to run away from the NMX costing him his very livlihood. The miners were redirected to richer veins of metals deigned more suitable by building codes. The nano-constructionists went back to Prime City and began expanding on more important venues. The Tech Sentries either went back to war, or were sent to protect and maintain the military capital that came with the government.
For a couple years, York Daugherty felt like many of the disenfranchised people on the wild frontier towns, far-reaching colonial planets, and former core worlds. Faith left a lot of people when their leaders jumped north. Some wondered if those in the high seats still remembered the little guy. York liked to think that they didn't.
He never believed the rumors of Pyros drinking and rabble-rousing in political events. He didn't buy the PR tactic of him running around shirtless wherever he liked. Mister Daugherty knew these kind of political tricks. Pyros was just an actor in a big play to try and coalesce a growing Imperium, a clown who pretended to be one of them. While the blame of his troubles could be placed on a wide number of people, namely even himself, it was so easy to target the Premier. Westwood was nothing but a political pretending to be street savvy, an entertainer for the masses, that's what York thought.
Until tonight.
The man came in alone, a shadow against the night. While late customers used to be a welcome sight, the dryer days saw them as trouble makers if they weren't freight truckers. Yet, when the light finally hit the man's face, York felt a lump rise in his throat. In his bar, in this town over a 150 miles out from the nearest big city, in tiny little Bellton of all places, was the Premier of Nepleslia, Sky Marshall of one of the most frightening forces in the galaxy.
Pyros, on the other hand, seemed very mild as he took a seat. He wore a heavy coat, as he was always seen in, with a bare-chest rotted by scars. His fingers played over the smooth, wooden finish of the tables. Then, his glowing red eyes came to meet York, and myriad of terrible possibilities reigned up into his mind.
But the old man just coughed, a little blush taking his face by warmth, a drunkards warmth. He leaned over the bar, on both elbows, and smiled like a dog. Pyros spoke, and the words immediately brought a proud mist to his eyes.
"I hear th'Lady's Smile is pretty good," grinned the Premier, licking his lips with a face that couldn't truly have been his age. Across the table came a money card. "Line one up and keep a tab open."
The next hour was a blur. One of York's regular patrons had come in to cause trouble like normal, but the moment he did Pyros came down on him. The two traded blows like two bulls bucking horns, but the augmented, and unsober Premier beat him. The burly man went running, telling his friends of how he had gotten his nose broken by the Sky Marshall of all people. The news caught wind of it, and roused into Lucky Lady for a report.
Before long, newsfeeds on the public net across the Galaxy had reports of the Premier slumming in a bar out in the middle of nowhere. York didn't mind the swing at his pride and joy, as much as the response of the Premier.
Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2232 Hours
Yesterday.
The coming week was another blur of business. People came from miles way out, clogging up the local shuttle lanes with traffic. His bar became somewhat full for the first time in years, and he could barely believe it. Calls came in from friends and family, then some from the government concerning his past endeavors. All the attention was great for business, but the entirety of it was almost too much for him. Even during the colonial boom, business had not been so good.
The bar had been packed to overflowing out in the streets. A rather direct and spiteful woman by the name of Sheva Miles commandeered his property for national security. Guards were at the doors, and several news groups were mixed in the drunken crowd. The whole occasion was like a massive party, and York felt like the poor lord forced to accommodate everyone. That Miles woman was especially demanding, forcing the owner to make sure every bottle was checked when it was opened. Yet, nothing could match her ferocity when the moment actually came.
When Pyros didn't show.
People had come from as close as neighboring planets to as far as other national systems. The disappointment was palpable in the entire crowd. Some had come very far just to see the man exposed and up close. Yet, the old man hadn't bothered. So, people just drank with a certain somber atmosphere in the air. Even if it was a measure of the party, the whole light in the bar flooded out, and away from Bellton.
Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2248 Hours
Present Day.
Far be it from York to turn down some good business, but even he could say he was disappointed in the Premier's absence. He wanted to meet the man he could say he hated a week before. Perhaps it was guilt, thought Daugherty, to hate someone without knowing them firsthand. Perhaps it was a measure of doubt that it was all another PR play, but judging how that Miles woman almost pulled her hair out, he doubted that greatly.
The night waxed on gently over Bellton, and there were still some patrons who were visiting for the Lucky Lady's newly established popularity. Yet there was still a sort of emptiness from the disappointment from the previous day. People talked about regular things with a common vivacity, and life seem to slowly churn back into a regular pace.
That was, until Pyros stepped in the door again, alone this time. No retinue, no reporters, and no scruples of simply walking and sitting at the table. Seeing a galactic leader in the skin, twice in a row was almost as surprising as the first time, but this time York managed to ask why the man hadn't shown up the night before. Pyros simply grumbled something about crowds, and put his card forth again.
There was a certain familiarity to the action. One should feel something more when a man who controls all the land one knows hands one a money card for beer. Yet, York simply saw a patron, asking for a fresh bottle of his homebrew. Pyros might be actor, but if he was, he was a damn good one. If not? Well, York felt more comfortable believing he wasn't, because in the very least, he was convinced.
It didn't take long for the feeds to buzz again. People inside the bar began updating statuses of how Pyros came in a day late. So, instead of fumbling like he had the week before, York went ahead and began breaking out another reserve of his beer.
It was going to be another busy night.
Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2237 Hours
8 days ago.
York's bar had never seen much life after the Great Attack On Nepleslia. In the old days, when Nepleslia Prime was a dusty colony world, the Lucky Lady as the spot to get a drink in the forward construction zones. Crater Miners, Nano-Constructionists, and Tech Sentries alike sought out the classy Lucky Honey and Lady's Smile homebrew. People talked, cheered on their favorite teams, and washed away every single worry they had. Those rose-colored memories held quite a number fond moments for the grizzled bar-keep.
Unfortunately, after the move of the central government, York's business shriveled up and blew away like leaves in winter. Bitterness always slouched his lips whenever he spoke of the 'Senate' or the 'Primier', their cowardly move to run away from the NMX costing him his very livlihood. The miners were redirected to richer veins of metals deigned more suitable by building codes. The nano-constructionists went back to Prime City and began expanding on more important venues. The Tech Sentries either went back to war, or were sent to protect and maintain the military capital that came with the government.
For a couple years, York Daugherty felt like many of the disenfranchised people on the wild frontier towns, far-reaching colonial planets, and former core worlds. Faith left a lot of people when their leaders jumped north. Some wondered if those in the high seats still remembered the little guy. York liked to think that they didn't.
He never believed the rumors of Pyros drinking and rabble-rousing in political events. He didn't buy the PR tactic of him running around shirtless wherever he liked. Mister Daugherty knew these kind of political tricks. Pyros was just an actor in a big play to try and coalesce a growing Imperium, a clown who pretended to be one of them. While the blame of his troubles could be placed on a wide number of people, namely even himself, it was so easy to target the Premier. Westwood was nothing but a political pretending to be street savvy, an entertainer for the masses, that's what York thought.
Until tonight.
The man came in alone, a shadow against the night. While late customers used to be a welcome sight, the dryer days saw them as trouble makers if they weren't freight truckers. Yet, when the light finally hit the man's face, York felt a lump rise in his throat. In his bar, in this town over a 150 miles out from the nearest big city, in tiny little Bellton of all places, was the Premier of Nepleslia, Sky Marshall of one of the most frightening forces in the galaxy.
Pyros, on the other hand, seemed very mild as he took a seat. He wore a heavy coat, as he was always seen in, with a bare-chest rotted by scars. His fingers played over the smooth, wooden finish of the tables. Then, his glowing red eyes came to meet York, and myriad of terrible possibilities reigned up into his mind.
But the old man just coughed, a little blush taking his face by warmth, a drunkards warmth. He leaned over the bar, on both elbows, and smiled like a dog. Pyros spoke, and the words immediately brought a proud mist to his eyes.
"I hear th'Lady's Smile is pretty good," grinned the Premier, licking his lips with a face that couldn't truly have been his age. Across the table came a money card. "Line one up and keep a tab open."
The next hour was a blur. One of York's regular patrons had come in to cause trouble like normal, but the moment he did Pyros came down on him. The two traded blows like two bulls bucking horns, but the augmented, and unsober Premier beat him. The burly man went running, telling his friends of how he had gotten his nose broken by the Sky Marshall of all people. The news caught wind of it, and roused into Lucky Lady for a report.
Before long, newsfeeds on the public net across the Galaxy had reports of the Premier slumming in a bar out in the middle of nowhere. York didn't mind the swing at his pride and joy, as much as the response of the Premier.
Code:
"I'll be here same time next week!"Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2232 Hours
Yesterday.
The coming week was another blur of business. People came from miles way out, clogging up the local shuttle lanes with traffic. His bar became somewhat full for the first time in years, and he could barely believe it. Calls came in from friends and family, then some from the government concerning his past endeavors. All the attention was great for business, but the entirety of it was almost too much for him. Even during the colonial boom, business had not been so good.
The bar had been packed to overflowing out in the streets. A rather direct and spiteful woman by the name of Sheva Miles commandeered his property for national security. Guards were at the doors, and several news groups were mixed in the drunken crowd. The whole occasion was like a massive party, and York felt like the poor lord forced to accommodate everyone. That Miles woman was especially demanding, forcing the owner to make sure every bottle was checked when it was opened. Yet, nothing could match her ferocity when the moment actually came.
When Pyros didn't show.
People had come from as close as neighboring planets to as far as other national systems. The disappointment was palpable in the entire crowd. Some had come very far just to see the man exposed and up close. Yet, the old man hadn't bothered. So, people just drank with a certain somber atmosphere in the air. Even if it was a measure of the party, the whole light in the bar flooded out, and away from Bellton.
Bellton, Nepleslia Prime
The Lucky Lady
2248 Hours
Present Day.
Far be it from York to turn down some good business, but even he could say he was disappointed in the Premier's absence. He wanted to meet the man he could say he hated a week before. Perhaps it was guilt, thought Daugherty, to hate someone without knowing them firsthand. Perhaps it was a measure of doubt that it was all another PR play, but judging how that Miles woman almost pulled her hair out, he doubted that greatly.
The night waxed on gently over Bellton, and there were still some patrons who were visiting for the Lucky Lady's newly established popularity. Yet there was still a sort of emptiness from the disappointment from the previous day. People talked about regular things with a common vivacity, and life seem to slowly churn back into a regular pace.
That was, until Pyros stepped in the door again, alone this time. No retinue, no reporters, and no scruples of simply walking and sitting at the table. Seeing a galactic leader in the skin, twice in a row was almost as surprising as the first time, but this time York managed to ask why the man hadn't shown up the night before. Pyros simply grumbled something about crowds, and put his card forth again.
There was a certain familiarity to the action. One should feel something more when a man who controls all the land one knows hands one a money card for beer. Yet, York simply saw a patron, asking for a fresh bottle of his homebrew. Pyros might be actor, but if he was, he was a damn good one. If not? Well, York felt more comfortable believing he wasn't, because in the very least, he was convinced.
It didn't take long for the feeds to buzz again. People inside the bar began updating statuses of how Pyros came in a day late. So, instead of fumbling like he had the week before, York went ahead and began breaking out another reserve of his beer.
It was going to be another busy night.
