Howard Station
Marketplace 09
The receptionist was an older, heavyset woman with long red hair and a contagious smile. Her thick Osman farmgirl accent drawled like a warm blanket as she greeted, “well hello there miss, this is the main level where we showcase automotive products, so y’all just need to take the elevator down. Sub-level one is personnel, two is power armor, and three is mecha. They’ll need you to fill out a registration form, let me get you one!”
As the woman woman stood up Egwene would clearly see an old model HHG on her belt, noticing a trend on Howard Station. Most of its residents were openly carrying weapons, an armed society.
“Here you go, hon! Please fill the form honestly,” she said, handing Egwene a clipboard with three sheets of paper and pen, “we don’t share this information and don’t enforce foreign laws. Once registered we’ll get you an ID card. Some items require a safety certification for us to sell but those courses take ten minutes so don’t worry about it.”