Miss Mayla's damn milk cow and that rowdy rowdy Bespin ruckus!
OOC: This thread is an unofficial kickstart to the Cloud City bar, so I figured this would be a good way to break it in. All are welcome.
I'd pocketed more than a bit of scratch from the last few fares. Fortunately, some of them actually brought cargo and paid well for me to bring it along. After making fares at Malastare, Bothauwi, and Nllkon, I was a good bit in the black, but unfortunately the general armpit area of the galaxy. Considering that I could fuel my ship, fuel my crew's stomachs, and fuel just about anything else I needed fueling, this was a minor bellyache. I was in good spirits as I hopped down the pilothouse ladder rungs to the main deck.
"This is your Captain speaking. We've just touched down on Cloud City. Weather looks...partly cloudy with a chance of clouds later in the evening."
The gangplank in the cargo hold lowered, bathing me and the rest of the crew in a pinkish-orange afternoon hue. There was just enough sun poking through the fluffy stuff for me to put my shades on. The spires ahead in the business district of the city were colored a spartan cream color, which contrasted with some of the earthy and rust colored hues of the industrial and production sectors.
MOO!
I whirled around on the deck, nearly falling over as a big, mean-eyed dewback huffed at me.
"I don't get it."
I looked as s'Il came walking down from the Black Cat.
"Who brings a milk cow to a floating city with less grass than a tee-totaller's convention?"