by Druur Monakh

The man reached out his hand to knock on the counter of the bar, but before his knuckles had even made contact with the surface, the Bartender was ready for him, having seen the beginning of the gesture out of the corner of his eye. Smoothly, he picked up the bottle of Amarrian Brandy and refilled the two shot glasses on the counter, nano-electronics in the filler cap adding the cost to the tab, almost even before the second knock had rung out. He relished the surprise in the face of the patron, and not just because it would likely translate into a larger tip – this was what the Bartender lived for. Continue reading →

Rixx Javix is a good man. Let me start with that. I’m not going to comment on all the drama between him and the Tuskers, but obviously I think enough of the man that I have left the Minmatar Republic, left the Tribal Liberation Force, left my entire way of life behind to stand with him and fight for what is right. That should speak volumes towards the character of Rixx. Continue reading →

“I cannot reconcile the lifestyle you’re condoning with the values I believe in as a soldier of the Republic!” I yelled at Rixx while nearly passed out on my back, drunk on the cold metal floor of my station quarters. I had been engaged in some serious soul-searching regarding my future after having failed to secure a seat on the CSM yet again, as well as my continued disillusionment with the war effort. Continue reading →

I watched her walk in with a subtle sideways glance, her skin tight, shiny red latex hugging every inch of her fit form. There were transparent pieces to the outfit, though I couldn’t figure out why; everything about her was already on display. Some of the other chatter from the bar quieted momentarily as men forgot what they were discussing mid-stream, pausing to size her up as their latest conquest. I had arrived an hour earlier and started pounding back shots of single malt whiskey. You see, she was my blind date. Continue reading →