Post by Sabre on Oct 6, 2005 16:06:12 GMT
The legend of the black sword was thought to be a myth, told to the young children of diverse worlds to scare them away from the darker worlds of the galaxy, worlds even the gods feared to tread. The myth spoke of unspeakable evil, imbuing an ancient weapon with powers of unthinkable darkness. The ancient weapons was dubbed, “the black sword.”
Fury’s ship zoomed out of hyperspace in the distant abyss of space. Up ahead just visible in the dismal darkness was a space station, swirling aimlessly around the core. Fury tweaked the thrusters of his ship and it flew off toward the space station, sending out a comm. signal. “We request permission to land,” Fury spoke into the ships comm. “Permission granted, docking bay 5,” the bored voice of the landing director hummed through the speakers in the Sith ship. Fury swerved the small ship around the bulky hull of the privately owned space station before curving into it via docking bay 5. The thousands of landing pads loomed into view and Fury carelessly chose one before flipping the landing switch and sinking on to it. He flung the cockpit open and leaped out on to the pad, before starting of across the walkway, pushing past some Quarren children. He reached the landing counter and leaned over the counter toward the checking’s attendant. “I would like a refuel and general systems check on my ship, landing pad 5-456,” he said flipping his credit chip in his hand. “200 Credits please sir,” the Cerean girl said. He pushed the credit chip over the table and she slotted it into the machine pressing a few buttons and then handing it back. “It should be a couple of hours, it’s been a busy day. We have several Cantina’s to enjoy here, or some accommodation if your planning on staying,” she said, clearly this was the thousandth time she had repeated that sentence. He didn’t bother answering before rushing past the counter and through the automatic door into the space station. He walked through the corridors, brushing past the many families coming here for a holiday. Along the walls there were thousands of tax-free shops, they were in open space and any governmental body did not tax galactic trading. After walking for several minutes he curved off into a Cantina with a tacky flashing sign reading “Interstellar Cellar.”
Fury’s ship zoomed out of hyperspace in the distant abyss of space. Up ahead just visible in the dismal darkness was a space station, swirling aimlessly around the core. Fury tweaked the thrusters of his ship and it flew off toward the space station, sending out a comm. signal. “We request permission to land,” Fury spoke into the ships comm. “Permission granted, docking bay 5,” the bored voice of the landing director hummed through the speakers in the Sith ship. Fury swerved the small ship around the bulky hull of the privately owned space station before curving into it via docking bay 5. The thousands of landing pads loomed into view and Fury carelessly chose one before flipping the landing switch and sinking on to it. He flung the cockpit open and leaped out on to the pad, before starting of across the walkway, pushing past some Quarren children. He reached the landing counter and leaned over the counter toward the checking’s attendant. “I would like a refuel and general systems check on my ship, landing pad 5-456,” he said flipping his credit chip in his hand. “200 Credits please sir,” the Cerean girl said. He pushed the credit chip over the table and she slotted it into the machine pressing a few buttons and then handing it back. “It should be a couple of hours, it’s been a busy day. We have several Cantina’s to enjoy here, or some accommodation if your planning on staying,” she said, clearly this was the thousandth time she had repeated that sentence. He didn’t bother answering before rushing past the counter and through the automatic door into the space station. He walked through the corridors, brushing past the many families coming here for a holiday. Along the walls there were thousands of tax-free shops, they were in open space and any governmental body did not tax galactic trading. After walking for several minutes he curved off into a Cantina with a tacky flashing sign reading “Interstellar Cellar.”
Pfft, fine I'll reply. Sorry that it’s a little short))
