- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- Writing Levels
- Douche
- Preferred Character Gender
- No Preferences
Episode 1: The Zangheri Shower
"It's called a Zangheri Koberax. It's been buried in the mountain for several thousand years, by most estimates."
The bartender nodded while taking in this information, and shook the cocktail shaker vigorously. Meanwhile, he sliced up some limes and added them to the glass, which he was polishing while applying a sugar rim. At the same time he squirted soda and cranberry liqueur into a steam-powered judderamatron, where strawberries and ice cubes danced anxiously.
"It's about every thirteen years that the Zangheri mountain erupts," continued his customer. "The magma chamber is irregular, likely owing to the fossilized Koberax skeleton buried in it. Anyway, the north side is where you'll get several eruptions. Where the pine forest is. But as I said, it's every thirteen years, so not a good business model."
The bartender nodded a second time, and poured out the contents of the shaker while dropping ice-cubes and judder-juiced strawberries into the glass. He also provided a tasteful napkin, a bowl of olives, and a glass of ice water... simultaneously.
"Oh, why am I mentioning business models?" the customer added, presuming a question which the bartender had not asked. "Well, it's all very valuable, you see. Not only are there precious metals being hurled into the air, but parts of the Koberax too. And that's a giant creature with profound genetic treasures. Blood, bone, pieces of its prehistoric armour - get even a handful back to civilization and you'll be a rich man." He took the drink and swirled it, poking at the sugar rim. It sparked purple in his hand. "Most of the volatile material rains into the Zangheri valley, which is treacherous terrain at the best of the times, what with the orcs. So most prospector expeditions are massacred before they can transport it. That's why it pays to have an airship. If we navigate to the correct distance, we can be ready to catch whatever airborne payloads are thrown out. It's a once-in-a-decade opportunity."
The bartender nodded a third time, then rested all eight of his tentacles on the bar counter.
Caelcrust stared at him, hoping for a little more conversation. But the octopus simply stared back from behind the glass of its helmet tank. He was rightly bored. Even making a judder-berry rumble-tumble hadn't earned him job satisfaction. Caelcrust formed a sympathetic symbol over his head - a deflated frowny face that acknowledged he and the octopus were mutually disappointed.
"It's also wonderfully colourful," the captain murmured, "A real light show." He turned and looked to the long window of the lounge, where several tables and chairs had been set up for dinner. No one was here. Perhaps the guests couldn't find their way to the starboard hospitality section. Or perhaps there just weren't that many of them in a sociable mood this evening.
Caelcrust wondered, briefly, if he should invite the bridge crew up to watch the eruption with him. But then he decided against it. They were a dull group even at the best of times - not even remotely characterized.
The captain lifted the cocktail glass and peered at it with his tiny, single eye. But instead of the juicy nuances of the drink, he saw only his triangular face, reflected back at him. He conjured a jagged, slightly annoyed symbol above his head, then flicked the entirety of the drink onto his neck, where it would gradually soak in.
"Wonderfully mixed. Thank you, Xeropoustra."
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