RADIOACTIVE OWL GHOUL
- Invitation Status
- Not accepting invites at this time
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- 10AM - 10PM Daily
- Writing Levels
- Preferred Character Gender
- Romance, Supernatural, Fantasy, Thriller, Space Exploration, Slice of Life
See our OOC to join!
Careen Calliente had an agenda as she stepped inside the shitty little watering hole this colony town considered a bar. It was the second time she was going to try it - getting people to join her country, that is. Apparently, trying to form your own country from the ground up was a hell of a lot harder than it seemed. Sure, she bought an assload of pure unadulterated land and had a fortune to start building and supplying with. ...But you kind of needed people in your country for it to BE a country. Couldn't be a Queen without subjects, right?
So here she was. Looking around as she glanced at partially filled tables and a half empty bar. The place was more like a shack than a real establishment. Mostly built with wood and supplies that could be grabbed right here on planet. Though, the bartender clearly could afford to import a lot of variety for his booze shelf. That's how most of the colony towns were here on Moraz9. There wasn't even a major city on this planet yet. The closest place to "real civilization" was probably several solar systems away. Most places were built just like this one. It made for a really ecclentic and unusual combination of old school hand building and modern super tech. Careen loved it.
Last time Careen walked in to a bar, she just straight up announced she was building a country and needed followers. That didn't work out too well. She managed to get one sucker, but she had to physically drag him out of the building. Not exactly a smooth way to start things off. THIS time, Careen walked up to the bar and sat down. Rapping her knuckles on the wood frame and raising a single finger for a shot to drink. After a sip, she was (trying) to casually eye the people around.
"Soooooo... If someone owned, say, forty-five percent of the land on Moraz9 and needed, oooh. Lots and lots of people to help establish a town, city.. business. Perhaps a small personal army... Where would a person like that find some willing volunteers?" she spoke, directing it at the bartender but making sure she said it loud enough for everyone in the place to hear it.