[h3][b]Sarvenolos of the Third Fane of Tekumo[/b][/h3]
[hr]

“They are taking an awfully long time with the starship, aren’t they?” Sarvenolos muttered to his cat as he slithered away from the pole and headed to the bar. He still had a hefty sum of credits to spend on food, drink, and other miscellaneous expenses, having withdrawn every bit of money he still had in his bank account when news of Eden’s colonies falling to the Metacer menace reached him. Right now, there was just no banking system. The automated teller machines scattered all over the station, which would have facilitated commerce, registered… nothing. They all told the same story; the story of Eden’s fall, the near extermination of the populace.

[i]This ATM is offline, please come back later.[/i]

Yeah, fat chance. The Metacer had crawled out of myth and legend to destroy this place. It was as though the stories themselves came to life, writhing and hungry for flesh. 

Does currency still hold value now, even? There was no more central bank. No more government. No more vaults of gold that are represented by the credits held in the pockets and accounts of the citizenry. There were just the credits of those who were fortunate enough to still be alive and breathing at the moment.

Ah, well.

Sarvenolos slithered into the bar, his cat clinging onto the back of his head. He coiled himself on top of one of the chairs designed for humanoids just beside the man with a metal arm. With his tail-hand, he fished a few credits from his bag. “Capuccino, warm, not hot nor cold,” the Morelian spoke as though his voice was a two-part harmony; a little quirk of his biology. He could already feel the stares coming... and cared not. He extended both of his prehensile tongues, took the glass, and drank. In the meantime, his tail-hand continued to stroke Verminslayer's fur, making the cat purr.

[@InfamousGuy101]