Tweedledope

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About Tweedledope

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  • Birthday 02/18/1985

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    Dallas, TX

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  1. Seb had slid down comfortably in the stool he found that fit his unique anatomy. The Rhuvian Fizz was exactly what he needed after a long day in the shop. The bubbles in the drink only seemed to enhance the alcohol fluttering its way into his head. The frillo fritters were bland, as usual, but they still hit the spot. Greasy fried foods and strong alcoholic fizzy drinks. Another poor play by the Mos Espa Dewbacks. Seb lets out an audible grunt just as the Human makes a comment about the game. Seb turns his head and makes eye contact with the Human and replies in a rather gruff tone, "These d*amned refs couldn't see a bantha marching down the middle of field much less a shoddy block." The human seems to have lost interest in the game and wandered off just as Seb finished his statement. He pivoted in his chair to bark an insult to the Human only to see him rendezvous with an apparent friend and hear a chorus of morons cheering on the Imperials. Disgusted by the Imps, Seb makes an audible bark at their cheer and continues to drink his fizz and munch on his fish chips.
  2. PM sent
  3. Seb's only been planetside for a few years. That said, he likely is known by everyone for his superior mechanic skills compared to some of the other unscrupulous mechanics. Seb takes pride in his work.
  4. Another day; another credit. But not many. It had been over ten years since Sebrungo, or Seb as his friends call him, was ditched on The Smuggler's Moon and virtually left for dead. The transport that attempted to shanghai his people from their verdant homeworld to some Makerforsaken slave pit had been long lost. The members of his family dispersed in a forced diaspora on a foreign planet that couldn't be farther from what they were accustomed to. Knowing that he was solely responsible for the massive financial loss (and likely lives lost) of the slavers, Seb had taken to the deepest underbelly of this hellhole. With 'nary a few credits to his name he worked odd jobs and scab work to make ends meet. But they had barely even done that. After scrounging for years, he was finally able to purchase a tiny storefront where he could restore old droids and attempt to resell them to those who had recently come in to a few extra credits. Times were tough, though. The Empire's abrupt rise to power had sent shockwaves across the galaxy which were even felt in the slums of Nar Shaddaa. The Hutts still reigned supreme down here, but the Empire was pinching their business and resources were being cut off. Seb had found a buyer for a beat up old astromech and was able to offload that for a few credits. The money was needed. Utilities were due and his stomach was growling. Seb pulled the manual durasteel partition down from his storefront and locked up for the day. He slung his backpack bearing a tattered CIS logo over his shoulder with his foot and began a begrudged walk towards one of his favorite hangouts, The Rusty Droid. Being a Dug was never easy offworld. Nothing seemed to make sense. Holomag stands were far out of reach, Talls constantly bumped in to him (much to their chagrin as Seb was prone to swift retributive punches and shoves), and most bars offered seating meant only for taller species. Well, that's where The Rusty Droid was different. The 'Droid had a hodgepodge of seating that was likely not meant to be seating at all. Backless stools, half-backed booths, everything a Dug could ask for. "Oh, bunger that nonsense!" Seb said as a "rain" droplet fell from above and landed square on his lip. Disgusted by what it could be, Seb spat loudly and cursed. He wiped his chin and walked into The Rusty Droid as he did almost every night. Stopping for a brief second as he walked in, he eyed a seat at the hightop bar that would best suit his unique physiology and hastily made his way to it. A waitress saw him making his way and deftly stepped aside to let him through. She was one of the many who had not seen the meter-tall Dug and was reminded of her surroundings with a sharp bite to her thigh one other afternoon. Seb nodded to the bartender who brought him his regular. A tall glass of Rhuvian Fizz and some friend frillo fish bites. A shockball game was fuzzily coming in on a holovid screen over the bartenders head and Seb watched intently...he also used the reflection from the monitor to make sure no one was coming up behind him and to keep an eye open for any familiar faces.
  5. Destiny Pool: 1eF 1 Dark Side
  6. We all just going to ignore the things on this critter's head?
  7. Seb's background would work well with owning a shop. Sort of the hide in plain sight pathway to subterfuge. Not sure the timeline here, but I purposefully left Seb's dates ambiguous so he would have landed on Mar Shaada either when the gang was in its infancy or current state where he serves as their "fixer." Either option works fine for me though the former would be more conducive to the storyline.
  8. So, Homestead is probably out of the question. It's really meant for non-ecumenopolis planets since it states you get about 10 km or a space station. That said, Business is still a viable option. It would take 50k to start, but the upgrades would be really beneficial. Here are some options: Assuming we choose a Retail Business, we would all gain Negotiation as a Career skill. If we chose to be purely a mechanical storefront, everyone would gain Mechanics as a Career skill. 50,000 Base +2,500 (x4) - Grants 200 credits/player/month. Can be taken up to 4 times to increase base credits gained per rank up to 800 credits per month. +2,000 - Special Orders. When looking for an item related to our business, reduce the rarity by 2. +1,000 - Wholesale Prices. When purchasing 10+ of an item related to the business (and modified by Special Orders), reduce the cost by 10%. +10,000 - Security Upgrades. Can be purchased to buy things like reinforced windows, a security droid, armored plating, or security cameras. To purchase all upgrades, it would cost a total of 103k. I don't think it would be such a bad idea to maybe create our aforementioned Droid shop with maybe the following: 50,000 Base + 1,000 Wholesale Prices + 20,000 Security (Cameras) and (Locks). + 10,000 for Profits = 81,000c total. From the 97,800 we had leftover, we still have a total of 16,800 left and we're still bringing in 800 credits each per month in profits.
  9. Oh, man. I could have a "legitimate" store front where I repair droids and resell them. All the while, the Doc is in the back shop doing illegal/bootleg cybernetic surgeries using parts I've harvested from the Droids. *steeples fingers*
  10. The one I'm referring to has a slightly higher price tag...Grievous' Wheel Bike has weapons!
  11. We could look to spend some of that cash to buy homestead or business upgrades per the Far Horizons book...
  12. Dibs on Grievous' wheel bike!!!
  13. Funny you mention Dug...I'd already settled on that one.