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Star Wars: Kings of Nar Shaddaa (IC)

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@satkaz, @Vergence, @KungFuFerret, @ExileofEnya, @Tweedledope@SHADOWGUARD CHAMPION.

A galaxy strengthened! The evil Separatists have fallen and the weak and decadent Republic replaced with the mighty and just Empire! Under the watchful gaze of the brave leader and survivor of the Jedi attacks, Emperor Palpatine can only lead the galaxy into a new golden age! At least that's what the propaganda all around Imperial Space.

The empire is really laying it on thick, they are a fledgling power, and are ready to throw their weight around, show everyone who's boss. Where the Republic would leave well alone, the Empire decided that they were going to make themselves known.

This included the shadow ports such as Nar Shaddaa, the smugglers moon. Although it was small, there was no denying their presence. From law enforcers, to patriots moving to the world, there was a definite shift in the atmosphere. Although this didn't effect the vast majority of the planet. In the lower levels and districts, it was business as usual. Down here, the Hutt's ruled as much as ever. On Nar Shadda, they were kings. 

Of course, there were those who would try to dethrone them. Big small, gangs of all shapes and sized vied for power, climbing over each other like insects on a forest floor. Who would rise from the dirt to become the next kings?

Deep down in the lower industrial sector of the planet, there was a dingy little bar, 'The Rusty Droid'. It was small, poorly lit and filled with surly staff and equally surly patrons. Still, as the sectors industries slowly shut down and moved off world or to other sectors, it was the only place many had. The sector was writhe with crime, swoop gangs and spice dealers on every other corner.

Most were already engaged in bloody war, but it was the Duros gangs who ruled here, for now at least. They had teamed up to make quite a formidable group. Most of their business cam from running swoop races, but they had their fingers in various other businesses. They still answered to the Hutt's though, they still had to be cautious. 

The bar had opened for the evening, and was steadily filling with it's regulars, as well as some new faces. It was as good a place to meet and drink, it was cheap, and situated next to an equally dirt alley that housed a doctors office. It was within walking distance from most of the sectors flats, and had a rarely used road running along the front. As people file into the bar, some may already be able to tell it was going to be an interesting day. 

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Re'peek wandered in from the outside, the sudden shift in lighting and temperature making his eyes dilate, and his fur stand on in for the briefest of moments.  He took a deep breath, catching the scent of the place and wandered through the patrons.  His eyes tracked the various people, sizing up the new faces, and recognizing the old ones.  His ears flicked as a patron near the  back let out a bellow of a laugh, accompanied by a higher pitch laugh from a female of some kind.  If he had to guess, it was one of the ladies working a new client, he would bet money they would be leaving in short order, appendage in appendage.  Yep, typical night so far.  

Re'peek gestured to the bartender, and then pointed over to a table in the corner, one of his usual spots.  He got a nod in response, and the bartender poured a neon pink drink into a tall glass.  Re'peek took a seat with a comfortable sigh, and nodded his thanks to the waitress who brought it over to him.  He sipped at his drink, called a "Confident Masculinity", and settled in to see who would show up.  Later on, he'd have to head out and get to work making some creds, but for now, he could have his liquid breakfast and watch the crowd.

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Nar Shaddaa.

It was where Jace Roy was born. It was where he was abandoned. It was where he lived in the streets, hanging out with a gang that would be his close friends until they split on their own paths.

And it was where Jace had dreamed to get out. He had overheard tales of smugglers, bounty hunters, pilots, and others on the galaxy. Of strange places, some dangerous, but some...safe. And nice to live.

Jace had worked hard to try and leave Nar Shaddaa, and when a job from then-small time crime boss Malto Frelien got bungled, the Republic, for all the good they did avoiding the place, unexpectedly gave Jace a free ticket out. Problem was, being a "specialist" on a clone unit could have been a one-way ticket for Jace.

But to Jace, anything was better than Nar Shaddaa. Training in near-constant rain with clones on Kamino was better than being rained on by liquids of suspect origin from above Nar Shaddaa's "better" sections. Moving from planet to planet, using his skills to save clones that depended on his life was better than moving from hideout to hideout, using his tricks to avoid gangs that wanted to take his life.

And when a Separatist trap blew up in Jace's face, nearly punching that ticket, Jace appreciated the fact that the clones did their best to pull him to safety when he was down. In Nar Shaddaa, rare was concern in people's faces when a person, shanked in the gut, laid on the floor.

And to Jace, meeting Elise Elspite was worth more than any payout he would have got in Nar Shaddaa.

It was supposed to be a rags-to-riches tale of sort, where the main character would find his love after suffering so much, and they would both live happily ever after in a house, far, far away from Nar Shaddaa.

But in Nar Shaddaa, fairy tales were always crushed by the reality of the situation, and debts unpaid would always come back to haunt those who haven't paid.

And so Jace remembers coming home one day. Windows broken. Speeder he had worked on in his free time stolen. The inside trashed beyond belief. And Elise, laying down on the ground. Jace remembers cradling her, telling her everything would be alright. He remembers fumbling on the comlink, hoping to find help. And Jace remembers Elise's face, blurred by tears, when she took her last breath.

And now, Jace was back on Nar Shaddaa, the one place he never wanted to be in ever again. In his trip, he had found out that Malto Frelien turned from small-time into one of the biggest crime bosses in this planet. And his son, Danjo, was the one responsible for Elise's death. And Jace had heard he was hanging out here, in The Rusty Droid.

But the Duros in the back alley couldn't have known. All they knew was some poor-as-all-**** man, with slicked black hair, a beard, and eyes that stared at them came up to the back door, where no one was allowed. And now they were on the floor, their heads bashed in by this poor-as-all-**** man.

Jace moved their bodies to the nearest dumpster, but noticed that one of them had weapons on their person. A light blaster pistol and a knife made for combat.

He took the blaster pistol and examined it for any defects. Check the power pack, check the sights, check the exciter. The knife seemed to be hastily cleaned up of blood, but it still had its edge.

"Huh, better maintained than I would have thought." he muttered to himself. If it was possible, Jace would have been prepared with his customized Quickfire and vibroknife, complete with his armor he had made during the Clone Wars. Unfortunately, between the trip to Nar Shaddaa and finding an informant to tell him Danjo's possible location, he had to sell all of them off.

Still, it would worth the trouble if he could take out Danjo at this point. And what then? Jace didn't bother to think that far. All it mattered to Jace was to put a nicely shaped blaster bolt-sized hole in Danjo.

Holstering the blaster pistol and knife, Jace let himself into the back of The Rusty Droid.

Edited by satkaz
Forgot that Jace has a knife in his character sheet, not brass knuckles.

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Of all the places in the galaxy, Jex never once thought he'd end up here.

It was a sign that his life was really in the pits that he was stuck hiding in what many called The Smugglers Moon. He had been in a good spot once, making his way through a very lucrative internship on one of the most restrictive planets in the whole galaxy. He wasn't on-top of the galaxy, but he was well on his way to climbing his way up to a position of prestige and respect. 

But, as always, fate had put a stop to that. He was convinced that the fates had long ago decided he wasn't allowed to be happy. That any chance where he could have been respected and successful had to immediately be quashed so that they could keep him being their plaything. And unlike before, they had truly pulled out all the stops this time to make his life a waking nightmare. 

He'd lost his internship, his university, his degree and now he was being hunted by the very people he had once trusted to help him reach his full potential. Lesson learned, the only one he could truly rely on was himself in this galaxy. Thankfully he had been able to dodge the authorities and make it off planet, travelling as far out into the galaxy as he possibly could where nobody would bother trying to find him. 

Stepping into the Rusty Droid, the doctor-to-be got himself a glass of Chadian ale. He'd gotten a taste for the cheaper liquors during his studies, and if he learned one thing it was that Chadian ale was probably the universal sad sack drink. 

Sitting himself at an empty booth, the Nautolan put his backpack down and sipped his drink, keeping an eye on the various individuals coming into the establishment. Other hand moved below the table, resting his palm on the cushion of the chair but keeping his hand close to drawing distance of his blaster pistol in-case things turned sour. Which, given his recent history, was quite likely. 

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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.

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Nar Shaddaa, another evening…. or morning as far as Leto was concerned as he woke up from another late night overseeing club operations for his mentor, Salc Bron.

 

The nightclub wasn’t as near of a painful dig as he felt this morning; it just requires Leto to step up wherever Salc would slack... which seemingly felt as if everywhere to him as of late. “That suave Devaronian sure loves entertaining the VIP tables and entirely ignore all other operations” he would think as he got dressed. The nightclub had a few high rollers in town the last few nights and out of all locations they choose Bron’s establishment. “Lucky us” he would think sarcastically.

 

As Leto got ready for the night he would crave his usual ‘recover from the night before’ style pub grub. Being the usual spot required him to take his swoop, Leto wasn’t quite ready for that wakeful commitment. He would decide to switch it up as a walk to ‘The Rusty Droid’ as he energized. The industrial sector is no ‘walk in the park’ as they would say but, Leto has lived here his whole life. He doesn’t know anything else and for better or worse is acquainted with most of the locals. Leto regularly passes by and talks about the Moon's races to a few Rodian families on the block. In the neighborhood, Leto is on good terms with most of the usual corner Duro dealers; however, the Rodians have constantly given Leto a faster heads up if anything noteworthy was moving in the streets. Besides, Leto saw Nar Shaddaa as a blank canvas just begging for him to contribute his expressions and visions into the mix. The street paths to the bar belong him just as just as much as anyone else on Nar Shaddaa. Leto’s walk nodding to all the familiar locals said it all.

 

Just before Leto was about to enter inside ‘The Rusty Droid’, he would pause and talk to a group of seemingly off-world Sakiyan ladies which caught his eye. He was simply inviting the girls to stop by Bron’s establishment if they sought to experience the local nightlife excitement. “Yes of course ladies..” Leto would say just before entering through the front door. He would further continue “And remember ladies.. Turn around the right corner, you can find anything or anyone on Nar Shaddaa” with a smirk. "I hope that means I'll see you all tonight.." as he turn to enter through the doorway straight to the bar.

Edited by Vergence

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HU-1K walked into the cantina, it was a cheap place to charge and watch as foolish organics killed their innards with alcohol. He had been on this planet decades and the organics never changed, occasionally he would befriend one or two of them as best he could, but HU-1K was currently friendless, perhaps he could get a new crew together to take on one of the smaller gangs that annoyed him on a day-to-day basis.

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The cantina slowly began to fill with newcomers and regulars of all shapes and sizes. It stopped just at the point before being crowded, just like the owner liked it. The holo vids suspended along the walls showed various sporting events, from underground swoop racing to  shockball. These commanded the most attention of the patrons, with the exception of the sticky bar, coated with years worth of spilled beverages. Branching off from either side of the donut shaped room were three small areas. The first was the entrance where a few of the greener hustlers and ladies of the night set up shop.

Moving right, the second would lead to a large and relatively opulent room. These room had comfortable chairs, large tables for pazzak and other games. It even had a stage at the far end, though it was currently the home of a pre-recorded hologram. Still, the cracking blue image of the Twi-Lek seemed to please most who lounged in there. These room was dominated by whichever gang was in power that week. This time of course it was the Duros. There must be at least a dozen of them in tonight, not one of them going unarmed or sober. 

The third room empty with the exception fo two or three exceedingly well dressed characters. This was the VIP booth, and the best that the cantina had to offer was crammed into the red velvet room. No local could get past the Gamorrean bouncers to reside in here. Instead, you had to be a guest of one of the Hutts from the upper levels. Though they rarely; if ever made a trip down here, their 'friends' seemed to enjoy flaunting the authority they had.

Drinks were served and spilled, and one young man was thrown out on his ear after accosting one of the waitresses one too many times, a perfectly normal night. A large group of newcomers had huddled beneath a shock ball screen, making more noise than any of the others thanks to the empty glasses that surrounded them. One of them raised a glass in toast, calling out 'to the empire!' in a loud and jovial voice. The others would laugh and repeat the shout as they raised their glasses. The tone of the cantina would lower significantly. Though most weren't active enemies of the empire, few were their friends either. The tension aimed at the table was almost palpable. 

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Re'peek would take a long drink from his glowing pink drink, and shudder at the strength of it.   He enjoyed the taste of it, and the coloring was very useful for trying to suss out the secrets of the universe in your glass.  He watched the swirls of the pink trails of juice, colliding and twisting around the different alcohols included, their different densities making for an enjoyable display.  Of course, the bantha kick to the back of his brain from the mouthful he just swallowed, only served to further improve his enjoyment of the pink swirls.   He let his ears and nose keep track of the room's occupants, and contemplated his next job.  

His ears twitched when he heard the table of people toast to the Empire, and he sneered a bit at that.   He idly wondered how many teeth, or tooth equivalent would end up on the floor at the end of the night, with a boast like that on the air.   People in this area didn't particularly care for such a statement, and they tended to indicate their displeasure with blunt force trauma.   He took out a credit chip, and idly spun it on the table, watching the light from his drink flicker over the facets of the currency.  

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Leto strolls up to the bar counter noting the crowd layout by avoiding all the various groups. He would lean forward towards the bartender making polite eye contact "I"ll have a Perlemian Original and the Giju Sliders" in a deep voice to carry over the background clamor. The bartender would pour his drink immediately and motion the waitress to go in the back to grab his food. Being this was not his usual spot as of late, Leto would glance up at the holovid to fit in. Shockball ... just as he started watching a fatigued winger would make a questionable sloppy block that could have been considered a foul against the defense. Yet, no call was made as the play would continue on... Leto gently said in a cold tone "I guess the ref didn't notice" by not showing either side affection. Aware of the Outer Rims opinion on most referee calls or the lack of are economical, he figured it would humor the Dug to his right who is seemingly absorbed by the game.

His body would lean against its side on the counter to briefly glance at the room's corners. There, oddly, he would notice a familiar Bothan consumed by his beverage at a table drifting into the background. For a moment a sense of nostalgia would sweep the human to his past just as the waitress would cut in front of Leto arriving with his food. He would smile and greet the young lady. "Thank you..." as he would pretend to be searching for a name tag on her outfit until she giggled. He would look backup to her eyes "It looks beautiful; compliments to the chef and your service" As the waitress walked off, Leto would hear a toast to the Empire. "That's my cue" excusing himself from the scene.

Leto decides to grab his beverage and plate to dine with a familiar face. As he approaches, he figures best to open with an old inside joke. Leto would walk over to set his drink and food on Re'peek's table, "Agent 'The Way'... I have the drinks if you have the information" in Bothese sitting down with a grin. The joke was in reference to a few old con jobs Cadski and Re'peek use to pull off at spaceports two districts over selling false intelligence reports.

Edited by Vergence
Odd Width Formatting

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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.

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Sneaking in the back was fairly easy, Jace thought. Looks like everyone was focused on the game, as well as the yells of "Long live the Empire!" by some drunkards who never fought to make it happen in the first place. Jace had to admit that seeing the Republic turn into the Empire was a little sobering. With the increasing restrictions the Empire was putting out, it felt like he had fought for nothing at all.

But this wasn't the time or place for that kind of thought, for a couple of Duros were walking his way. Hiding in a dark section of the hallway he was in, Jace let them pass before he popped out.

"Bunch of swoop bike punks, huh?" he thought to himself before seeing their blasters on their hip. But one of them had a more flashy jacket than the rest.

"Guy in charge. Good."

Jace had heard that Danjo, for all his extravagance, fancied himself a swoop bike racer, and liked to hang out with the various swoop gangs. This guy might have seen him.

"If only he could separate from the rest of his buddies...let's see what I'd get out of him."

Edited by satkaz

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16 hours ago, Vergence said:

"Agent 'The Way'... I have the drinks if you have the information" in Bothese sitting down with a grin. The joke was in reference to a few old con jobs Cadski and Re'peek use to pull off at spaceports two districts over selling false intelligence reports.

Re'peek looks up, blinking in surprise, before his face breaks into a toothy grin, which is impressive on a Bothan.  "Yeah, well, I'm not sleeping with that customs agent this time, you can take that one for the team I think."  he shudders a bit, remembering.  "What brings you back to this neck of the woods?  Last I heard you were working for one of the other establishments, under the wing of the owner."

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Jex tensed as he heard the men at the desk praise the empire, glancing nervously over at the booth that the cheers had come from. He took a deep breath, averting his gaze and staring down into his drink, trying his best to look calm. Nobody was going to look for him, it was the last place they would expect someone as upstanding as he was to go hiding out in...right? Taking another sip to finish his drink, the Nautolan slowly got up and gathered his belongings before making his way back to the bar. 

The stall was just a little too close to the Imperial sympathisers for his liking, and the last thing he needed was to get recognised by off-worlders. He assumed them to be off-worlders: Why else would they so audibly praise the empire? While some did support the new regime around here, nobody seemed to show quite the same patriotic fervor. Granted, he could be wrong, he was still rather new to the world.

"Another Chadian ale thanks." He said to the bartender as he pulled up a seat next to a Dug, sitting down and looking up to see the shockball game. This was the Iziz Drexls vs the Mos Espa Dewbacks, he'd heard about this game on the flight over. "So, uh, whose currently winning? Are the Drexls still killing it this season, or are the Dewbacks turning it around?" An awkward question, but he figured he might as well try to look like he belonged. He shot another glance back at the stall with the Imperial supporters, his gaze nervous.

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Leto chuckles at Re'peek's customs agent comment. Not remembering the face or those details, he begins to wonder if Cadski was sweet enough to edit that scene out when she would retell the stories to the gang.  "Laziness and hunger" he would think to his friends first question. "Oh, Nostalgia" he would say laughingly. "Yeah, when Zay & Cami parted off this rock, Salc scoop me off the streets and made me an offer. I've been exploring the lovely Nar Shaddaa entertainment industry ever since. Despite the fact he would be lost without me, I'm doing well considering all odds".

Unsure how much of the current district political atmosphere change his childhood friend, he would ask "So, who are you running with these days?".

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Re'peek glances over at the people watching the game after a particularly loud outburst, and shrugs.  "Nobody really.  Kind of went solo by necessity.  Doing odd jobs here and there when requested.   There's still a bit of a market for someone who knows how to obtain things from time to time."  He sighs, and downs the rest of his drink, the luminosity at their booth dropping significantly after that.   He shudders and thumps his hand on the table, and in a choked voice. "Smooth" he coughs.   "But I've mostly been trying to keep off everyone's radar.  Got pinched a ways back by one of the local groups, trying to take some of their merch.  Luckily I got out with all my appendages."

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Jace follows the group for a bit, making sure he isn't spotted. And as they head into a room, Jace sighs in frustration.

"No way he's coming out without his buddies..." he thought. It'd be suicide to bust into that room all alone.

Frustrated at the lack of progress, Jace decides to head to the front.

"Might as well grab a drink or two, I guess, and wait it out."

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Leto would demolished his sliders and guzzle his beverage listening to Re'peek. He would nod in response between bites politely. His eye brows raised "No Stub Shat?". Leto would reflect a little more "Eh... I'm sure they were Slime Pods...". His focus shift towards the various reactions to the shockball enthusiasts for a moment. As he turns his head back, Leto says "Favorably, I've been meeting more and more of the upper level players. If the 'contract' market ever gets dry here, I could speak to those with less financial restraints. I trust your skill set beyond most and if you need... we can try to make something happen." in a lower voice. He was happy to see his friend and knew Re'peek could operate on another level beyond the industrial ground floor.

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Jace walks over to the bartender's table for a drink. He grabs a seat that can let him watch the way he came in from, in case someone important was coming.

"Hit me up with a malt, good sir." he says to the bartender. "Any kind?"

"Tatooine."

"Going cheap, huh?" The bartender grabs a bottle and opens the cap. Jace nods and starts drinking. Tatooine malt was cheap for a reason and the small crowd cheering for the Empire just made the cheap drink feel cheaper.

"Cheering for the Empire...idiots, all of them." he mutters. "Probably didn't even bleed for a single part of it."

Edited by satkaz

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Chatter begun to slowly rise once more, but not before the sound of distaste of the Dug could be heard quite clearly from where the young men were sat. Most of the other patrons took no interest in the going ons outside of their drink and own company. The Duros continued to become more raucous as they drank themselves silly in the room they had occupied since late afternoon, and made no sign of leaving. 

The patriots however would turn to stare across at the bar. They had not taken kindly to what they heard, and one of them pushed himself to his feet. He would swagger his way towards the bar, ugly smirk across his face as he goes to slam a hand on the surface near by where the Dug sat. Clenched in the hand was a blaster pistol, an the man lent down to bring himself to the same level as the alien. 'You have a problem with toasting our empire short stuff? The empire is the reason scum like you aren't Hutt slaves'. He'd glance back at his friends as they jeered and shouted, egging him on. 'How about a cheer for the empire for you hm?' More laughter would be heard from the table. The arrogant youths did not expect to see this going any way other than their way. 

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Re'peek's ear would twitch and pivot towards the bar, shortly followed by the turn of his head.  He would narrow his eyes a bit as he observed the exchange from the Imp toaster and the Dug.  He would look at the time display on one of the nearby monitors.  "Huh, earlier than usual for this place." He glances over at Leto.  "How do they handle dust ups at Salc's place?"

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Leto would observe the scene as he spoke "For Salc, it depends on the slosher's spending habits. If the slosher is famous or blowing credits as if they were famous, in their favor. For a scene like this, not so kindly. If the nightclub attendees did not restore 'checks & balances' on their own, we would handle it internally.". Leto glances at the red velvet room entrance to see how the Gamorrean bouncers react to the patriot. Our 'bouncers' have built known names for themselves so these dust ups are not as common as you would think for us".

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If there was proof the Force was a malevolent entity, this was it. The dug he had sit himself next to had attracted the ire of the people in the very booth he had been seeking to avoid, one of them coming over. He winced his eyes shut as he heard the hand slam down on the counter, glancing side-ways across to see that the youth was armed. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Jex slowly put his drink down. Sure, there was a Dug between him and the man, but if this got out of hand it was going to bring down even more unwanted attention.

"Hey, uh, buddy. Let's not get hasty here. No-ones asking for any trouble..."He slowly stood up, keeping his hands visible."So let's all just calm down, put our blasters down and watch the game!" He laughed nervously, only to blink as he realised he'd just made himself more obvious.  In retrospect, he should have just kept his mouth shut.

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"Oh boy, someone's gonna get it..." Jace thinks as he finishes the bottle, before he notices exactly who was standing up for the Dug.

"...I remember that guy."

Jace remembers the rain back on Kamino, training with the clones. He remembers that there was a Nautolan that would help treat injuries when they were injured in training.

He watches the group intently, the stolen light blaster pistol close by. If the proverbial bantha poodoo was going to hit the fan, it wouldn't end with that Nautolan on the floor, beat up or worse. Plus, Jace was getting sick of these guys in addition to the frustration of having no leads on his target.

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