The Wayfarer
Ronin
The Wayfarer sat in the corner of the bar, a shot glass in an arm outstretched to the floor, while his other arm was cocked at an angle resting behind his head. His straw hat was dipped low so that his face could not be seen. His feet were propped up on the table and it would appear the figure had somehow managed to fall asleep with the chair tilted at just the right angle, so that he would not fall, but forever lay on the verge of it kiltering over.
The bar was dimly lit by shimmering amber lights embedded in the ceiling. At either end of the bar sat slot machines which whirred and sang about how much You could win today! The bar tables and booths were packed with shady sorts of the questionable variety. The bar counter itself was manned by a Chiss who looked like he kept a scattergun beneath it and watered down the drinks with his own urine. But all noise was drowned out by the roars of the crowd.
The bar was in fact was built into the side of an underground arena. The front of the pub was a large balcony that gave view to the coliseum below, where sentients ripped each other to pieces with whatever weapon they could find. This is why Oda had come. He was here to bust the whole operation open. It was run by a Kanja Club off shoot, which was ran by an even more obscure figure.
The mystery figure had never been seen by anyone, but the rumors ran from it being a sentient terminal, to a demon of the darkside. The Wayfarer needed to get below the arena to where the true operation lay. It was here that he was to meet his contact. A government official who supposedly had been embedded among the gangsters for some time now...