Play Your Hand (Only NFU's allowed.)

[Tobias Wraith]

Nar Shadaa​

Former Refugee Sector​

Luck's Hand Bar & Grill​

​

​

​

"Cough, cough."

Another puff of his Cigarra was exactly what he was needing right know. Sky-blue eyes looked around the Nar Shadaa cityscape, his eyes tracking a few of the speeders as they rocketed past. Large, fat rain drops fell from the sky, soaking whatever they touched. A stray feline creature darted around on the exposed duracrete as it sought shelter, and in the process only helped it become more covered in the despised liquid. Someone's going to be cleaning themselves for a while when they get home, he thought to himself. Throngs of people moved as one, all following each other, almost like an ocean of flesh that looked more beaten down by the second. Dirt covered faces peered up at the man as he leaned against the corner outside the bar, their words lost in the sound of the rain drops beating down. Scattered among them were a few towering security droids bearing the logo of Cestus Cybernetics, looks like that's where all the jobs are going. "Damn droids," he muttered to no one as he looked down at his cigarra and thought about how much the pack of them had cost. Pulling open his leather jacket, he pilfered through the inside pocket to see he only had two smokes left. Disappointment lurched in his stomach when he realized he didn't have any extra credits for more Cigarra's, damn Silk doesn't pay me enough.

Tobias forgot about everything for a moment as he put the cigarra to his mouth and inhaled the sweet smoke one more time, allowing his lungs to burn and his trouble to dissapear. He savored his last drag, before he put it out against the wall and turning to head into the Luck's Hand. Immediately realizing he was in someone's personal space, and vice versa he backed up. Involuntarily his hand went down to one of the blasters strapped to his thigh, but he relaxed when he saw it was just another homeless person in the refugee sector. Old, calloused, and shaking hands came up together and Tobias' eyes immediately rolled. This wasn't the first time he had seen this spiel before, and each awkward encounter only made him hate the big companies in the galaxy even more. "Sir..can you spare some credits?" That gentle shake to his voice let the pilot know exactly where this man had come from: some war-zone somewhere on some planet he didn't care about. Kindness was one of those things that was too easy to broadcast, and much to easy to take advantage of.

The pilot stepped over to the side and raised his hands a little as his mouth pressed towards his nose in thought. "You know, the funny thing about credits is that I only have enough for me to drink my sorrows away because I'm broke." A smile crossed his face as he slapped the old man's shoulder. "So don't feel bad, we can both be broke together!" Grabbing the door, " the only difference is that I will be drunk and broke." That smile left his face as soon as walked inside the bar, and got the feth away from the homeless people. Not to be mean Toby, but you don't exactly have a home yourself. Again, he rolled his eyes as he surveyed the rough looking crowd.

Smoke filled his nostrils again, and he also caught sight of glitterstim. If only I had some credits for that, he thought to himself. A pazaak tournament was going on, but he didn't even head that way. Last time he had gambled in a bar, he had been mercilessly beaten by the bouncers for trying to cheat. He instinctively rubbed his jaw even as he caught sight of a few beautiful women together, before flashing that smile across the bar. Two muscular men appeared behind them, and he quickly lowered his head before making his way to the bar. "What'll it be," said the droid. "I'd like my usual please?" It appeared to stop for a moment, processing his request before shaking it's head. "You must pay upfront Mr. Ross." Exasperated, the pilot flung his hands in the air. "Can't you just put it on my tab?"

"Your tab is maxed out, either pay for the drink or pay for your tab." Begrudgingly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what few credits he had. "Fine, at least make it a double then."

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member='Tobias Ross']

It was Gastringa the Hutt's money, and he needed it now.

Hannibal would never understand why powerful Hutt crimelords kept lending money to deadbeat smugglers. It seemed like a pretty bad business policy to give money to whatever disheveled mook showed up at their door. Did Hutts really just like being owed money? Was this their tactic for getting free labor? However it worked, it didn't make sense, because ultimately what they ended up spending more money on was sending out enforcers to rough up their debtors. As if punching people enough would make them bleed credits or something.

Whatever the deal was, it made enforcers a lot of money. That was why Hannibal often took jobs of this type, because it was usually very easy. Smugglers were uniformly either cowardly, unsuccessful mooks or terrifyingly successful criminals. The terrifying, ruthless sort were not the ones who ended up owing Hutts money. There just wasn't any in-between as far as Hannibal was concerned. Cowardly unsuccessful mooks were very easy to beat up.

Hannibal entered the bar. Being the armed and armored mercenary he was, the bouncer immediately realized that something was about to go down. Shrewd man that he was, Hannibal passed him a few credits so he wouldn't intervene. The bouncer shrunk away, heading to the backroom to take his union-mandated half hour break. Hannibal lingered in the doorway for a few moments, ID-scanner passing over all the gentlebeings seated at the bar until he got a buzz.

Tobias Ross hereby identified, Hannibal stalked over to the unsuspecting patron. The noise of the bar drowned out his footfalls, and the sound of his stun baton as he unclipped it from his belt and activated it. Someone had time to gasp just before Hannibal reached out for Tobias. He intended to put his left hand on the smuggler's shoulder to keep him stabilized, while he swung the stun baton downward for his head.

 

[Doctor Azure]

Thryk saw the armored man walk into the bar. He watched as the bouncer took his bribe and stepped away. He had been waiting for this particular man, [member="Hannibal Oryen"] to come to him. [member="Tobias Ross"] happened to be a convenient bait for the trap the cyborg was about to fall into.

A woman screamed as Thryk activated his jetpack and jumped forward, Ryyk blades out, guns lose in their holsters, at Oryen. This would be an easy bounty, and then the money from it would be a good way towards the amount he needed to buy his own ship.

Time seemed to slow down, as Thryk calculated that the cyborg would probably continue his baton attack unless he intervened. He knew that the Ryyk would be enough to stop the baton, but he ran the risk of being disarmed directly afterwards.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Oh Nar Shaddaa how filthy yet utterly beautiful you are. Allyson had taken the evening off while Ember did whatever the old man did best- which was probably drink, look at women in their underwear and then pass out before he hit the happy ending. Oh well, wasn't anything she needed to worry about, he was good about keeping to himself. Heading up to the bar, the only thought on her mind was something to wet the whistle and maybe she could con a few boys out of their credits or ships – anything for a good time right?

Walking by the old begger who was cursing up a storm about some human and his cocky mouth, Allyson smirked and handed the man a few credits. “So who's this farmboy that's gotten you all worked up?” The man proceeded to point inside, give a detailed description of the man, and Allyson was off to the inside of the bar. The little jingle above the door announced her presence, the hot girls in the corner turned away and well so did the rest of the bar. She was far beyond the typical skooma type girl that probably wandered these streets, she was in her spacer getup and well didn't show too much, but left enough to the imagination. Rolling her eyes she adjusted the goggles on top of her head so that they kept the long brunette hair from her face.

“I'll get his drink, just one though.” The bartender pushed back the credits and Allyson looked over at the man who the begger described. “The guy outside said you probably needed it more than the bar did. So I got you this time Farmboy.”

Well that didn't go as she wanted looking at the bounty hunter she smiled. So this was going to be one of those nights. Taking a sip of the whiskey on the rocks the bartender handed her, she sighed and smiled. Chaos had entered the bar and she was smack dab in the middle of it - feth all she wanted was a drink. In her free hand she pulled out her pistol and pointed it towards the bounty hunter. "Let's have a drink and deal with things peaceful eh?" Before she could even get an answer from the bounty hunter some flying furball decided to jump in towards the three of them. Cursing, she turned and shot the blaster at the flying wookie in the jetpack.

[member="Tobias Ross"] [member="Thryykarr"] [member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

This was one of those nights Adrian loved to be alive, alive and not being a filthy, cold homeless guy outside of the bar. The pazaak tournament was going on flawlessly, after four or five rounds his pockets were flushed. He had already attracted a nice girl and the drinks were on the house, how could life get any better than this?

His eyes met his opponent, Cassidy’s cards weren’t good. Not good at all, but this guy didn’t know that. There was a whole damn luck streak going on, win after after win. Guy probably thought his opponent had a winning hand again, so Adrian did the only thing he could do in such a situation. He flashed the man a grin, and raised the bar just a tad more.

Which was swiftly met with a groan and a folding. Again a match won, Adrian took all the savings and was about to ask for another round… when suddenly all fekking hell broke loose.

Bounty hunters after some kind of poor schmuck, then a goddamn flying furball attacking said Bounty Hunter. Whole bar turned into a Zoo over the scope of a few seconds, which.. was really really really annoying.

Adrian rolled his eyes, and waved towards the attendant.

“Transfer the payment please. Whole damn place is about to explode, and I’d like to get outta ‘ere while I still can.” ​

One eye was focused on the bar, making sure they ain’t gonna try and take ‘im in. Hand rested on the handle of his Tenloss Ambassador, this was going to get interesting real quick.

[member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Thryykarr"] [member="Hannibal Oryen"] [member="Tobias Ross"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member='Adrian Cassidy'] | @[member='Allyson Locke'] | @[member='Thryykarr']

Hannibal froze, stun rod still held above his head as he'd prepared to knock Tobias' lights out. Some broad was pointing a pistol at him. Who the hell was this chick, and why was she defending this guy? She asked him to play nice, but before he could say something smarmy and slap that peashooter out of her delicate lady grasp, someone on the other side of the bar screamed.

He turned around just in time to see his worst nightmare come to fruition. Wookie. Jetpack. Two knives. Flying towards him.

Was there such a thing as an easy job? No wonder they usually happened off-stage.

Hannibal yelled several different types of profanity, dropping the stun baton and twisting around so he could fling himself to the floor, allowing the Wookie to soar through the space he had originally been in and crash into the bounty and the broad. Hannibal immediately started scrambling away, reaching for the gun in his holster.

 

[Doctor Azure]

Thryk swore loudly as he managed to land on the table rather than the beautiful woman and the smuggler he had inadvertently rescued. In one fluid motion, he had his Brotherguard out and was shooting before the cyborg could get his gun to aim.

Firing the blaster for the first time, Thryk was surprised at how loud the blaster was. It sounded like a dog barking....

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Good hunters never work alone. I was Hannibal's back up for this job and oh boy, did he ever need some back up right now.

We were here to get some poor fella who'd crossed the Hutt. It's how the game's played, see. Now, I don't mind beaten up on guys who play the game. You smuggle, you break the law, you're part of the "game" as it's known on Nar Shaddaa. Wasn't my first time on planet and I sure as hell didn't want it to be the last time.

Just a simple job, right? Walk into the bar, beat up some smuggler, and then get our money. Wrong.

A Wookiee, I kriff you not, a goddamn Wookiee soared through the air on a jetpack with two friggin' swords straight for my pal Oryen. I reached under my grey-green duster and pulled out my "Can Opener," otherwise known as a fully-automatic shotgun the size of a pistol with a 32 round drum magazine. I swung it up toward the walking carpet and squeezed the trigger, discharging five 12 gauge shells full of magnesium shards at the big furry, otherwise known as Dragon's Breath. The shards ignite when you fire them so it looked like I was firing a flamethrower.

Five blasts of fire poured from the barrel. That wookiee and his fur looked awfully flammable.

"Burn, queen."

Illustration:

Spoiler

[member="Hannibal Oryen"] [member="Allyson Locke"] [member="Thryykarr"] [member="Tobias Ross"] [member="Adrian Cassidy"]

 

[Tobias Wraith]

[member="Adrian Cassidy"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | [member="Thryykarr"] | [member="Hannibal Oryen"] | @Dak Caton

“I'll get his drink, just one though.” Tobias looked over at the beautiful woman who said that, and he raised his glass to her. “The guy outside said you probably needed it more than the bar did. So I got you this time Farmboy.”

"Farmboy? Do I look like I came from a farm?" He turned to greet the brunette who was covering his expenses. Where is this going to go, he thought. Multiple scenarios played out in his head, and then something happened that never happened in bars.

All hell broke loose.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and the babe who had spoken to him had pulled a gun. "What in the world?" Just as he turned to see a large, armored man above him, that man too ran away from him. Sky-blue eyes looked up to see something only dreams were made of. A flying wookie, a flying wookie with swords. Standing there, he dove for the woman to dodge what was going on. Landing quickly, the screams from everyone in the bar pierced his ears as he realized he was laying directly on top of someone. "Well, hello there. If you don't mind, want to follow farmboy out of here?"

 

[Doctor Azure]

(Just pointing out that he has his Juggernaut armor on, 'cept for the helmet.)

Thryk watched the girl and the smuggler crawl out from under the table he had just wrecked, and also saw something else: A man with a shotgun yelling "die, queen" at him. the shotgun appeared to be shooting fire, rather than actual scattershot.

Oya!

Thryk changed targets, firing his Brotherguard at the man with the shotgun, and pulling out his Charging Rhyno to deal with [member="Hannibal Oryen"]
The girl and the smuggler were nearly halfway to the door, now, and he hoped they made it out okay. This whole firefight was his fault. He realized that he would have to take cover so he could reload, and elected to rocket jump straight over Oryen's head, to land behind a large table. It was decent protection, and the kriffing shotgun couldn't hit him, so he kept shooting, waiting for the split second where he had to reload.

 

[Nej Tane]

Nej sneakily looked around, as the whole place began to explode. Nej took the time to duck at the bar, but didn't go for the slug thrower under his arm. No, he'd be smart about this. Pazaak tournament. Open money. People were scrambling. Credits began to fly around. Credit chits landed here and there. Nej rolled from the chaos, slinking over to the Pazaak table. A few swift hand motions, and he was in business with a few handfuls of credit chits. Then, the moron took out the shotgun pistol that shot flames. Problem with a shotgun, is that the recoil would be a son of a queen to handle. Nej had no problem with bounty hunters, Mandalorians, whomever killing each other, but putting innocent people in danger? Not cool with him!


Removing his slugthrower pistol, Nej slapped the credit chits into his pouches on his hips, and dived behind a few chairs, firing a few sporadic, center-mass aimed shots to the soldier firing at the Wookie.

"Even scum like us have some sense you moron!"


He was looking to dash out the door, pocketing several thousand credit chits. Capitalism and free-market, right? Taking advantage of situations. And stealing things.
[member="Dak Canton"]
[member="Thryykarr"]
[member="Hannibal Oryen"]
[member="Adrian Cassidy"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member='Dak Canton'] | @[member='Adrian Cassidy'] | @[member='Allyson Locke'] | @[member='Thryykarr'] | @[member='Tobias Ross'] | @[member='Nej Tane']

Hannibal didn't have time to grab his gun when blaster bolts started hitting the ground around him. He yelled more profanity, scrambling across the ground (still half-crawling, for the record) trying to get to cover. The entire bar erupted into a panic now as people were screaming and running for the door. Hannibal dove behind an overturned table, but not before getting his thigh skimmed by a blaster bolt.

Cyborg parts and all, it stung like a queen. More profanity as he ducked behind his overturned piece of furniture. At least now he could get his sidearm out in peace. From the sound of things, Dak was providing covering fire in the way of shotgun ammo. He refrained from leaving his cover, as he wanted to wait until his leg was done screaming pain. His pistol, a CZ-8something, was loaded up with FLARE shots. Very flammable. Not at all that fun.

Especially not for walking carpets, but he had to make sure the Wookie was distracted first. He heard the Wookie jump, and Hannibal peaked over the table to see some goon taking aim at his friend. Not on his watch. Hannibal took aim and fired at Nej, squeezing the trigger twice and sending two precise shots for both the man's shoulders.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

A whole bunch of things happened at the same time, so much that Adrian had to just remove his shades, which he was wearing in doors like a complete a-hole, to get a better look at the scene in front of him. In the end most it wasn’t really relevant to him, until this wise crack decided it was a good idea to walk up right next to him and grab a whole bunch of credits he had just given to the attendant.

Cassidy, obviously, wasn’t very amused by this fact and before the guy could slip away. The Spy had already pulled out his Tenloss Ambassadorhttp://starwarsrp.net/topic/19882-tenloss-corporations-ambassador-revolver/, and shot him twice. Once at his head, and the second time in his foot.

Now logic dictated these shots would hit home, you don’t just walk up to a guy, take his money and then be able to dash away without being seen. So at the very least one of those powershots burned right through his leg.

“You a donkey, boy? Think it’s smart to waltz up and steal somebody’s cash? I am gonna make sure you are leaving with more holes than you came in ‘ere.”​

[member="Dak Canton"] | [member="Hannibal Oryen"] | [member="Allyson Locke"] | @Thryykarr | [member="Tobias Ross"] | [member="Nej Tane"]

 

[Neskar A'toll]

"You're kidding." The bartender said with a scornful bite, narrowing his eyes as he glowered at Neskar from behind his bar. "You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Why not? It's perfectly believable."​

"I don't believe you beat Mikhail Shorn in a fist-fight inside a Sarlaac's stomach. There. I said it."​

"You're just ruining the fun, man. That ain't groovy. Another black ale, please."​

"You do realise you have to pay for all of those?" The bartender gestured to the numerous emptied pint glasses strewn lazily on the bar-top and frowned discernibly.

"I do?! This is daylight robbery! How dare you! And another black ale, please!"​

The bartender begrudgingly poured out another netra gal, making the top extra foamy, like foam, just how Neskar had ordered it the first five times.

"Cheers, mate," he smirked, and gripped the rim of the pint glass, gulping down a major section of it. "Man alive, you can never get enough of a good drink. Speaking of good drinks, I hear another bar is opening soon?" The bartender grimaced. He was a short Twi'lek, who spoke Basic very well, with no hint of an accent. He gestured to the amount of patrons already in the bar, a half-hearted motion, and leant on the bar-top, wiping the inside of a pint glass.

"This is good for the untrained eye." He spoke shortly, and glanced again at Neskar's increasingly reddening eyes. "That may as well be your final drink, idi-, fo-, customer." With an unconvincing smile, the bartender at least assumed he could get a few credits out of the beleagured bounty hunter. "That'll be sixty-five," the bartender announced, taking forty off the original price.

"Sixty? My arse! More like... twenty?" ​

"No, sixty-five credits, not drinks in total."​

"Deary me. Alright. I'll cut you a deal. Forty credits and I'll burn and execute the owner of that new bar for ya'. A favour, for a frie-, faithful bartender. Deal?"​

"Er," The bartender seriously considered the prospect. "Ok. Sure. Deal. Give me forty, now, then kill the owner."
"Nah. I'll kill the owner, run off, and never pay." Neskar replied, at least telling the truth. He shrugged, finished the last of his ale and swaggered away from the bar, fully clad in armour, all but his buy'ce, which was on the floor by his feet. Almost forgetting it, he bent down and locked it into position over his head. Ugh. Smells like... freshness. Groovy.

Then, all hell broke loose. First, Neskar had the pleasure of spotting Oryen and some other chap, and almost went to call them over, but, rather unfortunately, a wild wookiee flew into an errant rage, diving towards Oryen and his companion seemingly off the cuff. How unfortunate. Poor Hanny. Neskar almost wanted to lay back, but he could never resist a good fight. Good luck for them, he only had a ripper at his side. Bad luck for them, he had a ripper at his side. The hand-cannon that belched out slugs at a semi-automatic pace, that gun was feared across the galaxy as a signature weapon of a half-decent Mandalorian. Poor them. Bolts flung and tore across the bar-room air, slicing through it towards their respective targets.

Neskar glared at the Wookiee, nearly catching Hannibal but for a hair's breath, and then grinned, having found his target. "Now," Neskar growled menacingly, "that just ain't groovy." He leveled the ripper up to his eyes, - and more importantly - to the exposed face of the Wookiee that just spelt misery and damage if he managed to cop off a good shot. More than just one, mind you. And so, he squeezed the trigger of the ripper thrice, belching out three individual steel-tipped slug bolts, that flung themselves through the air as quick as a crack of a whip. The ripper made an almost deafening noise, and Neskar was glad for his helmet.

@Dak Canton | @Adrian Cassidy | @Allyson Locke | @Thryykarr | @Tobias Ross | @Nej Tane | [member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Doctor Azure]

Thryk noticed the pickpocket that had just jumped over to the table next to him. He also saw the man pull his slugthrower out and begin to shoot at the crazy guy with the shotgun that was clearly something completely other. He also noticed when a clandestine-looking guy in a suit casually put a hole through his new ally's leg.

Kark.

Thryk motioned at the pickpocket to come closer so Thryk could shield him. He also took a quick potshot at the guy in the suit, then swore as the Rhyno ran out of ammo.

 

[Nej Tane]

[member="Adrian Cassidy"]'s shot hit him right in the...chair that he was hiding behind. The ricochet, however, skimmed his leg heavily. Just Nej's unnatural luck. Nej pulled the slide back on his pistol for a brief moment, checking how many rounds he had in them. Enough. His leg wasn't hurting too bad, and it wasn't a movement-impairing ordeal. That's when the smuggler, leaned low and away out of his cover, braced his weapon. Thumb over thumb, slide jerking backwards as the smuggler put shots upwards, right into the squishy parts of the agent.

"I didn't see you winning any money there! 'Sides, you took all your money!"

Nej wasn't a great shot, but he was shooting a slug thrower, and aiming for center mass from the most practiced shooting position- and the most supported. Nej had terrible luck, because he somehow managed to get hit by a ricochet ambassador round even behind cover. The Wookie motioned him over, but he was incapable of doing anything in his position besides fire back at the ill-prepared spy. Who uses a revolver anymore?

 

[Shakes]

Luck's Hand. Sounded nice enough.

Fresh out of a bank robbery, Shakes was looking for somewhere calm, collected and overall pleasant. Unfortunately, he was an Nar Shadaa, and therefore fresh out of luck. Still, this establishment looked... reputable enough. Maybe a 4/10 on the reputablescaleometer. Digging around for the credits in his pocket, he opened the door and-

"What the flying--" His arm was shaking so fast it looked like he was performing some kind of interpretive dance- the bar was in a state akin to, say, a pair of krayt dragons mating.

He dived for the floor- Wookiees with jetpacks were a highly serious business, and he wanted to have at least one functioning arm remaining by the end of the night.

 

[Marcus Tritum]

Here's the thing about dual wielding ranged weapons while flying a backpack spitting out rocketfuel, especially with high recoil weapons, your accuracy is gonna be all jacked up. So when the goddamn armored Wookiee, seemingly invulnerable to the magnesium rounds, whipped out a pistol the size of my forearm and started firing he didn't hit much. What he did do was lay down some pretty impressive suppressive fire. I mean, I hit the deck faster than you can say "wookiee" and that was probably what saved my life.

I felt a sharp tug on my thigh as I dropped to the floor, followed by a jerk on my duster, and then I got the wind knocked out of me. I lay on the ground wheezing and started crawling behind a knocked over table. I looked down and pulled at something caught in the armorweave vest that I wore underneath my duster. A bullet. I glanced at my leg. Blood trickled from a gash in the pants over my thigh. Aw damnit. Someone else was shooting at me.

That "somebody" started yelling about scum and sense. I don't know what the blazes he was talking about. Who was the scum? Me? Was I scum? Yeah, probably. Then another gun barked, slugthrower, and stuff started breaking all around the room. I'm talking pictures, glasses, beer bottles, chairs. I just hunkered down behind my table.

"HEY HANNIBAL!" I yelled, "I THINK IT'S TIME TO LEAVE!"

[member="Hannibal Oryen"] [member="Thryykarr"] [member="Neskar A'toll"] [member="Adrian Cassidy"] [member="Tobias Ross"] [member="Nej Tane"]

 

[Atlas Kane]

Ah, what a good day it had been. First blowing up a couple buildings on Coruscant, getting away with tons of cash and then getting paid by a hutt. Granted, the Hutt part wasn't too nice, but it was worth it. He got a couple thousand credits, just like he had been promised. He didn't want to spend all the money he had earned at once, but he had time to sit down and enjoy a drink or two at a local bar. He saw a pretty nice place after a bit of walking. It didn't look too shabby, not too fancy either. It was your regular hole filled with scum and villany, just like Azalus liked it.

He approached the door, which was when he heard loud noises from inside. Were the people playing a drinking game? Naah, too loud. Were those shots? You bet your backside they were. This was gonna be fun. Not only will he get to drink, he'll get to shoot up a couple foos while doing it! A day well spent, in Azalus' books. So he arrived at the door, opened it and behold, there were people shooting each other with blasters, shotguns and what only the Force knows what. So he pulled out one of his favourites, a Tenloss Ambassador, and shot into the ceiling. The loud blast was pretty loud, probably louder than any other loud blast, so he might get their attention. "Oi, ya poodooheads, what's goin' on in here?"

@Everyone

 

[Marcus Tritum]

[member="Azalus"]

Some fella walked right in through the front door into a freakin' firefight.

"ARMORED WOOKIEE! CRAZY MANDO!" I yelled over the sound of blaster whines and slugthrower barks. "GET DOWN!"