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| - Cantina As you step down into this dark, smoke-filled room, the first thing you notice is the wide variety of alien races represented by the bar patrons. The Cantina is usually a crowded place, its business fueled by the nearby spaceport. Smugglers and pirates, bounty hunters and merchants, thugs, pickpockets, rogues and criminals of all sorts gather around the round tables that are set too close together in the shadows and along the walls, sipping dark, exotic looking drinks and discussing all manner of business, legal or illegal. Against the lefthand wall runs the bar, where customers seated at stools or standing between them try to get the attention of the overweight, grungy-looking bartender who scowls and eyes the crowd darkly as he serves up drinks. The buzz of the Cantina is normally covered by the upbeat music of Fig'rin D'an and the Modal Nodes, the famous all-Bith band. The short, hairless aliens play their exotic flute-like instruments tirelessly, as what little light to be found in the bar glints off their pale white skin and their dark, glassy eyes that are set close above their mouths. Most of the customers seem to ignore the band, although the music provides nice cover for private conversations. Privacy and caution are the bywords here, as many of the patrons have no desire to be found and many others are dangerously unpredictable. Fights are not uncommon here, and deaths even less so, as the few imperial patrols on Tatooine rarely bother to enter this place. To say the Cantina is "a little rough" would be an overwhelming understatement. Still, for those with the right connections or the right money, the Cantina is a great place to find whatever you need in Mos Eisley, including transportation away from this sandblown planet. Most of the best pilots who come to Tatooine can be found here, and for a price may be induced to provide discrete transportation for passengers and cargo. Azool is sitting in a booth near the back wall of the cantina. He is slurping a black liquid from a tall glass as his faceted eyes scan the Cantina. Wuher emerges from the back room, walks behind the counter in the smoke-filled cantina and starts taking orders from his seedy clientele. Tav Abryl'lya slowly makes his way down the stairs and into the main part of the cantina. He looks around slowly as he makes his way towards a booth in the back. Azool's eyes flick to the newcomer. As they study the Bothan, his snout curls into a brief grin before he returns to slurping his drink. Tav Abryl'lya makes his way to the back, finding a booth. A booth three meters from the very booth Azool is seated at. He slowly slips into it a seat facing the Rodian, pulling out his PDA. A blue light reflects off his face. The bartender grunts as he slides a tall glass of something blue and milky to a Devaronian, then goes over to a side counter and starts wiping glasses down with a towel. Azool finishes the black drink and uses his snout to clean the bottom of the dirty glass before he sets it on the booth's table and looks to the Bothan in the booth across from him. "I am impressed that you are stilll alive, Bothan. Fate favorss foolss, I suppose." Tav Abryl'lya begins to tap quietly on his PDA, the blue light still upon his face. "I suppose so, you are still alive, Rodian." Valin strides into the Cantina, running a slow gaze around before making his way slowly to a booth, scratching his chin as he walks. The bartender walks over to a Sullustan who beckons with an empty glass. Wuher snatches the glass, grimaces, then walks back to refill it. Han Solo saunters down the steps, sidestepping a few exiting patrons as he makes his way towards the bar. Azool and Tav are sitting in different booths near the back, facing each other. Azool chuckles as his faceted eyes scan the Bothan. "Witty as everr, Bothann. You certainly seemm to make many friendss with it," he gurgles sarcastically. "So who iss tryingg to killl you thiss week?" A smirk crosses the Bothan's fury face as he stands up. "No one, has been quite that stupid, in a long time." He presses a button and his PDA goes dark. The bothan turns to make his way for the entrance to Cantina. "Perhaps we shall meet again later, perhaps not." He slowly starts walking foreward. Valin folds his arms as he settles into a booth, eyes scanning the Cantina slowly. One hand taps the blaster at his side in an apparently unconscious gesture as his gaze flicks over Azool. Before tracking the Bothan a short distance on his path to the entrance. Once he finishes with the Sullustan, Wuher eyes the approaching smuggler. "Solo," he grunts. Han Solo steps up to the bar, offering a sly grin to the bartender's 'greeting'. Leaning up against the bar, he offers a simple, "The usual.", in reply. Without a word, the bartender beetles his thick brow, then nods and turns to fetch a glass. He pours a drink into the slender container. And then he slides the glass across the counter to Solo. "Been a while. Hiding?" Azool chuckles as he watches the retreating Bothan, then turns his gaze to scan the other patrons remaining in the Cantina. His gaze flicks to the human near the bar, his faceted eyes narrowing as he considers the face. Tav Abryl'lya quicly turns his head at the mention of 'Solo'. His eyes narrow slightly when they rest upon the back of the Human. "Perhaps sooner than I intended..." He turns his head back towards his path, and slowly walks out. Han Solo picks up the incoming glass and takes a swig. "Been out running a few...errands for the boss. Making a few friends, a few less friendly aquaintances." Valin pays little or no attention to the new arrival, Solo. Just continues scanning. A thoughtful frown etched in his features. "Yeah, well," Wuher grunts, glancing left, right and then back at Solo. "Just seems funny, you showin' up right after the Imps take their toys and leave, is all." Han Solo smirks, and takes another swig. "Guess who the less friendly aquaintances are." "Just glad they're gone," the bartender snarls. "Business always drops off when you've got the Imperial army harassin' everyone." Han Solo nods, leaning up against the bar. "That's their favorite pasttime. Always like to show off their hardware, although sometimes that's good as it's a free glimpse at the catalog." Azool slowly pulls a PDA out of his jacket. He taps several commands with a sucker-tipped hand, and appears to study something on the pad. He looks back to the human near the bar, then back to the PDA before shaking his head in apparent disappointment. He slides the PDA back into a pocket and motions for one of the serving droids. "Yeah, well, Solo, tell you what," Wuher growls. "*You* just go to Coruscant if you want a peek at their weapons. I'm just as happy not gettin' another demonstration." He sniffs, grimacing. "Ain't quite got the stench of burnt Jawa out yet." Han Solo takes a good whiff of the air and grimaces. "Was going to say this place smells worse that it usually does. No offense." He smirks, then looks back towards the bartender. "I take it some Imps decided to have a cook-out?" Wuher nods. "Yeah." Shrugs. "Anyway. Gone now. Back to business, right?" Han Solo nods, taking another swig from his glass. "Business as usual. The boss gave me another shopping list so it'll be off into the local Imp shopping centers. I hear there's a few new armories opening up on Ord Mantell. Won't be long before they start demonstrating the goods." Azool's ears perk up at the mention of weapons and armories. He stands from the booth and approaches the bar slowly, his right hand in plain sight and his left hand missing altogether. "I do not meann to interrupt you, gentlemenn," he gurgles in what is a polite tone coming from a Rodian. Wuher hrmphs. "Splendid. Just as long as they do it far from here." His eyes narrow at the Rodian. Han Solo turns slowing towards the approaching Rodian. "Well, you're doing a good job of it. What do you want?" Valin shifts his gaze slightly, watching the Rodians path to the bar, one side of his mouth twisting into a slight grin. Azool gestures toward the prominent appendages on his head. "Sensitive earsss," he states casually. "I'm in the market for weaponry of all sortsss," he gurgles. "I would be willingg to pay quite well for informationn--sourcess, locationss, contactss. Would you be willing to deal?" he asks. Han Solo finishes off his glass, then shifts positions on the bar to face the Rodian. "Depends. Money talks. Depends on how much you can offer to make it worth the trouble of keeping my boss in the dark." Wuher takes this as a hint to slide off and serve other customers. Tav Abryl'lya quickly approaches the entrance to the Cantins, but once there, he slows down. He slowly walks down the stairs. His PDA at his side, he turns his attention back to where the Human smuggler was just a few minutes ago. Azool slides a large denomination credit chit down the bar toward the smuggler. "Will that do to start? I have no intention of goingg into business against yourr employerr," he gurgles. "I am in the market for weaponry for myself and several colleaguess, nothing more." Han Solo picks up the credits, and his entrepreneurial spirit just can't help itself. "I'll keep my eyes open, there's always a little extra room in the hold from time to time. No guarantees on delivery times in this business." Wuher pours a drink for a wookiee, then starts some cursory cleaning of glasses on the side counter. Tav Abryl'lya slowly makes his way to a table just a few meters behind where the Human and the Rodian are talking. Sitting down slowly, he moves his right arm under the table, listening carefuly to their conversation. Azool nods his spiked head slowly. "Thank you, humannn. You can contact me here if you find something of interest to me," he gurgles as he slides a card down the bar. "As I said, I willl pay welll." Han Solo nods, taking the card and slipping it into a pocket. "Nice doing business with you." He offers a grin, then turns back to Wuher. "Another usual." The bartender grunts, but nods, refilling Solo's glass. Han Solo takes the glass up and takes a swig, leaning against the bar and taking a good glance at the various patrons. Some he recognizes, and offers nods of acknowledgement. Azool nods once more before slipping deftly back through the crowded bar, sliding into one of the empty booths near the back, grabbing another black drink off a serving droid as it wheels by. Valin extracts a PDA from somewhere under his robe, tapping a couple of buttons quietly as he stares at the screen. The proceedings in the Cantina catching very little of his attention. Tav Abryl'lya turns to watch Azool go back to his Booth. As he sits down, Tav stands up, and slowly starts walking towards him. Azool speaks into his commlink. Azool looks to the approaching Bothan, both arms beneath the table. "Iss there not someone else you could annoy, Bothann? Someone with a bit more patience or time, perhapsss?" Wuher mutters quietly to a Sullustan customer before going back to his cleaning at the side counter. Tav Abryl'lya stops when he reaches Azool's booth. He narrows his eyes, and says in a very demanding tone, "Who are you buying weapons for, other than yourself, Rodian?" Valin swings his head slightly, regarding the Bothan confronting the Rodian, "This could get interesting.." He remarks to himself quietly. In a lilting Coruscant accent, for anyone close enough to hear. Azool sets his drink down and stands up slowly, looking the Bothan over for several moments. He then laughs in the Bothan's face. "Why would I telll you anythingg, foolll?" Han Solo turns his attention to the brewing conflict between the Bothan and the Rodian. For now he is content to watch, enjoying his drink. Tav Abryl'lya smirks as he moves his hand at his waist, he quickly grabs a hold of somthing and raises that hand back up to level with the sitting Rodian. "Because if you don't, you will not live long enough to recieve it." Wuher glowers at the Bothan. "Take it outside," he growls. Valin grunts as a blaster comes up, the man shuffling to keep himself out of any conceivable line of fire, his own hand dropping down, close to his blaster, but not drawing, or even resting on it. Azool laughs again and taps a button in his jacket, causing a shimmering field of energy to surround his form. He then pulls a small, nasty-looking pistol from his sash. "You have tried to get me to killl you, on several occasionss, Bothann, but this will be the final time," he gurgles softly, waiting for the furry creature to make the first move. Han Solo finishes his drink, then brings his hand down next to his own blaster, resting his hand on the grip. Wuher sighs, but shrugs. "Have it your way, nerfherders. But whoever lives pays me for the mess. I just got this place prettied up from the last big gunfight." The bothan doesn't need any more encouragement than a weapon being drawn against himself. Without waiting for the Rodian to make any other move he quickly pulls the trigger, sending a bolt the very short distance towards the Azool. Azool is standing near a booth, personal shield up and Zabrak Tystel in hand. Tav is waving his DL-18 in Azool's face and demanding information. Azool easily sidesteps the clumsy shot, having anticipated the Bothan's actions. He brings his nasty-looking small weapon up and fires back at the Bothan. Somewhat miraculously, this bolt slams not into another patron, but into the wall. This time, the bar is not so lucky. The energy-propelled bolt slams into a table and ejects plasteel splinters for meters in all directions. Valin just continues to watch, one hand resting close to, but not on his blaster, maneuvering out of possible lines of fire. Eyes narrowed faintly as the first bolt is fired. Han Solo raises his arms and ducks to shield himself from the splinters. "Great...just great. Every time I come in here for a drink..." Wuher just barely manages to duck behind the counter as some of the lethal plastic shards come whistling his way. Han Solo isn't so lucky, and a few splinters wedge themselves into his arms. Han Solo lets out a yelp of pain as the splinters pummel him. "Of all the luck...". Learning fast, he ducks down a little lower to prevent a repeat occurance if more bar equipment goes up. Wuher crawls along behind the bar counter, then peeks around the corner, calling: "Solo!" And then gesturing for the smuggler to head his way. Han Solo gets the hint and begins to waddle over towards Wuher at his invitation, and it's one he's not about to refuse at this point. Wuher jerks his head toward the area behind the counter, and then whispers to Solo, "If you get a shot, take it. I don't care which one." Tav knew if he missed, there would be a follow up, and manages to get out of the way of the shot. The Bothan seems to be too far for the debris to realy be of much threat, as well. Keeping his weapon raised to the Rodian, he takes a step back, pulling the trigger and sending another shot at Azool. Han Solo nods to Wuher, wincing a bit as he pulls his blaster out of its holster. Flicking off the safety, he holds it upright until he gauges the situation. "I don't take too kindly to being made into a pincushion." Azool curses as his first shot goes wide, then steps out of the way of the Bothan's second shot and squeezes off another of his own. As splinters go flying, Valin decides now is a good time to make some cover, he shuffles across a booth, to where a table has already been flipped, a muttering quarren huddled behind it. And squeezes himself in beside the alien, peering around the side at the fight. The bothan isn't having too much luck shooting, but he can dodge alright. The shot once again goes wide, but it was a bit closer this time. Wasting no time he takes another shot at the Rodian. Wuher crawls after Solo, muttering, "Now, damn it." Han Solo mutters, "Don't have to tell me twice." With that, he rises up and levels his blaster at Tav, squeezing the trigger. "The things I have to do to protect a business deal..." This blast shatters one of Wuher's prized bottles. And, sadly, the customer behind it. Azool doesn't bother to dodge the Bothan's last blast, as it flies far wide of the mark. He fires once more at the falling Bothan, cursing himself for his poor marksmanship. Han Solo grants himself a sly grin as his shot finds its mark. Wuher peers over the bar counter. "You got him?" the bartender growls. Han Solo looks down to Wuher, and nods. "Nothin' to it." Valin peers out around the table again, waiting for the last of the weapons fire to die down before he moves. Well, Solo's shot hits its mark on the Bothan's back, knocking him to the ground. And Azool's shots hits as well, putting the final nail in the coffin, quite literaly. There is now a rather large mess in the Cantina on the floor, the Bothan's nearly exploded carcass at the center of it. So ends Tav Abryl'lya. Azool shakes his head at himself in disgust, cursing in Rodian as he slips his pistol into the sash at his waist. He turns and walks slowly to the bar. "My apologiess, barkeep. I hope that thiss willl cover the damage," he gurgles as he slides a credit chit toward the bartender before looking toward the human who proved his accuracy quite well. "Thank you, humann. Are you in need of medical assistance? I will coverr the costss of course." Valin slowly eases himself up from behind the table, wrinkling his nose faintly at the remains of Tav on the floor, "Well..that certainly helped his career.." Is offered quietly, as he shakes his head. Wuher grunts as he accepts the credits, rising to his full height once more. He nods, pocketing the funds. "It'll do." Han Solo nods to Azool. "Just flesh wounds. They'll heal up." He re-holsters his blaster. Azool nods his spiked head, sliding a few credits over. "Just the same, it might be wise to seek medical attention. I amm alwayss...solicitouss of those I amm inn businesss with," he gurgles. "I think I had best leave forr the time beingg. Lightningg seemss to strike on thiss desert planet far more often than once." Valin brushes his robes off slowly, a little dust settling down from his brief journey to the floor. He replaces a small clip over his blaster and makes his way to the bar. Han Solo smirks. "I can confirm that from experience. Best to make yourself scarce." Wuher gets back to work behind the counter, serving drinks while one of his employees sets about replacing the shattered table. With a parting nod to the bartender and the crackshot human, Azool turns and glides toward the entrance, giving one last look to the splattered Bothan before ducking through the Cantina's exit. Han Solo returns to a position on the other side of the bar, and orders another drink, positioning himself pointedly away from the Bothan's gooey remains. Valin settles down at the bar, orders himself a drink, and fixes his gaze on the band, now returned to playing. Studying with a far away gaze. Wuher grabs a cloth off the back counter. Starts wiping Solo's blood off the countertop. "Really, get that looked at." Han Solo looks down at the crimson spots on his arms. "Had so many I don't even pay attention to them anymore. Still.." He tosses a few credits on the counter, then makes to head out. Wuher grunts, nods and waves briefly at the departing smuggler. Han Solo disappears into the throngs of people outside.
- A Tiebreaker is a situation where two (or more) individuals share the same amount of votes at Tribal Council with no other person receiving a higher amount. In this event, several instances may occur.
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