conversations: human
conversations:  STAR WARS: EDGE OF THE EMPIRE
  Adventures on the Rim 
  Chapter 1 - That Old Gang of Mine  
    
  Out here on the Rim, you lived and died by the Word. The Word was son and father, drug and pusher, shield and trap, thorn and flower. In the streets, the cantinas, all along the alleyways and dirt-strewn lived the Word. The old timers said you gotta get with the Word or the Word will be your end. The Word told you who was in, who was out, who was dead already and who was dead and just didn't know it yet.
  
  And sure, they had the Word in the Core. But in the Core the Word was careful electrical pulses along careful secured lines. In the Core the Word was double-checked by committee and custom-designed and verified and sent out into the world spell-checked with proper grammar, like a holovid idol taking the stage for adoring fans.
  
  On the Rim the Word was smaller. Quieter. Equal parts lies and truth. Equal parts tonic and poison. One the Rim, the art wasn't catching the Word (the Word was everywhere, all the time, wherever you might be), it was sifting the true Word from all the wishful thoughts and bravado and ego and malice. The art wasn't finding the Word, the art was hearing it.
  
  Just because you couldn't hear it, didn't mean it wouldn't knock you dead in a heartbeat and then pass to another ear with only your final death rattle to mark its passing.
  
  Out on the Rim, on the planet Tattoine, in the city of Nal Shudda, the had the Word. And the Word said that Teemo the Hutt, flush with confidence over his new alliance with the Genosians, has gone to war with the Pyke syndicate. Word around Nal Shuuda was that Teemo was looking for a few freelancer operatives with steady aim, questionable ethics, and who don't ask a whole lot of questions.
  
  Word said there was heavy cred on the far end, heavy cred and the well-wishes of Teemo, poised as he is to solidify the entire sector under his rule.
  
  And all you had to do, said the Word, was find your way to the Dreaming Gundark cantina. And there the Word would come to you.
  
  Inside it's cool and dark compared to the sun baked hell of the streets. There's a shockingly tall Devaronian tending bar. A few patrons tucked away in the corners, too tired and wasted to think of anything but their next drink. In the back, a stage, and on it a trio of strung-out Rodians dancing with more apathy than skill.
  
  Around the tables sit a few others like you. Alert. Hardened. Ready for whatever came next. A Wookie with a face full teeth and scars. A human clad in heavy armour and a mechanical arm. A Bothan sitting with a bulky driod, eying the door. A Gand standing near the bar, still, not moving, watching.
  
  And others...
  
   
   Spoiler: OOC 
  Welcome, everyone, to Adventures on the Rim! In your opening post, feel free to tell us how you heard about this job, how you came to be on Tattoine, and some of what other people see and sense when you enter the room.
  
  Feel free to ask if you have any questions!
   
conversations: truemane:
conversations: human
conversations:  Kal enters the cantina, his reputation as a no-nonsense gunslinger while hard earned, doesn't yet precede him, though he is known for having a sense of Honour. He walks up to the barkeep, the poncho he often wears flowing down and covering his hips.
  
  "Hey Vokla... I'll a jabba juice..." his slightly gruff voice and relaxed body language would usually seem at odds with his clean face and styled light brown hair, which is kept in a very small ponytail (at most a couple of inches) at the base of his skull.
  
  He turns around and drinks in his surroundings, looking for sign of the Word, while Vokla fetches him his drink. His poncho falls on one side, almost deliberately, revealing a very heavy blaster. He'd come as he frequented this Cantina for quite some time, and someone mentioned to him it might be up his street, and he had thought  What the hell? I could do with some extra credits. 
  
  He waits and drinks his drink, sipping it slowly and looking out for anything that seems out of place, or looking to draw his attention, his hazel eyes scanning the cantina and lingering on each person, just long enough to size them up, but not long enough to be threatening.
conversations: ShadowImmor:
conversations: human
conversations:  Sebak was a newcomer to these parts - it wasn't that long ago that he'd barely left his the planet he was born on, yet here he was out in Tatooine looking for work with one of the biggest bosses around. It was funny how things went sometimes. These days, circumstances were a little more urgent when it came to needing money and work, so he'd come here, hitching a ride with a smuggler who had the space on his ship, volatile cargo he appreciated an expert eye on, and a tip on where to go once they arrived. So here he was, sitting in a Tattooine cantina to work for a Hutt.
  
  Although his demeanour is generally quite calm, he seems quite protective of the backpack on the ground next to him, keeping his tail on the big bulky thing, but any keen-eyed prospective thieves seemed to so far be dissuaded by the glimpses they may have gotten of the pack's contents. It wasn't his entire stockpile of grenades and explosives of course (not even all he could carry, really), a fair amount stashed away elsewhere, but he still brought a fair amount just in case. You heard stories about places like this, and there was no harm in being prepared. Other than that, his gear didn't seem that unusual - a more or less standard pistol and the kind of clothing that takes a good look to spot the armoured parts. He didn't particularly enjoy drawing attention to himself when it wasn't necessary for him to do his job.
  
  Sitting at his table, he sips his drink calmly and looks around. The person who recommended this just said that he had to come here, so...did he just wait? Did Teemo have someone here watching him and judging him? He wasn't sure exactly how this worked but wasn't too concerned. For now, he was content to stay here until something happened.
  
   
   Spoiler 
  
  Explosives-wise, let's say he's got 1 Detonite (just in case), a heavy frag grenade, an ion grenade, a glop grenade and...(had to go remind myself of the difference between concussion, stun and knockout) a knockout and a stun grenade (total 8 Encumbrance with the pistol, which he can carry with capacity to spare with his military pack).
   
conversations: Volthawk:
conversations: human
conversations:  Kodos has been sitting at his table for nearly a half hour now. Looking casual. Hopefully. Just need someone with a big gun who wants to get off this rock enough, but won't turn me in for quick credits the second they figure out the deal. Not like they'd get anything but a slit throat anyway, but they wouldn't know that until it's too late and any warnings would ring hollow. Anyway, someone who also has something to lose. Jeez, this is bad, the only ones I can trust are the same ones who would only turn the heat up on any bounties. Welp, too late now. Got the ship, got the droid, need the protection and either something to do or somewhere to hide.
  
  That human looks promising. Big gun.
conversations: Peelee: