CH 1.1-b: Shank's Pre-Owned

As Lissewa enters the cantina, the rest of you hear a relaxed and soft music coming from within, which cuts off as soon as the door closes. The Kraspen night becomes still and quiet for a moment, broken by high-pitched screams off in the distance. They continue for several seconds, growing ever more desperate, before suddenly stopping mid-shriek.

Moving along, you continue down the alley, finally coming to a stop where the neon sign says 'OPEN'. Barely illuminated by the neon glow, you see a sign on the door that says 'Shank's Pre-Owned", below which you read 'Make the other guy's stuff Yours... Legally!' Eager to get out of the stench, Krosus pushes the keypad next to the door and it opens, stale light from within penetrating the darkness of the alley. You enter.

As the door closes behind you, you survey the shop. It's small, gloomy, and dingy looking, perhaps 15 by 15 meters, full of shelves stocked with various odds and ends along with items hanging on wall displays. Krosus breathes deeply, trying to push away the nausea that was slowly permeating his stomach. A pair of struggling old air filters in the ceiling make the occasional ticking noise as they struggle against Kraspen itself, along with a smell cultivated by what must be the ever present smoke of death sticks.

"Welcome to Shank's Pre-Owned," a monotonous voice drones in basic, "where you can make the other guy's stuff yours." A pause, followed by an exhaled word dripping with boredom, punctuating the sales pitch. "Legally." Your attention is almost immediately drawn to the right, where you see an older looking obese sullustan behind a counter, smoke drifting through face-high ventilation holes in the plastiglass protective barrier separating him from the threat of robbery and the rest of the room.


Behind him, a menagerie of weapons hang from the wall, promising victory with an advertisement showing a smiling human, holding a large blaster pistol, accompanied by the slogan 'Kill the Other Guy First'. The sullustan doesn't bother to acknowledge you, his attention clearly captivated by the small holo-vid projection of very scantily clad twi'leks doing erotic dances on the counter inside his plastiglass space, accompanied by likewise erotic music. A sawn-off scattergun is easily within his reach, prominently displayed next to the holo-vid projector as a warning.

The obese sullustan takes a long drag from his death stick, shifts in his swivel stool chair, then absent mindedly rubs/scratches his nose, exhaling through his mouth and nose moments later. A barrage of coughs is followed by a snort, then a gurgly hacking sound as he spits toward the floor and the doorway behind the plastiglass. For a moment he is captivated by the dancing Twi'leks, and then he shifts again, ignoring your presence.

Lexi feels the force answer her call as she works on the sullustan's mind, trying to use the dark side to twist and bend the floodgates of anger open. Her efforts, however, are futile as the sullustan is unmoved, death stick hanging slack from his lips as he scratches at his cheek, enthralled by the holo-vid.

"Breath mask's 75 creds." Palpable sarcasm drips as he continues, still as a statue. "And, oh yeah, riots are just kriffin' horrible for business." A lazy drag from his death stick, hands free. "And some people need a beating. Far as your boots, look around, we got everything ya' could want for all of your, 'self-defense' needs." A half grin barely forms with the death stick still in his mouth. Suddenly, the shopkeeper grunts a cough that forces a lengthy cylinder of ash to fall from his death stick, into his lap. "Wait a sec... Floaters and Mech'ers goin' at it?"

He seems less entranced, but still watches the holo-vid. "Nah. Don't know where you picked that rumor up, and I wouldn't go spreadin' it." He actually looks at Lexi, pointing an ashy, meaty finger. "Don't go starting trouble between 'em now, making things up. Business is better when they're stealin', scammin', and crookin' in general. Not when they're fightin' each other." He actually turns toward Lexi now, leaning back in his well-worn, extra-wide, extra cushioned swivel stool chair. Seemingly without thought, he lights another death stick, leaving the old one to smoke itself out in an ashtray.

His eyes narrow, focusing on Lexi, scanning up, then down, slowly taking her in, almost as if he was reading a data slate. Smoke slowly makes its way out of his nostrils. "Ain't seen you around before, so..." Another drag and a gust of exhaled smoke oozes through the glass, dancing around Lexi's face. "I gotta wonder, now." He scratches his chin. "Why would you go sayin' somethin' like that, anyhow?"Lexi's Influence result: Failure with 1 Threat.

Krosus draws on the dark side, and it answers, fueling his efforts to manipulate the man. The sullustan seems momentarily dazed for the briefest second, then guffaws at Krosus. "HA!" He hacks, coughing a gurgly laugh. Snorting, he draws some phlegm in, then spits into the spitoon on the floor behind him. "Oh, you're a funny one! Regular comedian you are! 10,000 credits!?! Who put you up to that one!?"

Chuckling, he shifts his mass to address Hawke, scratching at his flabby throat. "Nah. We don't got one of those modulators. Know what you're talkin' about though, but full body scale holo-terminal parts ain't usually somethin' that comes through here." Another chuckle and a gurgle with a glance at Krosus, accompanied by a drag on his death stick. "Only place I know you can get 'em at is any MechTronics... but they're all closed down tight, just like the other corp' stores. Riots and all, you understand."

With a frown, Hawke turned and left the shop. Catching Krosus's aloud thought, Hawke raised an eyebrow and updated his mental file of the human.

Krosus possesses pride bordering on idiocy. May lead himself open if failures are thrown in his face.

Deciding to test his hypothesis, "A suggestion Systems Operator, when attempting to obtain store credit do not request the value of the entire stock of merchandise."

[I'm not too proud to admit that I was wrong, referring to your pawns by their roles is more amusing than I anticipated.]

Just as Krosus and Hawke step beyond the threshold of Shanks, out into the wretched stench of the dark alley, he hears "There they are! Take them down!"