Tales from the Exodus Cantina

2 years prior to The Force Awakens...
A persistent and interactive galaxy set shortly before the events of Episode VII

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Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by Enriler »

“Sir, they are setting up on stage.” A burly Twi’lek said to Luigios.

“Okay, thanks Kar.” Luigios continued to stare into the datapads on sprawled across his desk.

Kar left Luigios in his office and walked out to the bar. The Bith band, Jillian’s Jedi Ghosts, was packing up their instruments and heading out. As they left, a young Nautolan approached Kar.

“Sir, we can set up on the stage now.” Linny, the Nautolan said,

“Go ahead, Luigios will be out in a moment.” Kar responded.

He looked around the bar. The dark maroon colors allowed the bar to feel relaxing, while maintaining anonymity within each booth. The floor was lined with light runners so the guests wouldn’t walk into the tables or chairs. The long central bar, the beacon of hope on this dusty side of Tatooine, was brightly lit by the glowing bottles. The circular stage was covered with shadows, cast by the rotating colorful spotlights.

This piece of heaven had been Kar’s home for many years. It was for this reason, that he didn’t know how to talk to Luigios.

How do you tell your best friend that you are leaving the planet, with no intention of coming back? He was done with Tatooine. A young Twi’lek had requested a personal body guard, and he looked forward to spending time with someone of his own species. Beyond this, the opportunity to reach out to the stars and travel from planet to planet was alluring.

He sat on a stool at the bench, his head propped up by his fist. Luigios walked into the room and sat in the stool next to Kar.

“So, are they ready?”

“Yeah, they’re almost ready to start.” Kar responded.

A few squeaks from their instruments, and the band seemed to be ready to play.

“Um…” Linny tried speaking, “I uh,”

“Go ahead, you’ll do fine.” Luigios said with a grin and a nod.

“One… Two… One Two Three,” With that the band played.

Luigios thought okay, just a couple more bands to listen to. I can’t take this anymore. I need a drink and a break. Why can’t one band be decent.

“MastR-T, some Kyrf from me and Kar.” Luigios spoke to the bartender.
Kar held up his hand, “I’m good R-T, I need to be clear.”

Luigios smiled, “Suit yourself,” He turned to the robotic bartender, “double mine, MastR-T.”

The band began playing. At first, it was just simple music. But as Luigios listened, he recognized the tunes. This was a smart band, and they chose to play the music of Khomm. Luigios hadn’t heard his homeworld music in many decades. A Khommite this far from the Core worlds was rare, but rarer was to hear this beautiful music.

Luigios sat up and listened. They weren’t just playing Khommite music, they were good.

Usually Luigios would just listen to one or two songs. But he was intoxicated. Not by the Kyrf, but by the music being played by the Nautolans. He listened to an entire set, and then requested a few songs which they were able to play.

“You’re hired.” Luigios said, “I don’t know where you came from, but this couldn’t be a better day.”

As Kar heard those words, he looked away. Tears were starting to form. He needed to tell Luigios soon.

Luigios patted Kar on the shoulders and walked up to the band, “What do you call yourselves.”

“The Khommite Boredom.” Linny said, “It’s to honor our favorite bands, the Khommite Twins and the Ithurian Boredom.”

Luigios smiled, “Well, The Khommite Boredom will be the most sought after band on this side of Tatooine. Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, when can we talk specifics,” Linny said, the nervousness from before had returned.

“We’ll talk your pay and hours tomorrow. Get some rest, it will be a wonderful day.” Luigios said.

The band left the room, leaving Kar and Luigios.

“Well that’s perfect. We have a new band,” He walked towards Luigios who was still at the bar, “Now we should hopefully attract new customers.”

“Yeah, that’s exciting,” Kar said, with a solemn tone.

“Okay, spit it out.” Luigios leaned over to Kar, “It’s not like your hiding your emotions.”

“I know,” The Twi’lek responded, “It’s hard to say, because you have been so good to me over the years.”

“You just said it, Kar.” Luigios said with a smile, “Did you find a way off this planet?”

“I did, how did you know it was off this planet?”

“Kar, we’re great friends. I know you have always wanted to leave this desert. Why else would you start an idea with 'you have been so good to me' ?”

“You’re right,” Kar responded, “I’m excited, and I get to spend time with another Twi’lek.”

“What will you be doing?” Luigios asked,

“I’m going to be a bodyguard for a young Twi’lek who needs a new crew.” Kar paused, “I think his name is Enriler Tiquez.”

"The Exodus Cantina will miss you." Luigios said

"It won't need to, you have the Khommite Boredom, you have Lola and R-T," Kar continued, "and I'm sure there will be other fun characters stopping by."

"I can only hope."

Kar walked out of the cantina, and Luigios stepped behind the bar. He looked around at the empty stage, the dozens of empty tables, and the empty barstools directly in front of him. He grabbed a cloth and began cleaning the counter as the door opened up. The bright Tatooine Suns shone bright casting a shadow on an unfamiliar figure.

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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by xfiend1013 »

[Exodus Cantina: Open Mic Comedy Night]

Ara took the one small step onto the stage and let the hovering microphone follow her to center stage - the automatic lights tracking the entire two meter distance. She had a big beer in one hand and a slip of flimsi with scribbled lines in the other.

"So that was Benzek Campaton, and if you didn't know that Nautolans males and females were different, you sure do now." The crowd was bigger than usual at the Exodus Cantina. The sweaty crowd had filled the place with e-vape clouds and grego smoke, forming an unhealthy miasma that filled the big room, save the sweet spot on the stage. They had not been laughing at Benzek, and they were not laughing at Ara.

"Now, and this is his first time on the stage, so let's all be super nice and welcoming, here comes Garrett Granth!"

A large man, human, took the single step like any other he'd take, like he didn't even notice it. He was a good bit taller than the two meter stride to center-stage, but his casual gait seemed practiced and confident. When the hovering microphone reached his face, though, that silent surety seemed lost in an overly energetic nervous greeting. He pushed his big round wire-frame glasses up and spoke.

"Good evening, Exodus Cantina! It's great to be here, so give yourselves a round of applause for showing up!" They managed an anemic bit of groaning and clapping.

"Not too fond of yourselves, that's okay, I feel that way too." Garrett said, touching his bushy goatee. He smiled with big teeth that were crooked and sometimes cracked.

He paused. Looked at his notes in a big theatrical "I'm reading" sort of manner, though the nervous speed got him through the motions in a heartbeat he didn't pause for - this was a man who knew he only had five minutes on the stage.

"So, Tatooine, huh? Is there anywhere sand doesn't wind up? I think those Jawas named them 'sandcrawlers' to intimidate us from coming too close - anyone who's lived here for more than like, eight minutes, knows there's nothing worse on this planet than crawling sand."

There were weighty chuckles. People bought beer. Luigios and MastR-T fired up the programs for 'additional service' and added additional charm algorithms.

"And I don't know if anyone told them, but - 'twin suns?' Who are THEY fooling? One's about half a billion years older than the other."

A table full of grans all exhaled their e-cigars at the same time, sending up a screen between the stage and the crowd. Garrett wondered if the hive-society had a concept of 'twins.'

"I got an astromech droid the other day. It was defective, though. I told it I was born on Alderaan, and it kept trying to tell me that I would have a good love life when the moon was in retrograde around that sun, and I was like 'dude, I'm 28."

Groans spread through the crowd like a virus.

"Oh, too soon?"

"I dated a girl from Alderaan once. After we made love, I told her she rocked my world. She said we had to break up."

"So I used to be intro extreme sports. Not the dangerous kind, where you get concussions and bad business deals. The safe kind, where you jump off of bridges or skyhooks. I always passed the drug tests, though. There's nothing I don't know about drugs. From the basic cigars and rum to the lab-grown designer psychedelics, when it came time to do the drug tests, I even got all the extra credit questions right."

The crowd was having a decent time. They weren't ALL laughing, but the good times were contagious. Garrett was wishing his last paid show had gone this well, when the specter of a ticket off Tatooine flared across his consciousness and almost sent him reeling.

That was an expense.

"Anyone ever pretend they were a Jedi to get laid?" He asked, as the five minute timer started blinking. "Alright, well, the Force tells me the answer to that question. Goodnight, everybody!"

He hopped off the stage as Ara lept back up. The big, hairy man grabbed a big beer and the adoring looks of a far too dirty lady. "I love your planet." He lied. What he really loved was the lax security on the local computer networks. "Do you have a good holonet connection?" He asked, pickpocketing a credit chit as the man next to him screamed "FRELL YEAH I TELL THE LADIES I'M A FRACKING JEDI!"

"Thanks, Darth Broder." Garrett said, slapping him on the back and slipping a depleted credit chit into his pocket. He winked at the dirty girl and slipped MastR-T a sliced line of credit before announcing "drinks on me!"

Tomorrow he'd be gone. Tomorrow the town would be happy they'd heard the antics of Garrett Granth. Well, the ones he hadn't robbed. He took a look at the datapad and the dirty girl and the improperly secured credit chit. Comedy didn't pay, but picking pockets was certainly paying off better than jumping out of spaceships and surfing magnetic waves. Maybe he was on to something...
Last edited by xfiend1013 on Sun Apr 16, 2017 6:55 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by Nichalus »

The hot wind of Tatooine swept through the many streets and alleyways of the small settlement near the Cantina, but then again the hot winds of Tatooine swept through all parts of the desert planet. None was spared its reminder that the harsh and barren terrain was no fluke of nature, nor just any given location was hotter or more desolate than the next. This was Tatooine, hot, arid and desolate was embedded in its very nature.

But desolation forged strength and determination for the few that built their homes, businesses and lives here. One could say that some of the strongest beings in the galaxy are forged in the hot sands, and some of the violent inhabitants and animals, of this world. The name Skywalker is thrown around easily and with some sense of pride by most locals, but the truth be told, any being that can survive and thrive on this world could be thrown in with that famous, and infamous, family name.

On another world, if you told another being that you were from Tatooine, it is assumed that you are destined for greatness, or you were as crazed as a Womp Rat on Glitterstim.

So when the droid waitress Lola looked up as a being was entering the Exodus Cantina, she was expecting another of their usual patrons and was preparing a perfunctory greeting of 'Welcome Back...' but instead performed a quick search of her database for a facial recognition match.

The bright twin suns of Tatooine forced anyone looking at the door to squint there eyes, or dim their photo-receptors in the case of the droids, as it created a pure white backdrop encompassing the shape of the doorway in comparison to the dimly lit interior of the cantina, and caused the person that was currently standing there to become a black, detail less, silhouette much like a black hole within the white backdrop.

The current silhouette was obviously a humanoid, lean in build that wore a wide-brimmed hat, and a long knee-length duster that was whipping back and forth slightly as the hot Tatooine wind caught hold of it causing it to bellow out around his legs. The shadow appeared to be holding a long staff in his hand, perhaps as a walking stick. Light from the interior of the cantina gleamed off of what appeared to be round eyeglasses on the shadowed face of the man, making it look like to round holes punched through the shadow's head, showing the outside light behind him.

As the door slid shut behind him, and customers and employees alike, eyes readjusted to the lighting of the interior cantina, the stranger's form was fully revealed. Reaching a gloved hand up, he brushed the sand and dust from his shoulders and shook his long brown Bronto-hide leather duster. His duster was opened slightly and revealed twin DL-44's strapped to each hip with a criss-crossed leather holsters around his waist. The human stood there a moment longer, oddly tilting his head slightly to the left and right, he seemed to sniff the air in the cantina and then moved over to the bar, where Luigios greeted him.

"Welcome Stranger." Luigios stated happily. "What can I get you?"

"Corellian Whiskey will be fine." The Stranger replied as he leaned his walking staff against the bar. Luigios takes notice that the staff was not made of wood, but some form of silvery metal that had strange streaks of what appeared to be reddish crystals embedded along its length.

Luigios nodded, pausing a moment curiously looking at the human, who still had not taken off his nearly black-tinted glasses. The Khomm shrugged his shoulders and turned, retrieved a bottle of Corellian Whiskey from the rack and a freshly cleaned glass. Turning back he poured the brown liquor into the glass to about a quarter full, and pushed it in front of the stranger.

"Here you go. That will be 2 bits." Luigios stated

"I'll take the bottle." The Stranger stated and laid out the appropriate amount, plus a rather sizable extra for a tip.

"Well, well. A big spender." Luigios chuckled. "You got a name Stranger?"

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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by PhantomFury »

The blinding light of Tatoo I and II was something to be reckoned with. Even though he hailed from a binary star system himself, Zentaire was shocked by how intense the heat produced by the twin star can be. So to find solace from the blistering heat, the Isenbardiae ducked into the nearest shelter he could find, which turns out to be a cantina. Stepping inside, his unique physique escapes the curious sets of eyes of the public into a less obvious eyes of the patron. The ambiance provided by the music allowed the heat that continued to invade the shade to seem significantly less.

The Stra'gemfar glanced at the drinks in various colors in display on the cantina's central island before deciding to take a seat in the booth. His legs configuration proved to be a hindrance to navigate to the space underneath the table, something plantigrades overlook, prompting him to sit sideways with his legs out the side. Glancing up from the apparent complexity of booth chair, he found himself staring into the glowing photoreceptors of a droid.

"Ah, hello-" the man started, trying to find himself something to say to the mechanical stare as he occasionally glance back at the order list. Clearing his throat, he continued, "two cups of Corellian brandy please," he said, apparently raising one finger.

The MixRMastR registered his order and due to conflicting information, she decides to speak up, "I'm Lola," the droid vocalized, and turned to the man's hand signal, "and would that be one or two orders of Corellian brandy?"

"Oh sorry," Zen apologized, and his seemingly one finger splits into two, "and it would be two orders." The two fingers remained there for a moment longer before they came back together, revealing that it was indeed two digits, except that each looks like halves of a normal humanoid finger. Despite two years in the greater galaxy, the Isenbardiae still isn't used to representing numbers with all his fingers spread out to clarify his numerical intent. But at the very least, he knows how to manage to gain a taste for the variety galactic beverages.

Looking around at the patrons, he took notice at the species quickly averting his gaze as he does so. Slowly, his hands raised to his blonde mustache, before sliding his hand upwards to groom his like-colored hair.

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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by Nichalus »

Ralgiir reached out and took the glass from the counter top and took a tentative sip, wincing slightly at the initial sting of the potent whiskey slid down his throat and ended up a warm tingly feeling in his stomach. He sighed with a strange smile of satisfaction. It had been nearly a decade since he had had a decent drink of liquor, and there perhaps could be nothing better than a good Corellian Whiskey to remind him of days long gone.

"Damn...best whiskey ever." Ralgiir smiled.

Luigios raised an eyebrow and sneaked a look at the bottles label to make sure he didn't give the stranger something from the 'reserved' stock, and let out a little sigh when he noticed it was the usual subpar common whiskey.

"Been out of system for a while have we?" Luigios asked good naturedly, as he gathered several glasses and placed them in the sanitizer.

Ralgiir took a longer pull from his glass and sighed slightly, turning his head towards the Khommite, but not quite meeting his gaze. "You could say that." he replied with a slight smirk.

Luigios chuckled slightly, far too use to such cryptic answers from strangers visiting the desert planet. If there was anyplace that person wanted to go to disappear and keep a low profile from prying, or hunting, eyes, this was the place.

Ralgiir leans forward slightly toward Luigios in a conspirator like way. "You could also say that in about 10 seconds, there will be a heavily armed group of beings entering through your fine establishment's door."

Luigios chuckled at the stranger, but the smile slowly faded from his thick lips as he stared into the blacked out lenses of the Stranger's glasses and the lack of humor on his face. He looked at the door, then back to the Stranger. "And how would you know this Stranger?" Luigios smirked uneasily.

Ralgiir merely smiled as almost to the second the doors to the tavern flew open and, as predicted by Ralgiir, a half a dozen heavily armed beings entered into the dusty tavern, led by a Rodian, who was pointing at Luigios as this group filed in behind him.

"Maltos." Luigios whispered, more in a sighing resignation, than to inform Ralgiir of his identity.

The Rodianian, who was skinny even for the norm of his species, seemed to walk towards the bar like he was built like a Gammorian, his mouth seemed stunted, much like his build. "Drooga says that if you don't pay this months 'protection' fees today, I'm to be sure that this piece of Bantha poo you call a tavern burns hotter than the mid-day's suns."

"Well, Drooga raised his protection fees two-fold this month, he can't expect us to come up with that in a weeks time. The spaceport and suppliers are not coming in like they use to due to everyone is nervous about the Republic's new Smuggling Laws." Luigios replied as he wiped down a cleaned glass, and cast a nervous glance at Ralgiir.

"Drooga doesn't give a Sithspit about your excuses! He wants his credits...and he wants them NOW!"

"Perhaps Drooga wants the credits, but it is you that needs the credits." Ralgiir casually interrupted and then polished off the last of his whiskey. "Damn fine vintage Luigios." He tapped the glass twice on the counter. "Thank you for your hospitality." He started to reach for his staff, but one of Maltos's guards quickly stepped forward with his own staff and swung it towards Ralgiir's hand in an attempt to slap his hand away with the end of it. So it came as quite a surprise to everyone when Ralgiir caught the end of the staff without even looking.

The guard hissed in anger through his sun-mask's mouthpiece and attempted to pull his staff from Ralgiir's grip, and his anger only amplified when he could not seem to do so. It was like his staff was being held between the teeth of a rabid Gundark.

Still looking forward towards Luigios, suddenly pulled the staff forward, extending the guard's arms forward, and then immediately snapping the end the guard held back into his face with several teeth loosening blows.

Maltos watched with a stupified look upon his alien face as his guard fell down to his knees on the floor next to him, holding his bloodied mouth, Maltos then turned to look at the back of Ralgiir's head, the stranger appearing to have been paying more attention to a dust mote on the counter, than the odds against him.
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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by Shaggy »

Ethan Brix had been sitting at the back of the bar for a while now. He watched people come and go but never paid them any mind until the man showed up with the staff. He was a little loud for this part of the desert but that fact that he was enjoying the whiskey is what gave him away as an outsider. The whiskey here tasted like it was distilled in the belly of a dead bantha and even then Ethan wasn't sure it was that good.

He had gone back to his bottle of Corillian 435 until two of Drooga's men showed up. They were well known around here for just being low level enforcers for his extortion scam. Usually they got their credits and left but the bar owner was not in the mood today. Ethan pulled his hat lower over his eyes so no one else could see where his eyes were looking. On his hips were a pair of retro fitted Mandalorian autoblasters.

He had one the pair off of a very drunk Tug who claimed he had killed a Mandalorian in a fight. Everyone at the table knew it was a lie but the guns were real even down to the notches on one of the stocks for kills. Ethan had run into so Mandos before, even trained with some of a little bit. Those were marks he knew.

He had his blasters at the ready just in case things started to get out of hand but the the man with the horrible whiskey had already put one thug on the ground. The man at the bar seemed unphased by any of this but Ethan watched the one named Maltos turn and whisper something into com unit. There came noises from outside and Ethan sat forward to take a pull for his bottle in front of him. This was about to get messy. As the door grew dark from the two Gammorians walking in followed by male Weequay named Hendon.

Ethan had dealings with this guy and he was not a low level enforcer, this guys had high Hutt connections. This situation just went from bad, to Sith.

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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by Nichalus »

Ralgiir smelled the two Gammorians long before the cantina doors opened, plus with his hyper-sensitive hearing, Maltos might as well had been screaming in his ears from a inch away, when he whispered for the backup in his comm unit.

The Weequay stepped between the brutish Gammorans, his dried leathery eyes narrowing in irritation as he looked at Maltos and then down to his guard lying on the ground holding his bleeding mouth. He looked up at the stranger, who still had not turned around, but knew he was a newcomer to Tattooine. Cazmera, as the Weequay was known, prided himself on knowing everyone on this dust ball of a planet, and this stranger was not one of them. Looking at Luigios, who merely shrugged his shoulders and continued to wipe down the bar, he grumbled under his breath.

Cazmera could see a fresh blot of blood on the end of the strange metallic walking stick leaning on the bar next to the stranger. Cazmera was growing annoyed that the stranger had yet to turn to face him, which truth be told...it was starting to unsettle him a bit. Turning his head from one side to the other, he then motioned his head towards Ralgiir to the two Gammorians.

Ralgiir didn't need his ears since the Gammorians were about as quiet as a Bantha in a Corellian Glass Shop. While Gammorians made a Ewok look like a genius by comparison, they were a brutal race of savage creatures, born to kill and maim those that they were ordered to do.

"Have you learned anything yet Stranger?" Cazmera asked.

"Other than the fact that Gammorians still smell like the ass of a Rancor after its eaten a Weequay after all these years...not really."

Cazmera's face drops in surprised shock at the insult, as well as several of the patrons in the cantina. A couple of snickers escape some lips, but are quickly stifled so as to not be discovered. Several of the men at a table near Ethan stood up, placing their hands on the butts of their blasters, no doubt to curry some favor of support for Groola the Hutts Enforcer.

Ralgiir sighed at the inevitability of what was about to transpire. The Gammorians stepped forward, raising their pikes over their heads, but Ralgiir moved quickly, first striking one directly on the front of it's knee with his staff while spinning and kicking the side of the knee of the other causing it to grotesquely snap its leg at the joint at a sideways angle. Gammorian knees were notoriously weak due to the weight that they had to bear on them. Both crumpled to the ground squealing in pained shrieks and grasping their knees.

"No Blasters!" Luigios yelled as he ducked behind the bar counter.

Of course, the blaster fire started. No where in the history of galactic bar-tending had that phrase ever stopped patrons with beefs to not open up within a cantina.

Ralgiir moved like a dusty wraith, across the front edge of the counter, some of the blaster fire was caught, and deflected usually into one of patrons fired on him, by his metallic staff, other shots slipped by him, or tore harmlessly through his billowy leather-like poncho.
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Re: Tales from the Exodus Cantina

Post by PhantomFury »

As a wave of heated and gritty air of the desert flooded in to mingle with its cooler indoor brethren, six beings appeared at the doorway, casting in their crisp shadow onto the cool floor. This certainly caught the Stra'gemfar by surprise as two organically curved claws exit their leathery sheaths within the Isenbardiae's toes before it sinks back in as quickly as it appeared.

It wasn't long before the intruders state the intent of their business as if their garment doesn't broadcast it like an advertisement holo. The bartender soon retorted back the reasoning of his inability to meet the outrageous demands which coax out further heated banter between the two - that is, until a patron at the bar took it upon himself to be a part of the conversation.

Knowing that it is not wise to stick his nose into an argument that has nothing to do with him, Zen began to raise his hand once more to check on the whereabouts of his drink when a dull thap rang out through the still air. Glancing back at the argument, he can see the patron have somehow obtained a very stiff grip on one of the thug's staff. Letting out a sigh, he lowered his hand knowing that his beverage will not be arriving anytime soon.

With the first few droplets of blood taking air from the jaw-jarring impact, the off-worlder took a long inhale through his nose as he settled his gaze on the dumbfounded thugs. No sooner did Zen lowered his hand to rest on his blaster did another wave of heat swept through the cantina, revealing a pair of swine-looking brutes who promptly walked straight to the patron that struck a thug with the metal rod. The tension in the air seems to increase twofold when the shriveled humanoid made his presence known to the patron. A question was asked of the man, which an answer was quickly returned in a form of a humor that the Stra'gemfar doesn't seem to comprehend. But it was enough to lit the short fuse on the situation.

Suddenly, the otherwise seemingly inattentive man became a blur of motion, quickly resulting in the two Gamorreans writhing on the ground while producing sounds that can only be called repulsive. Blaster bolts quickly took their place in the air and soon, Zen's own blaster was drawn and raised to any potential threat. Years of training have taken him on top of his table, his ankles bent enough to minimalized his profile as his knees made contact with the tabletop. His eyes flick from one end of the room to another and his primary and secondary index fingers worked in tandem to pull the triggers of his pistol to quickly and accurately disarm his targets. As his actions began to draw attentions and deadly bolts began to fly his way, the Isenbardiae leaned forward and extended his legs, sending an otherwise Human torso into the air. Taking advantage of the galaxy's unfamiliarity with his physiology to his advantage, he quickly bounded into a new cover position as he reloaded his blaster with a fresh energy pack.

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