The walk from the market to the Brimstone Whammy was a marked difference to moments before. Instead of blaster shot, grenades, and fist fights, there was just the calm murmur of conversation from pedestrians or the hum of nearby repulsorlift vehicles. The time passes quietly by while Iwa and Dizzy make their way to the local cantina at the edge of the Umbrek Market, with its dedicated landing spot for land or air speeders.
The front door slid open with a quick hiss that lets out a slow wave of muted music, conversation, and other sounds of activity. Inside was a long bar where behind that was a grill set between the main cantina and the kitchen itself.
Smells and sounds of roast ronto, broiled bantha burgers, and other cooking food drifted lazily in the air. Drinks of all kinds littered tables from Bantha beer, Vor Gold-label whiskey, to Dole Whip Margaritas topped with a blue chocolate feather.
Lightning, such as it was, stayed dim. Not low enough to be a danger, but certainly not bright enough to be glaring. The illumination was pleasant, but subdued. A persistent yellow-orange haze clung to the air in the establishment like a lost, slow-moving cloud bank.
Patrons of all manner of species gathered at tables and booths, or crowded in at the bar. Humans, Twi’lek, and Durosians were the most common sight. But the occasional Cathar, Rodian, and even some Pykes had taken up space for a short meal or drink.
There’s no sign of any Bothan woman that matches the description of Irrit Deeneru anywhere in the place. As for the cantina owner, Olee Pindol? Hard to say. That could be anyone from one of the employees mingling among the patrons to the lady Durosian tending bar and talking with an Ugnaught mechanic.
To the right of the Ugnaught, are two droids. One of which is a very familiar astromech named Charkarr.
But then all ideas of Charkarr, Sig Coven, Olee Pindol, or Irrit Deeneru tumble to a halt, as Iwa and Dizzy see a Black Sun Imperial “Viper” Probe Droid enter the room on the far side. It’s steady, low hum, a methodical promise of deranged death.
Spider-like manipulator legs unfolded slowly from underneath its body. The motion of a hungry squid or spider, complete with sharp pincher-like ends about to wrap its next meal in a death hug.
A cantina server gasps in sudden shock and recoils. To her credit, she doesn’t drop her tray of drinks, but does retreat to the bar. The shock and alarm roll over the crowd like a way. Patrons grab for weapons, either from their hip or hidden under vests and jackets.
The ominous light from the center of the Probe Droid glows a bloody red.
Storyteller Instructions
Dizzy! Iwa! How do you want to handle this?
