The lights flicker above the bar, casting a dull glow over the smoke-filled room of the Last Chance Cantina. The hum of chatter and clinking of glasses is constant, though the air is thick with tension. An old Twi'lek barkeep with a permanent scowl serves drinks like it's his personal vendetta against customers, pouring shots of Corellian whiskey with precision. The space is cluttered with mismatched furniture, and the walls are adorned with faded holo-ads, their colors long faded. A brawl breaks out in the back room, loud crashes and grunts echoing through the establishment as someone yells for the bouncers. But that's the usual here on Nar Shaddaa.
In the game room on the far side, the sound of darts hitting the dartboard mingles with the laughs of those hoping for an easy score in the sabacc tables. There's always someone willing to risk it all for a quick win—or a quick loss. Every corner has a story, every patron a history, and tonight, it's no different. Just keep your credits close, your wits sharper, and your fists ready if you're brave enough to join the brawl.
Objective 1: Drink, play darts, challenge someone to an arm wrestling match, and just generally enjoy the dive bar atmosphere!
In the dimly lit corner of the Last Chance Cantina, the sharp
thwack of darts striking the board rings out, blending with the constant murmur of conversation and laughter. Gamblers and smugglers alike lean in, their eyes narrowed in focus as they throw their darts with practiced precision, wagering small credits on each throw, while their hands wrap around glass after glass of glowing, fiery liquor. The drinks flow like water—cheap, potent, and plentiful—served in battered mugs or cracked glasses, never questioned, always refilled. The air is thick with the heady scent of alcohol, sweat, and competition, as the dartboards become a battleground where both skill and luck determine who walks away with their pockets a little heavier—and who'll find themselves buying the next round.
Objective 2: We drink and fight! Join the bar brawl and have some good old fashioned drunken fun!
You're in the thick of it now. The faint sound of a fist meeting flesh echoes down from the back, where a proper brawl is in full swing, throwing both thugs and scoundrels in a haze of dust and violence. The bar was a powder keg waiting to blow, and tonight, it finally did. The first punch came from a drunk Chagrian, too many credits down in a game of sabacc, throwing a wild swing at a smuggler who had, unfortunately, made the mistake of laughing at him. The hit sent the smuggler crashing into a stack of crates by the bar, and in an instant, the room erupted. Twi'leks, Biths, and Humans alike were caught in the chaos, shoving and throwing blows with reckless abandon. A Nautolan found himself slammed into a booth, sending drinks splashing across the floor, while a Wookiee roared, tossing a zabrak into the jukebox with a growl that made everyone in the cantina flinch. Blasters went off, but nobody was shooting to kill—yet. Chairs flew, tables overturned, and the air was thick with the scent of sweat, smoke, and spilled Corellian ale. A droid serving droid tried to intervene, but with its programming overwhelmed by the sheer anarchy, it merely beeped frantically before being tossed aside like an empty bottle. The bouncers, overwhelmed and clearly outmatched, struggled to maintain control, but it was clear: the only thing that could stop this was the blaring sirens of Nar Shaddaa's law enforcement—if they even bothered to show up.
BYOO
Just have fun!
