Public Gang firefight

[Marauder]

Marauder got up from the chair and walked over to the Correlian ale box and pulled a bottle from it. "What brand is this." He mumbled, turning the bottle to the side. "Ah, Cerveza Cristal, that's good stuff." He opened the bottle with a pop and took a swig. A satisfied sigh left Marauder's mouth once he lowered the bottle. "Once again, I could get used to this." Marauder said. He set his bottle on a nearby surface. and continued working on his blaster.

He took the blaster apart and examined the cooling module, just as he thought, it was cracked. "Great, now I gotta replace this." He groaned. "At least I'm gettin paid soon." Marauder put the blaster back together and holstered it. He reached for his bottle and took another sip of that sweet stuff.

 

[Casany Praxor]

Anvil raised her drink to Pal's words about her Mandalorian desires for more armor, guns and explosives, more or less. "Oh boy, this Mando does love her toys." That was her toast before she took a gulp, licked her lips and drummer her fingers on her lap. Both of them were probably speaking in as much seriousness as jocularity. Wasn't that the beauty of being a Mandalorian to begin with? Work was play. Especially grenades.

"I don't know though." Marauder, the only other Mandalorian, surely liked his flamethrower and explosives and blasters as much as her and any warrior did, but the sons and daughters of Mandalore were of course not all the same. Their own inner cultures could be as different as their signets and the colors of their armor. This one's beskar'gam was red and gold, and her clan was Praxor, and her name underneath her moniker of Anvil was Casany Praxor.

"Maybe I'll buy a dozen and more crates of Cerveza Cristal ale." She knocked back her drink like a shot, refilled her cup, tilted it beneath her vision. "Or maybe I'll buy a dumpster made out of beskar." She spread her lips in a grin half in jest, half serious.