Mos Eisely Cantina

"Hey you, human, wake up!"

Rorlo Isran awoke from his dream of being surrounded by 5 scantily clad Twi'lek women to look into the face of a very old and ugly Rodian. The deafening music and sounds of the cantina faded in as he tried to move a bit but found his limbs had fallen asleep as well and he wasn't able to wake them up easily. He dusted off his brown traders jacket and tried to stand.

"This is my bar. This place isn't for sleeping, it's for drinking!" the Rodian snorted, his breath stinking of rotten minok eggs, "If you want to sleep find a hotel. A young man like you should be out working during this time of day, not drinking and especially not sleeping in MY bar!"

"Is this patron causing a problem, Kilren?" a somewhat familiar sounding voice that clicked before and after it spoke said from behind the rodian.

"He thinks this is a hotel," Kilren stated angrily.

"Well then we'll just straighten that out." a white armored person came into view and stood in front of Rorlo.

"Just my luck..." Rorlo sighed.

Outside of the cantina, Mos Eisely

The door to the cantina opened and Rorlo flew through the opening and landed on the ground outside with a loud thud. Dust and sand particles flew into his eyes and mouth. Rorlo coughed a bit and tried to wipe the sand out of his eyes as he turned over and looked up at the stormtroopers standing in the doorway. His head felt like there were banthas stomping around on his brain, he knew he should have drank more water before passing out.

"I don't want to see you in here again, scum." the first trooper said as he pointed at Rorlo. Both troopers moved back inside and the door closed hard.

Rorlo mimicked the troopers, "Mrurweeuineregainrum blah blah, is that the only insult they know?" Still feeling the effects of his drink, Rorlo shakily stood up, brushed the dirt from his clothes and begand to yell in slurs, "Scum! Scum! You... you... SCUM! Growl bark bark." Rorlo continued to mimic the troopers as he turned a bit and saw two more coming up behind him. He jumped and he sucked his lips in to make it look like he wasn't speaking at all.

"What do you think you're doing?" one trooper said.

"I'm looking for my dog." Rorlo stated straight faced hoping the guards were as stupid as they looked. He looked around and shouted, "C'mere SCUM! Here boy! SCUM? Where are you? Growl BARK!" Rorlo started making animal growls and grunts. The troopers both cocked their heads to the side simultaneously, looked at each other, shrugged, then walked away.

Rorlo gave them an evil stare and walked in the opposite direction.

Mos Eisely Marketplace

The marketplace bustled with activity. Most people were fiddling with the bazaar terminals and bank terminals, while others were trying to sell wares by shouting and yelling. Rorlo liked the marketplace, he had a knack for business and felt at home buying and selling. Problem was that he was so used to it that he would gamble and take great risks, doing so made him broke with no money to repair his rifle or his armor not to mention the disrepair his swoop bike had fallen into. He was awaiting to see if he could sell his container of meat that he had been trying to sell for weeks. He valued it high because of the quality, but no one had been interested as of yet.
Rorlo checked his data pad for any communications but there weren't any.

"Meat hasn't sold yet, huh?" Dragor grabbed Rorlo's shoulder.

Rorlo looked over his shoulder at his marketplace buddy, "No not yet."

Dragor, a blue skinned Twi'lek, came to Tatooine the same time Rorlo did but from a different place. His squinting yellow eyes showed what working in the blinding sand of Tatooine can do to your face, his demeanor and wisdom was of that twice his age. He was a master marksman who had a talent for trading and an equal talent for drinking. Rorlo and Dragor had formed a good friendship while simultaniously forming a trading arrangement. They would send business each others way and get a small percentage from the sale.

"Well, I think I'll go hunting for some more meat to package with it, see ya Dragor." Rorlo said as he waved and walked off.

"Goodbye my friend," Dragor waved back and proceeded to access the nearest bazaar terminal.

Rorlo stepped off of the marketplace platform and felt resistance against his left foot. He fell to the ground with a thud. Laughter ensued from behind him, crackled... radio like laughter. Rorlo turned over to see a the trooper from the cantina standing over him.

"Not again..." Rorlo sighed and proceed to push himself off of the ground and get up.

"What's the matter? Can't you walk right? Should we get you a doctor?" the trooper and his partner burst out in laughter. Rorlo didn't find it amusing.

"Do you not have anything better to do than to trip unsuspecting traders, or does your level of intelligence deny you the opportunity to better yourself?" Rorlo asked boldly.

"Now I do, you're coming with me." the first trooper commanded.

Dragor came up behind them, "My friends please, this can be worked out. This gentlemen didn't mean anything I'm sure, too much sun. Rorlo, tell them."

Rorlo sighed and looked at Dragor displeasingly, "Yes, the sun."

"Now I'm sure that you honorable stormtroopers are hungry hmmm? Here have some fruit." Dragor chimed in and handed them both a piece of green fruit.

"Yeah, hungry. You!" the trooper pointed at Rorlo, "this is your second warning, there won't be a third. Come on B-987." the troopers marched off with their newly acquired fruit.

Rorlo looked over at Dragor, "Why did you do that? Nothing would have happened I've been with them before at their little base, they do nothing there it's all talk really."

"That's not what I've been hearing lately. Some people who have been going there haven't been returning. Actually I just wanted a chance to give them the fruit." Dragor said as an evil grin creeped across his face.

Rorlo studied Dragor, "What kind of fruit was that?"

"It... cleanses the lower intestine. It's good for... not being regular." Dragor said proudly. Rorlo laughed out loud.

Stormtrooper base outside of Mos Eisely, the bathrooms

"Sir, what kind of fruit was that?" B-987 asked from one of the stalls.

B-486 groaned from the other stall, "Damn them. Damn them both. 987, after we get out of here we're going hunting."

"For what sir?"

"Traitors."