RPlog:A Furball and a Firebrand

The Cat's Claw seems to be playing host to a number of rather interesting characters lately, not the least of which is Salty Jack. He sits at one of the tables in a corner across from a somewhat unkempt squib, a half-drunk glass of ale in front of him and a little dish of some colorful snacks next to him, courtesy of the bartender for him being such a good customer and all. Every so often, he pops one into his mouth as he looks down at some cards in his hand. "I'll take one," he growls, motioning to his companion who seems to be the dealer. Those who know something about it might be able to discern that they are playing sabacc.

"All right up with yer jander!" The squib barks out as he stands atop his chair to shuffle the cards. His droid-army soldier forearm deftly flips out the cards to the Captain as he laughs with a yellow buck toothed grin. "Ya lucky we ain't playin for money boss, or I'd be roight slottin you back to the sprawls!" He adds, with a roar of laughter. Picking up a filthy old cigar from an ashtray, he eases himself back into his seat to look over his own cards.

Munch enters the bar with no real interest in drinks or cantinas. He's here for one thing and one thing only. Grub. The candy in his pouch was starting to wear thin again and he still had no idea what these strange metal discs people gave him were, but maybe later he'd make a necklace out of them. He starts scrounging under a table not far from where Salty Jack and Grizz are playing, sniffing around on the floor. He find what looks to be a cigarette butt, sniffs it for a second, makes a look of disgust and then casts it away. "Not food!"

The quarren grabs the cards, chuckling a little to himself as he pops another of the multicolored things into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He glances at his hand, then back to his companion as he says, "Ye best not be pressin' yer luck, chummer." But his voice is jovial, and he reaches forward, taking a swig of his ale. "I'll wager a week o' cleanin' the 'fresher." Anyone who knows the captain knows that his hand must be good.

The squib's ears droop in reaction to the captains bed. After a long stare, the squib slams his cards back down on the table and shoves them to the discard pile. "Kark!" He calls out, shaking his head. "Ye be callin me off bettin to do the refresher? No captain would ever lower himself to cleanin the refresh..." He grumbles. Grabbing for his glass of ale he downs some messily and then spots the Ewok. "Ay lookit that Captain! I could skin that and make me a coat!" He says, and then begins a roaring fit of laughter.

Munch doesn't know what the squib just said but from instinct doesn't like the way the squib said it. His little brown eyes peer at the foxish little alien, and a low growl emanates from his throat. His spear is not far away, and it's probably only a moment or two before the bartender shoos the ewok away like a stray dog.

The captain's chuckle turns into a hearty laugh as he shakes his head, tentacles wiggling slightly as he does so. "Nah, I'll be keepin' me bet, Cookey, and ye'll be..." but he trails off as he notices the strange little creature with the rather large stabbing implement. He blinks, looking a bit confused, "What'n the nine watery hells...I never thought t'see one o' them off their planet!" He waves a placating hand at the ewok, saying, "Don' worry, no one'll be skinnin' ye." He cocks his head thoughtfully, then turns to Grizz and says, "Ye don' speak Ewok, do ye?"

"Course not!" Grizz replies, wiping his brow with laughter as he leans back in his chair to enjoy the moment. Barely able to contain his laughter, he kicks a chair out for the ewok and invites it up. "Maybe it's got money, captain." He adds, motioning from the ewok to the chair, in general dumbed-down sign language.

Munch crawls out from under the table and stands, though he's really not much taller standing than he was on his knees. He cocks his head sideways and peers at Grizz, unsure at first what to make of this. But then decides the gesture is not a threatening one, and besides, he could probably take the squib in a fight. He moves over to the chair and climbs up, keeping the spear in his lap. He then speaks a hasty syllable which sounds very much like the basic 'food!' but more like 'ffud!' from his lips.

"Nah, I thought not," Jack acknowledges with a resigned shrug. After all, who speaks Ewok? However, he continues to watch the little creature, stroking the sode of his face with his hooked tentacle, though not hard enough to do any damage, of course. As soon as the ewok asks for food, the captain laughs again, slapping the table with his hand as he says, "Har har, hear that, Cookey? This little'n knows what he wants, a'right!" He reaches into the dish in front of him, grabbing a handful of the little pieces of what is probably some sort of candy, and flips one to the ewok, just to see what he will do.

"Yeah buh....why ya feedin it Cap?" The squib responds, a little confused to the situation as he takes another drink of the ale. No longer laughing, he pulls his basket of fish fillets closer to him protectively. "Ain' gonna jawa my fish that's for sure."

Munch takes the proffered candy and pops it in his mouth, smacking noisily on it. The next word he speaks is better pronounced then the first, as he's probably had more practice saying it. " Candy! Mmmmmm " His pleasure demonstrated, he then lifts up his spear with both arms and brings it down in one swift move to spear one of the squib's fish fillets. Turning the spear around he brings the point to Salty Jack to allow him access to the snagged meat. "paploo sheedd wreee" (speaking in Ewokese)

Jack shrugs as he watches the little creature eat the candy. "Dunno, but he's a funny little..." he trails off as the ewok takes it upon himself to avail Grizz of his food, despite all efforts to the contrary. For a moment, he is quiet, as though he can't quite believe his eyes, but then he begins to laugh once more, and this time he doesn't look to be stopping any time soon. "Ye..." he gasps, "ye best be...careful...o' that..." he can barely get the words out for the laughing that he's doing, and finally he just stops trying, shaking with mirth as he leans back in his chair and roars. "Ye can join...me crew, mate...ye'll be a fair treat..."

Immediately rising on his chair, Grizz's brow furrows and the scene erupts. An ewok has speared some of his fish, his captain is laughing, and before he knows it he can barely contain his rage and begins cursing in his familial tongue. " Captain! soonooboo bovooeblaa naakooaree tirajee vooleekooti bootineevoo maaloojeebo vooleekooti tadaalaa caagaaba dadeemaa jeenooquoovee tiaabee moodadeelaa baseeda gaaooareeeb queeveearee moodadeelaa bootineevoo dookookee saajoobee leekaalaasee jaraseemaa nooveedeeeb radeeseevyoo keeloomeesaa maatinookoo dakootinoo looravy" He blurts out, pointing in the direction of the ewok, as the entire cantina erupts in laughter at the sheer audacity of the scene. (speaking in Squibbian)

Turning to face the crowd, the Squib makes an angry face and yells out in basic. "Whaddya lookin at!". The crowd goes silent for a moment, and then erupts in laughter again. Grumbling, Grizz settles himself back into his chair and pulls the basket of fish onto his lap, eating hastily.

Munch pulls his spear back against the side of the table unhooking the fish in the process letting it drop to the table in front of the quarren who gave him the candy. He ignores the squib for now and just nods agreement to the words of the quarren. It's anyone's guess if he actually understood the proposal or if he's simply responding to recognition of the word 'treat.'

It's an interesting bunch in the Cat's Claw tonight. At a table in the corner sit a quarren, a squib, and an ewok, and though it seems like the start of a really good joke, it's true. Once the captain manages to staunch the flow of laughter brought on by the little ewok's antics, he pushes the little dish of candy toward him, as well. "Ye best be watchin' yer back, Cookey," he says, wiping a tear from his eye woth a tentacle, though this time not the hooked one. "He's a feisty one, he is. I think I'll be keepin' him around, just fer laughs." He takes another drink from his glass of ale, draining it and slamming it back onto the table, gesturing to the barmaid for a refill.

"As long as he stays the kark out of my galley, I don't care what he does." Grizz replies with a grunt, finishing the last of his fish with some breaded flecks caught in his facial fur. "The thing's an ewok with hair. And I don't want spears in my galley either!"

Munch takes the candy offered and empties the dish into his pouch so he has more candy for later. While his pouch is open, he reaches in and takes out a twisted gray lump of charred metal which he places on the table and slides it away from him. "eep deedwee Rappup eeepo" (speaking in Ewokese)

The barmaid comes over with a new glass, removing Jack's empty one and placing the full in front of him instead. "Thanks, lass," the captain says, looking her up and down with a glint in his eye, but obviously with no malicious intent. He then turns back, reaching for the fish in front of him as he says, "Don't ye worry, he won't be botherin' ye none. I gave my word, didn't I?" He begins to say something else, but just then he notices the little gnarled metal object that his newfound friend lays on the table. He peers at it, reaching for it cautiously as he's already seen what the little creature can do with a spear. He picks it up, turning it around curiously in his hand. "For me?" he asks the ewok, then points to the object and to himself.

Munch listens to the captain a moment, and then understanding clicks. He holds up one balled fist as high in the air as he can reach and looks up at the ball of his fist. Then makes a groaning noise as he brings the fist down to the table to hit its surface, laying his fingers out flat on the table. He points to his flattened hand with his remaining hand and then to the lump of grayish metal the captain is holding and then to the captain himself, nodding agreement.

"I think he means to say it fell from the sky, Cap..." The squib sits back, relighting his cigar with the flick of a match against his droid arm. Lounging back in his chair, he watches the exchange. "Fuzzbucket probably thinks it is a gift from a god, lookin' at all those beads he's wearin."

Chuckling at Grizz's explanation, the captain gives one last look at the little piece of metal, then pockets it, reaching forward and taking hold of his new glass, draining half of it in one swallow. "Ye may be right at that. Strange lit'l thing, that one." He shakes his head, which dislodges his hat slightly, and he reaches up to push it back into place on the bulbous head it was obivously not meeant to adorn. "Ye'll come along wi' me, friend," he says, decisively, as though the little creature can understand him. And, who knows, maybe he can. Jack looks at him once more, and says, questioningly, "Ye got a name?"

When the doors open this in walks Sally. Her arms spread wide, she declares to the room. "Never fear, Sharktooth Sally's here." And with that she smiles brightly, her front metal tooth glinting in the cantina light. More than a few patrons frown at her and go back to what they were doing. Sally doesn't let this stop her from swaggering farther into the cantina. "Brought me own." She says to the bartender as she passes, showing him her flask. "But don't ye worry none, I'll be needing some food."

As the doors to the Cantina open, Jack looks up from his new friend, eyes falling on the woman who enters so commandingly. He blinks, then chuckles appreciatively as she takes out her own libations. "A lass after me own heart," he says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Ay! Wench! What be in that flask o' yours?" His facial tentacles wave slightly as he gives the woman a quick once-over.

Munch nods his head to jack and points his thumb at himself. "Atchuk. Munch!"

"Wench?" Sally looks around as if Jack must be talking about someone else. When she sees no one else that might fit the description she points to herself. "Wench!" She laughs heartily, apparently she's not carrying around a full flask. "What I have be me own, and I wont be sharin' none wit you." She waves the flask around as she speaks of it. "And don't you be tryin to take it neither." Her empty hand starts patting at her waist band in search of something that isn't there. "Now where did I leave me blaster?" She says to herself.

The door to the cantina swings open and Bill comes in, carrying a datapad. Yes, even pirates in Star Wars have datapads. He is perusing it, tapping at the screen every so often. In order to see it, with his one-eye, he needs to hold the datapad close to his face, so he barely notices anyone else as he walks into the bar. "Cap'n," he says as he walks, "Look at these! We could be sailin' afore the winds change!" As he moves to drop the datapad full of used ship ads in front of Jack, he looks up and notices the rather unusual assortment of creatures gathered around him. "Arr!" he says in surprise.

"Not ter worry, lass, I got me own as well." Jack indicates the pint in front of him. "Leave yer blaster fer a spell and sit with me 'n' me new friend...Munch?" The captain looks Munch, confirming his name, and chuckles, "Certainly fits ye. Come," he says again, indicating the recently vacated seat across from him, "There's plenty o' room and to spare." He starts to say something else, but at that moment, his first mate walks in, and everything else is secondary to whatever his best friend has to say. "Bill! Ye found some, then! I knew ye would. Come 'ere 'n' meet yer new crewmate! Munch." He hasn't bothered to ascertain whether or not the little ewok wants to come, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

Whether or not she was going to share a table with the Quarren before, her curiosity is peeked when the Mon Calamari comes in with a datapad and what seems like good news. She swaggers over to the table and picks her seat. But she keeps her flask close. "What ye be looking at?" Sally doesn't even pretend to not be interested or be sneaky about finding out what they are talking about. When Jack names the Ewok as Munch, her brown eyes pause on the furry creature but they quickly go back to the datapad.

"Ahoy, Munch," Bill says, eyeing the strange little furry creature. Bill could not think of much use for something so small, until a brilliant idea strikes him, "Aye, he will make a fine mop for the deck, Captain! A good find, indeed!" At Sally's question, he picks up the datapad once again and flashes it around. "Our faithful ship, the Freedom Fish, were attacked by a horrid spirit of blackness for us tresspassin' on it unholy territory," the superstitious calamari explains. "So me be shoppin' for a new one. Thar not be much we can afford." He points to several run down looking ships that he has marked. They barely look spaceworthy, much less able to win in a fair fight.

Munch has a big spear in his hands so apparently this mop already comes with a handle. A wicked looking handle.

"Bill, shut yer trap about yer blasted spirits o' this 'n' that. Yeh know there's only one 'spirit', and that's the Great Seafarer." But the tone that Jack says this sounds more like it's out of habit than out of spite or anger, because his eyes are focused on the datapad. He pushes his face close to the screen, hooked tentacle tapping on a button to scroll through the choices of ships. His good mood seems to fade as he notes the condition that they are all in, and he says, "What 'n' the name o' the black depths are these? None o' these is worth a gob o' spit!" He shakes his head, "Nay, better t' wait for that Republic lass." He then turns to the woman, saying, "Ye know o' any place ter get a cheap ship?" Though he doesn't seem to be holding out much hope.

Squinting at the datapad Bill faces to her, Sally looks over the ships without changing her expression. Idly she rubs her thumb across her chin. "I'm in!" She announces with a slap on the table. Not that she's been invited, mind. But that doesn't seem to stop her. Quickly she starts to rummage around in a pouch on her belt and tosses some credits on the table. It seems she only brought enough to buy dinner with, but it's the thought that counts. "Whereas to buy one?" She says looking to Jack. "Well, um no. Leastwise not any that go."

Bill flops down in a chair next to Salty Jack, looking dejected. "Bill is getting tired of waitin'! Do ye think we could go to the senate and demands an answer?" He begins to pat for where his weapon is, to brandish it in order to show that he means business, when he finds the place empty, his musket eaten by the great space monster that had attacked them. He is momentarily distracted, however, by the shiny pieces of gold on the table, thrown out by the woman. Greedily gathering it up, he begins to count it. "Arrr, this t'ain't enough!"

Munch isn't entirely sure what's going on but seems to enjoy his new company, and is inclined to follow them as long as there's a chance of more candy. He looks at Bill curiously, and then raises one furry paw over his own eye covering it.

The wench's words give the captain a pause, and he looks up from the ships somewhat incredulously. "Yer in?" he repeats, as though about to ask, 'in what?' but as soon as she throws the credits on the table, he seems to reconsider. Not that they're enough to shake a stick at, but he's not one to turn down free money. Being a pirate, and all. "What's yer name, lass?" he asks, leaning back and looking at her with a little bit more interest. "And, more ter the point, what c'n ye do?"

As Salty_Jack addresses the wench who has joined them, the calamari takes a moment to notice the other member of their crew: the little ewok mop nearby. Just then, the little creature lifts his hand to cover his eye. "Why you little!" Bill exclaims, jumping out of his seat and attempting to grab the small creature. "Me will shake you right fer making fun o' me missin' eye! Think it's funny, do ye? Makin' fun o' the crippled?"

"It ain't enough?!" Sally says confused and leans forward to look at the credits. "Aw, well, it's all I's got." And offers a shrug in apology. "People call me, Sally." She tells Jack with a smile that shows of her metal tooth. "And I'm a great shot." She remarks proudly. But adds with a frown, "When I have my blaster." She doesn't add anything because her thoughts drift off to her lost blaster and where she might have left it last.

As the pirate reaches for Munch, Munch grabs the edge of the table pushing away, knocking his chair backward as it crashes to the ground. He somersaults backwards and stands with spear raised on the back of the chair pointing it over the chair at the mon calamari as he emits a pathetically cute growling sound.

Jack hadn't paid much heed to Munch's gesture, but as soon as Bill flies off the handle he leaps into action, literally. He launches himself out of the chair and throws himself between his two crewmembers, though his attention is mostly focused on Bill, since Munch can probably protect himself with that spear. "Bill! Calm down, ye're making a spectacle o' yerself! That thing o' his could put out yer other eye just as good as me hook, y'know!" He pushes his first mate back, bracing himself awkwardly because of his bum leg. He raises his voice to address Sally, "A'right, ye can join me crew, if ye c'n keep the rest off o' each other!" He doesn't really seem to expect an answer, though, as his hands are rather full of other things right now.

Bill rams into the captain's chest with an "oof" as Jack throws himself between the calamari and the ewok. Realizing what he has done, Bill backs away as if he has jostled a tub of explosives, rather than the older quarren. "Sorry, Cap'n!" he says, approaching and dusting off the long, brown coat, paying particular attention to the patch on the shoulder. "Everything's in order then. No harm done. Except that bilgerat mop made fun o' me eye!" Though he still sounds upset, he doesn't make any move to attack the creature pointing the spear at him.

Thank goodness for Jack that Bill leaves off almost immediately, because he's really not equipped to hold back his first mate. It's lucky he's able to maintain order by reputation. "There ye go, Bill," he says, leaning back and reaching down to straighten out his peg leg, "Ye know it's not good for ye t'get too excited." That settled, he returns to the datapad, though the situation is still as hopeless as before, "Nay, there's nothin' else for it. We'll have ter take her up on her offer. I hope it's not a mistake." He shrugs, and turns back to Bill, "What say ye, mate? Ye up fer some honest work fer a change?"

The calamari decides to take his eyes away from the growling creature and instead looks to the datapad once more, hoping that perhaps, with the money that Sally has added, they will suddenly be able to afford something bigger and nicer, or at least able to fly. Sadly, the price of dinner is not enough to upgrade them into another class of ship-ownership. "I suppose, Captain," the first mate replies, sounding not really entirely sure. "Where Salty Jack goes, Barnacle Bill follows. I just hope ye know what ye are doin'."

Nodding a little, Bill claps his first mate on the shoulder, though not hard enough to hurt him, more in a friendly manner. "When 'ave I ever led you astray, matey?" he says, though his eyes belie his jovial tone, and those who know him, Bill among them, can probably see that he's a little worried about this decision, himself. "Ye never know, we might even make somethin' o' ourselves."

"Arrr, ye never know," Bill agrees, not letting on to the worry in the Captain's eyes. It is true that Jack rarely made poor decisions, and since one of the better decisions had been to rescue Bill from the drink on Dac, the quarren trusted the old dog. Bill pulls out the captain's chair, which had been knocked askew when he leapt up, and positions it so Jack can sit down easily before sitting down himself. "Twill be a grand adventure," he says, "and me thinks we are already gatherin' a fine crew."