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A grotty and dank place, like so many on the Hutt homeworld of Nal Hutta, the nearly empty Cantina near one of the Hutt worlds slightly more militarized districts reeked of Hutt and Stale sweat. In the middle of the battered old bar of this nearly run down Cantina 'stood' Nor'baal the Hutt, bedecked in his old Hutt armour, a pike of beskar iron leaning up next to him.
On the bar before him was a tired looking glass, filled with mirky greyish liquid. It was surrounded by empty containers of similar substances. The figure heaved its bulk, and downed the beverage before returning its gaze to the Barman, <Another> he growled in Huttese, the barman shook his head, indicating his feelings the Hutt had had enough for the day. Clearly it was not aware of a Hutts constitution, and Nor'baal pulled out a large blaster, placing it on the bar.
<Hundreds, Hundreds I have killed. One more makes no difference. I said, another.> he bellowed, the barman swiftly obliged, as the Hutt Mercenary returned his pistol to its holster.