The Retching Rancor Cantina, Nar Shaddaa

[Dankar Maple]

In the lower levels of the Vertical City, one tends to find shadier and seedier bars filled with worse and worse people. The Retching Rancor was the kind of bar where you could find dealers of every drug, black market dealers, and criminals without morals (the kind of people who would kill a kid for a few credits). It was also the kind of place where people left each other alone because no one was innocent, and the bar had a strict 'No Snitching' policy that had a death penalty attached. The perfect place to get lost in, have a few drinks, and relax, the perfect place for Sarac Bralor. The Mandalorian sat in a corner booth playing Pazaak with a rodian smuggler who was losing terribly. The two had downed several drinks, playing for property instead of money, and Sarac had already won his rings and a weird pink crystal necklace that felt warm to the touch.

"You slimo, you've taken all my valuables and I have nothing! I bet you've been cheating, Sarac, you schutta!" The rodian grumbled, frustrated.

"Maybe if you were better at math, you wouldn't lose so bad." Sarac chuckled.