Mos Espa Gamble (Roona's Interlude)

[GM Fang]

Under the twin suns of Tatooine, the city of Mos Espa thrummed with life. Dust swirled in the hot air, clinging to the vibrant stalls of merchants selling everything from moisture vaporators to droid parts to weapons to illegal excesses. Yet, hidden behind the colorful chaos lay a darker side, where the ambitions of scoundrels, gamblers, and various unsavory elements converged in the shadowy corners of the bustling streets.

Mos Espa was bathed in a harsh golden glow, elongated shadows cast over the bustling marketplace that sprawled across the sands. The streets of Mos Espa thrummed with life, alive with chatter, commerce, and the distant whirr of repulsor lifts. Roona, a lean and wiry Rodian scout, darted through the maze of stalls and back-alley taverns, the air thick with the scent of grilled meat and the occasional whiff of something distinctly less savory. She was on a mission to add to her gear and yet trouble brewed not far from her.

Roona, with her green skin and large, expressive eyes, was a curious sight. She moved through the streets with a mix of urgency and caution, her mind darting between the promise of riches and the looming threat of loss. Just two days prior, her team had survived a skirmish with bounty hunters linked to Madon Ani, the slaver who loomed over the underbelly of Mos Espa like an ever-watchful hawk-bat.

The as yet unnamed team had split up after their cantina meeting planning the trip to Anchorhead in anticipation of their next job. It seemed like some easy credits and the group was quite fortunate financially on the mission for Renci. They had received a significant personal reward and a group stash that was growing larger. Roona hoped she would not end up cast out of this group like she had so many others.

She wondered to herself why she was left alone. It was well known that many races considered Rodians to smell. They secreted a pungent, musky aroma from the oils that served to moisturize their reptilian skin. It was worse in the males, but Roona was aware and vain enough to do her best to cover the odor which was known to offend others. She paused a moment to refresh her perfume, just in case. But no, the team had stood up for her when Zek and the other thugs confronted them. Zavi's threat to blow them up with a frag grenade was not only harsh, but effective, and Roona was pleased at the response and trust in her place on the team.

The recent affair with Renci Tosh however had made her a target. She had split from her crew on a whim to find addiitonal equipment, but their victory against the slave catchers had indeed caught the ire of the slaver Madon Ani. They had been watching. They likely still were. Roona cast glances over her shoulder, her emerald skin glinting in the harsh light, scanning the babble of beings around her. There! Two Rodians and an Aqualish leaned against a wall, cold eyes trained on her. Not the thugs of Madon, but trouble nonetheless. Roona felt her heart quicken. They were waiting for the right moment.

“Hagwa stuupa,” she muttered under her breath, knowing full well the gravity of her position. Still, the pull of a nearby sabacc game tugged at her. She had her own debts to pay—a gambling addiction that had run rampant since her teens. With a quick glance to ensure the thugs were still keeping their distance, she slipped into the smoky establishment known as The Boonta’s Bane.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension and tabacc smoke, a cacophony of laughter and shouts reverberated against the walls. Roona’s eyes lit up as she spotted the sabacc table—flickering cards casting dancing lights across gleaming faces. She seated herself at the edge of the table, her heart racing as she shuffled chips through her suction-tipped fingers. With a knack for reading peoples' bluffs coupled with the adrenaline that gambling delivered and her own prodigious skill at deception, she felt as if she could conquer the galaxy.

“New blood?” grunted a bulky Twi’lek across from her, his eyes mildly wary.

“Vopa nopa butmalia,” Roona said, masking her eagerness with feigned nonchalance. “Uba nopa creedo?”, she teased in Huttese.

The Twi’lek grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Let’s see what you’ve got then.”

The game began, adrenaline igniting her senses as the cards were dealt. It wasn’t long before Roona’s intuition was rewarded. She read her opponents like an open book, deftly adjusting her bets until she secured a considerable pile of chips. The thrill of victory coursed through her, intoxicating and hypnotic. With each round, she adjusted her approach, carefully concealing her elation beneath a mask of calm.

But as luck would have it, the past began to stalk her again, rising like a shadow across the table. A voice broke through her concentration, one she knew all too well. “Well, well, if it isn’t Roona “the Scout”. Thought I recognized the glimmer of betrayal in your eyes,” said a Rodian with sharp features and a deeper shade of green. It was Zek, one of the thugs lounging outside.

Her heart sank; the gamble was on the verge of turning against her. She tried to mask her surprise, continuing to play. “Enjoying game, Zek,” she replied, her voice steady despite the quiver of fear in her chest. “No more.”

“Quite a clever one, Roona, but we don’t forget a face. Or a debt,” Zek taunted, leaning closer and staring into her eyes. Somehow Zek worked for Teemo and he was trying to bully her. Probably trying to get her to buy him off. Zek was never competent enough to rise very high in an organization and Roona didn’t really owe Teemo THAT many credits.

Roona cast an uncertain glance around the table. With Zek watching, there was no ignoring the rising stakes. Tension buzzed in the air, thick and palpable. Gambling was one of her few pleasures; she wouldn't let his threats deter her now.

The cards played out, and soon she had drawn an impressive hand, her nerves easing slightly. But as she began to think of doubling down, she felt warmth creep along her skin—a sensation bred from desperation. She flipped her cards, declaring her victory. 23! Cheers and jeering erupted around her, and in that instant, triumph blurred with despair.

“You’ve got some sleight of hand, Rookie!” Zek shouted, his hands rising to reveal the small contraption hidden against his palm. “I think she’s cheating!”

Roona froze, a lump forming in her throat. The air turned razor-sharp with tension, and the laughter transformed into murmurs of accusation. A collective shift of skepticism rested upon her, and the euphoria she'd felt moments ago crumbled before her eyes.

“No! I—” Roona’s heart raced. She stood, instinctively slipping a few credits into her pocket as she prepared to flee. However, the dealer’s eyes darted toward the commotion. “Hey, no trouble here!” he called, but it was too late.

Before she could further salvage the moment, the other players erupted, pointing fingers, dazzling chips were abandoned, and accusations flew. The cheers that once buoyed her turned to shouts calling for her ousting. Roona bolted from the table, panic propelling her forward as Zek leaped up, signaling his fellow thugs to follow.

"Get her!" he yelled, and chaos erupted behind her—a flurry of blaster fire and scrambling patrons. She dashed through the smoke, her heartbeat drowning everything out as she maneuvered away, narrowly avoiding the chaos. Roona pushed past the stumbling crowd, but the thugs had already cornered the exit. Panic turned her blood to ice as she cursed her foolishness.

Without thinking, she sprinted toward the back of the den, jerking open a heavy door that led to a dark alley. The stench of refuse overloaded her senses, but she didn’t stop. Roona dashed through the narrow passageways, heart pounding in her ears, until she finally stumbled into a dimly lit back street lined with crates and shadows.

Yet, respite was fleeting. Roona scarcely caught her breath before the shadows stretched out behind her in the form of her pursuers. The Rodian called after her, his voice now a sharp hiss. “You owe a debt, scout. Time to pay up.”

As they moved closer, a sudden realization seized her—a glimmer of reckless hope intertwined with desperation. Forgetting her fears, she turned and sprinted down the opposite alley, feeling the thudding footsteps behind her draw dangerously close. She skidded around a corner, slamming herself against the wall as she frantically cast her gaze about.

In the throes of terrified calculation, she noticed a small stack of crates teetering precariously against the wall ahead. It was a gamble, but anything seemed better than being captured. Using every ounce of strength, she leaped onto the crates and climbed to the rooftop of the building. She barely made it over the edge, but adrenaline drove her up and onward.

Once atop, she paused to catch her breath, looking down to see the furious faces of her pursuers below, their frustration mounting. She was momentarily safe, concealed in the cover of the rooftop shadows. Heart pounding, she made her way further into the shadows, vowing to remember that on the fringes every moment could become a risk.

But even as she slipped away, she could almost hear the fickle laughter of fate echoing in her ears. In Mos Espa, nothing ever seemed to remain a secret for long, especially for those who played dangerously with their lives.