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The usual suspects were stirring up trouble at the end of a bar. Liakurra didn't know what started it- he'd heard some commotion about an overpriced blaster or some other such nonsense. Wasn't anything out of the ordinary in a muck-slathered junker like this. What did catch his ear was some of the barbs tossed by those arguing. 

[i]"I bet my friends would pay a lot more for a twi’lek slave!"[/i] A man the 'tender called Kenspoo shouted at the hooded woman that had stepped up to him.

Grotesque words tossed about with little care by a man too small to be talking like that. Someone else stepped forward to trade words with him- some heavily four-armed rival that was quick to badmouth back, by the sounds of it. All three involved looked to be either armed or near enough to a weapon to cause trouble, and the Wookiee wasn't the only one that noticed. The bartender was offering credits to a scoundrel and a rat if they'd intervene to stop the argument from escalating to violence.

The Wookiee warrior didn't need any more of an excuse than that, and he rose to his feet with a growl in his throat and anger in his eyes. He trudged with weighty steps toward Oden Kenspoo, the Twi'lek and the four-armed, fast talking alien, arms wagging at his sides on approach. He towered over the tallest of the lot and weighed twice as much, and anyone with a passing knowledge of his species knew most of that wasn't fur or fat. All eyes near the stall gravitated toward him.

Oden looked nervous as he approached, and it only got worse when the beast leaned in close.

<"Little man thinks he's funny."> He spoke in something akin to a growled chortle. <"Wonder how funny he'd be without arms to sell with."> Liakurra reached up to pat Oden's shoulders, not-so-subtly alluding to a certain, [i]well substantiated[/i] rumor about his species' pertinacity for limb removal.

After a few, quite moments passed, Liakurra instead reached down to grab the blaster pistol Kenspoo had been hawking. It was a piece of junk by all accounts- everyone in that room was carrying better heat than this. Still, it was the principle of the thing that mattered to the young warrior. <"Bartender says she doesn't want you starting any shootouts, so I'll be...confiscating this. Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt, here, eh?">

The Wookiee's intimidating presence and hand on the blaster was all he needed to do to escalate the situation in his favor, and Oden quickly realized he’d be getting no credits for his wares. After a moment's hesitation, he begrudgingly sighed, “Fine. Take it. It’s free! I don’t have the blasted time for this. Just take the blaster and the girl and leave me alone.”

Liakurra nodded and took the pistol, satisfied by the situation's outcome. He turned around and motioned for the other two to step away from the humiliated vendor's stall, holding the junker weapon in both his paws, clearly unsure what to do with the thing now that he had it.
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