[Growltigger]

The door to the cantina opens for a second, the patrons all turn at the bLast of cold air that fills the room.. the door closes, and the patrons turn away at the tall black clad figure standing inside the hallway. Something intrinsic tells them that this is not someone to stare at, especially when they pull out a pump action handheld maser cannon, a large scimitar, and a large tartan sock with a half-brick in it being gently swung in ever decreasing circles...

A low growl sounds through the room and a quiet sibbilant feline voice asks "where is the proprietor of this establishment? tell him his nemesis awaits, tell him that hell hath no fury like a lawyer due his fee"