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The Mos Eisley Cantina. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villiany.
-Obi Wan Kenobi



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Welcome to the Mos Eisley Cantina.

I'm GAT, the mastermind behind the Official Star Wars Guild. While I may not be here much, here's some rules to follow in my absence.


Rules:

1. Follow the Gaia TOS. That means no cybering, harrassment or other issues.

2. Try and keep a friendly atmosphere.

3. If you have questions or concerns, PM one of the following: FrozenPhoenix32, Nelowulf, Cale Darksun, or Nospai Deathous. Do not PM Grand_admiral_thrawn

4. Have fun!

Cantina Map:
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Job Openings:

Owner: Grand_Admiral_Thrawn

Managers: FrozenPhoenix32, Nospai Deathous, Nelowulf and Cale Darksun

Bartenders: Domo Ninja

Waiters/Waitresses

Bouncers:

Note: To ask for a job, PM one of the managers.
*cleans up*

It's open for business.
A fellow dressed in a long coat jeans and boots walks through the doorway and settles himself at the Bar. "Looks good Fp. The weapon's sensor doesnt work though."
Another fellow, this one very obviously well armed, followed close behind. "I'll say."
Cale glances over his shoulder and nods. "Hey Nos. hows it going?"
FP nodded. A once Chiss officer, he retained the dark blue uniform of his incompleted training as a Cadet.

"That Wookiee seemed rather eager to sell the place."
"Eh, no different from the norm. Just the usual transvestite tendencies. Yourself?"

He found a seat and occupied it tiredly.
"Booze, babes, glit and gold. the usual." Cale smirked as he redriected his gaze to Frozen. "Im suprised Chalumn wanted to sell the place. You fire Wuther?"
Nospai grimaced. "His characteristic scent is still here."
"I didn't fire anyone, they all walked out, practically handed me the deed."
"Yes ... definetely need to work on the weapon sensors," announced a lady with long flowing silvery blonde hair, clad nearly head to toe in black leather armor and chain mail. "Anywho ... who do I have to sweet talk to get some hot chocolate?"
Cale blinked and looked around the bar. "This place aint rigged to blow is it?"
"Why the hell are you walking around in metal in this heat?!" FP questioned.

"And Nos, you fix the damn sensor, you're the techie,"

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