"After we pay this Alruun for altering the ship's ID code, we shall split the remainder equally between us," Bane informs the party in general. Upon glancing at Sella, he seems to feel the need to clarify just who the term 'us' refers to, "That is, you two, Zirak and Sora, myself and R5. And I suggest the first thing you do, Sora, is purchase a new outfit. Not that pau’an mining outfits don’t suit you..."

Sora shoots Bane a scowl.

Ziraks smirks, pleased that Sella is being left out of the divisions.

"I, too, wish to purchase a new outfit. Do they sell anything dark and dramatic and Sith-like around here?" he enquires.

"It's Denon," Bane replies, "You can get practically any outfit here, if you search hard enough."

It takes the four of them the best part of an hour of winding their way through the crowded streets of Denon to reach the apartment belonging to Alruun Darros. The door to the apartment is open, and the duros stands behind a cluttered workbench, fiddling with a processor and muttering to himself in Durese. A refurbished droideka sits, coiled up at present, by the far wall. Alruun glances up as the party enter, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the party's attire; Bane and Zirak, covered in scorch marks, Sella covered in dust, and Sora wearing a mining outfit that was clearly not made for him, if the bursting seams at his waste and the ten-centimeter-too-long sleeves are anything to go by.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 03:06, Mon 09 Apr 2018.

"What do you want?" he asks doubtfully.

"We," says Bane, striding in, "Wish to get our ship's ID code changed. And we were told you were the one to do it."

Alruun's eyes narrow even further.

"Were you now?"

"Yes," says Bane, withdrawing the credit chip, "You are Alruun, are you not?"

"I-" Alruun's eyes alight on the credit chip, "am."

"Excellent," says Bane, "Now, we require our ship's ID to be altered to 'Malar's Fist'."

"I still think 'Kau'dan's Legacy' is a more fitting name," Sora murmurs stubbornly.

"Because that will really help us to avoid be associated with the collapse of the city," Bane mutters back dryly.

Sora doesn't seem to have considered this.

"You have a point."

"And if you spread any rumors about this by the way, Duros," adds Zirak, glancing suspiciously at Alruun, who is following the murmured conversation intently, "You will share the fate of that city."

"I," says Alruun without a hint of sincerity, "am the soul of discretion. Now," he continues brightly, his mood much improved by the sight of the credit chip, "Changing an ID signal is not easy, and certainly not legal. You must pay me ten thousand credits."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Thu 23 Nov 2017.

Zirak has looked at Bane expectantly.

Bane has looked back at him.

"Hmm, I wonder how much that rodian we asked would charge to do it?" he says.

OOC: Bane Malar rolled 15 using 1d20+7. Bluff.

"What rodian?" Sora asks blankly.

OOC: Sora Bulq rolled 12 using 1d20+1. Sense Motive.

Bane shoots him what is doubtlessly a dark glare from under his helmet.

"Like I said," Alruun follows the glance to Sora with a satisfied smile, "Ten thousand credits."

Bane mutters something inaudible, though Zirak thinks he catches 'weequay' in there somewhere. He then turns back to Alruun.

"Very well. But it had better work."

Alruun reaches out a hand to take the codecard offered to him by Bane. He then inserts it into his computer, and spends the next quarter of an hour working on the card, immersed in his work. At length he rises, satisfied.

"There. That should do it. Your ship is now 'Malar's Fist'."

OOC: Alruun Darros rolled 22 using 1d20+18. Forgery.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:00, Fri 24 Nov 2017.

Bane takes it with a satisfied nod.

"Excellent."

Turning, he leads the way out of the shop and back in the direction of the ship. Once again, Sora, Zirak and Sella note that the bounty hunter seems very familiar with the streets of this district. They pass by neon lit nightclubs, graffiti covered alleyways and over decaying skybridges. As before, few beings pay them any notice. At length they once more reach the complex in which their ship is docked, and are soon back on board.