Duchess Magda Venn vs. Master Windos

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. A popular drinking and dining establishment located in the city of Mos Eisley on the desert world of Tatooine, Chalmun's Spaceport Cantina is run by the Wookiee Chalmun.

A single story building made of sandstone, the cantina consists of a bar area, private offices, a VIP lounge, a private hangar, a basement, and a phony shop in the rear. It caters to all sorts from across the galaxy, with spacious areas and wide arched doorways to allow patrons of all sizes passage. Unsurprisingly, a fair share of these guests lend to the cantina’s seedy reputation.

Entering through a small portal on one side of the building, a small passage curves around into the main bar area. Featuring many themed spigots resembling the heads of IG-series assassin droids, the bar is capable of producing several dozen drinks of Chalmun's own concoctions. Surrounded by eight different alcoves filled with stools, tables, and even a bandstand, the bar wraps from the public area around into the private back room.

The smoke, thick and fragrant with a gentle fruit aroma, hung in the air above the Sabacc table in the back room of Whatever Cantina in Mos Whatever. Hookah hoses hung strung from glass bowls dangling from the ceiling, artfully arranged to give the droid arm in the center enough room to deal cards.

Magda took a long drag on her hose and exhaled, glassy-eyed, in the direction of the Jedi babysitter who sat across from her. His pipe sat in its mount, untouched.

“Cmon, Jedi. You’ve got to live a little sometime.” She slurred at him.

“Clogging up my lungs with smoke and my sinuses with whatever it was you’ve been snorting for the last few days seems like the opposite of living, Ms. Venn.” Windos replied with a sneer that did not sound as condescending as he had probably intended.

The pair had arrived on Tatooine the previous day aboard Magda’s yacht. The Council of Urr had been growing more and more interested in the role her business was playing in the reconstruction of Daleem… and more interested in exactly how she was able to afford such a lavish lifestyle on what was supposed to be a modest contract. Now, in the wake of the War, they could spare the occasional goon to watch her. At least this one was more fun and better looking than that white-haired sow they’d sent with her to Nar Shaddaa.
Magda chuckled.

“True enough. C’mon, dealer! Let’s go already!”

“Apologies, madam.” The headless droid intoned from above. A reminder to all players;” the voice chattered gleefully, repeating the same message it had recited at the beginning of every hand… for the last hour, “Rules are standard Corellian Spike. Sixty-two cards, including two Sylops cards. Closest hand to zero after three rounds wins. Good luck!”

Magda rolled her eyes as the ante pots opened. Each of the six players sitting around the table tossed a chit into the game pot and another into the Sabacc pot, which had begun to accrue a handsome bounty as the evening had progressed. Six players and Magda would rob every one as blind as the Miraluka sitting across from her. To her right sat Qua’wiil, her pilot and a Rodian of whom Windos apparently had some memory from wars past. Next to him lounged the sable-haired Wookiee who had won the last hand, commanded the lion’s share of the credits on the table, and who had been chortling happily to himself since the game began. Then sat Windos, almost directly across from Magda, glowering as ever. Beside him hunched an obnoxiously voiced Bith, who had been making the same joke about the Wookiee’s luck saving everyone’s arms and sockets all evening. Finally, between her and the Bith, a Gamorrean grunted and fuddled with his chits, too small for his overly large fingers. He had been playing about as well as one would expect a Gamorrean to play, and his stack of credits had dwindled. The sweet cherry smoke only barely covered his odor.

Magda took a sip of her brandy, low-quality fire served in a filthy glass, as the deck was picked up and the cards were tossed face down in front of each player. Two to Windos first, as he was to the Wookiee’s right. Two to the Bith. Two to the Gamorrean. Two to Magda. Two to Qua’wiil. And two to the Wookiee.

Magda favored the Miraluka Jedi with a flirtatious grin above her glass as the cards landed around the table. She knew he couldn’t see her in the traditional sense, but she suspected he could tell anyway. She wasn’t worried about him picking up on the hollow deceptiveness of it. She hadn’t told him the truth about anything since he set foot on board her ship. She lied about where she’d gotten the ship. She lied about her parents’ names. She lied about how she was feeling. She lied about enjoying dinner. She lied about the color of the sand when he had asked her to describe it. She even lied about the time. Over. And over. And over.

“No baseline.” She had privately told Qua’wiil in a drug-induced hopefulness. “Can a Jedi tell when I’m lying if all he hears from me are lies?”

Magda picked up the cards she had been dealt.

Windos did not need eyes to see the hazy, spice-choked back room of the cantina. Through the Force, the room was a roaring surge of life and energy.

The headless dealing droid was a cold, mechanical void in the center of the table. Its servos whined with a faint electromagnetic hum. The Wookiee to Windos’ left burned like a bright, confident flare, projecting the unmistakable aura of a creature currently favored by the odds. The Gamorrean was a dull throb of anxiety.

And then there was Magda.

Through the Force, the woman felt like a chaotic storm of high-grade stimulants. Windos “watched” her as she flashed him that hollow grin. He could feel the smug satisfaction radiating from her as she played her mind games. He couldn't pick out the truth from the fiction, but knew that every word and sigh was calculated.

Without his combat hood or heavy cloak, Windos felt strangely exposed in the cantina. He allowed none of it to show on his face. He reached out and placed his fingertips over the two cards the droid had pitched face-down in front of him. He didn’t fully lift them to look. The tactile ink on the face of the cards painted a clear enough picture in his mind’s eye. A positive five and a negative three. A total of positive two. A reasonable start.

He slid his cards together, leaving them flat on the table. He picked up a chit from his stack. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the pot.

"You're trying too hard, Magda," he added quietly. His voice pitched just low enough to cut under the obnoxious chattering of the Bith to his right. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of the Jedi's mouth. "It's exhausting just to sit across from. But you play your game, and I'll play mine."

He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"Action is on you," Windos said. He nodded respectfully toward the Bith.

The Wookiee beside Windos let out a low, rumbling chortle that vibrated the table as both the Bith and the Gamorrean each raised in turn. The pot was already growing. Windos relaxed his shoulders and expanded his senses outward, waiting to see just how deep Magda was willing to dig her own grave.

Magda barely looked at the cards sitting in front of her; just a gentle upward tug on a corner with her thumb.

A six. A negative eight.

The brief pang of disappointment that flickered through her was gone almost before she released her thumb and let the cards return to lying flat on the table. Her face never changed. Her movements remained placid. She took another long and lazy drag from the hookah, reached into her stack of chits, and tossed in enough to match the raise.

“Call.”

Only then did she look back at Windos.

“And here I thought we were getting along so well,” Magda said, with an extravagant little note of wounded disappointment. She nodded languidly toward her Rodian compatriot, who had been eyeing his cards with a dramatically furrowed brow.

“Nobata! Mee ka tinka uba, Magda! Uba koona champio or uba koona loca an’ murka bu buttmalia!” the Rodian shouted in Huttese as he threw his cards at the dealer droid in the middle of the table.

Magda smiled at Qua’wiil’s outburst, the nozzle of her hose dangling between her lower lip and upper teeth, and watched as he shoved his chair out and stormed away from the table, taking his remaining chits with him.

Windos gave a low grunt. Amused, Magda thought.

The Bith had finally stopped his endless prattling.

“Your turn.” She raised her eyebrows at the Wookiee.

He answered with a low, rumbling chortle and took the chits from his impressively large stack and pushed them into the center. A call.

The hand came back to Windos. Even Magda could see the confidence radiating off him. No need for the Force for that. She could also see the slight wrinkle in his forehead.

That hadn’t been there before.

Had she thrown him with her disappointment in negative two? It was genuine. She had wanted a pure sabacc. That would have been funny. Or a hand bad enough to make the game worth ruining.

Or maybe Qua’wiil’s chaos had thrown him.

She owed that stinky little Rodian a drink.

Whatever the case, Windos clearly felt her glassy gaze on him. The wrinkle quickly disappeared and his smirk grew into a smile.

“I call, Magda,” he said as he tossed the chits into the pot and lifted two fingers from the table in the direction of the now silent Bith, indicating that he still had to call the Gamorrean’s raise.

“Call,” he hummed quietly in Bithian as he tossed in his chits.

“Thank you, honorable sentients!” the dealer droid chimed. “The first betting round is now complete.” Its headless frame and dealer arm rotated quickly around the table, nimbly dodging drinks, credit stacks, and pipe hoses, coming to an expectant pause at Windos.

“I’ll stand, thank you,” Windos said, addressing the droid patiently. He didn’t know or actually care what game Magda was playing, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice an excellent hand just to match her own level of foolishness.

The droid moved on to the Bith.

Magda was already staring at him.

He motioned for a single card and the droid tossed it perfectly to land face down in front of him. He pulled it into his hand and nestled it between the other two.

For the last hour there was hardly a moment where he wasn’t blathering about cards or music or Wookiees. Qua’wiil’s outburst had interrupted him.

He had never started again.

That was interesting.

Magda removed the hookah hose from her mouth and hung it on the stand beside her.

There you are.

Windos caught Magda’s stare through the Force, though he doubted she was trying to hide it physically, either. He could also feel the Bith’s uncertainty grow as he began to wilt under her gaze.

He didn’t feel pity for the creature. One less opponent.

And he really had been obnoxious all evening.

The droid arm rotated until it hovered before the Gamorrean. He had been studying his cards since they were dealt, holding them close to his beady eyes. He continued to study them.

And study them.

Windos raised his brows, wondering if the Gamorrean had forgotten it was his turn.

Magda remained utterly fixed on the Bith, who had begun sweating across his generous brow. The pair reminded Windos of a nexu hunting an eopie.

Finally the Gamorrean seemed to awaken and grunted something in his native language as he handed a card to the droid arm and received a replacement, flicked onto the table in exchange.

He picked it up.

And immediately began grunting excitedly.

The arm moved on to Magda, who finally broke her gaze from the Bith and fixed it on Windos.

“I’ll keep what I have,” she said as she absently waved the arm along and returned her attention to the Bith, who was just beginning to look like he had given up on the hand.

Standing on what she had struck Windos as odd, considering the brief but unmistakable disappointment he had felt from her earlier.

The dealer rotated toward the Wookiee.

The Wookiee grunted, threw a chit into the game pot, and tapped the table. He wanted a card. The droid pitched a single card across the felt. The massive creature snatched it up. He barely glanced at the face before letting out a confident rumble.

"Second betting round," the droid chimed.

Windos took a moment, mostly performatively, before sliding forward a chit.

The Bith looked at his cards. He looked at the Gamorrean. Then he looked at Magda. The Human had not stopped staring at him. Her gaze was unblinking and entirely predatory. He whimpered softly and tossed his cards face down, abandoning the hand entirely.

The Gamorrean tossed a single chit into the center.

Magda casually matched the bet. The Wookiee followed suit.

"The third and final round," the droid announced cheerfully. "Options to draw."

Windos shook his head, content with his hand.

The Gamorrean snorted and waved the mechanical arm away. Magda simply tapped the felt. The Wookiee shook his large, hairy head. No one wanted a card. The tension at the table thickened.

The Gamorrean did not hesitate during the final betting phase, disrupting the established order. He squealed loudly and shoved his entire remaining stack of chits forward. The sheer physical excitement made his pungent odor bloom violently across the table.

Magda shifted her attention to the mountain of credits. She casually pushed an equal stack of her own chits forward. She added two more to raise the stakes.

The Wookiee barked a laugh and matched the bet.

Windos tracked the flow of the game through the Force. The Gamorrean was a beacon of foolish optimism. The Wookiee radiated a heavy, smug certainty. Magda remained a storm of manufactured emotions. He reached out and touched his two cards. A positive two was a strong hand. It was rarely strong enough to beat a table of this size.

He pushed his chips forward anyway. He wanted to see how the lie ended.

"Betting is closed," the droid chirped happily. "Please reveal your hands."

Magda made no move toward her cards, still flat on the table. She raised an eyebrow at Windos.

“Well?”

“You first,” the Jedi said, tilting his head at Magda.

“Coward,” she retorted.

Windos relented with a quiet chuckle. He subtly waved his hand, never lifting the heel of his palm from the table. His cards flipped onto their backs, as if taken by a soft breeze.

Positive Five. Negative Three.

“Positive two,” he said through his smirk.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Smoke from the burning coals and roasting sweet leaves pooled beneath the ceiling. The band continued to play in the background, unaware of the tension in the booth at the back of the room, as their soft jizz rolled across the cantina.

Magda looked at Windos’s cards. Her confidence melted into incredulousness. Then she burst out laughing. She wrapped an arm around her belly and buried her face in the crook of her other arm, trying to contain the rolling hysteria.

The Wookiee chortled in annoyance at the delay and reached over to swat her on the shoulder. Magda waved him away as she began to regain control.

“Okay, okay,” she managed between guffaws. “Here.”

She flipped her cards while the Gamorrean to her left grunted.

Positive Six. Negative Eight.

“Negative two,” she exclaimed as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Windos’s smile faded, but only slightly. He reflexively reached out across the table through the Force and found exactly what he had found before: delight, intoxication, amusement, the chaotic storm of spice and chemicals that seemed to follow her everywhere. There was no sense of triumph at having deceived him into a tie or irritation at having only won half the pot.

Windos leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. Her disappointment at the deal had been real.

“You weren’t bluffing? You actually hated that hand? Negative two?”

“Of course I was disappointed!” Magda responded. “It wasn’t a pure Sabacc and it wasn’t trash enough to have fun and ruin the game. Just good enough to spend three rounds standing on.”

“I think that’s the dumbest thing you’ve said since we left Daleem,” Windos replied as the Gamorrean’s grunts turned into squeals.

The Wookiee, finally out of patience with the pair, tossed his cards onto the table, scooped up what he still had in front of him, and left. Positive Six. Positive Two. Negative Four.

Positive Four. Not good enough.

By then the Gamorrean’s chaos had become impossible to ignore. Both Magda and Windos looked toward him, irritated at having been interrupted.

“Fine!” Magda practically shouted. “Show us your stupid hand already.”

The Gamorrean smiled as widely as his porcine snout would allow and gently laid his cards onto the table, cradling them the whole way down as if they were precious eggs.

Positive Two. Negative Two.

“Sabacc!” the dealer droid cried. “Congratulations, fine sir, you have won the pot!”

Magda stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape with what was now genuine annoyance.

The Gamorrean stood from his seat and leaned his prodigious belly across the table. He wrapped both arms around the mountain of credit chits and dragged the whole pile toward himself, scattering a few across the felt before scooping the rest unceremoniously into a sack.

In his enthusiasm, he had left two chits behind in the center of the table. He noticed them only after cinching his bag shut. He stared at them for a moment, then looked over at Magda. With one thick finger, he flicked both chits back across the felt. The unmatched remainder of her raise. They skittered to a stop against Magda’s hand as the Gamorrean turned and departed from the table.

Magda turned back to Windos, who was smiling through barely contained laughter.

“Not one word, Jedi,” Magda uttered through clenched teeth.

The Gamorrean slammed his cards onto the table face up. He pointed at the faces with a fat, trembling finger. A four and a negative one. A total of positive three. He squealed in absolute triumph, genuinely believing he had secured the pot.

Magda offered a polite, devastating smile. She flipped her two cards. A six and a negative eight. Negative two. It was closer to zero.

The Gamorrean blinked. He let out an outraged squawk and slumped back in his reinforced chair.

Windos turned his cards over. He laid the five and negative three neatly beside each other. Positive two. Equally close, and distant, from zero as the Human.

Magda leaned forward. Her flirtatious grin returned. She opened her mouth to suggest a sudden death draw.

A massive, hairy hand slapped the table.

The Wookiee pushed his three cards into the center. A positive four. A negative four. The Sylop card. A perfect zero.

The table fell silent. The dealer droid extended a mechanical arm and swept the entire mountain of credits toward the Wookiee. The towering alien gathered his winnings with a series of joyous, booming grunts.

Magda stared at the empty felt in front of her. The fake smile slowly dissolved into a look of genuine, profound annoyance. She had spent the entire evening playing the table. She had intimidated the Bith. She had manipulated her pilot to create a distraction. She had tried to drown the Jedi's senses in a sea of spice and lies.

And a Wookiee simply drew a better hand.

Windos leaned back in his chair. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. It was a rare, unpracticed sound. He folded his arms and tilted his head toward the woman.

"It seems the Force favors the bold," Windos said quietly. "Or at least the exceptionally hairy."

He waved for a fresh stack of credits to buy back in.

"Deal another hand, droid. I believe the Duchess wants her money back."