You stand in a room, nearly dark but for the pulse of rhythmic flashes of bright colored lights. Besides your opponent and yourself, you note a large number of bystanders who are sure to take exception to the coming carnage. Then again, knowing this crowd, they could just as easily find entertainment in an old-fashioned brawl. Spanky's is, after all, one of the more fashionable drinking establishments of Karufr.

The patrons seem to be a mix between the scantily clad women hawking their charms and the well-dressed gentlemen eager to part with their hard-earned credits. The odors in the tavern assault your senses and threaten to muddle your reflexes. Among them, you recognize over a dozen various types of stimulants—both legal and illegal—and the heady scent of, what is quite possibly, the most varied collection of liquor this side of the Galaxy.

The tavern itself is fraught with tactical advantages and disadvantages. Designed in the familiar style of all amphitheaters, the floor is slightly slanted toward a central stage where a lithe, twi'lek female is currently dancing. Littered amongst the floor are drink tables, heavily laden with glassware and other potential missiles. Uncomfortable, heavy metal chairs surround each of the tables in a semi-circle, so that the occupant's view of the stage is never hindered. The only exit, aside from the doorway where you stand, is a vaulted staircase—guarded by two very well-dressed, and heavily muscled, gentlemen—leading into parts unknown.

Small bars bracket the tavern on either side, filled with a glittering rainbow of bottles. Whatever is about to go down, you realize it would go down better with a stiff drink.

Kah sat in his chair, the meat of his buttocks sore from sitting so long. He brought a hand up, rubbing his eye and the stalk that held it up, the smoke and haze leaving it stinging a little. Across from him sat his comrade from Odan-Urr, Sa Ool.

The Jedi and his companion had been drinking for what seemed like days, but in truth only two hours had passed. They had run up a tab of well over two thousand credits, but Kah seemed to have a bottomless pocket of credits and didn’t even balk at it. The Gungan picked up a beat up stormtrooper helmet and rattled it to the left and right.

“Mesa tinkin’ itsa time wesa play a game.” said Kah, quickly running through the concept of what he called Manet Roulette. The Gungan scratched his forehead as he looked at the two bottles in front of him. Both contained a golden nectar, each having a slight froth to them. One contained a Gungan’s urine, the other contained a fine brandy that was made on Naboo.

The Gungan took the bottle to his right and uncorked it, bringing it to his nostrils and taking a whiff. He snorted as he did, the scent of his urine stinging his nostrils. He wafted the bottle in front of the Kel Dor, who delivered a similar reaction to that of the Gungan. Kah chuckled and poured the bottle into twelve shot glasses that were dispersed on a lazy susan, every other shot glass being filled with urine. Sa took the other bottle and filled the rest of the glasses, turning the lazy susan gently as he did so.

“Datsa good. Everytin’ is almos’ in place, Sa. No worries.” Kah examined the bottles once more, seeing that there was still plenty of liquid to go around. He placed a large tumbler glass in the middle of the table, and leaned back in his seat. “Yousa undastand da game?”

“We throw credits into the tumbler, if we get it in, we drink the brandy. We miss, we drink the urine.” said Sa.

“Whosa ever finish deysa brandy first gets dah credits. Den wesa start over.” said Kah, “Any questions?”

“Why the urine?” asked Sa.

“Family secret.” said Kah as he winked, “One more ting, no powers or tricks. Just two boyos havin’ a game.”

He took a credit and sent it sailing through the air. It clinked the edge of the glass and gently fell into it. The Gungan smacked the table in celebration and grabbed a shot of brandy. The Aedile sniffed the glass to make sure, nodded to confirm that it was not urine, and then took the shot.

“Mmm, datsa good hooch.” said Kah, “Your turn, boyo."

Making sure to keep himself quiet the Mystic grumbled about being dragged away by crazy Gungans. All he could remember from two hours previous was that he was coming out of a training room when he ran into his Aedile, with the only words being “Disa be a bombad time” before he was lead out of the Praxeum. Being pulled out of his memory Sa didn't realise that he had already picked up a credit to be tossed in the middle.

Shuddering a bit, the almost loner Kel Dor got ready to toss the credit in hand. A drunk Bothan bumped into Sa making the credit fly completely off course from where he intended it to go. Being as inebriated as he was, Sa went to grab for his saber to teach the guy a lesson before a hand grabbed him with a hard look.

“Yousa should not be doin that”

Letting go of his friend the Gungan held out in his opposite another credit for Sa to try again. Releasing the hilt of his saber Sa grabbed the new credit to toss. Getting set to flick the credit into the middle glass he let it go only for it to hit the glass and bounce away from it. If the Mystic could he would have gagged at knowing what he must do now.

Shuddering and acting like how he saw a human threw up once, Sa was exaggerating and being melodramatic before he took his drink. Kah the crazy Gungan that convinced him to play this game started to laugh at seeing his companions reaction before drinking his glass full of Kah’s piss. Grabbing a hold of the glass while wishing he could gag,Sa figured the best way to get it over with was fast. After lifting the glass to drink from it the Gray Jedi drank it in fast and started to shudder and acting like he was dying while trying to glare at his companion.