As he was about to proceed away from the gruesome sight at the Grand Fountain, Doan heard footfalls and crept into an alley off the side of the main street. He peeked around the corner and saw two clone troopers patrolling around the main circle. No…wait…not just any old clone…Galactic Marines. They appeared to be chatting with one another, but Doan could not hear what they were saying. He was not sure he wanted to know.
After several minutes of patrolling the main square, the Marines turned onto a side street branching off to the west. Good, thought Doan, considering he needed to go east to get to the spaceport and possibly get off the planet. He began to creep down the alley. Suddenly, he heard a voice: “Psssssst,” it whispered, “in here!” The voice was coming from a cantina the right side of the alley. Doan shrugged and decided to go with it; and entered the cantina. A young male Vurk, perhaps 16 years of age, was cowering in his tattered clothes. “What do you think you’re doing, are you batty? They will catch you!” he rasped, emphasizing the word “catch”. He then noticed the lightsaber hanging from Tanogo’s belt. “You’re a…a…Jedi?” he said. “Yes,” Doan responded coldly. “DON’T HURT ME!” he screeched, and ran to the corner. “Why would I hurt you?” Doan asked, not paying much attention to the boy. Grungy cantina, Doan thought to himself as he looked around. The bar itself was pretty nice, though. It was more fancy than the rest of the place, bronzium plating with inscriptions in the old Semblan language the Vurks had spoken before adopting Galactic Basic Standard as their main form of communication. “Because you’re a….Jedi! Aren’t you with…them?” he spat. “Them?” “The clones?” ”Not anymore, kid. They shot at me. I sense that it happened all across the galaxy to every other Jedi, too. I think I was lucky to live.” “Oh,” he replied. “Do you want offworld?”