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Clint Barbaskians

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  1. Clint mentally weighed the menu items that were displayed on a chalk-dusty board above the cantina counter. However, he would never weigh himself. Not again. “I’d like some cheese fries,” he bellowed out, to whatever or whomever was behind the counter. “Large. A beer. Large. And how about something else that’s also fried? Maybe thrice-fried. Onion Rings? Large. And a glass of water.” Clint waited for his order to manifest. Strange characters in the establishment were causing a kerfuffle. The hefty man tried not thinking of them in racial terms.
  2. Clint's ship, the Specimen, touched down fluidly on the landing pad outside the Mos Eisley cantina. The obese man wasted no time, hustling towards the establishment, eager as ever for some hopefully discounted food and drink. Hallowed ground that was once traversed by Han Solo and Chewbacca was now subjected to Clint’s fast-food littering, as he barreled forward, hoping no one else would see the petty criminal act. He approached the door, ready to eat. "What the hell is on this menu?"
  3. Real Name: Clint Barbaskians Nickname: N/A Age: 38 Species: Human Height: 6'1 Weight: 340 lbs Hair: Brown - Balding Eyes: Brown Sex: Male Home world: Coruscant Alignment: Good Faction: Rebels Clothing: Ugly Dress Clothes Weapon: N/A Non-Force User Inventory: Nothing Yet Possessions: Bad Clothes Clint is bald, grossly overweight, and seems to have just three facial expressions: a slack-jawed gaze, a scowl, and an impish grin. He speaks in a slow, monotone voice, rarely expressing any emotion, although he is often prone to giggle at things that would typically amuse a child. He is typically quite subdued with his hangdog face, although he is known for making blunt or offensive comments regarding the other employees. He loves shredding documents.
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