Darth Baucherous
Character
Nar Shaddaa, The Palace of Darth Baucherous
The great throne of Darth Baucherous dwarfed just about anything else in the grand hall of the palace, deep in the underbelly on the dark side of Nar Shaddaa. The palace was fit for a Hutt no doubt, with ample room for both the gargantuan lord and his many courtiers, but one would not be decieved into thinking this was a Hutt palace just like any other. Its black corridors hosted the worst of the worst, and hidden in its dark corners were rooms host to the most vile debauchery in the galaxy, befitting their patron's title. It was the perverse desires of the criminal underworld, whether it be drugs, sex, or blood, that the Sith Lord catered to. Tonight however, just after the sun had set and the far side of the moon lit up like the shining jewel of the Hutts that it was, there was one angle of business more important than any other. Spice.
Much beloved, galaxy wide, and a personal favourite of the business men present, the spice trade was so much of the criminal underworld that it could fuel entire criminal dynasties, cause wars, and of course, settle them. But, as it had been lately, the stars were profoundly lacking in wars, and the Hutt cartels had done what they do best regardless of war and peace: profit. Alongside them was the only species in the galaxy that had learned to match the cunning and the greed of the Hutts: The Pykes. And the Pyke Syndicates loved Spice more than anything.
Unfortunately for all interested parties, the news was not going to be good. Baucherous had just been informed of the loss of a valuable shipment of Spice heading into Imperial territory, a veritable gold mine of new markets now that the government there was weakening. The major issue was that it seemed an enterprising warlord was less than keen on allowing his people the pleasures they deserved. As such, Baucherous had called an old business partner from the Pykes to sort out a solution.
When
Daozu Pyke
would be ushered into the throne room, he would find Baucherous atop his huge platform, a litter of beautiful Twi'lek slaves, both men and women, sitting around him, some idly, some actively feeding the giant hedonist huge chunks of indiscernable fried meat. The room around the Hutt Sith Lord's throne was host to dozens of tables with dancers, gambling, mountains of spice, and no doubt some of the worst criminals on Nar Shaddaa. Thats how Baucherous liked it. He had lived on Nar Shaddaa for five hundred years, and it was always the same. The Crown Jewel of the Hutts was like a beautiful garden that never needed tending. A Hutt here could grow old, fat, and wealthy off the workings of the society itself, without lifting a finger. A paradise. The Empire? not so much. Baucherous himself had never been, but reading the reports he could imagine how dull living under the Iron Fist must be, and now the Empire had taken things too far, meddling in his business. Didn't they have more important Sith to fight?
The great throne of Darth Baucherous dwarfed just about anything else in the grand hall of the palace, deep in the underbelly on the dark side of Nar Shaddaa. The palace was fit for a Hutt no doubt, with ample room for both the gargantuan lord and his many courtiers, but one would not be decieved into thinking this was a Hutt palace just like any other. Its black corridors hosted the worst of the worst, and hidden in its dark corners were rooms host to the most vile debauchery in the galaxy, befitting their patron's title. It was the perverse desires of the criminal underworld, whether it be drugs, sex, or blood, that the Sith Lord catered to. Tonight however, just after the sun had set and the far side of the moon lit up like the shining jewel of the Hutts that it was, there was one angle of business more important than any other. Spice.
Much beloved, galaxy wide, and a personal favourite of the business men present, the spice trade was so much of the criminal underworld that it could fuel entire criminal dynasties, cause wars, and of course, settle them. But, as it had been lately, the stars were profoundly lacking in wars, and the Hutt cartels had done what they do best regardless of war and peace: profit. Alongside them was the only species in the galaxy that had learned to match the cunning and the greed of the Hutts: The Pykes. And the Pyke Syndicates loved Spice more than anything.
Unfortunately for all interested parties, the news was not going to be good. Baucherous had just been informed of the loss of a valuable shipment of Spice heading into Imperial territory, a veritable gold mine of new markets now that the government there was weakening. The major issue was that it seemed an enterprising warlord was less than keen on allowing his people the pleasures they deserved. As such, Baucherous had called an old business partner from the Pykes to sort out a solution.
When
Daozu Pyke
would be ushered into the throne room, he would find Baucherous atop his huge platform, a litter of beautiful Twi'lek slaves, both men and women, sitting around him, some idly, some actively feeding the giant hedonist huge chunks of indiscernable fried meat. The room around the Hutt Sith Lord's throne was host to dozens of tables with dancers, gambling, mountains of spice, and no doubt some of the worst criminals on Nar Shaddaa. Thats how Baucherous liked it. He had lived on Nar Shaddaa for five hundred years, and it was always the same. The Crown Jewel of the Hutts was like a beautiful garden that never needed tending. A Hutt here could grow old, fat, and wealthy off the workings of the society itself, without lifting a finger. A paradise. The Empire? not so much. Baucherous himself had never been, but reading the reports he could imagine how dull living under the Iron Fist must be, and now the Empire had taken things too far, meddling in his business. Didn't they have more important Sith to fight?
