Everybody Wants to Be a Hutt

[Gorba the Hutt]

Nar Shaddaa​

​

Bareesh Kajidic's Pleasure Palace, Godsheart Quarter, Gorba's Throne Room.​

​

[member="Arekk"]

Gorba lounged upon a plush divan, waited on by beautiful twi'lek and zeltrons in every shade of the rainbow. He sucked on the stem of a hookah pipe and watched as a Heartbeat Hotel trained dancer undulated in front of him to the rhythms of Bith jatzwailers.

Members of the merchant prince's court milled about. Retainers stood in alcoves, alert for troubles.

 

[Arekk]

​

NAR SHADDAA​

Bareesh Kajidic's Pleasure Palace, Godsheart Quarter, Gorba's Throne Room​

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INTERACTING WITH: [member="Gorba The Hutt"] ​

"I'm never setting foot in this planet ever again, I promise."

How naive one can be.

A year had already passed since The Hawk's Circle disappeared from the Smuggler's Moon and all the venues that were once under Ar'ekk's control had fallen into the hands of another ambitious crime lord. This made him feel powerless for a moment but that thought quickly dissipated.

What am I doing here?

Gorba the Hutt was someone you would never want to cross in your life and Ar'ekk knew that, which is why he kept the commlink given by his Highness himself as a reminder to that thought. One day he would call for him wether he liked it or not and it was in his best interest to answer which is what happened a few days ago.

Thump, thump.

Standing outside Gorba's Pleasure Palace brought him several memories such as that fatidic day where a young Jedi Padawan decided to save a Hutt's life thinking he was doing the right thing. Little did he know that the path he'd take the next few months would be totally different.

"I'm here to see his Eminence Gorba the Hutt. Tell him it's the Champion of the Kajidii."

Strangely enough, you'd expect to have a death mark on your head if you ever decided to escape Nar Shaddaa and leave a massive empire behind in shambles. This wasn't the case since the man had always been one of Gorba's most loyal men and in return he pardoned his life in exchange for future services when the time was right.

"Get inside, he's waiting for you."

The turbolift would take him directly to Gorba's throne room where he would certainly be enjoying his hookah pipe, skimpy Twi'leks and the baritoque of Bith jatzwailers. Every corner of the palace and its scents didn't change after all this time which made him laugh in silence.

And there he was, the mightiest Hutt of Nar Shaddaa himself...

---

---

 

[John Ash]

The Galactic Empire was failing. Rather the Empire had been failing for some time and was barely clinging to life by its stubby, malformed hands. The Empire might be in decline, but Ashhearth Industries and the Pii System were not. John had taken advantage of the isolation and various events to suck the life out of the Empire by attracting people to his system. The system was now independent enough to be alright, but if he wanted both it and his company to grow he needed to find more business partners and allies. That was were his old home of Nar Shaddaa came in. If you knew where to look then you could find anything on the Smuggler's Moon.

The objective of this trip was before John as he and his second Blackwall arrived at the Nar Shaddaa palace of [member="Gorba the Hutt"] . If he had learned anything over the years it was that if you wanted to turn a profit then it didn't hurt to see a hutt. They didn't care if the venture was legal or not so long as it was profitable. It was the business model he had based Ashhearth Industries on too. As the two men walked up, Blackwall said, " Been awhile since I met with a hutt about, well, anything." John just gave the man a nod in agreement. " Got my blaster ready in case there is trouble. Assuming we don't want any though." John just replied, " Nope, but it pays to be prepared." The two walked into the palace.

When John asked to see Gorba, he was informed that the grand hutt had business with someone else at the moment and would see them after. John wasn't sure how true that info was. Could be they were meeting with someone. Could be the big slug was taking a nap after eating too many eels. Always a toss up with hutts on what exactly they were doing. He just agreed to wait till the hutt was ready to see him. The pair wandered over to a bar and ordered a round of drinks. It was a kind of pink color. John made a face and Blackwall just laughed. The two downed their glasses in one go together. Blackwall made a face after and John just looked ahead. Hopefully this prior business didn't take too long. John hated waiting when he could be doing something productive.

[member="Arekk"]

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: None
Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: None

The smell, the dance of light that turned off the star's in the sky and the way smoke billowed in a joyous sway rather than a malicious figment. These were the facts of the Smuggler's Moon, Nar Shadaa to the uninitiated of the way's of the unrefined. And Thraxis knew it all too well, old Hutt Territory. Or at least, might as well have been. The Hutt Cartel may have fallen, but their families, Kajidic in their tongue always controlled Hutt Space and Nar Shadaa might as well have been the centre with the pot always at a high boil with Cartel Activity.

Of course, he couldn't stand it, the depravity was nice, the constant auctions of slaves and weapon's both Legal, Illegal and Questionable were sold in abundance and the tap water was nearly always spiked making the Bottled Water industry a surprisingly booming source of revenue on the damnable planet. But dear god the pleasure palaces. If there was one thing those den's of sin had it was Zeltron's. And Thraxis was never the fan of his detestable kinsman. So he strapped his mask up, flicking light's came to bare as Silhouettes of Green flared and mixed in the collaborative efforts of neon and lighted deathsticks, a Guardsman halting the man strapped to the nines. Thraxis voice came out as a ruffled mess, his naturally gravelled voice almost clearer if not for the static ring from his Voice Scrambler. "I'm organizing an appointment." He declared, he could play a game of persuasion, intimidation or even seduction, but he wasn't well gifted in any of those three regards. But bribery? Very few people do that poorly. He pulled from his yellow duffel bag, a strange mix and match of stitches and tan more or less stapled to a crumbling bag, a wad of credits pressing it against his upper pectoral and letting it drop. There was an odd silence for a few moments as the guard looked down with a quizzical glance. "You know. That would've been a more smooth exchange if you invested in pockets." He stated, the Guardsman looking at the credit's with a defeated sigh, a foot rolling them back as to not dampen his facade of strength and bravado.

He pulled himself in, at the instant he arrived he could feel it, eye's washed over their dirtied silhouettes of a rainbow, skimpily clad women waltzed around, he made it a point to slide through as fast as he can, his mind racing with disgusted thought's repulsed by simply sharing a room with them once again. His gaze was quickly drawn to the bar, the selection of hooch and cocktails brought a slither of drool to his lips before caught back to his goal. A meeting with a Hutt who had cemented his position in the Galaxy as opposed to most he heard. They seemed to be at best, a dying fad.

So he came to a lift, seemed a little.... Well, he wasn't sure, he couldn't really place the last time he had taken a step on one. He approached as two Guardsman blocked his progress, arm's outstretched, the classic black sunglasses and a string of wire stuck to their earlobe Thraxis raised a brow, prepared to bring out another Wad of Credit before that was tossed against the rocks, "The Grand Gorba the Hutt is currently in a meeting. You will have to wait here until it has wrapped up. After which." He cocked a hand back, finger rocked up and dropped down as his index finger puffed out an air of smoke. An impressive parlour trick as Thraxis attention was drawn to the men in question. "They're up next. Then we will grab you and drag you in." The other pipped up, Thraxis ran a hand against the back his helmet, he was stuck with the Zeltron's, and his mind was far from calm, a verifiable whirlwind of bewilderment, anger and frazzle ran through his mind and each and every Zeltron picked it up. They were by definition a caring race, and if someone wasn't getting jiggy with it or partying like it was the fourth of July, they knew it and they wanted to fix it. SO with a sigh he looked between the duo, nodded and took a seat, pulling up his Commlink and scrolling through FOrums and news boards, getting the latest gossip the news had to offer. All the while like a pack of Tasmanian Devils coming to a pile of carrion and faeces the Zeltron's slowly were drawn to the Beacon of Negativity.
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[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="John Ash"] | [member="Arekk"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

As [member="Arekk"] entered the throne room, Gorba's sole eye turned from his dinner to regard the Je'daii. One-by-one, Gorba licked his fingers clean with agonizing slowness. Brutus, his majordomo, stood beside him. The Klatooinian wore simple armor, a red neckerchief, and a perpetual frown. He clutched a vibro poleax in one hand, the other rested on the dagger at his belt. He had a massive underbite and hanging jowls that wobbled as he spoke. Brutus slammed the butt of the poleax against the ground.

"You shtand in the preshence of the mighty Gorba. Kneel before him," Brutus demanded, underbite giving him a distinct slur.

His father and brother died in service to the Hutts of the Bareesh. Brutus hoped this newcomer would make an attempt on Gorba's life, so that he too would be able to sacrifice himself in service to Gorba and join his ancestors in the afterlife. He was proud to be part of a tradition of more than three thousand years of service to Hutts, honoring the Treaty of Vontor, just as his forefathers had in past lives.

Gorba waved his hand dismissively and said in Huttese, <This is Arekk. Kneeling does not suit him.>

* * *

Two Zeltron women, one red and one pink and robed in nearly-translucent silk shifts approached [member="John Ash"] and his companion. The pink one sought to run her finger along Ash's chest in a slow circle.

"What's a big boy like you doing out on Nar Shaddaa?"

Arousal-inducing pheromones wafted off the pair of Zeltrons in waves.

* * *

A balding, four-eyed Aqualish in an orange vest and little else emerged from the crowd to stand just in front of [member="Thraxis"].

"Hooo, pateesa, what we got here, eh?" He slapped his not inconsiderable belly, tusks shuffling. "You got some time for Uncle Narbo while you wait? Got the best spice in the system. What's your poison, eh?"

Yuhj Narbo chuckled from his belly, as he always did, and spread both his three-fingered hands wide.

 

[Arekk]

NAR SHADDAA​

Bareesh Kajidic's Pleasure Palace, Godsheart Quarter, Gorba's Throne Room​

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INTERACTING WITH: [member="Gorba The Hutt"] ​

The mighty Gorba the Hutt and the Champion of the Kajidii, reunited once again.

To be in the presence of your old boss after you've decided to escape a life that's relentless and unforgiving and be alive to tell the story is something you're not able to tell twice.

They had mutual respect for each other and Gorba had given him a second opportunity, or so he thought. Ar'ekk was there and nothing else could be done about it, it was time to face the past again.

"It's good to see you again, boss. I did not hesitate when you called, as we agreed before."

His eyes lingered on Brutus for a moment before moving towards the Hutt himself, a cold breeze ran down his spine and made him shiver momentarily. The palace looked exactly the same as before as if nothing had changed during his six month absence.

"What can I do for you?"

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[John Ash]

It wasn't long after John and Blackwall had sat down to drink their savagely pink drinks that a pair of zeltron woman with the same shade of skin walked up. The first thing he noticed was that particular tingle in his body that was a sign of the pheromones they were putting off. Spend enough time around them though in places like this and you would know to just assume it was happening regardless. The pinker one began to run her finger along his chest in circles as she asked him what he was doing here.

John ordered a new drink. Whiskey. That was what he wanted right now. He wasn't in the mood for a pink drink right now. After he said, " Not interested. Try someone else." With that he went about trying to ignore the woman. Blackwall was different. As the redder one was getting his interest, he flirted back. It had been awhile for the middle aged man and he wasn't about to turn down a good time. After hearing his boss' comment, he laughed. " Ignore my boss darlin'. He always has a vibrostaff up his butt." He winked his one eye, which made it just seem that the eyepatched man was blinking. John ignored him too and just nursed his whiskey. Now wasn't about a good time but business for him.

[member="Arekk"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: None
Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: None

In the corner, where the dancing lights and cavalcade of colours slid away, where a bin laid half filled with packets of cigarettes, chips and that one discarded syringe that hanged on a precarious balance atop a fold and crease of a chip packet there with his back against the wall and a macho pose Thraxis stood, eyeing the room up and down, back and forth with a surveying motion. It was here that he caught the first glimpse of an Aqualish, he wouldn't lie, he had seldom seen the Arachnid faced creatures before and the stories held true that they were not the prettiest looking buggers around, but a conversation with one of them was a thousandfold greater than any Zeltron.

he was about to speak up, but it seemed he was to break the silence, his belly slapped and reverberating, his... Fangs? Teeth? Tusks maybe? Well, they shuffled, imagine them being moved with his words as 'Uncle Narbo' as he put it offered the prize any good Hutt Lord would deal in, spice. Glorious, and plentiful spice. He raised a brow, a smile cocked behind his featureless mask as his crumpled voice spoke, "Well, my good uncle Narbo, I like to think of my body, as a sort of temple." He paused, turning around and procuring three items from his bag, intertwined between his fingers. The first. A clean needle, it's interior's clear and pristine as he tossed the pressure nozzle or whatever into his bag. The second was a long winding tube curled up and rolled. "You see, I need to keep my body, in what they call a top, or, 'peak." His fingers raised in bunny ears, the sarcasm might have been hard to come through the scrambler through his voice, but the next action he was sure was to sell the point home. The final item in question, a noxious liquid, the cap knocked off by a thumb and fell into the bin, it's pungent aroma quickly encasing the opening and rolling out like poisoned pollution as he capped the lid on a tube, rolling off a glove on his armour and injecting straight into him.

"Now, my dear Uncle Narbo." He quickly darted from his position, an arm wrapped around Uncle Narbo and swinging him around with an arm, back of his heel dug into the ground as an axis point to swing, his free arm left hovering in the air as some vile concoction of alcohol spilt and poured into his body. At least, he thought. To be honest, he had never tried this way, and not having the swishing liquid in his mouth was a rather obtuse feeling. "As for my time, you are a lucky man, because I, as it happens, all the time in the world until I meet up with the illustrious Gorba." He paused, tugging closer into dear uncle Narbo, discomfort was a key part of something he was doing he was sure. "Now, then, how do you want to kill time?" He continued a nudge and a pull as he looked around, eyes still surveying the palace floors. There really were just... just way too many Zeltrons.

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[member="Gorba the Hutt"]| [member="John Ash"] | [member="Arekk"]

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Throne Room

<My spies tell me things about you, @Arekk.>

Gorba took a long pull on the stem of a hookah pipe, then let the vapor flow out through slitted nostrils in a cloud that swirled for a moment before his face, obscuring the Hutt's scarred features.

<They say if I take you back you will betray me. . .>

Through the steam, the single orange-yellow eye stared at the Jedaii, black pupil slitted like that of a Krayt dragon.

<Tell me this is not so. Tell me you will kill for me, the One who will grant you all this.>

He waved a hand and behind Arekk there appeared three women of varied races, their svelte forms barely hidden by their sheer silk shifts. Each held an open chest in her arms. In the first sat a mound of purest carsunum spice, known to enhance the mind and body of those who partook. In the second lay a pile of golden coins: wupiupi, the currency of the Hutts. In the third lay the hilt of a lightsaber, but this was no ordinary blade. It was powered by an isotope 5 power cell and cost roughly the same as an estate on Cloud Nine. Beskar and phrik would melt like butter before that blade.

A king's gift.

* * *​

​

The girls laughed and the scent of pheromones grew thicker, stirring up lust in the eyes of those around them. Red ran a hand along Blackwall's back and whispered into his ear, while Pink, not to be outdone, slipped herself onto Ash's lap, ignoring his protests.

"What's the matter, got someone at home?"

[member="John Ash"]

* * *​

​

​

Four black eyes stared beadily at Narbo's new best friend, then he let out a laugh from the gut. "Oooh, u kulle rah doe kankee kung."

"Is good, no? Eh, pateesa," he drew the word out, "You've got the spice and now you're looking for a woman, yes?" He chortled. "I know a Falleen in the Pink Quarter, if scales don't scare you off, ha! What do I call you?"

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Arekk]

NAR SHADDAA​

Bareesh Kajidic's Pleasure Palace, Godsheart Quarter, Gorba's Throne Room​

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INTERACTING WITH: [member="Gorba The Hutt"] ​

Gorba was the smartest Hutt he had ever met and he proved that once more this occasion.

To send spies after Ar'ekk and check up on him every now and then was a power play he had expected, nobody leaves the Smuggler's Moon forever because it'll follow you wherever you go like a pest.

The Je'daii himself was no exception to an unforgiving underworld despite being catalogued as the Champion of the Kajidii.

Nevertheless, Ar'ekk lift his chin up and spoke out.

"I have come here, didn't I? To meet with you, not to kill you. I do not have death wish, betraying you would be very foolish. You consider me your most loyal servant and that's something I'll always carry with me."

The Hutt always had a way to convince people, this time Ar'ekk, and never failed to turn around a discussion. He knew that women dressed skimpily, credits and unvaluable objects such as the very much powerful lightsaber hilt presented before him were his weakness.

To say no would not only be a stupid decision but also who in their right mind would reject something like this?

"I wish to reclaim my title, your Eminence."

A king's gift indeed.

---

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[John Ash]

Whatever Red said to Blackwall as she rubbed his back got the middle aged man's attention right away. A quick glance towards his boss got him a nod. The old man deserved some fun now and then. He certain did enough for John to earn these little moments. But with the older man gone now, it was just John and Pink. The pheromones had to have picked up because he could start to feel his urges becoming more intense. The karking zeltron knew it too because she just slipped her way into his lap. Then she asked if he had someone back home. Typical Nar Shaddaa bar experience here, but this one was a professional at what she did unlike most of the others. This was going to be tricky.

John just looked at the woman for a moment then went back to nursing his whiskey. If she wanted to sit in his lap then she could. That didn't mean he had to play along. He did want to play along. Karking pheromones weren't helping any, but the main problem was the woman had a nice body. It had been awhile for him too since he had been so busy with everything lately. It couldn't hurt to give in a little bit....

A hand slide up the woman's thigh as John finished off his whiskey. He set the glass off to the side then pressed the woman's back onto the counter top. A starved kiss met her lips for a brief moment as he got a feel of her back side. It was only a moment though before he had her up onto her feet. He said to her after ordering another whiskey, " That's as far as I'm going right now. Come back after my business is done and you might actually have a fun night for once." With that he sent her along her way with a pat and began to nurse whiskey number 2.

[member="Arekk"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

Loadout:

Spoiler

Chasis Slot: Thraxis Armour Helmet Slot: Enigma Gas Mask
Cloak Slot: Phantasm Cloak Greave Slot: Thraxis Armour
Pauldron Slot: Thraxis Armour Foot Slot: Thraxis Armour
Melee: Cruciatus Blade Overcoat: None
Hand-to-Hand Weapon: Vambrace
Rifle Slot: DEMP Sidearm Slot: Pistolas
Misc: None

He rose a finger, shaking it back and forth, waving and pointing between himself and Tusk Toothed Uncle Narbo, he couldn't tell what language he was speaking, assuming it wasn't Huttish or Gammorean at least, but it sounded Jovial, and in a place like this, Joviality was half the atmosphere. "Well, Uncle Narbo, you bring up, a fantastic question." He shook his head, half contemplative and half sarcastically, "I would have to say. Naturally. Nephew Thraxis." He continued shaking his head, trying to avoid the elephant in the room, that being the offer for a 'good' time.

He turned, arm still coiled around his newfound family with a swing, pulling the duo down than up in a methodical pace, dipping just as the music dropped and paused as a new tune flared audibly. "Well, sorry Uncle, but I don't swing that way." He sighed, controlling the lead of movement, pushing through the crowd, his mask done something to control him, but as he bumped into a Zeltron, pheromones flared in united warfare, her's overpowering his, as a few traces amounts spilt from the confines of his mask. It was sickening.

A dark cabal of alcohol fumes mixed in a sickened dance with sinister pheromones. Aggression. Anger. Hate. It all spilt in a negative ball that was quickly overturned by the Zeltrons mind games, cleavage dropped and more skin than clothing washed past, settling the dispute of pheromones as a short grumble rolled from Thraxis mask, back through and past the crowd, as a noxious bubble of anger spewed from his mask in subtle tongues. But ti didn't help., eyes were caught and locked in an instant from a few Zeltrons in the room. It was their damnable curse to make others happy, the spewing toxins served nothing more than a kneejerk response, the room quickly livened up as they done their part, flaring and pouring out in gargantuan Waves. Thraxis didn't handle it well, his pace, moved, behind his mask a dark churned noise flared and gurgled, words incomprehensible as only the most brutish and grantee of words were spoken in a combined effort of Huttese, Gammorean and Common.

But he paced himself, getting to a bar on the other side, eyes locked on the barkeep in question as he pulled out a bag, credits poured out in disgusting clumps, snapped and attached together in that common perfume of the drunkard. He pointed, a flaring motion bouncing as his finger swayed between most of the drinks on serve. "Big keg. Mix them." He grumbled, turning on the chair to look at his newfound uncle, it wasn't the best first impressions, and his question had been lost on him as he tapped a finger on his mask, the toxic spew calming down in waves as his churned breath came down to a jovial pant. "What was the question?" His head shook in confusion hand pressed against his mask as he rubbed an imaginary chin before tossing the confusion away. "Right, women. Yeah no, not for me. Don't swing that way." he clicked his fingers, giving a few finger guns towards him as bad timing the mask's left eye flared off than on possibly pushing the wrong idea.
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[member="Arekk"] | [member="John Ash"] | [member="Gorba the Hutt"]