Open Ryloth Afternoon in a Spice Den

[Grigori Pyke]

The large underground Ryloth spaceport of Kala'uun was a major hub of the Ryll trade, legal and illegal. The stuff was relatively weak, but it made good money for the Pyke Family, and hence Grigori Pyke, loyal member, spent much time here. The saying goes that you don't use the merchandise, but Grig was not the best at that. A brief, lusty adolescent affair had introduced him to the stuff, and now he was a hopeless addict. At least it's not glitterstim, he reminded himself.

He was usually able to stay clean during work, but here he was, just back from a run, puffing away with a blitzed human smuggler unconcious next to him. A scowling Twi'lek indenture crossed around the dingy room with a tray of fresh Ryll. Across from him a Quarren man lay twitching on a cot. The owner of this nameless joint, a fat local woman with four lekku by the name of Imma, could just be scene through the screen of beads separating the room, data pad open. It was high time for business, late afternoon, just as people came off of shift. Hopefully, Grig thought, it won't get to crowded in here. At least few would mess with a Pyke.

 

[Del Nordo]

They always warn you about this. That somber moment when the place you work starts to feel a little too much like where you live. As his old and faded M-68 glided down the narrow streets of Kalaa’uun, Del felt a nauseating sense of comfort wash over him. The subterranean air was thick with the rank pollution of crime and depravity; and even through his breather he could detect the distinct perfume of home.

After tucking his speeder in an alley, Del stashed his excess trappings in the dash box, and locked it. No need for his personav, his badge, and hopefully not the binders today. Chances are he’d catch more trouble without a sidearm here than with, so the rough and tumble toys stayed, with the addition of a clear plastoid wrapped brick that would hopefully be the real star player today, which he slid it into his coat pocket. There was twi’lek with the sakes working the corner, and experience told Del to give him a decent tip if he wanted to see his speeder again; and who was Del not to trust experience.

A few credits lighter, the Kel Dor slipped through the rusted metal doors of Imma’s spice den before they had finished hissing open, and gave the panel a familiar tap to shut them quick, before to much of the outside light could brighten the place up and irritate the “locals”. He took quick stock of the room and was more than a little pleased to see a pyke at work. Times like this he was sure grateful for the poker face a rebreather and goggles granted. Del offered nothing so fool hearty as a nod, nor any greeting, but moved on to announce himself to Imma. There was a brief transaction, after which he pocketed a little giggle spice and went to make himself comfortable.

Once formality was addressed, he did just what anyone there would: sat down as far away from anyone else as possible, and produced a small vaporizer from a pouch on his belt. With a little lazy slight of hand, he reached into the same pocket where his giggle spice had gone, and produced a small bag of the same size and shape. This bag just had some giggle spice he’d swiped off a purp on Chandrilla a few days back, but at least he knew it was weak, and cut poorly. Del didn’t mind getting dirty, but he never played dumb. He slid the packed piece into the joiner on his mask, and a few seconds later a satisfying hiss of orange smoke drifted back out.

Nothing to do now but get comfy, until he had an opening to get the Pyke’s attention.

@Strabo

 

[Grigori Pyke]

Grig barely noticed the Kel Dor enter. His mind was muddled with Ryll and his Google's dimmed automatically when the man opened the doors. He did catch the man swap the goods for something, cheaper. That peaked his interest.

He pulled himself up, disturbing the human near him in her stupor and approached the desk to rent a (likely stolen) emergency blanket. "Imma dear," he crooned "might I rent a little warmth?" The fat Twi'lek responded, "Were not that kind of establishment, now." As she slid the crinkled silver sheet across to him. He then moved significantly closer to this Kel Dor, as he threw the thing around his shoulders.

He decided to risk it. Few would threaten a Pyke in a spice den, even an high one. He looked across at the man: "Careful that's not soap, friend."

@Del Nordo

 

[Del Nordo]

Nice work detective.

Dell was no Holovid actor, that was obvious. This fella caught him making a switch in his own pocket. Either that or the color was a dead give away. Silver lining was, either case says this Pyke ain’t just junkie, which means he must be in the know. None of that mattered though, cuz Del was gonna be made if he couldn’t think fast. Thankfully, that was more his forte than bad slight of hand; and he had a few good turns up his sleeve for just such trap.

He feigned a glance over his shoulder to good old Imma, who had thankfully gone about her business. Waving his hand to hush the Pyke, Del leaned in close and offered an affected giggle to sell the effect of his giggle spice.

“You got me, friend. Give me a break though, eh? I’m just trying to shop around a little, mixing business and pleasure, eh?”

A hopefully a little blood in the water might keep this sharks attention. It drove him wild sometimes how well a little money lubricated the rusty wheels of this miserable galaxy. But it usually got the job done, and Del was nothing if not willing to get the job done.

@Strabo

 

[Quetzalli]

The doors of the small spice den slid open and a feminine figure in a flight suit with the helmet blocking her face stood in the door frame. She glanced around the room before entering, which garnered her an angry shout from the den's proprietor Imma. The female pilot walked in, an R6 astromech rolling in behind her. The door shut behind her and she walked over to the bar where an angry Imma stood, arms crossed and glaring. "Well, you've royally screwed up girl." The large twi'lek growled at the woman. "First off we don't serve droids in here. Second you just pissed me off like you wouldn't believe. You're clearly not a regular, so get the kriff out before I rough you up and take you for everything you're worth." A large male twi'lek stood from his seat back behind the counter as Imma spoke.

"Now, now Imma. Is that any way to treat an old friend." The woman's voice was slightly muffled by the helmet, but Imma seemed to recognize it immediately as the twi'lek's face switched from anger to shock and then to annoyance. "Kriffing hell Quetzalli, why the hell do you have to be such a shleb? I have half a mind to throw you out anyway." The woman placed a hand on her waist. "Well, you certainly could, but I've never known you to pass up on a payday, Imma. And don't go throwing my name around like that. I don't care for any of your den guests to know who I am." The twi'lek snorted derisively, but despite this, a sly smirk slowly spread across his face. He slid a plate across the counter with a vaporizer and pouch of spice lying on it. "Well then, why don't we relax a bit before business, eh?" The woman stared at Imma for a second. "Who are you trying to fool Imma. We used to work together, remember? I know you try and get your business partners high before making a deal so you can swindle them without them realizing. Just get to the point before I walk out of my own accord."

The twi'lek frowned and put the plate away below the counter. "Fine, fine. I've got the stuff you asked for in the back. Follow me and keep that droid quiet. I don't want it bothering my regulars." Imma walked out from behind the counter, snapping his fingers. The larger male twi'lek got up again and took up Imma's spot manning the counter. Imma walked through the den around the various couches and booths to a door at the back. The woman followed, her astromech rolling behind her.

 

[Skelgok Desilijic]

Skelgok entered the rustic little joint without much in the way of fanfare, no conga-line of servants or mercenaries as one might expect from the Hutt clans. Instead, the young entrepreneur made his way slowly toward a small collection of participants while attempting to size them all up and read the room. To his surprise and luck, there before him appeared a Pyke speaking with a Kel Dor not far away and thus Skelgok began concocting a plan.

While he intended to win over the Pyke with a business proposal there was no denying his physicality would play a factor in securing the agreement. At near 4 meter height and some 1,300 kilograms, this beefy Hutt easily stood out from the crowd and would appear somewhat intimidating to the casual bystander. An alliance between a Pyke and a Hutt stood a much greater chance of ludicrous profit than trying to go it alone, although their business did not have to solely be smuggling spice if the price was right. Attempting to gain the attention of this potential partner, Skelgok dropped a large amount of credits on the table and waited.

 

[Grigori Pyke]

"You got me, friend. Give me a break though, eh? I'm just trying to shop around a bit, mixing business with pleasure, eh?" The Kel Dor seemed . . . off. Clearly wasn't a local, and what did he mean by business and pleasure? He was clearly just hear to get a high, probably a crewman off one of the freighters that came and went constantly.

Grigori took another hit of ryll and looked over at him, "I mostly just see pleasure. Don't miss your freighter, you don't want to be shipping out with some Zygerrian crook, been there." He laughed and took another puff, "What people would pay to have some leggy *scug* chained to them - who only wants to choke them out. I thought the legend of the great Huttslayer would put a damper on the practice, but it still pays." Another puff followed by a hacking cough, "Now spice, that's good business. It may *hack* try to kill you too, but its not it's fault, *hack* its just your own damn fault." He made a sound somewhere between a string of coughs and laughter. The ryll was really hitting him at this point, but internally he new that spice addiction was no laughing matter, especially when constantly faced with the temptation to break into his cargo hold on runs was nigh irresistible. Another hit, another wheeze.

Grig paid little notice to the smuggler type who entered next, while she spoke with Imma with some sort of familiarity, he didn't know her. Nice body though. Not the type to tell that to, also. Another puff, and he let out a long wheeze that seemed to be a high pitch whine through his mask. He leaned back his head into the wall and wrapped the silver sheet tightly around him. He failed to notice the massive Hutt enter the room as he shut his eyes and let the spice leave his system. He sat for what seemed to be a few minutes. He hacked again. Aloud to no one in particularly: "Look at me, I should be behind the counter running the show, not blitzed down here on the floor! *HACK* some child of Lom I am. I need a change *hack*" He head ached, and the high decreased, replaced by a nauseous gut and splitting headache. He heard credit stick hit a table, but he assumed it must still be that hot spacer. He let out a final choking wheeze and straightened his legs out. In a few moments he would return to a somewhat sober state. He paid little thought as the smell of Hutt slime filled his nostrils.

@Scott
@Xorism
@Link

 

[Del Nordo]

“Freighter? No, my friend, I think you missed the mark, I’m just a real estate guy who got lucky.”

Del could tell this Pyke was savy, maybe a little too *involved* in his work, but most were in this business. Speaking of, this Poke was definitely in “the business”, and left Del all the window he needed to keep inching forward. But not quite yet. There was a brief distraction as one of the most tactless criminals he’d ever laid his dark little eyes on stormed through the spice den like a hurricane. When he was a rookie, Del may have jumped at a collar that easy, but now he only release a small chuckle, which could just as easily have been the spice. Del waited until they had the room once more to engage his potential associate.

“Hold the transmission right there, are you saying you... you know... work with this stuff? I may overstep here, but I’ve been trying to unload some raw materi-“

Another interruption, this one nearly as audacious, but perhaps not as unwelcome. A young Hutt with money burning a fat greasy hole right through it’s...pocket? Del sat up on at the sight of the credits; the value meant nothing, but the opportunity, and the substance of his current ruse meant everything. This required a deft hand. The Pyke was good conversation, and a slow, lasting burn. A Hutt may burn hotter, but 10 times as fast. Del returned his attention to his original host, and spoke in lower tones.

“A Hutt, eh? Sorry friend, I lost my train of thought...say, you think grub is looking to invest?”

@Strabo @Xorism @Yuan

 

[Skelgok Desilijic]

Skelgok let loose a gaze across the establishment looking for other victims business partners when his eyes enigmatically engorged on the potential that the pair nearest him offered. With feigned reluctance the Hutt made his way over toward them, after collecting his stack of credits, back between his palms. Neither had directly spoken with him yet, but he could clearly read the air that his presence was noticed. Taking a deep breath, he began his sales pitch in Huttese before switching quietly to basic.

"Bo shuda doi Toi yikke, Hello from Nal Hutta. I am here on Ryloth looking for enthusiastic entrepreneurs with an eye for making serious credits, either as an investor or business partner. The job is pretty sensitive, so I'll have to know you're in before I tell you too much of the details but practically it's a courier job with maybe a little persuading involved. What do you think?"

Skelgok certainly wasn't about to trust two strangers quickly, but if they were looking for work he had a few things in mind that they could do together.

@Scott
@Strabo