Binder of Chains

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC

Ooooooooooooh
OOOOOOOOOH
Come see a Hutt move.
Flabby fat in a gig ‘n’ groove.

It's Perla the Hutt and then some!
She’ll write her own book someday.
About how to succeed in being a Hutt.
Kark, only such scum will read it anyway.

Memoirs of a Hutt—something such.
She thinks about it, finger to her lip.
Sitting on her throne, yup, on her butt.
But she's just as much here on business.

Perla the Hutt. It has a ring to it, it does.
She tells herself, doesn’t get told much.
Except by her thugs, and they’re scum.
If they speak otherwise, it’s their blood.

On her throne then, that gilded chair of Perla, the Golden Queen.
In her dreams, some say, for she’s no Nor’baal, who makes her blink.
He can make her blush, that one, and one day they shall become married.
She’ll give him an obsidian ring, a necklace of mynock tails, become his queen.

“YES INDEED”
She roars in her throne room.
Her chamber in her own casino too.
“I AM THE MOST MAJESTIC MAJESTYYY”

Slaps hands on armchairs, careful not to slam the wrong buttons because—

“WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH”

“Kymmmmmmm”
Finger-to-lips hmm.
“Accidentally hit the floor trap again…kyeh.”
Weequay screaming to the very end of his death.

Giving it a moment, his mistress gives into silence, looks left and right at minions.
They’re quiet, guards and slaves and jesters and pastry servers, each one listening.
Finally, after moments, there comes the roar of her best pet, Pug, the pretty rancor.
Tearing that deadbeat to shreds, likely eating his head, leaving bones for the floor.

“KYAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA”
How a Hutt’s mighty chest rises!
Her armchair has other surprises!
“SEND IN THE APPETIZAAAAAAAAS”

Good googly moogly was she starved, that poor Hutt—hadn’t eaten in ten minutes!
Her last meal consisted of eel, wasn’t slimy enough, so fed the server to her pet Pug.
Silence again, folks gulping in dread, wondering if the waiter will please his mistress.
And he steps in, but he isn’t an idiot, at least he hopes he isn’t as Perla’s fingers drum.

“What have you brought me to EAT!?”
The Ugnaught steps forth. “O Queen!”
She cocks a brow, already displeased.
“OH SHOW ME WHAT LIES BENEATH”

His hands shake, straining to hold the plate, lifting the lid off the tray.
And his mistress stares at him, and she leans in, and she licks her lips.
Deliciousssss… She snatches a squirming toad-frog or whatever this is.
Finishes, throws the leftover at her minion, slime sliding down his face.

“KYOHOHOOOOOOOOO—”
-Burp-
Another minion steps hereto.
“Queen, message for you,” quivers.

His voice is pathetic, that piece of bantha poodiddly doo, but he has her attention.
Sitting on her throne, Golden Queen, Binder of Chains, Captain of the Sable Chariot.
She can hear the purr of her engine like the soft whimper of baby Nunion in his dream.
He’s in bed behind her, safe and sound. “What’s this now?” An invitation. “Gravenell City?”

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC

Gravenell… City…
Sliding tongue over teeth.
Well, so to speak, at least.
Kym what’s this new trickery?

Perla the Great tapped a finger on her chubby chin as she wondered further on this matter.
The invitation was plain as day, also like that lemon cake the baker, what’shisface, made.
That was yesterday. Perla was still waiting on the new baker. The old one met a blaster.
Perla had to think because this message addressed to her did not have any sender.

No name. What’s the game? It was written simply: “Come to Gravenell City, my queen.”
Queen. That did make her smile. Queen of nothing, some would say, which was mean.
She was the Golden Queen on her own barge, at least, the Sable Chariot, her own ship.
But why the kriff should I obey this message? It smelled fishy. Or maybe it’s the Quarren.

Servants and slaves of all kinds surround Perla the Hutt, serving and servicing under her thumb.
From that Jawa cupholder to a naughty Nautolan who rubbed her shoulders, showing his love.
Oh. Wait. I forgot I fired that one. What she meant was ejected him from her ship since he stole.
Pretty sure he cried on the way outta the airlock. If she remembered right. Outer space was cold.

But it’s got nothin’ on THIS bitch. I’m the biggest baddest meanest MADDEST— “HUTT THERE IS”
Her arms raised to celebrate as her throne room fell silent and everyone turned to gawk at her.
Perla looked left, looked right. “...Er…what do you pieces of poo know about Gravenell? Spit it.”
-PWECH!- An Aqualish spat out his sandwich. “As in TELL ME ABOUT THE CITY OR YA BURN”

I’m surrounded by kriffin’ idiots. Poor Perla plants a facepalm. Hand embalmed in toadpaste.
She licks it. “Great magnificent and mighty Perla,” spoke a Rodian. “I shall speak in all haste.”
Finally. A karkin’ brain knows to not make me wait. “It is with great honor that I do so claim.”
Perla drummed her fingers beside some buttons. “To know nothing of Gravenell, I’m afraid.”

The sleemo didn’t even gulp. Time to turn ya into pulp.
“It’s in the Velusia system.” Interjected this one Human.
“On the world of Sevenmoon.” Unafraid, she was bold.
Held up her hand. “As per my datapad’s information.”

Perla debated that. It’s a pass. “...And?”
She pursed her lips. “That’s…all I have.”
“There is a shrinkage of Herglics in it.”
Spoke one Herglic off in the distance.

Well lick my nipples and call me Amidala.
“You’ll be getting a shrinkage in a minute.”
He bowed his head like a shamed bantha.
“Any ideas why this place wants me in it?”

“According to MY datapad,” said a Trandoshan man, scowling at that other woman.
“Gravenell City has a HUTT presence inside it. In a casino specifically.” He was glad.
“Oh? What is the name?” Perla shifted in her seat. I hate butt aches. Also, Perla is fat.
“I have the honor of being named Lukluk-Coco-Bazzmazz III, son of— WAAAGGHH!”

His scream ended somewhere between Pug’s chomping teeth. “So, what’s the name?”
The Queen’s throne room erupted in a chorus of tip-taps as hands dashed on datapads.
“THE CASINO IS CALLED THE POOL, MY SILVER LADY, O MY QUEEN, BINDER OF CHAINS”
Perla sipped on her Saki-Star, slurping yummy fruit punch through a straw. “And the Hutt, jackass?”

“HIS NAME” Came another. “—HER NAME—HIS NAME—HER—HIM—WAAAAGGGHHHHH!”
“BOBO THE HUTT. BOBO THE HUTT. BOBO THE HUTT.” The whole room went “PHEWW”
“Kymmmmmm…” Perla exhaled fruit-juice satisfaction. “Then the message is by his hand.”
-ARMREST SLAP!- “WAAAGHHH!” “Oops…accident…kyeh… Let Mama think this through.”

Assuming Bobo did send this invitation, why did he keep his name hidden?
If he didn’t, who did? Is this from an assassin? Who wants me dead though?
Kymmmm quite a few poodoos, actually. Maybe Bobo admires me. Smitten.
Possibility. I’m gonna need to ask around town first. To the casino floor I go.

“H-Hello!?”
“...”
Everyone looked around.
“Could someone help me out!?”
“Did ya’ll asshats just hear an echo?”
They shrugged, at least one picked his nose.
“Someone help me! I-I’m still alive only I’m very, very badly hurt!”
“...Ready Mama’s litter! And s’more Saki-Stars. I am gonna be THIRST—”
“H-Hello up there! Can someone call am ambulance I’m in quite a lot of pain!”
“—Okay excuse me.” Pressed a button, chair’s comlink patching to a guard at a gate.
“Yes, he’s down there . . . No, not dead . . . Hurt. Badly . . . Yes . . . Riiiiight.” Say good night.
-PHWOM!-
“Moving on.”

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC

Okay okaaaaayyyyyy… Things were going smoothly on Perla's way to her casino down under.
Down yonder, ahead, as servants did carry her in a litter, and they did so under pain of death.
They did heave and ho and they did grip the handles of the makeshift carriage lest lungs burst.
No matter, these slaves are cheap and easy enough to replace while they carried their mistress.

Oh and wasn’t she a sight to behold? No lipstick, didn’t need it, but she did have a straw to lips.
Sipping on some fantastic and delicious Saki-Star, her little Nunion safe and sound in her cabin.
His mother sure did have her ways of making sure her trust was ensured when it came to him.
Kidnappers? HA! It’d be the day. They’d make better headway kidnapping their own children.

“Where is the POG-CORN!?” Perla the Hutt demanded of her server as she sat her ass on litter.
Having arrived on her casino floor, navigating forward, her slaves negotiating their way further.
“RIGHT HERE, MY MIGHTY MIGHTINESS!” Offered Herglic as he held out a basket in his hand.
“...” Perla blinked down at it at him. “That’s popped rancor.” Looked delicious but isn’t her snack.

“I SAID POG-CORN” -WACK!-WACK!-WACK!- She didn’t need a cane but it sure did have its uses.
A dumb Herglic cried something something “RIGHT AWAY MISTRESS” to promptly return or burn.
“Past the pazaak,” Perla waved her hand. “And that sabacc.” She fanned a fan. “To the fighting pits.”
She commanded, slithering her sluggy tail behind her assless ass, accidentally slapping some idiot.

“ACH MEIN LAMEN” He fell backward.
“That the language of Tusken Raider?”
“Actually I think it’s Aqualish, mistress.”
“...” -SMACK!- There goes that doofus.

Into the fighting pits where Perla the Hutt was sure to conduct some much needed business.
At the entrance, most folks would shrink under the eyes of bouncers, but they look from her.
Look away. Their mistress grinned, licking her lips, sipping on her fizzy beverage, moving in.
Past the entrance, she looked from her litter to spy her little eye on a gambler, one Quarren.

He would surely have information on Bobo the Hutt out of Gravenell, that scum.
Both were scum, granted. And I’ll kick his butt if he lies to Mama Perla, oh yup.
“Take me forward TO THE CAAAAAGE!” She ordered. Then stared in surprise.
LATHER MY TITS! “What the hell’s my Quarren doing inside as if to fiiiight!?”

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC

“FEAR ME FOR I AM THE MIGHTY THOR” The Quarren roared to the audience from the ring.
His audience roared back, naturally, pulsating crazily, waving arms and even legs and whistling.
Oh, kriff my leathery titties. Perla would be having none of this, nope. She needed that Quarren.
Alive that is, not to fight. Why the mention of it? Some fights are to the death. This isn’t different.

Kinda gotta grant it. This is a Hutt’s ship. Wasn’t like every element of it was going to be all that legitimate.
If you wanted to box in a ring or to watch a boxing ring then you could go play or pay-per-view over there.
Fists would swing and maybe feet too and everybody would walk out winner or loser but it was all still fair.
Nobody would die (well unless somebody got mad and decided kriff it because Perla was only one to win).

This business? This pit she’s presently in? If you didn’t have business with it then you weren’t getting in.
It's a private fighting gambling thingamajig. It was Perla’s personal gig. And it was a fight to the DEATH.
Yet this was still her show and everybody knows that Perla the Hutt is magnificent and karking gorgeous.
So all she had to do was snap her tiny-digit fingers (which were too leathery to -snap-click!- with but meh).

Time to end this nonsense and get that KRIFFIN’ SHITHEAD QUARREN OUTTA THAT— Ohhhh slap my ass.
“Is that…” Head tilt. “It can’t…” Blink. “But by my beautiful bootiful buttery ass.” Slaps some random man.
“WAAAAGGH!” -thunk!- Doesn’t look as she hears him slam backward to the ground. Twists her mouth.
“That’s…that’s…no…nope…nupe…Mama Perla knows better than to invite such scum…” No way no how.

“Your Magical Majestic Majesty,” says some stupid nobody who’s supposed to be one of her servants.
Dumblet diplet diddily doodily more like. “WHAT IS IT!?” Still staring off into the distance at other person.
“Thor the Quarren’s opponent, Your Grace…” His tone was hesitant. Idiot. Should kill ‘im for bein’ nervous.
“Yeah? This sentence end with a name orrrrrr do you want to butter my bunions for the rest of the day?”

Given that there're no toes on her tail she supposed he didn’t want to do so.
“It is a Trandoshan named Hackh Hockh.” Dumbass said. “Ya cough? DON’T”
-WACK!- Hand slap. No one coughed in her presence. ‘Least he still stands.
“S-Sorry, Your Excellency, it isn’t a cough, but h-his name, is Hackh Hockh!”

“Kyummmm wummy-wum-wum and a yummy-yum WHO GIVES A KRIFF?”
“Your Gracious Grace, Your Excellent Excellence, Your Magical Majestic—”
“JUST SPIT IT” Still gazing into the distance at HIM. Can’t even believe it…
“Hackh Hockh was sent by him.” He pointed. “Owned by the Pyke, Mistress."

Oh. Shit. This suddenly meant business for her.
The fight was about to begin. Rivalry already did.
Guess my questions will have to wait. “Oh so be it.”
Gazes exchange. She waves. “Hello, Cul Laaster…”