Open Tatooine Mah Dan See Kung

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

The Bounty of Teth had been dormant just outside the settlement of Mos Espa for nearly three hours, as the ‘exalted Nor’baal’ held court in a vast Marquee erected in the barges' shadow. He had been listening to the chuntering of various criminals for much of the afternoon, and by now the Hutt was growing hungry, and that meant he was getting grumpy. Nor’baal Desilijic Fa’athra was not used to going without food for anything longer than an hour, and his Majordomo, a fidgety looking Sullustan, grew nervous.

Stepping forward, the Majordomo spoke in perfectly delivered basic ”His Serene and Most Well-Proportioned Excellency, Kajidii-Governor, Nor’baal Desilijic Fa’athra, Rightly-Elected Governor of Kessel, Most Merciful Tyrant of Teth and Potentate of Hutt Space shall take a short rest, to take libations.” with a flourish of his hand, the Majordomo had the area around his master's throne cleared, and food and drink brought in for the gargantuan Hutts meal.

Leaning forward from his hover-throne to take a wriggling morcel from one of the offered plates, the Hutt slurped and gargled, before letting out a great rumbling belch as he called the Sullustan over. <Jee nai bai natmahconza cay pacmona, cahcata mah lotka bai chapteceha an woy loee. Uba koee cahcata Benbepoka Kacdy don mah tadue bamibath, um ata heee see mecohpa.>

’Of note’...that could mean anything?! The Majordomo felt his heart rate increasing again, and he felt an urge to reach for his meds for the third time today. This Hutt was going to be the death of him. Relaying the instructions to the Hutt's Guards, he started to let a few ‘favoured’ members into the presence of his pernickety Master.

OOC: Open to 5S members.

 

[Burk]

<Ritke woy gahke la doth kacdy, an oto vo wa panbocn wahca apiua dah hoohah. Kaee bakenu che twa rulya, paknee ata twa kon.> the instruction from the Masters Majordomo was one Burk thought he could pretty easily follow. He liked being on Tatooine; the planet was a brutal and rough place, and that suited the porcine creature down to the ground. Regular brawls with the locals, strong drink and abundant food - what more could Burk ask for?

He muscled a few of the poorer looking criminals out of the marquee, before stopping short in front of one, a tough looking son-of-a-gun who had decided he would be staying. Burk eyed the man, a human by the looks of him up and down, and hawked a large smelly globule of spit onto the sand in front of him, letting out an all-too-excited squeal at the prospect of impending violence, as he gently touched the hilt of a brutal looking knife at his hip, before driving his tusked head into the objecting mans face. Following the headbutt up with a sharp knee into the mans now-doubled over stomach, he grabbed the man's right arm, and brought his knife out of its sheath and chopping down onto the objectors splayed fingers.

After the objector had seen his scream reduced to a whimper, Burk gently shoved him out of the marquee, and congratulated himself on a job well done. The short flurry of violence had served its purpose, as the marquee cleared out with a greater degree of haste, allowing the chosen few his master wished to dine with the enter unmolested. Burk took his position up next to his Hutt lords throne, and surveyed the area.

The day was shaping up to be a good one.

 

[Gurp]

Another day of guarding the Hutt Lorda was a good day for Gurp. He was born to protect the great one. As was his brother, who stood nearby and began to follow instructions instantly. Gurp was not as big of a fan of Tatooine as his brother might be. The younger Gamorrean preferred to be in a brisk, dark setting. This was pretty much the opposite of that. At least inside the barge some shadows could be found.

<<Noah wompa do blastoh unko, Burk.>> the enforcer grunted from behind Burk. Rather than get rough with the guests, Gurp stood back closer to his charge with both hands on his holstered pistols. The guests were properly intimidated by the display of violence and Gurp squealed quietly with glee. Pudgy facial features hid the shifting eyes observing the room for any trouble. First sign of real trouble would result in blaster bolts to the chest.

As things calmed down, Gurp noticed his brother quietly retreat back to the opposite side of the Hutt Lord. The pair were trusted bodyguards and would not allow harm to come to their master. The few remaining were at least not filthy scrap begging for a piece of what might fall from their exalted lord. Though some were still not trustworthy in Gurp's eyes. Part of him hoped one would make a bad move so he could prove himself while giving his Lord a front seat.

 

[Barnabus Poppington]

On Coruscant: Barnabus was slouched in an expensive leather gaming chair, one socked foot on the chair while the other rested firmly on his desk. He wore purple headphones which were filling his ears with the latest trends in Dathomirian Death Metal, his head gently bobbing up and down and in his hands he held a small minimature gaming device from which came sounds of blaster fire and explosions. On his desk sat a three-monitored Super Computer, which was currently broadcasting a dormant Pitch Black Live Feed connected to the holopad which his personal droid, r.s.v.p, was holding.

He'd forged some digital certification and had the droid shipped off to Tatooine to attend some sort of meeting or get together. It sounded important but honestly he'd just skimmed the message. All he knew was that whoever sent it was somebody higher up on the food chain of the Five Syndicates than he'd ever dealt with before and his curiosity just wouldn't let him roll his eyes and reply with an obvious Phishing scam. He had to know what was going on. And so, he'd sent his droid in his place. There was no way in all the void he was going to a dungheap like Tatooine, especially not without knowing if the illicit affair was legit or a trap. Another scream from his gaming device prompted Barnabus to fist pump. A new high score.


On Tatooine: A dusty looking land vessel arrived at the Bounty of Teth just as the marque was being set up. It's backdoor opened and from it walked a purple B1 Droid, which held a dormant forward facing holopad. It marched to the center of the get together before freezing in place. It turned on it's sound receptors and it's video feed and began to listen while broadcasting the images its eyes picked up to a second one of Hex's monitors.

The whole affair seemed pretty boring if Hex's was being honest. A bunch of people talking about deals and schemes. Deals and schemes he was making note off, obviously, but boring deals and schemes nontheless. It wasn't until he saw the Hutt that Hex actually turned off his game of Grand Theft Shuttle 5 and sat up in his chair. If a Hutt was involved then it was way, WAY higher up the criminal food chain than he'd originally anticipated. He pushed a key on his keyboard and the holopad in the droid's hands finally lit up with the image of a purple skull face made out of circuitry.

When the meeting was adjourned for libations, Hex used a small joystick on his desk to move the droid forward. He did not bring it close enough to the Hutt to warrant direct attention from it or it's guards, especially not after such a brutal display from it's gross henchmen, just close enough to get a better look and to observe before deciding how to approach the situation. Things were getting more interesting than he'd thought they would. His first proper brush with the real underworld, even if it was via Proxy.

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix sat cross-legged in a chair just outside the marquee examining those that had gathered with mild contempt. The Hutt's were on his shit list thanks to Durr, and this Nor'baal, didn't strike The Scoundrel as a suitable replacement. He was here as a representative of the Zaa Fenn under his alias Damon Kross and was dressed in his usual armor. He'd decided to don his helmet for a little extra anonymity, and protection, because as he assumed the gammorian thugs acting as guards for the supreme blob were itching for violence.

After the grotesque display, the criminals present seemed to lose their bluster. This was exactly what he'd expected. With a sigh, he decided to make his way toward the bloody marred grit. His hips were adorned by his heavy blasters and his hands hung loose and ready to let them talk if the gammorian's decided to get froggy.

Crix passed under the shade of the canvas and took a seat in the Hutt's presence. The only other entity in the space was a peculiar-looking droid. The Scoundrel made note of the droid, and then settled in for whatever parade of opulence was to come.

The Majordomo approached nervously, "Welcome, please provide your name and affiliation."

"Damon Kross, Zaa Fenn."

The Sullustan swallowed. "His glorious magnificence welcomes your presence. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Just let me know when he's ready to talk."

With that Crix relaxed into his chair and awaited an audience with the Hutt.

@Nor'baal @Oreus @homewrecker

 

[Pellios]

THEME​

This was as good of a chance as any to make a good first impression. Pellios had been in the game a long time. And this was probably the second, well technically third 'long time' the Devaronian had lived. So he knew it was perhaps good to not skimp on a gift to a Hutt.

Accompanying him was his droid, R7-L5, affectionatly called 'Ruthless' by Pellios' co-pilot Jannesa Lindall. The slugs had a penchant for eating things if they so desired. Rather than deal with having to deny a hutt something he wanted to eat, Pellios suggested the the woman stay with the Gackling Bandara. Of course she smiled and gave him a rude gesture almost immediately before whispering a swear that still made his ears burn. Now his friend and associate led the astromech who was pulling a hoversled laidened with a few crates. One held a hundred thousand credits with a few shiny trinkets that were probably worth a few hundred or thousand credits each. But the real treasure Pellios was paying tribute sat in the arms crate behind that. A score of heavy blaster pistols and rifles for the Hutt's operations.

"Welcome, please provide your name and affiliation." The Sullustan stated on behalf of Nor'baal. The Majordomo made an audible gulp as the silver haired devaronian approached.

The ship captain rest his left hand on where hilt met scabbard for the vibrosword sheathed on the man's left hip. He have a bow towards the Hutt present before replying and speaking in practiced Huttese. <"Greetings Exalted one. I am Captain Pellios Reverence, freelancing among the Five Syndicates."> His gaze looked towards the Hutt directly though noted the nervous expression on the Sullustan.

The Majordomo replied in Huttese with a similar response to the individual that came a few moments before the dapper scoundrel. <"His glorious magnificence welcomes your presence. Is there anything you need?"> Their large black eyes glanced at their boss for a moment as Pellios motioned for Jann to motion for R7 to bring the hoversled forward. <"Please accept this gift. I hope we can have good dealings from this day and forever more."> He continued to address the Hutt directly as an equal but with respect and compensation. It was important to establish these things early on, at least for now. If the Hutt grew in influence and power then there was nothing wrong in accepting a new boss. Upon saying his part, the crates that had been closed until this point, were opened one at a time by Jann to reveal their contents. It paid to advertise what kind wares he had available and the people in attendance would also maybe consider reaching out to do business with him after this event.

@Zay @homewrecker @Oreus @Nor'baal

 

[Barnabus Poppington]

On Coruscant:

Barnabus observed the interactions through his droid's sensors, the feed being linked directly to his computer screen. He ran the words that the giant slug spoke through a translation program and within seconds their meanings were displayed in Basic on one of his monitors. Syndicate members of note? Obviously that included him - why else would he have received word of this meeting, he was a damn prodigy after all. Barnabus waited however and piloted his droid to face and observe the first two that approached directly. The first walked with a natural born swagger and the other flattered with honeyed words, excellent huttese (which Barnabus also ran through his translation program) and most importantly - a gift. Barnabus wasn't typically a giver but he'd make an exception this once if it meant he could further his 'career'.

If he was to curry favour then he would have to give that disgusting slug some sort of present or tribute. That was easy enough to arrange. Barnabus moved his hand across the control pad of his computer and opened his files. Over the few jobs he'd done, he'd made sure to save some details that he had 'found' which he thought might prove useful in the future. Somebody's holopad password here. Someone's true name there. Little things that when in the right, or wrong, hands could cause a lot of trouble and provide somebody like Nor'Baal and his criminal network excellent leverage. With a swipe of his hand he began transferring that data to a microchip located within the holopad r.s.v.p was bonded to.

On Tatooine:
The purple B1 Droid seemed to reinvigorate itself and turned to face the hutt and the crowd that was forming. It calmly marched up to the Majordomo, who gave it a confused look before hesitantly speaking his rehearsed line. "Welcome..Please provide name and affiliation?" He felt stupid asking it to a droid but to his surprise the Skull Icon on the holopad began to move its jaw up and down in a rigid fashion, before a little purple light lit up on the side of the droids head, flashing in synch with the words that began playing through it's speakers as Barnabus spoke into a microphone. "Hex' it said, abrutly. 'I am a member of the Five Syndicates and i work with the Know0nes."

Hex opened up his translation program and typed in what he wanted to say. The Droid raised it's holopad to be facing the hideous slug before speaking again, it's voice notably more robotic as Hex allowed the translation program to speak in his place. "An Jee nan boht sanog" And just as it finished, a small purple computer chip ejected itself from the bottom of the holopad, prompting the Majordomo to take it. The droid spoke in a more human voice again, Hex once again speaking into a microphone "There is data on that computer chip which i have faith your proportionate excellence shall be able to put to a most excellent and malicious use." Barnabus cringed and rolled his eyes behind the screen. All this ass kissing didn't suit him. He was grateful that the droid didn't have scent receptors because he imagined the stink from that sentient pile of sludge would probably melt his nostrils out of his skull.

@Darasuum @Zay @Oreus @Nor'baal

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC

The doorman looked the Duros up and down like the latter was made of doorman. “Sir, are you of note?”

“Of note?” The Duros exhaled from a cigarra. “The hell does that even mean?”

“I…” Doorman cleared his throat. He appeared to be fumbling with saying ‘I have no idea’ and settled for: “Are you on the l-list?”

“What list?” By Tatooine’s tits I’m getting impatient here.

“Of…uh…of those…uhhhf note?”

“Not yet but you’re about to be on my list if you don’t step aside, pinhead.”

At that, Doorman stepped aside and Of Note stepped inside.

“Welcome, please provide your name and—”

“Jon Dromon. Bounty hunter. Employee of one Nor'baal Desilijic.” He shrugged. “Once upon a time."

With that, Jon stepped around Major Dumbass and addressed his boss directly. “You.” The Duros breathed out a cloud of smoke. “I got beef with you, Hutt.”

Jon didn’t expect to be shot on the spot—if he was then it was their loss—but if blasters were drawn then his own remained holstered at his hip, hidden within a grey duster.

“You owe me money, Most Esteemed Elected Symmetrical…Splendiferous…” Jon looked left, looked right, realized he was running out of words. “...Something-Something Excellent Excellency.”

A job was a job, a deal was a deal. It didn’t matter if Fatso couldn’t claim that one planet on account of a Mandalorian’s cruiser and a Ranger’s rocket launcher. In the escape, Jon went his own way, but his paycheck never came. That’s about to change.

@Nor'baal @Oreus @homewrecker @Zay @Darasuum

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

As per usual, Nor’baal ignored the good work of his bodyguards as they went about their calling of keeping him safe from the ever-growing list of individuals who wished him dead. Instead, the corpulent Hutt focused his attention on those who had come to see him, on those who wished to do business. One Damon Kross, of the Zaa Fenn Crime Family, entered, and Nor’baal wasted no time in ushering them forward. With an absent minded effort, he reached for his hookah pipes stem and took a deep guttural drag as he regarded the man.

As was commonplace within the circles of the galactic underworld, Damon carried himself with the no-doubt well deserved swagger of a gun-slinger, and the two heavy pieces on his hips looked worn with use. <Zaa Fenn, uba gee gee wa kouwoleue bacogna- che gahke!> the Hutt laughed, as a cloud of smoke lazily snaked out from his nostrils <Toupee mi, uba gee nan bahva douapkag awela, nobata?> he assumed, arrogantly guessing that the man was seeking to jump ship.

<"Please accept this gift. I hope we can have good dealings from this day and forever more.">

The Hutts attention was drawn almost immediately to the freelancer, and more importantly, the crates that came with him. Briefly, he rested the hookah in it’s stand, and wriggled, waving his pudgy free hands at the crates like a child pestering its parent for sweets. Quickly, a sample of what was within the crate was brought forward, and Nor’baal examined it more closely. Chuntering something in Huttese to his Majordomo, Nor’baal was quite clearly over the moon with the tribute as the Majordomo garbled “His Excellency is pleased with your offering Captain, and wishes to know if you have a record of dealing in more profitable cargos - spice, weapons and the like?”

For a few more moments the Hutt wriggled and undulated with glee at his gift, chuntering away in his guttural language before, after several minutes he let out a laugh, which had the same unpleasant sound quality as a bantha being carved open. Nor’baal had seen, and heard, Hex’s introduction. A gift of a data chip from a slicing collective? How original! he mused, as he accepted the gift, before noting that the droid had not madea request of him in return - what a bargain!

Next, his attention moved to the most vocal of his patrons, a man he recognised as one Jon Dromon. The Hutt fiddled with his hookah pipe as the Duros approached, anger plain to see on his face. Gently, his Majordomo leaned in and whispered into his masters earn “Dromon, your most furciferous of fiends, from the Llanic job.”

Ah, Llanic. A world over which Nor’baal now could consider himself Lorda of its Criminals. Having been met with an ineffective opposition, the planet's underworld had fallen rapidly under his thumb, and its wealth and tribute had made him wealthy, well - more wealthy. Of course, Dromon had never collected his payment, and so Nor’baal had kept it.

That was just good business.

“I got beef with you, Hutt.”

<Moi? Nor’baal did his best to look shocked, and quite possibly affronted.

“You owe me money, Most Esteemed Elected Symmetrical…Splendiferous..Something-Something Excellent Excellency.” the Duros was not happy. The Duros was also armed, and an armed Duros with a grudge was never a good thing.

<Jee wamma jakola see camai moulee rah, an jakola see camai wamma mi moulee rah. Uba lwaa dayan bai doth cuee bmalewe.> he retorted, indignation clear in his voice.

 

[Burk]

With the Master settled into his throne, the business-talk, which Burk had little understanding of, would now begin. In his customary manner, the porcine protector settled into his position, and drew his ax - a vicious looking vibro-weapon - holding it in a guard stance, his beady eyes scanning the room for anyone getting a little to smart.

Several of those approaching the Master had weapons, but this was not unusual in the Hutts line of work; indeed, it would have been more suspicious had they approached unarmed. Of all the ones who approached, the Zaa Fenn agent, and the angry Duros were two Burk swiftly identified as potential trouble. Why? Well - one was Zaa Fenn and he had seen them in the news, and the other just omitted anger and frustration.

He growled slightly at the Duros, and narrowed his eyes.

 

[Gurp]

On the opposite end of the large Hutt from Burk, Gurp settled into position as over watch of the room as well. The only real difference between the two was that the younger Gamorrean did not draw a weapon. Instead, his hands rests on the grips to his pistols at his hips. This made them easily accessible if any trouble brewed. Almost like some cowboy with a quickdraw. Except it was a fat, stupid guard.

The Duros who began to berate the Hutt certainly gained attention from both Gamorrean Guards. Gurp halfway started to draw his pistols as he watched the exchange. His Lorda did not seem too phased and asked for clarity which made Gurp slowly let the pistols settle again. He did not relax fully as he watched the exchange further.

A soft grunt escaped to make sure the Duros knew there were guards ready to end his life on any bad move.

The others in the room were largely ignored by both guards it seemed. That was good for them really. None of them seemed to post much threat or be causing issues. All of them remained in the peripheral vision though as the main focus remained on the Duros.

@Die Shize @Nor'baal @homewrecker @Darasuum @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crix smiled from underneath his visor as The Hutt teased him. Deciding it would serve him best to play along with the charade of pleasantries he stood and bowed before making his introduction.

"Thank you for the recognition, O magnificent one," Crix said. He slipped a small pack from his utility belt and presented it to Nor'baal. The Majordomo approached with obvious apprehension before taking it from his hand.

"My gift, while small, is one of great expense. I present his immense greatness with a variety of tabac thought to be lost to the galaxy. Please enjoy this strain of Carababba."

Upon hearing that the packaged he was holding was tabac the Majordomo relaxed noticeably. "Perhaps in the near future, we will find use for one another."

If The Hutt had nothing else to say to Crix he'd take his seat at the table and await the conclusion of the meeting. He wasn't interested in listening to the rest of the group's reasons for being there. He'd done what he'd set out to do and at first chance, he'd make an exit.

That was until the Duro showed up.

No one liked a hotshot with a short temper. For this guy to think he could stride into The Hutt's domain and demand anything told Crix everything he needed to know about him. While the Duro had his focus on Nor'Baal, The Scoundrel eased his RSKF from it's holster obscured by the table and quietly removed the safety. If this moron so much as twitched for a weapon, Crix would not hesitate to put him down.

@Die Shize @Nor'baal @Oreus @homewrecker @Darasuum

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

Jon might have been a nihilistic gunman but he was no idiot. He could have waltzed into this chamberpot blasting bolts or insults. His entrance was a little aggressive, maybe, but it wasn’t suicidal, whether it got him killed or not.

The gunman’s was no grudge but a grab. Holding a grudge against a Hutt, especially this one, generally led to flayed feet, broken bones and guards gambling over what came next.

“Llanic. You got yours but I didn’t get mine. We parted ways. Jon didn’t get paid.” He blew smoke, and though certain sissies in the room would do otherwise Jon Dromon had no intention of blowing his up a Hutt’s ass.

“But I know who I’m talking to: Nor’baal the Hutt, Lorda of Desilijic Clan, Tyrant of Teth, Leader of Llanic and now Governor of Kessel I hear. You got a good gig going, Your Most Illustrious…Luminous...Legacy.”

Jon wasn’t mincing words but neither was he being sarcastic. Nor’baal was addressed day and night in so many capitalized nouns and adjectives that this little Duros had trouble keeping up with which ones to use.

“Look, you owe me money, I owe you work, maybe to collect from those who owe you money. Whatever it is, I’m sure a great Hutt like you can afford to pay my way. I ain’t an expensive bounty hunter. I just ain’t a cheap bastard.”

Jon shrugged. “Or we can throw bolts and grenades and more than me will die today. You wouldn't be the first Hutt to try to kill me, but likely the most successful."

That wasn’t false flattery but fact. Nor’baal was as gross as he was gross, as fat in proportion as pocket, so basically a Hutt, but no Hutt was as active as this one. Hutts. Don’t cross ‘em. Don’t be crossed by ‘em. Move along, move along.


@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

"Thank you for the recognition, O magnificent one," Nor’baal had already taken a liking to this newcomer, who seemed well versed in the decorum expected in the court of a Hutt Lorda. His gift was a fine addition to the Hutts growing humidor, Tabac being one of the Hutts more preferred hedonisms at this hour. Waving his Majordomo over to collect the packaged Carababba, the Hutt was about to settle into an afternoon of smoke-infused relaxation, when the Duros kicked off again.

The room tensed as the Duros allowed his anger and frustration at Nor’baal to get the better of him. Guards grunted with anger, and various scum let their hands drop to their sidearms as if waiting for the Hutt to signal his displeasure in a more practical way. Meanwhile, the corpulent Hutt sat in his repose with a look of shock on his face, shock and….horror?

<Haku?> Nor’baal reared back in his throne slightly <Uba nan bakanu beeska mu-moolee doi mi?> his massive head shook rapidly as if the Hutt couldn’t quite believe what was happening <Kava pihoha uba seoduah Jee hatkocanh woy hee mebenbe bargon cay bu bacaka see uba? Doth bolla doi mah bamibath!> Nor’baal huffed with indignation.

Gently, the Hutts protocol droid leaned in toward its master and whispered, Nor’baals eyes narrowed. <Uba pihoha geh 'wopka' nei, an wuona cay tah ahson, droida! Jee hatkocanh gee uba puna puna joniu che cohka!> the Hutts tail lashed in anger.

The brass neck of this Duros, coming to his inner sanctum and demanding that the illustrious Nor’baal pay him what he was owed! The gall, the audacity!

Yet perhaps this Duros was correct? He did use the man’s services on Llanic, and even though the Duros had taken his sweet time in coming to collect the payment, he was technically owed it. Nor’baal settled on a course of action and reminded himself to place a collection cut off on future contracts.

<Ree tee kung. Uba lwaa doth pacmant.> a threw a bag of currency at the Duros with a little too much force <In ting Jee lwaa toupee jewz ku sinsonkaee see mee see mee lhee an kantauanla, Duro!> his added, his Kowakian Monkey Lizard punctuating its masters statement with a piercing cackle.

 

[Burk]

Burk huffed audibly when his master calmed down. He had been looking forward to breaking a few of the Duros’ ribs - yet now his master had decided against a violent course of action, Burk was denied his fun. Rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as he tried to get over the missed opportunity to exact extreme violence, Burk continued to star at the Duros and drool.

 

[Gurp]

Trust was hard to earn in this business. Gurp knew his master wouldn't kill a hunter in the open here. Perhaps another time the Gamorreans would get to rip it apart. The currency bag throw was at least satisfyingly aggressive. More of a tease for the real thing, but it was better than no violence at all. Hands relaxed from the blasters at his hips for now and crossed his chest casually.

<<Naga je tah take droi neechu?>>

A hopeful look was on the pudgy face of the Gamorrean as he addressed the Lorda quietly. The protocol droid nervously looked between the two but didn't seem to say anything. Droids were cheap, but Gurp didn't know what the supply of protocols was currently in the master's inventory.

@Die Shize @Nor'baal @homewrecker @Darasuum @Zay

 

[Xol Zaa Fenn]

With the brewing chaos inside his own Syndicate, Xol needed a break. There was too much going on for the Bounty Hunter to celebrate and be merry. However, that wasn't going to stop him from relaxing himself.

The Tognath strolled into the little party area, with a large sack slung over his shoulder, just as a Duros was making a deal with the Hutt Xol worked for. Now more than ever, Xol wasn't sure what to think of the Great Nor'baal. Yes, he helped put a target on the back of the White Lion which put a target on the backs of every member of the Crymorah Syndicate, but Nor'baal had also given Xol work, money, and purpose- all of which were growing hard to come by these days as the noose slowly tightened around Zaa Fenn.

Xol was having second thoughts about assassinating the Hutt, believing that maybe Nor'baal could bring prosperity to the lone Tognath. So, as one of the Hutt's esteemed employees, Xol entered from behind the Duros. Though Xol had always fantasized about the legendary Cad Bane, his partial bias towards the Duro wouldn't change due to the rising tension Xol could sense.

<"That means beat it, Forehead."> Chuckled the Bounty Hunter from behind Jon after Nor'baal finished the conversation. Surely he wasn't here simply to start trouble- Xol had seen enough of that. Besides, it was the Tognath's turn to talk anyway.

<"Greetings, Exalted One. I brought tribute during my travels on this planet."> Xol set the sack down on the floor and whipped it open revealing a juvenile Krayt Dragon skull. This sucker had tried biting off one of Xol's legs, so Xol punished it accordingly. <"You can hang it on your wall, or something, or add it to your throne. Or if you don't want it, I can keep it and kill something else for you, instead."> Xol's tone was very solemn and downtrodden as if killing a giant sand beast was nothing. The Tognath wasn't prideful, however, as he was kind of depressed about his current situations with the Syndicates. His bored tone was not meant to be insolence as Xol was simply sad.

@Nor'baal @Die Shize

 

[Jon Dromon]

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

Apparently Nor’baal the Hutt was not as good with listening as he was with lusting. Shame. We could have had a rewarding relationship, the kind where two individuals don't need to like each other to get along.

An angry and frustrated Duros, Jon Dromon was not, but fearless to the point of death, unconcerned with joining the kiss-ass squad by bowing to a Hutt, and evidently too forward for his own good, well, Jon Dromon apparently was.

He had come to get paid, yes, and wasn’t going to take to a knee to earn his keep, but he had given his own offer of how to get paid. Nor’baal rescinded, having no desire to employ the Duros bounty hunter, but such was life. I’ll have to find another employer. Plenty out there. Not all of them are Hutts.

Jon caught the bag with a tilt of his head. “Fair enough, Your Excellency.” He looked from the cackling monkey-lizard to its master. “I was willing to get the payment you hadn’t yet given by giving you a job I hadn’t yet completed but, well, this works too.”

Slowly, ever aware of the guards and goons surrounding him, Jon reached into his coat and pulled out a small gilded object. “Catch, donut.” He tossed it toward Nor’baal’s protocol droid.

“It’s a music box,” Jon confirmed as he sucked on a cigarra. "Genuine model, no hologram, she plays for fortune. Reminds any being on any level that life is just a song and a dance, short-lived, but legacy lasts for eternity. And I hear she once belonged to Durr the Hutt."

Jon shrugged. He expected a number in the room to interpret his speech as threatening. “Tribute. Trinket. Take or leave it. I’ll take my leave.” He wouldn’t do so with any grudges held, even though a Hutt held plenty.

“Outta my way, Scuba Steve.” If the Tognath didn’t move then he would be moved aside as Jon Dromon made his exit. Time for a new career. I hear the Pykes are hiring.

[EXIT CHARACTER ATTEMPT: JON DROMON]​

@Nor'baal @Charles