Ask Felucia Rancorous Deals

Mordeth Anjiliac

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Illegal Rancor Auction || Felucia, Outer Rim Territories

Ever since the Empress of the Sith had declared herself Queen of Dathomir and stricken outsiders from setting foot on her sacred world, the rancor trade had taken a sharp nosedive. But there were still beasts out there if one knew where to look. And Mordeth knew where to look. Felucia was still in the Sith Empire, but on its borders, and far from the prying eyes of any of the Sith's major Lords and Ladies. Last she had heard, the Sith were in the middle of a tumultuous leadership upheaval anyways. A small rancor auction was beneath their notice.

But for Mordeth, it was a prize she could not turn down. Not when she had heard two bull rancor were up for auction.

Bull rancor were not like their smaller Dathomiri cousins. They were larger, meaner, but just as loyal to their owners as the Dathomiri breed. From what Mordeth had read in the auction brochure, these bulls were young, their eyes blindfolded so that they could imprint on their new masters. Now, the only difficult was securing them. And since there were two, she had brought along Perla, another member of the Hutt Council.

Nor'baal and some of the other councilors were not fond of Perla. She had no clan, no family name. Yet she had managed to claim an influential place in the Hutt Cartel. That made her interesting to Mordeth. The prospect that an alliance between them could both give them power over Nor'baal in the Council and annoy the big Hutt families in general delighted her. As the two Hutts were carried towards the auction on separate litters, Mordeth fanned herself, considering all this. «Gee uba lee chalya paupe canta bai wa peekasa, Perla?» she asked. «Bimapa jeejee logna hoohah, see pacmhanaduee.» @Die Shize
 

Perla the Hutt

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Mordeth the Hutt was a Hutt to be reckoned with, Perla the Hutt had heard, not least of which due to the former’s efforts on Mon Cala. Its residents were a bunch of pish posh piss pots but that wasn’t the point. Mordeth saw opportunity and seized it. She was not alone.

Perla knew her status amid her 'fellow' Hutts. They all but hated her for what she was and who she was not; a casino owner with no surname. If they knew how she was 'birthed' they would hate her even more. But, unbeknownst to those Hutts, was that this Hutt would one day rise above them all.

She didn’t know how but, somehow, someday, some way, the Hutts of today would become the Hutts of yesterday, and they would end up carrying Perla the Hutt's very own litter.

Perla had no fan, unless one counted those who carried her litter being her fans, and those who carried her fat ass better consider themselves her fans if they felt like keeping their heads on their shoulders.

“Hmmm…” She hmmm’d while approaching the auction, listening to the unintelligible sounds of crowded conversations and growls of beasts. It was...glorious. “A name, eh?” She said in Huttese.

“Maybe…'Kosard'? 'Noskuu'? 'Tesk'?” Perla had not considered many names yet. There was the obvious 'Desilijic', assuming she won Nor’baal’s hand in marriage of course, and win she would, him or not, one way or the other, win she would…

“Oh, you mean a name for the rancor, kyahaha!” That laugh came with a cost. A corner of her litter dipped just then, Perla’s excited tail having slapped a Shistavanen in the head. It was rare but she let her slave's insult slide.

“I’m thinking…’Pug’. And for you, Mordeth?” Perla was genuinely interested. She liked Mordeth, in what way a Hutt could afford to like another Hutt, anyway.


@Mockingjay
 

Mordeth Anjiliac

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Perla's mind was on marriage again. The Hutt woman was as obsessed with her lack of a powerful name as Nor'baal was. Maybe they were perfect for each other. Mordeth grimaced at the thought. The last man who'd tried to marry her got eaten by kath hounds. Purposely. She didn't do the whole 'sharing power' thing most spouses expected of one another. She was fine enough on her own. And she certainly wasn't about to shack up with the head Hutt himself, no matter how much wealth he accumulated.

But now she was the one thinking of marriage, when she should be thinking about rancors. «Dug in ting,» she replied. «Kopyaua doth andoba. Jee bimapa Jee hatkocanh gee bai neu fa koo.»

It wouldn't take long. Their litters were brought to a small Felucian village where the auction was being set up. Towards the back of a large pavilion were two bull rancor strapped down on large hover-stretchers. Their limbs were chained, their eyes covered as promised. They seemed perfectly subdued. She couldn't recall having ever seen a rancor in such a state.

The seats of the auction were full of Weequay, Quarren, even a few Zabrak, and a pair of suspicious looking Pykes. Mordeth and Perla were the only Hutts in the crowd, immediately drawing some eyes their way. Mordeth fanned herself. «Koucaue panpiht,» she said. «Jee dotmay mee poyen gee lee chalya uba biweoo phabeka bai doutmaya, Perla. Jeejee caiit yom bai cuemhaman bauh che heee.»

She tried to imagine the envy of the other Hutts when they came home with two rancor in tow. That one image was enough to drive her. Almost any price would be worth their jealousy.

«We're now ready to begin,» a Dug announcer said, hobbling up to a nearby microphone. «I am Patuush Binn. I will be your host this evening. We will begin with the first lot.»

With a signal, he had one of the two bull rancor dragged forward. This one was the same size as its companion but had fighting scars on it. This one had likely killed its siblings, a show of its might. «Lot Number One is a bit of a brawler. I'm told he killed all his kin and was found alone in his nest shortly after birth. He'll make a fine guard dog for any one of you slimes. And bidding begins at one hundred thousand credits.»

Mordeth turned to Perla in her litter. «Pea hatkocanh uba paknee ata? Tah bo, mo bu bapionh bo?» @Die Shize
 

Perla the Hutt

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Perla pinched her chin. Pug. Dug. It was a marriage meant to happen. ‘Jaw’ was just as well, if a tad too on the nose, perhaps? Though, sometimes the simplest of names was the best of names. Which means that “Perla” might need no surname at all after all. So, stand aside, Desilijic, kyaha?

The bull rancors looked entirely too…docile. It was obvious as to why. Wake ‘em up, watch how they put everyone to sleep. Horns like scythes, that one was clearly a male, and so large and great and large and great that Perla might just have to overlook all expenses and leap to the bidding right then and there.

Others stared her way, her and Mordeth’s, the Pykes in particular none too happy to see a pair of Hutts intrude on their game. Though, a free auction was a free auction, never mind the price of the rancors.

“My casino is a floating credit press, or will be,” Perla licked her lips. “Meanwhile, the competition will be pressing for credits once they witness two Hutts enter the ring—so to speak, kyeehee!”

As fond as she was of touching that rancor, she would have to get to know it first, and most certainly throw her enemies in the ring with it back aboard the Sable Chariot.

Mordeth turned to Perla, Perla turned to Mordeth, winked or strained to. Her eye started to twitch. She didn’t know why or how but that Shistavanen would take the blame for that too. Hmm, throw him in the ring first, maybe?

With that, she raised an arm, though a Hutt’s arm wasn’t long at all. The sign was though. Perla had crafted it herself, with a bit of help from her baby boy, Nunion. It therefore was kind of…crooked…but gilded her name no less and made the Dug ask the crowd for any rival bidders. Kyeheh.


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Mordeth Anjiliac

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So Perla would go after this first one. No skin off Mordeth's hide. It let her size up the competition. Or so the big Hutt thought. Perla raised her hand to put herself in the bidding and, to Mordeth's shock, no one raised a hand to raise the bidding price. Even the Dug host looked taken aback by this development. Did that mean they all wanted the second one?

«Going once for a hundred thousand... Twice... Sold to the big Hutt with the cone-shaped head!» the Dug shouted into the mic.

And just like that, Perla was a proud owner of a rancor. The Dug swiped one of his long, gangly feet and had the Felucians surrounding its hoversled begin hauling the beast to her starship. In the meantime, the second lot was just about to begin. «Joppay tah doth bimay, tanea see heee bakath caiot jot wata nem,» Mordeth said over her fan to Perla. «Kaa toupee mi bu Kacmaheatkhena noa-a koudana kolka bai doukhaia da wa coy see Yih gee dauah bacotohoda doi uen hahekahea.»

It should be easy enough. Between the two Hutts, there were enough thugs to eliminate the auction-goers. If the Sith investigated, it would simply look like a group of poachers fought each other over their conveniently missing catches. Mordeth didn't think Perla would object. The Hutt seemed even more murder happy than she was, and Mordeth wore skulls around her neck.

«The second lot is also a buck bull rancor,» the Dug host finally resumed, beckoning the beast's handlers to bring it forward. «More subdued than the last one, but this one has some teal-colored tusks that make it unique among its kind! And it is for that reason that the bidding starts at two hundred thousand credits.»

Mordeth made a sound that sounded like Bah! Perla had gotten the better deal. A fighter and cheaper. Mordeth got the pretty one—no complaints there—but for double the price. Still, where was she going to find another bull rancor? She raised a chubby paw.

«Going once for two hundred thousand!» the Dug shouted into the mic.

No one moved. All eyes were on the Hutts. Mordeth saw something there that she hadn't before. The Hutts had a reputation. The spectators were intimidated. Some of them angry. Now, she had another reason to kill them. Because they were likely going to try to kill her once she won her prize.

«Going twice! No one else? Anyone?» No one made a sound. The Dug sighed. «Fine. Sold to the other Hutt. The one who looks like a Tusken chieftain.»

She waited until the rancor's handlers were hauling the beast towards her starship before she nodded sideways at Perla. It was now or never. @Die Shize

-

A/N: Did a coin flip for both Hutts. Both landed on tails so no one got a competitor.
 

Perla the Hutt

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I WON! I WIN! I, PERLA, AM A WINNER! KYAHAHAAAA! After all, what Hutt did not laugh inside her own head?

“KYAHAHAHAAAAA!” Or out loud, for that matter and, rest assured, the head-shaking Pykes only made her laugh louder.

It was chump change; she’d earn as much back from a horny and drunk politician visiting her barge. Mordeth paid a little more for hers, and those teal horns did make Perla hmm-hmm, but their combined outcome seemed prosperous; Perla got a soldier for her Sable Chariot, Mordeth got a symbol of her own success.

To preserve it, her plan had not gone unheard. There were idiots about. Perla had no time for them. She had also not forgotten the Dug’s insults: “cone-shaped head” and “Tusken chieftain”. No way am I naming my pet after you, bitch.

“Time to redecorate your neck, Mordeth,”
Perla licked her lips. “GUARDS! WAKE UP!”

But, oh no, it wasn’t her guards who needed waking! Perla, see, had tricks up her flabby sleeve as well. What better way to prove the worth of her purchase than seeing it in action?

As the auction handlers carried her rancor toward her ship, her own guards received it, only to shoot the handlers down, wake the rancor up and quickly step aside. They would use the reacquired gear to put the rancor back to sleep—but not yet.

“KILL THEM ALL!” Perla declared.

“SWEETEST SUCCULENCE!” Her goons answered. So did her rancor, awake and roaring, and tearing through the crowd while his mistress cackled.

It would not go alone. At the very least, her thugs would support it with their blasters. All in all, the day's events would look like an unfortunate accident indeed. And I shall name you...Kinslayer.


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Mordeth Anjiliac

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Chaos. Chaos and stupidity.

Setting the rancor loose without having it imprint on its owner first was not at all what Mordeth had in mind. They were Hutts. They had brought paid goons and hired hands. They didn't need a barely blooded rancor to handle this problem. But Perla had set her rancor loose anyways. And the beast had no concept of friend or foe. Perla's was the vicious and violent one. Now they had to get the genie back in the bottle... somehow.

«Perla, pankhai mee—!» The words barely made it out of her mouth before the rancor crashed into Mordeth's litter, spilling the great Hutt onto the ground.

She scurried away as quickly as she could, but the men she had brought with her were not as fortunate. When her litter tipped sideways, her weight had crushed the men on the side it leaned towards. Those who survived were the rancor's deserts. One-by-one, it picked them up and ate them, along with any of the auction-goers unlucky enough to get in the way of the beast's feeding frenzy.

She couldn't order her men to finish off any witnesses now. The survivors were already running back to her ship, where her own rancor was being loaded up, its handlers oblivious to the carnage.

«Uba gee bai yoieu mee datka biw pankhai!» a flustered Mordeth shouted at Perla. «Fa naua konza ten tytung ree tah chalanh!»

She didn't wait to see what would happen next. Hutts were by no means nimble, but they could move when the circumstances required it. And Mordeth moved with all the speed her enormous body granted her. Her ship wasn't far. She just needed to outrun the rancor long enough to get there, or hope it was distracted with its meal. @Die Shize

-​

A/N: Rolled a d20 to see if Mordeth's litter got out of Perla's rancor's way. The roll was an 8. RIP to everyone who was carrying her.
 

Perla the Hutt

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They sure didn’t need that rancor woken up and set loose on the field, especially with those goons and thugs of theirs, but ‘need’ never factored into Perla’s psyche. What the unorthodox Hutt wanted was to watch her new beast tear everyone and everything apart, for the most part. No concept of friend or foe, she at least expected those foes to be in the rancor’s way and those friends to be out of the way.

Evidently, though, Perla’s assessment of her position on the auction grounds had been its own blunder. Having thought both Hutts and theirs to be on the perimeter of the crowd and her own ship off to the side, her rancor having a beeline toward the main crowd as its immediate meal, apparently Mordeth’s guards were more desirable.

“KAYAHAHAHAAAA— Oh.” The massacre was a glorious jewel to behold, or was until the chaos crept upon Mordeth’s litter. That much had not been Perla’s intention at all but such was the dice she tumbled when waking her pet up.

While her fellow Hutt began to scramble away, Perla’s litter was somehow still intact. The rancor had bounded into Mordeth’s beside her own, the Shistavenen who held Perla’s up torn between which was scarier, their mistress or that rancor.

“GO GO GO GO GO GO”
Mistress encouraged both her slaves and her pet. Her litter was marched away but too slowly. “I’LL DO IT MYSELF.” She leapt off her seat and began slathering toward her ship at warp speed. “BRING MAH BABEH HOME, KAYAHAAA!”

Just as well, she had seen enough to feel satisfied at how utterly devastating Kinslayer was. He had all but slaughtered the auction by now as Hutt hitmen picked off the leftovers. Perla’s minions had been gearing for this event. I should probably have warned Mordeth, kyeehee.

As Perla’s goons worked to recapture the beast with all manner of tools, the biggest was the tow cables from her freighter. Two shot for that bull rancor to hold it in place so that it could be sedated once more.

Sitting on the ramp of her ship, Perla observed with glee. The rancor resisted, naturally, but somehow started…to…pull…the freighter…forward… Only inches, mind, but the movement was undeniable even while sedatives soared for a roaring mouth. WHAAAAAAAT!?l!>!??!!?#$


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