Private A Feast of Flesh and Fortune

[Barzhura the Hutt]

✧ ✧
An Auction in the Palace of Barzhura the Hutt
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The palace of Barzhura throbbed with heat and decadence, torches glittering across mosaics of pearl and obsidian. Perfume clung to the air, thick and cloying, mingling with rising smoke. Beneath the lazy swell of music came another note—the piercing scream of someone tortured in a chamber beyond—woven into the rhythm like a perverse harmony.

Upon her gilded dais reclined Barzhura the Hutt, monstrous in her splendor. A diadem crowned her brow, spilling golden filigree down her sides like dripping chains. Oiled hide shimmered with wealth as she lifted her massive arms to welcome syndicate lords, merchants, and slavers.

"My children…" Her voice rolled through the vaults. "Eat. Drink. Delight in treasures beyond compare. And when the bidding begins, you will give me what I most desire—your credits, your fortunes, your proof that you are worthy of my table."

At her gesture, collared women emerged from the haze—silk-draped, chain-led—guiding guests through a curtained arch into a side chamber.

There, horrors and wonders mingled. Carbonite figures hung on the walls like grotesque art, faces locked in eternal terror, lit in emerald and crimson. At the chamber's heart, a wide bathing pool steamed invitingly, warm waters reflecting both the ghastly gallery and the gilded ceiling.

"Browse at your leisure," Barzhura purred, her smile gleaming with greed. “Bask in my collection. And if you wish, bathe in the waters I have provided. Refresh yourselves—indulge yourselves—for when you return to me, the true feast begins. The bidding will decide which of my children proves most deserving."

Slaves drifted among the gathering with goblets of jeweled wine and trays of writhing delicacies. Music swelled. Perfume thickened. Another scream rose high, a keen reminder of the fate awaiting those who crossed their host.

This was no mere banquet. It was a market of terror and indulgence, gilded cruelty at its finest. And Barzhura—bloated with hunger for credits—would not be satisfied until every last coin fell into her grasp.

— ✦ —
"Gold sings louder than mercy."​

Tags: Valery Noble

 

[Valery Noble]

Outfit: Smuggler Outfit
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

Valery moved through the haze of perfume and smoke with the ease born from years of walking into places she did not belong. The fitted shirt hugged her frame beneath the suspenders, sleeves rolled to her elbows, while the snug leather trousers bore faint tears from travel that looked as intentional as they were practical. A holster rode her hip, the polished grip of the blaster within view, a subtle reminder that she was no docile ornament.

Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, a dark wave trailing over one shoulder as she accepted a glass from a passing tray. The drink lingered in her hand, untouched, her orange eyes sweeping the chamber. Carbonite prisoners hung like trophies, their frozen terror casting shadows across the water's surface. The spectacle turned her stomach, but she let no flicker of disgust show beyond the casual exhale of breath through her nose.

She leaned a shoulder against one of the gilded pillars, letting herself appear as just another guest indulging in the opulence. Her gaze, however, never rested for long. Every scream in the distance, every shift of guards, every collared servant moving through the chamber was measured and filed away.

If Barzhura wanted her guests to bask in horror, Valery would oblige. Beneath the surface, however, her focus was already turning toward the work ahead. There would be a way to break this trade, to burn through the decadence and cruelty that filled these halls. She only needed to find the seams and pull.

For now, she lifted the glass toward her lips in feigned appreciation, eyes narrowing faintly as she watched the gathering unfold.

Barzhura the Hutt ​