Black Collar Gala

[Aela Talith]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Xin Boa"]

"No no." She told the Nautolan as he attempted to get away. "You're going to meet our new Hutt friend."

Aela felt a little bit bad about this, the man was just trying to have a good time and now he was attempting to leave...but she needed a buffer. A big part of this was not drawing too much attention to herself, and she hoped that this Nautalon would serve as a suitable way to draw focus. It was a bit silly, and she would have to drive the conversation a certain way...but generally one could get Hutt's interested in pretty much anything as long as they used the right language.

"Come along." Her grip softened just a little, but she pulled Xin in the direction that the Devaronian had indicated.

As they went along Aela glanced at everyone they passed, her eyes sweeping over different figures as the HUD-G's on her face photographed them all.

Eventually the Alliance would match the pictures with names, a database would be created and then faces would be put up on posters. She wasn't here to arrest anyone, far from it, instead she was here to identify. The Alliance had been fighting the One Sith or the First Order for so long that crime had always taken sort of a back seat, now that peace was falling into place it was time to change that. The Underworld needed to be brought into the light.

Slowly the small group approached the Hutt and his feast.

 

[Xin Boa]

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]

Why he had to be taken to see the Hutt he had absolutely no clue. Was this a sting? Xin wasn't important enough to be picked up for anything. The bounty Yulon had put on him was a problem, but it wasn't large enough to attract a powerful Hutt's personal interest.

Xin looked for Hirrau without turning his head. He didn't want to give away that he was here with other people. The nikto was taking part in some animated conversation, but turned to look at Xin seeing the hand he was being forcefully led by. The nikto followed from Xin and the blonde to their destination. Breaking away from his conversation he gave Xin a pointed look. In reply the nautolan have a barely perceptible shake of the head.

Hirrau had to return to his important talks, but before he did he made an attempt to draw Kinsey's attention to the concerning situation.

They were brought before the Hutt himself. Xin started sifting through his memories to try and recall as much Huttese as he could. Xin didn't like relying on translators more than was necessary. On the fringes of civilisation it was Huttese rather than Basic that was the language of commerce after all.

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Judah Dashiell"]

The cybernetics in her fake brown contact lenses took a quick picture of the second man who refused a free drink at a party. Interesting. At least he was a lot less rude about it than the old man with the body guard. And she was doing her job. Mingling for the fleet and looking at potential clients, supporters, and enemies. And actually being a waitress.

Then again, after this, the fleet might make her stick to engineering and piloting only.

Ha.

"Are you hungry at all, sir? Got a tray of goodies coming out next. Sweet or salty tooth in you?" Voice trailed off as she caught Hirrau's stare-down across the room. The Nikto's eyes flitted subtly to the left before making contact with her one more time. Just as quickly, he refocused his attention on the group he was talking to.

What the kark...

Brown-eyes gave a casual glance around the room as if waiting for the cigar-smoking man's attention. Didn't take her long to see some blonde woman. [member="Aela Talith"], leading [member="Xin Boa"] by the hand to see [member="Gorba the Hutt"].

Aw feth. What had Xin done now?

 

[Yaadri Osi-Yyn]

The Red Tower,
Point Nadir.

Venthis snorted. Continuing to glance outwards, he would chuckle quietly. An assassination? What a coincidence. Assassinations were Venthis' forte. At this point Venthis' sanity was almost non-existant. Though he had a method to the madness. He turned to her with a thin smile present on his face. "Funny for you to say that." He said in a soft tone of voice, eventually continuing. He would lower himself down seemingly to tie his shoe lace, secretly pressing a button near the sole of his boot.

He wanted to know more of this woman, she intrigued him. "Who are you then?" He asked, squinting at her face for a few moments. "Who do you work for?" He said in a lower level of volume. His green eyes would flare slightly, with his square face keeping locked onto hers. It was clear he was a Zambrano, if you were to know the description of them, you would instantly know that he was indeed one of them.

While Venthis would come across as slightly creepy, this was completely unlike him.

[member="The Major"]

 

[The Major]

In the Red Tower, where the sheep should not lie​

​

Creepiness. It was a curious thing. Subjectively, it was supposed to cause a crawling sensation on your skin. You were to be repulsed and disgusted when you spotted it happening. Maybe you curled your lip at it, or arrogantly assumed you were better than such things. Objectively, it was that which clashed with the typical and accepted protocol of society. In a galaxy as far and wide as this one, there were a lot of different protocols of society.

The Major operated on one of these plains as an outsider looking in, always learning more and more everyday. From this perspective, she was easily in tune with such things as the macabre, the morbid, and the classically grotesque. She respected these concepts and their affect on people. That said, she also realized that most of it was a presentation. An illusion. It was an elaborate hoax, and often covered that which truly held no depth once one penetrated the dank mire.

She gave the pale man a knowing smile, peering into his green irises, looking past them while her own eyes appeared to take a deeper shade of blue.

As if she was here to give out information on herself. Ridiculous.

Turning back to the various species dotting the dance floor, she responds to his questions in timber both mirthful yet spiteful as well.

"Who am I? Why, a guest -like you.
Who do I work for? Why, for myself. Don't we all?
Names, titles, don't you ever wonder how pointless they all are
when we turn to forgotten dust on the breeze?"

The woman waved a hand and then pointed at what seemed random. She landed on [member="Aver Brand"] and [member="Quietus"] .

"Take, for example, those two. What do you think of them: walking around like they own the place. Will they leave a blip on the annal of history?"

A wide, teeth baring smile stabs upwards on the right side of the Major's cheek. She was dying to hear how this Gothic fellow would process and react to everything she just said.

[member="Venthis Zambrano"]​

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Kinsey Starchaser"] started to speak about snacks, as if reading his mind about the crab puffs. Eyebrow arced a little, wondering why the waitress was so interested. Unless she was something else. Her eyes danced about the room, taking in those gathered. Excited? Bored? Looking for a friend? It was difficult to tell.


"Excuse me, Miss?" A pause. "Are you my personal concierge for the night? Going to follow me around with that tray of food?"


Stale finger foods weren't high on his list.


"I could go for a nerf steak. Forget the stuff you're hauling out of the kitchen. Got a recommendation? I don't even know where I am....scratch that you have a recommendation and a speeder? You drive, I pay. You can't be having that much fun here."

 

[Aver Brand]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"]

“As charming as your father, I see,” Erida bit back with words instead of teeth, ignoring the dessert proffered by an arm encumbered by lard.

Lord, she hated these creatures. So filthy. Mouth, mind, body. Still, they were part of this business. Teheron was born into it, and damned if she wasn’t one of the best. Not that this overgrown slug had ever appreciated her skill.

She’d moved on to greener pastures since then. (Greener with spice, at least.)

“Come to beg for scraps on our doorstep, Gorba? Or have you resuscitated that dying corpse of a cartel daddy dearest left you with?” Her black gaze wandered the room before returning to his one good eye.

“I suppose hell did freeze over for a while.”

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

She didn't take the cupcake.

Her loss.

Gorba stuffed it into his mouth and swallowed, licking his lips with an overlarge tongue. Other kingpins might've been concerned about being poisoned at such a function, but Hutts were notoriously resilient to most toxins. Superior genetics, he supposed.

"If it was a corpse, you think I'd be here?"

Hmph. No, he'd have gotten himself adopted into some other kajidic, like a sane Hutt. Kazbog could yammer on about loyalty to the family until the Vermilic filth put a bolt between his eyes. Gorba had already lost enough in the name of family.

"While you're here, why don't you set up a meeting for me with your master? The usual place. Mwa droida bunno bunna droida."

In Hutt Space, the "usual place" meant the station of Rorak 5. The kajidics used it as a place to meet third parties and consequently it was deemed a neutral ground. Anyone who tried to cause trouble on the station would deal with the Clan of the Ancients, or what was left of it anyway. After the Black Sun, the Republic purges, the Red Ravens, and the Black Ties, the Hutts were finally beginning to regain their rightful territory. They just needed time. Time and allies.

LeFrange was coming back now. The sleemo wore a smug expression, which Gorba found tolerable. He had succeeded in his task, it would seem. The woman and a Nautolan were in tow. Very good.

"We will discuss debts owed later, Teheron," he waved a dismissive hand and sludged toward [member="Xin Boa"] and [member="Aela Talith"].

LeFrange smiled obsequiously and made the introduction, "This is the Great Gorba."

He should have brought Brutus. At least the Klatooinian's servility was not feigned. "Bo shuda. Ah'chu apenkee?"

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] | [member="Xin Boa"]

This would have to be done carefully.

Hutt's were, on principle, slimy, gross, and disgusting creatures that most people in the galaxy abhorred, but they were also intelligent. For thousands of years The Hutt had ruled large swaths of the galaxy, either through the criminal underworld or direct oversight. They hadn't done this out of stupidity or laziness, they had done it because a large portion of the species was incredibly clever. They were lazy, there was no doubt about that, but they were also smart.

Aela knew this, she had met more than one Hutt and all of them had been no slouches, at least when it came to their minds. "Elizabeth Sabine Castille."

Her tone was even, neutral, her gaze falling directly on the Hutt himself.

Miss Castille had never been famous, she'd been an Underlord within the Shadow Syndicate and had made a small name for herself in the trades of spice and prostitutes. She had a reputation for being incredibly fierce and even violent, preferring to act as her own enforcer on many occasions. The woman had been an oddly perfect fit for Aela to take on as an alternate identity, and at this party it worked out even more. She was well known enough to get in, but not reputable enough that most people would know her name.

At least not yet anyway.

Her hand pressed slightly on Xin's hand, prompting him to speak.

 

[Aver Brand]

“Here has corpses in droves, Gorba. Though admittedly few of such… corpulence as yours.”

Ordinary people would at least offer the attempt at a smile with such remarks. For Teheron, it was all a surfeit of effort.

The Hutt certainly didn’t deserve it.

“You will be considered, Bareesh. And remember,” she plucked a flute of something pale and bubbly off a passing tray, “Nadir knows no master.”

Just as she had come, Erida Teheron disappeared back into the crowd. Perhaps to speak to her employer. Perhaps to simply… enjoy the evening.

Of course, that would require that she possess the capacity for enjoyment.

You’d have better chances hearing [member="Gorba the Hutt"] say ‘please’ than seeing her crack a smile.

 

[Quietus]

There was something to be said about watching Qui scowl. Aver felt her lips twitching at the corners, and lifted her glass in time to obscure the amusement. The former queen didn’t always find situations quite as grin-worthy as the merc.

“And the tiny menace didn’t agree,” she filled in the rest. Despite her efforts to the contrary, years of visits had inexorably accrued. She knew Dahl in broad strokes – certainly well enough to envision how that had gone down. Plenty of screaming. A fight too, probably.

“Because he doesn’t fly into a rage every time you prickle his hackles?”

Aver carefully ignored the first bit. Unless [member="Quietus"] pressed, she wasn’t going to elaborate on the slave cage part. It wasn’t a conversation for a fine evening.

Frankly, it wasn’t a conversation for anytime, ever.

Arathul's rage is a tempered one. What he lacks in drive and in understanding of what he wants, he makes up for in cold calculation and forethought.

Quietus deposited the empty flute on the tray of a passing Waiter, deciding that one glass was quite enough for the evening.

By the time Dahl has accrued a great enough following to take over, he'll have figured out what he wants. If he wants to lead... the woman's brows lofted in consideration of the very bloody war that would result in, well, they'll cross that bridge when they get there.

Or they'll blow it up if it wasn't already burned.

Either way, the title is his birthright more than it is hers. His father was the first great visionary of the tribes.

[member="Aver Brand"]

 

[Aver Brand]

A broken wrist. A pair of creeps getting it on next to the window. The unmistakable gravity of a Hutt – Teheron? Blue eyes snapped back to that scene. Curious. The representative rarely approached people she didn’t consider worthy, and the slugs rarely even licked the lower end of that scale.

Something to ask about. Later.

Her wandering gaze returned to the blonde at her side. “And the idea that your children might murder each other over a throne… doesn’t bother you?”

The merc had learned years ago that [member="Quietus"] had a peculiar view on motherhood, but this was harsh even by her standards. Hell, even by Aver’s standards. Of course, Aver also didn’t have any children of her own, so the comparison was pointless at best.

Being an involuntary aunt was more than enough.

“Not Lucien? I thought back then…” she waved a hand, brow furrowing, “you were triple dipping?” The confused brow quirked then, lips curling into a hungry grin.

“Damn, Qui. Karking insatiable.”

In other words, the pot who kept five lovers called the kettle black. Was it still hypocrisy when you were aware of it and just didn’t care?

 

[Quietus]

Truth be told she didn't know how she felt about her own children killing one another off. Up until recently (a term she used very loosely in the grand scale of things) she'd only had one child. Despite being the son of a corrupt and powerful Sith Lord, he'd turned out alright. Eating darkside stars and performing self-alchemy not-withstanding. But now she had four children, three who might actively partake in the culling of the bloodline at any given moment.

This was another one of those uncharted territories for the ex-Queen of the Onderon wilds.

She'd cross that bridge ... well, you know.

Quietus did not deign to answer the first question, deciding to eye Aver over the last statement.

Please, a barely perceptible roll of her eyes as she dipped into her clutch for her stash of Sten. Pulled the first roll out only to realize moments later she'd not brought a lighter. Well feth.

He's not mine.

 

[Aver Brand]

Wordlessly, the merc reached into the inner pocket of her suit and produced the overkill lighter Qui had encountered on previous occasions.

clink clink chk

Aver held the tall blue flame a ways away from the tip of the sten, lips still quirked in amusement.

As heavy purple smoke began to curl around the pair, the merc pocketed the lighter again. Cute little weapon, that.

“The only blond kid ain’t yours?” She snorted, slowly sipping her own drink. “That’s a damn miracle. So who made him?”

 

[Yaadri Osi-Yyn]

The Red Tower,
Point Nadir.

Who cared? Venthis thought in the back of his mind. Though, this was the place for that. He was here to start relationships, not the opposite. His eyes caught the pair before he would nod his head. He thought of a response for a moment, turning to her to mask the time it took to produce an actual response.

"I'm sure they've done something in their life that will be remembered by... someone." He said, completely against his true beliefs. Venthis was a prince, he realistically believed if you didn't hold some form of rank or title, you were a nobody. "Everyone leaves some sort of lineage, behind." He would move his hands up to behind his head, to ensure his bun of hair was in tact. "Though, I feel like you were avoiding my questions." He finished with.

His hands would move back down to his sides. His eyes would continue to follow the pair, before they would find their way to a Hutt. He'd only heard stories of the Hutts, though seeing one explained all of the stories.

[member="The Major"]

 

[Zark San Tekka]

"Assessment?" Ifan murmured into his drink, not even glancing back over his shoulder at the Trandoshan bodyguard standing by his side.

"Four guardssss, well armed, on high alert," Hakar hissed in a likewise hushed tone, "Open hit on prey inadvisssable. Not here."

The Prince nodded subtly, processing this new information as he continued to cast furtive glances in the direction of [member="Gorba the Hutt"]. The two had witnessed the crime lord's entire encounter with the more diminutive woman, and although they were too far to have overheard their conversation, there had been much information ben-Mezd had gleaned already from body language alone. So the Hutt had more potential enemies than just his organization to contend with on Point Nadir, Ifan mused. He would have to make discreet inquiries later on after the identity of the woman who had just stormed away from a seemingly tense encounter.

Gorba was known to him by name alone, and his organization only by its reputation, but historically there was no love lost between the Exchange and the Hutt clans. Of course, there had been the occasional armistice, even temporary alliances over the centuries, and both enterprises had risen and fallen several times over in the interim. But at the heart of the matter, was that trademark Huttese sense of superiority. The overgrown slugs would not allow for a galaxy in which they were not the kingpins of the underworld, an understandable concern for the Prince and his predecessors. Then there was the style in which most Hutts ran their operations, loud and with a lot of collateral damage.

Whereas the Exchange...the Exchange preferred to manipulate from the shadows, or hide in plain sight. And when they chose to act, it was often with surgical precision.

Another pair approached the corpulent crime lord, a young human female and a Nautolan. Hakar's tactical assessment had been most astute, any open confrontation with Gorba and his lackeys would be a dangerous proposition for ben-Mezd and his Trandoshan protector. But there were also the larger concerns at play, namely the very large Houk bouncers on Point Nadir's payroll who didn't take kindly to guests carrying out any personal vendettas...at least in designated sections of the shadowport like this one. Not to mention, Ifan had not yet decided if making a move on one of the Kajidics so soon would be a wise course of action. Better to bide his time, perhaps gain a little more information first.

"I need you to take a message," he turned at last to the heavily armored reptilian mercenary at his side, "to one of the Hutt's men. Tell them a representative of Salvatrucha humbly requests an audience with the mighty Lord Gorba at his pleasure."

"Are you sssssertain?" Hakar's eyes widened slightly in surprise, "For the hunter to make himsssself known...it is most unwisssse when hunting dangeroussss game."

"I live for dangerous games," the Prince smirked, and then his expression darkened, "Go. Now."


[member="Aver Brand"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Xin Boa"]

 

[Nor'baal Durga Bareesh]

Nor'baal was late; and as he barged his way through the crowd that tended to gather outside the VIP areas of pretty much any event in the Galaxy, he was in no mood to be any later. <Why am I surrounded by idiots?> he bellowed in Huttese, almost universally ignored by the press of people around him as he approached the door. <Any slower and you'll be a slug....> he trailed off in his outburst, aware of the irony of his statement as one of the Huttese speaking door wardens raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, ignored them and merely waved his invite in their face - before being waved in himself.

The Hutt Broker had gone all out today, making sure that he was dressed in most opulent jewels, with temporary tattoos on his face and arms, with a great chain of luxury stones and metals about his neck. Running from each nostril and to each ear, smaller chains sat - in his eyes marking him out as a Hutt of means. He was a paragon of good looks and desire; to Nor'baal, that was obvious. The looks of revulsion on the faces of the bipedal guests clearly supported his claim.

Discretely, he approached his Cousin, @Gorba and offered the customary greeting in his native Huttese, before taking up his position to the left of his Kajadii; slightly behind him so as to appear subservient never the less. Today was an opportunity to meet people, make friends and forge deals. As his eye was caught by the gambling screens on the walls...it seemed it was also a chance to make a few peggats...

 

[Kinsey Starchaser]

[member="Judah Dashiell"] [member="Xin Boa"] [member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Aela Talith"]

Growing up, her doomsday mother warned Kinsey about running off with strangers from parties. Kinsey hadn't listened the first time and gotten mighty karked up. A.k.a Sith napped. This man didn't seem the dangerous type. Though, looks could be deceiving. He genuinely seemed bored.

And he fell into the role of assuming he had a personal concierge quite easily. Was he karking loaded or something? Could be a good connection for the fleet. Or she was about to be in deep nerf pooh. If Judah was the nefarious type, he'd see more than the unsuspecting waitress real quick.

But first Xin.

"Hold that thought. I see someone who looks thirsty." That blonde uppity-up holding onto Xin. "Be right back. Kay?" Eyelashes were batted in Judah's direction to maintain interest. Was that how this stuff worked?

She was rusty. Oh feth it.

Turning on her heels, she made her way toward Aela and Xin. Tray of drinks in her hand. Going at a normal pace, she went to casually bump right into Aela from behind. Tray full of alcoholic beverages might spill and splash all over the woman and any nearby. It was crowded.

And Kinsey would swear up and down she was pushed.

Regardless of what happened with the drinks, hopefully it'd be enough of a distraction for Xin to wiggle free. Kinsey was probably about to be fired.

 

[Xin Boa]

[member="Gorba the Hutt"] [member="Kinsey Starchaser"] [member="Aela Talith"]

Her hand pressed slightly on Xin's hand, prompting him to speak.

If Ms. Castille had been thinking of taking this interaction carefully she had another thing coming. Perhaps she had felt confident in her ability to strong-arm the twi'lek, but this one didn't like being told what to do. In fact Xin didn't like being forced to do things against his will at all. He was a fiercely independent man and had always had trouble with authority figures.

She had a firm grip on his hand that he doubted he could physically break without making a scene. Or perhaps having her break his wrist. Little jolts of pain still shot up his wrist from his thumb and back again. When he couldn’t see an immediate route out of the situation he still wasn’t about to bend over and do as he was told for no good reason. He couldn’t remove his hand, but he could alter his grip.

Xin tried to weave his fingers between hers or at least give the impression that they were holding hands amicably. He gave a respectful bow towards the Hutt.

“Great Gorba, I am Xin. I am merely Elizabeth’s partner.” He turned and gave her a look of innocent adoration.

That was when Kinsey managed to catch the lip of her tray and spill drinks. Hopefully that was enough of a distraction to get free.

“If yuh have ruined Elizabeth’s corset yuh’ll be paying for dat girl!” he grunted. This time he made a more determined effort to tug his hand free so that he could go and take the waitress back to her manager.

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Castille, Castille, hmm, yes. He thought he remembered the name. Very... spirited.

The Hutt's eye wandered up and down the blonde human's body before drifting off elsewhere as introductions were made. Oh look, Nor'baal had arrived. Unlike his brother, his cousin was immensely valuable for the intelligence his hub of infochants provided. Gorba considered him an Asset with a capital A. But seriously, did he really need to wear all of those chains? He looked like an advertisement for a jewelry store.

Suddenly a waitress tripped, spilling alcohol all over Ms. Castille. Gorba's eye bulged, nostrils flaring, and he pointed at the servant.

"Seize her."

Two Vodran bodyguards stepped forward to grab [member="Kinsey Starchaser"]. Pretty enough. Perhaps he could buy her off [member="Aver Brand"]. Whatever the case, she would pay for the insult. The manner was yet to be determined.

His eye wiveled to look at Elizabeth questioningly. "You are the victim." He said in Basic, loathing the language even as the words rolled out in a guttural tone. "You choose the punishment. I will pay the hostess."

[member="Xin Boa"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Nor'baal Durga Bareesh"]