Objective: Meeting at Arena
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: [First Reply or DM]
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Tags: [First Reply or DM]
If there was one sport that was more dangerous than Podracing would be the Ancient Old Republic Sport known as Huttball. The game pitted two randomly selected teams against one another in a no-holds barred attempt to gain possession of the ball and bring it into the opposing teams camp. Violence and cheating was actively encouraged in the sport which made it popular once again with the lower citizens of the Smuggler's Moon.
The Local Huttball Arena called "Bug's Buggen" was underneath the supervision and control of the Hutt Lord Zo'yo who ran a noticeable spice ring using the citizens at the event. The food and drinks served were liced with potent spice which would turn most sane people into struggling addicts begging for more and spending more money on the tickets. The First Match was already underway but that was not the actual focus for today.
A lounge had been reserved on the arena's higher levels for the "Pig of Nar Shaddaa" as he was known. A particularly obese gamorrean foreman who ran Gamorr Chemicals who often dumped toxic waste into water supplies without consequences. Reports of slaving operations underneath his chemical plants were a well known rumor that no one had the guts to take on. While a crime lord was dangerous, there was something even more threatening about a criminal who could commit crimes in broad daylight and no one would bat a single eye. Those who had any idea of "Justice" would be thrown to the wolves perse and sold to the highest bitter at the local brothels.
Gamorr Chemicals had recently seen its stock increase due to the crackdown by hutt enforcers, everyone wanting chemical substances to be turned into medicine or weaponries of mass destruction. Chief Operating Officer Poshrung would be up on a couch within the lounge, looking down at the arena as the teams finished their match with an even score. Although the crowd seemed to love every minute of it specially when they inhaled large amounts of spice. His 500 pound form rested comfortably without a care in the world as the smoke smell from his cigar pipe filled the air.
His ears turned for a minute
"Sir, your client is waiting outside"
The Service Droid stated, with a bow.
"Very well, send them in"
Poshrung replied in a robotic sounding voice due to having to use a translator to speak basic, having agreed to meet a prospective client within the arena.