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"we sell cake, beautiful, delicious sensual cake." she found her eyes wandering to the half dressed form of her pink companion and licking her lips, the old urges were deeply, deeply, suppressed, but they were still there." "to you we would sell companionship, love, someone to make your life a little easier, to another we might sell a chance to escape their previous life and become productive in a wider world." tell me you are a slaver, without telling me you are a slaver, she grinned to herself.
Her eyes caught the look of Gorba the HuttGorba the Hutt
looking toward their table with a lecherous eye. "Ooh, my Ithorian friend, it appears the large gentleman over there has taken QUITE a fancy to you." she laughed. "and how about you? What is your business. To tell you the truth times aren't great for our kind, what with the Ashlans taking Zygerria, but it is what it is, we evolve, we didn't get here by bot being able to adapt. I'd watch yourself though, with big your friend over there, the human one, not the hutt." she knew people werent stupid, this was he life after all, but little seeds of doubt could have power.
"Eesh." Jerec set the wine aside with a grimace. "Dial the femme fatale down a couple notches. I'm not a fancy speaker, Miz Dural, and between the drinks and the discourse I'm indubitably dizzy. Me, I sell personal ships, some speeders, some droids. I do independent shipping and I know a lot of folks who do that too. What I'm not interested in is slaving. So when you say you adapted, are you in the slaver game or aren't you?"
“SLEEMO!” roared Gorba as a slave Nikto interrupted him. When the fat human made to leave with the slave Gorba glowered at both of them, then made a shooing motion.
He reached out and pulled the Twi’lek stroking his arm close to his moist, mucous bulk, then he sipped on the straw of his goopy drink until it ran dry with a loud, obnoxious slurp.
It was a risk to come to Cantonica, a calculated risk on Lirka's part, but a risk nonetheless. The Ashlan Crusade and her had never been properly acquainted, and truthfully, she had rather kept it that way; Lirka had made some "friends" during her long years that she highly expected the crusade would not look kindly down upon and Cantonica was just close enough to make the Sephi a bit wary. But what was life without a little risk, it was Canto Bight: it was hard to want to miss out on an opportunity to make "friends" with the sort of people who frequented a place like that.
Quickly, things had decided to go not quite as planned: an argument at the doors of the casino had quickly burst out after the guards decided her massive great machete was most certainly not going to be allowed inside. After much back and forth between Lirka and the guards, she yielded. Leaving them with one small "threat" about the whole exchange.
"If I see so much as a single scratch..."
And with that she handed the blade to the man, the weapon being quite nearly as tall as him. Then stepping inside, Lirka surveyed the gathered gaggle of people, writing off those who were evidently just broken-down gamblers or much too wealthy for their own good. They were useless to her goals; it was time to hunt for some scum and villainy now. Making way to the bar, the beastly creature sat herself down. Whatever laid underneath that armor was well hidden, the only thing that gave way to whatever alien was inside the powersuit was the strange, thick, accent that honeyed her words as she ordered a drink. Turning to watch the masses now, a few strange sorts caught her eye immediately.
But for right now, it was simply time to lay low and see what opportunities presented themself.
His armoured frame leaned itself on the bar as the commotion unfolded ahead of him and an amused set of orbs beneath the T-visor witnessed with mild interest as the Hutt became infuriated in one moment and moved to a slave in the next. He identified the scar, the sound of that voice, that was Gorba. Loathesome creatures, and a loathesome creature himself Fett mused, but made for some entertainment once his ire had been earned.
He stifled a hint of a chuckle beneath the beskar, no noise came from him as of yet.
It was in dens such as this that Fett was at home. He was known from one side of the bar to the other, either avoided and offered a wide berth or flocked towards as if credits rained over him - not too far from the truth recent contracts considered.
Fett shifted his attention over towards the Hutt, next; "You're as friendly as I remember, Gorba." He wryly remarked, and slid a full drink across to the worm.
Things were starting to get a little tense in here, thought Rhiza to herself, she would leave, let the criminals fight amongst themselves. Maybe one of them would clean out the corrupt priest for her, although technically she should act to protect him if it came to him, as, despite his suspected actions, the Crusade was not corrupt, and they were lightsiders dedicated to making galaxy a better place, and, until his actions were proven, he would be treated as innocent. Mostly, by most people, maybe some people, probably not Rhiza.
She laughed a little as Jerec Asyr
spoke, "Sure yeah, I can dial it down, and yeah, it slaves, but I think I am going to have to call it a night here, between the Hutt roughing up my girl, and the commotion coming through the door, I should probably leave before I am forced to do something violent and upset the proprietor. Her, next drink is on me for wasting your time." She beckoned over a waiter and let Jerec order as she walked toward Gorba the Hutt
and Hemmel Baranthor VIII looking at the Twi'lek in the Hutt's rolling arms. Put cheetka down mo mee blow cheekta collar um u will be using do seive tah part cheekta lekku tuta do arms" she raised her eyebrows and held up the shock collar. The twi'lek looked stressed but didnt seem to understand that her captor was using the explosive strapped to her neck as a threat.
The hutt looked at Rhiza and the detonator then pushed the Twi'lek away with a look of contempt, as if deciding suddenly that this particular slave was disgusting to him.
Rhiza turned and looked at the priest with mock respect, "Father forgive me for this scene, here, let me give you a small donation to your church." she handed him a small rolled up piece of paper which to the casual observer looked like a credit note, but only Hemmel Baranthor VIII would see that it was parchment. As she walked away, if he chose to unroll and read it he would see the following.
You know who I am and why I am here. We are a force for good and do not accept corruption, there is only so much that the powers you serve will forgive. You have this chance to change your ways
We will be watching you
R D
(stamped with the emblem of the Ashlan Jury)
Rhiza walked her Twi'lek charge to the nearest public space port and turned to her, "I am sorry for my deception, this is not my life any longer, and nor shall it be your." she waved her hand and the collar fell away, then handed her a credit stick. "Here is enough credits to start a new life wherever you wish to go, you have a pass paid already that will take you to Ession, and from there you can settle or travel on. Here is you writ of freedom, if anyone sees your tattoos before you enter Ashlan space. Once you are there you no longer belong to anyone." the Twi'lek grabbed the credit stick and papers, then went to leave. But not before spitting in the face of the Zygerrian.
The eye narrowed on the bounty-hunter as the Hutt picked up the drink, sniffed it, then took a sip.
"Bo shuda. Alay tee-tocky. Kee chai chai cun kuta?" <Hey. Long time. What are you doing here?>
The Kajidic bodyguards around the Hutt eased up, removing hands from barely concealed blasters and knives, which they brought in probably against regulation.
The last time Gorba had seen the bounty hunter was oh... thirty years ago? Before the Silver Jedi and Bryn'adul ran the Bareesh out of Hutt Space. Back when he had restored the Bareesh name to one of glory and splendor. Now look at them. Shoving around some casino goers.
He offered the Kajidic men and their armaments little attention. His own remained on himself, too. Such was the case for one encased in Mandalorian armour. It was the deadliest there ever was.
"Bounties," Fett had the easiest to assume of answers, as believable as the truth as ever. "Someone needs someone turned into ash, or taken in alive; former was often better for them in the end."
His holster had contained a disintegrator, after all. If that spoke the parameters of the task, Koda neglected to say.
"But the Gorba the Hutt. I should have expected a grander entrance from the likes of you. Business bad lately?"
Gorba the Hutt
