The Rising Blood, Falling Flesh, and Enduring Soul (COMPLETED)

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Aboard a modified and Hyperspace rigged Seltiss-2 caravel...
Exiting Hyperspace in non-specific neutral territory, before an unidentified Space Station...

"Sssslut..." A flick of his fatty wrist cause a barbed cord to ripple quickly through the air to slash open the bare back of his last dispensable slave. He - since the Hutt had difficulty telling genders apart - essentially naked, and chained to the floor for the Hutts personal enjoyment. Surrounding his Throne - like a proper Zambrano - were numerous fallen slaves, all with the markings of various tools, items, and other oddities that the ancient psychopath found amusing. The living slave howled in pain as the barbs penetrated through his soft vulnerable fleshy skin, and wept a cry when the Hutt motioned to remove the weapon out of his back, bringing with it fleshy bits and the congealed blood of a dozen other victims.

This wasn't done out of malice however, no the Hutt had nothing against slaves, or people in particular for that matter. The being within the Hutt just enjoyed seeing flesh opened up for his examination, due to his intrinsic fascination with the biological aspect of the universe. More than that though, he enjoyed watching people writhe in pain, for the simple fact that pain was interesting to him. Pain was indicative of death, but people were wild when they were in pain; they appeared most alive when pain is induced, and life is the truly boggling mystery of the universe at large. However, there was something he inherently just could not understand: death. He was very curious about, experienced more than his fair share too... yet some how he was perplexed by it. People were afraid of death... as if it was somehow the end of everything... that it was to be respected. The Hutt did not understand this, and thus did not respect it. He was no more respected for dying four hundred times than a person who died only once, and from his experience death only made people more alive. So then... was he four hundred times more alive than everyone else?

He whipped the slave again, and the blood leaked freshly upon a floor drenched in the blood, already coagulated. It poured out of his body with tiny pools forming where the droplets fell, and running down towards the grate below the Hutt's throne: making tiny streams move around dried clumps of flesh stuff. The scene was exceedingly gory, and for the slaves still useful and alive, it silenced them. "I'm sorry, that was harsh. Words like that are meant for lovely people, and we are just friends. I suppose I just got carried away in the fun! " The gurgling laugh of the Hutt traveled through the dead silent barge, answered only by harrowing echoes and stifled moaning wimpers.

Moments later, the space station in the middle of no where (likely a shadow port of some kind), hailed the barge in a state of slight confusion. A Hutt Chariot like this one was never an interstellar vessel, only ever used between Nal Hutta and Nar Shaddaa, and the space station was awfully far away from Hutt space. The slave co-piloting the vessel received the hail and very bravely in a hush tone explained the situation. They were trapped in a ship with a psychopathic murderous Hutt that went by the name:

Zambrano...​

​

Spoiler

OOC: Okay, I hope that was an okay introduction! So just a little background so I don't fill the IC with useless information that Zambrano wouldn't care about enough to observe; this Space Station is near enough to Sith space to have heard stories of the Zambrano's, and fearing the worst has sent out a distress beacon. I specifically made sure I didn't make mention of where this was exactly as I wanted to make sure it was open as possible, but it is remote enough that travelling to it will be kinda out of your way.

But perhaps you're an opportunist hoping to pillage whatever is here!
Perhaps you're a good guy just trying to help out some distressed people!
Maybe you're just a dark sider that wants to wreck some havoc in the name of Zambrano's everywhere

I hope to make this a fun and enjoyable experience

 

[Digo Odel]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Digo sat in the tiny droid repair bay of his ship. Wires and circuits young from his head and shoulders like tiny constrictors as his big hands manipulated the microspanners to fix his utility droid. His yellow eyes squinted as a stream of brown viscous lubricant squirted him in the cheek.

He sighed. He leaned his hunched form back slightly and rose from his stool then pulled a rag from his pocket To wipe the oil from his face. He shook his massive head and turned to go to the cockpit to grab his tool kit. He passed a port hole and paused to enjoy the swriling blueish cloud of hyperspace breifly before smiling to himself and shambling along with a bit more bounce in his heavy step.

He stopped in the cockpit the large viewport not unlike a TIE fighter in configuration. The holodisplay still paused on the middle of little Hutt on the Prairie. He didn't know why he watched it when Blargh Trek was on but he did. Good thing he could record one while the other was on. A tiny red flashing blip on his communication suit caugjt his eye as he picked up his tool belt. It was the emergency band...not good.

He quickly hit the switch and listened to the message before springing into action. He probably would be too late. What if he did more harm than good? What if he couldn't help at all? He didn't know. He hit the button and brought up the coordinates then made an emergency hyoerspace exit before inputting the destination to the navi computer. He watched as the ship snapped into realspace and then quickly made the new jump. He didn't know what he would do, but everyone deserved help when they ask right?

 

[Sage Bane]

His face obscured in shadow, the brown hood of his robe lifted over his head, Sage Bane, Jedi padawan, made his way through the unmarked shadowport, carefully cutting through the throng in search of a special target, a Bothan glitterstim supplier named Urootor Kallos. It was a mission he had been given by his Master [member="Rexus Drath"], to apprehend the fuzzfaced scumbag who was responsible for a large amount of drugs being trafficked through Ession space. Sage himself was a former minor drug lord of the Ko Hentota cartel and had been apprehended by the Jedi Knight Drath on Nar Shaddaa, and given a tough choice: Jail or Jedi. Sage, a former slave himself, wasn't about to be caged again, so the Force sensitive young man reluctantly chose the path of the Jedi.

Meeting Sage at the spaceport was [member="Armand Temi"], a fellow padawan from the Ession reformation who had been chosen for this mission as well. As Ession spies had spotted the diminutive Urootor travelling through the shadowport sans backup, the consensus was that this would be an easy mission for the two padawans. The instructions were to nab the Bothan, slap him in stuncuffs, and grab the first shuttle back to Ession so that Urootor could be swiftly prosecuted and dumped in jail. Getting this kind of vermin off the streets would be a boon to the people of Ession.

As he walked through the shadowport, looking for his furry prize, a large vessel parked in one of the docking bays caught Sage's eye. The sight of the what was unmistakably a Hutt sail barge sent a shiver through Sage's spine. The former slave had been chained to two different Hutts for ten years before he had managed to gain his freedom, and the young padawan had a deep-seated, white-hot hate for the slugs. Sage knew that this type of emotion wasn't the Jedi way, but his seething hatred was so ingrained, he involuntarily clenched and unclenched his fists at the sight of the vessel and nearly forgot all about his Bothan target. All he could think about was those poor misfortune souls on that barge and how badly he wished he could somehow help them.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

The slug slithered slowly down the rampway of his Chariot onto the distressed station, followed by a very small concession of guards. His hovering Throne still had bodies littered on the sides of it, one of them noticeably fresher and more bleed-y than the rest... still moaning even. Zambrano had his barbed whip coiled in his fist, as he occasionally brought up to his gaping mouth to give it a taste. Flesh after all, had to be observed in more ways than simple sight, it was far more interesting to him than simply being pretty to look at. Luckily for the slave pilots inside, the Hutt largely ignored them, and allowed them to remain chained to their seats. As for the guards, they were largely un-maimed, as he had been busy playing with his little acquaintances.

An edgy security team awaited his arrival in the hangar bay, many of them petty crooks and thugs. This was a shadow port after all, and on such short notice a better team couldn't have been assemble so quickly. This was the best they had at the time. The "officer", if a crook could be called something like that, looked up with a scowl on his face, hands on his hips and his gun holstered. On either side of him there were three mooks with pointed weapons, not one of them uniform in appearance or armament. One of them looked like he was even hoisting a vibroblade. This was a rambled group of criminals, and not actually a team. They were more concerned about money and their own lives than they were about the lives of the other criminals.

"State or business here Hutt, or get out. We don't accept Sith here." The main mook spat in his face. Without really taking notice, the Hutt continued his advanced, his six guards spreading out across the room. "I said state your business fil-" He was cut off by choking noises. With a glassy look over his eyes and an infamous Hutt smile, Zambrano leaned in towards the man as he spat in an effort to breath, his hands locked at his own throat. "Don't be worried, I'm a friend! A friend of the Captains too, good friends we are, yesss." His massive Hutt tongue grazed the cheek of the Devorian, and he grimaced as the Hutt loudly whispered in his ear. Slowly, the Hutt leaned back as he began to regard the uneased "guards", and with a whisk of his hand, the choking alien began to walk to the side of the Hutts throne, unable to breathe, causing his face to be discolored, and his eyes to roll. "Who's going to be my friend?" The Hutt said, suppressing the pain that the mental feat of killing the officer was presenting to him. The Hutt coughed a bit however, but it did nothing to deter the abject horror of the other guards. The coiled whip unrolled onto the floor at the feet of the main mook, and many of the guards who were moments before merely slowly retreating began to lower their weapons and back away. The final straw was broken however when with a flick of his wrist the Hutt released the control he held over the main mook so he could breathe (but did not allow him to collapse just yet), before the barbed whip slashed open his shins causing him to ungracefully fall to his face, causing him to try to scream out while gasping inward, resulting in a gurgling, choking, gagging sound that was quite pleasant to hear. A few guards began to run, others opened fire without much aim, and at least one simply froze not knowing how to act before the Hutts guards came in to literally dis-arm and de-feet them. They were careful to make sure they could produce music for their master.

Using gore, fear, and panic as a shield, the Hutt began his trek through the station with a bloody trail behind him, making his way to the bridge of the station.

[member="Digo Odel"], [member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Sage Bane]

His hand involuntarily hovering over his lightsaber, Sage watched the scene from afar, crouching down to take a bit of cover behind an unmanned security terminal. The Hutt, an enormous grey slug covered with Sith tattoos emerged from its barge, blinking its huge feline eyes around at the terrified port authority workers. He watched the Hutt menace a Devorian officer, using his dark Force powers to crush the man's windpipe as if it were overripe fruit. By the Maker, this unholy beast was a slithering nightmare! Sage's other hand wandered to the collar scars around his neck as adrenaline coursed through the half-Chiss's veins. Every fiber of his being wanted him to march over to the beast and tear out its wide throat with his own teeth, but Sage knew that was suicide. As he'd learned firsthand, Hutts were incredibly hard to kill, and any attempt he had made to murder his own former Masters had been unceremoniously squelched and viciously punished.

The padawan realized that he was losing focus on his mission. Despite the fact that he was here to apprehend another, the presence of the Hutt continued to obsess him. Oh how he wanted revenge on those slimy slugs for what they'd done to him as a boy. His first master, Jomma made him fight in elaborate tournaments with other slave boys. Then when he got older, he was sold to Dasha who addicted him to glitterstim to make him more "pliable." Sage wanted to kill them all, bury them, dig them up, and kill them again. His hazel eyes widened as he watched the Hutt's goons open fire on a karkload of port authority guards. "Da dotkohu," he muttered in slug tongue as guards dropped like Mace flies. Suddenly, the Hutt was on the move and...coming towards him!

Where the frell was Armand anyway?

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Digo Odel]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Sage Bane"]

The Jaunty Umbaran dropped from hyperspace in front of the shadow port that he had never actually heard of, a testament to its shadowy-ness. His ship was transmitting standard personal transponder codes nothing out of the ordinary but he still recieved no ping on his comm from the station. Not even a blip. It was....weird.

He brought the ship in unguided and scanned for the distress beacon. It was coming from a ship on the station it seemed. He dropped into a landing cycle and extended his landing struts as he brought his 35 meter long freighter in and landed. He stood and shuffled toward the boarding ramp, stopped only a moment to grab his tool belt and finally shuffled down the ramp. He looked around the hanger as panicked thugs watched from behind crates at a bloody path...literally, as if a person had dragged a crate through blood or maybe a hutt?

He looked at the ship 50 meters away and the trail that came from it and began moving toward it. Maybe the people that needed help were on the ship.

 

[Armand Temi]

Even though Armand's training as a Jedi was nowhere near complete, he found himself hand-chosen for a mission in an unmarked shadowport to help [member="Sage Bane"], another Jedi Padawan, apprehend a Bothan spice dealer. All to help the Ession Reformation. And he was running late, which irked him but he'd been so distracted by traveling, training and trying to make an appearance at his clinic on Hapes. He felt over-scheduled but as he cruised though deep space to meet Sage he allowed himself a few hours of meditation and quiet contemplation on his shuttle, away from all of the distractions as of late. The shuttle he arrived on was a utility ship, filled with supplies and personnel that could do repairs to the spaceport. This would provide Armand perfect cover to find his colleague and not attract too much attention. He had even declined to wear his padawan robes, opting for coveralls to make sure he blended in with the repair crew. He did carry a lightsaber and stun gun but obviously concealed.

Once docked, he emerged out of the ship taking refuge with the other repair personnel. Most of the personnel went about their business in a clockwork like fashion but Armand noticed the sign of a scuffle in the docking bay, not one actively going on but streaks of blood on the ground and the groan of wounded creatures. Armand ducked his head down and tried to blend in with the repair crew who appeared all too used to the blood and guts which was strewn about the shadowport like it was just normal decor.

[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Preferring to get more personal with his victims, the slug dismounted from his hovering throne, wallowing in the fresh blood that spurting limbs often provided. It had been in question before as to whether or not he sat upon a throne of the dead, or if he slithered through the hangar bay; the answer was both. The Hutt had slithered within his hovering throne as he descended from his Chariot, to whip and dismember the mooks that intended to guard against his entry, but now with observers remarking a trail of blood not at all dissimilar from the slime trail of a true slug, it was quite obvious now that in his giddiness to make acquaintances the Hutt eagerly abandoned his bloody throne. His guards - Gamorrean all - had been smeared in blood from the limbs they detached just moments ago, and followed at the sides of their gory master.

He was no master of the force, but with power and resolve like his, Zambrano could make them all inadvertently fear his darkness. The Hutt though was in a way, tactical in his execution of his command over the dark side, because over utilization of it physically handicapped him, and he used it to cause pain. Thus he had to find a positive net between his target's pain and his own. There was a unique side effect to all of this though, that he also took into account: fear factor. Pain had the almost universal message to nearly all beings: there is something you should be afraid of, because it is damaging you, or damaging a friend, meaning you could be next. That is why Zambrano carried the stench of the dead along with him. In one hand, he held a coiled barbed whip, complete with random pieces of flesh strewn about through it, in the other hand, he was dragging around an arm, leaking its crimson fluids behind him.

There was one thing that Zambrano certainly was not: discrete. Unfortunately for the Hutt, he wasn't that intelligent sort of psychopath, who knew how to act normal, and to hide their antipathic natures until it was most advantageous to him. No, he was the exaggerated kind, the kind you never hear about unless they find so much power that they feel impervious to the criticism of the universe. Do not forget however, that Zambrano is in actuality, such a being. He has been removed from mortality, and now sees no reason to "act normal", not that he ever did upon losing his original identity.

Why, one might ask, is the arm so important to mention though? Well, it is because flesh gave him strength. For one, it gave him the physical sense of being alive in his own body of flesh, secondly because it gave him a certain pleasure to destroy the flesh of others after having his destroyed hundreds upon hundreds of times. Karmic retribution perhaps. Thirdly however, was why it was important in this specific moment: disgust, fear, intimidation, and power over any opponent he faces. In his eyes, that was respect, and respect that he rightfully deserved. Respect made such wonderful friends, and Zambrano sought to make many many friends today.

It appeared that there was at least one observer of the Hutt's current latest heinous crime, and a very specific pain propped his brain as his lazy feline gaze hovered over the padawan's form. The Hutt's mouth opened and closed, spastically licking the blood off his lips, as his entire form climbed across the floor towards him. Zambrano coughed just before he raised his voice to shout at the padawan, hands fidgeting with their things in the anticipation of causing pain. "Boy, are you friends with the Captain? I desssire to meet with him today, his name I believe, is Urootor Kallos. I don't think he's a Captain..." The Hutt coughed again, and then brought up the arm to his mouth, biting off three fingers with a ghastly audible crunch. His eyes quavered a moment as he relished the iron consistency of the flesh, and then stared directly back at the Jedi. He did not spare any moment to break his pace towards him, and neither did his guards to break their stride.

Others appeared to scurry about on the peripheries of the scuffle, but if any of them made any indication that they were going to stop him, Zambrano did not notice.

[member="Sage Bane"], [member="Digo Odel"], [member="Armand Temi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Armand's first instinct was to follow the blood, guts and debris to wherever it lay because it was possible it had been caused by the Bothan and his spice gang, but as the amount of gore increased as he walked down the length of the hangar and towards the port's entrance, he could see that someone or something more powerful had left this trail of destruction. His first instinct, well that was to run backwards toward the ship he had just came from but he knew that wasn't an option. His second instinct as a doctor was to treat the wounded but he didn't want to call attention to himself. He needed to find Sage Bane first.

Up ahead of him, he could see the shape of an immense hutt and his crew standing at the entrance way. And he noticed the familiar robes of a Jedi Padawan nearby. Using the Force he tried to telepathically connect with Sage to first identify him as an ally and second to let him know he was close by.

[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

 

[Sage Bane]

“Crunch. crunch. crunch” went the bones of the severed fingers that hung from the Hutt’s wide slit of a mouth as the enormous gastropod slithered towards Sage with a throng of Gamorean guards in tow. The bloody fingers danced along the Hutt’s large slimy tongue, and then tumbled down into his gullet. The padawan almost threw up in his mouth a little bit. The dark Force miasma that emanated off of the grey-skinned Hutt chilled Sage to the bone. The Sith Hutt’s soul must have been blackened to the core.

Then suddenly, like a wild slitherette, the Hutt was towering over him, asking him about Urotoor Kallos. Sage could barely concentrate on the slug’s words, all he could see was red. He had to get this Hutt out of his face. Now. Eyes flashing to the Hutt’s guard’s, it was obvious to the half-Chiss that he was woefully outnumbered, but he would be karked if he was going to let this creature savage him the way he had savaged those hapless guards. With a deep breath, the padawan concentrated as Master Rexus had taught him, calling the Force into his body. Sage’s lightsaber hilt quickly leap into his hand, and he thumbed the switch to ignite it.

As he squared off with the Hutt, Sage felt a presence in his mind asking him “friend or foe?” Apparently the Chiss hybrid had an unidentified ally, and he guessed that Armand had finally joined him in the shadowport and was somewhere close. Sage shot back a mental missive that he was indeed a friend, and to please come help him already thank you very much. Then Sage grinned at the slug, gaining a bit more cockiness now that he knew he had some backup, and twirled his saber once.

Standing with his feet spread shoulder width apart, holding the blue saber out in front of him, which frankly looked quite tiny compared to the massive girth of the Hutt, Sage growled, slipping back and forth between Basic and Huttese so that the man would be sure not to misinterpret his insults. “Go slither slowly into traffic, you wei see wa ciken. You’ll move along if you know what’s good for you.”

[member="Armand Temi"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Digo Odel"]

 

[Gorg]

Gorg stumbled along afte rthe trail of blood and gore, looking for his latest master. Since he was fired as the cook of a small band of pirates- Why didn't they like Gorg's mushroom smoothies?- the Gammorean had been bouncing form guard job to guard job. In one he accidently ate his boss's pet... Who keeps a Nuna for a pet, anyway? In another he'd been fired after trying to kill his boss's wife... he was supposed to stop anyone from entering the room! And now he was working for this Hutt. At least at this job there was a lot of other Gammoreans... Gorg was supposed to be with the other guards escorting [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] into the spaceport, but he'd managed to fall asleep in a broom closet. How he got in the broom closet? He had no idea. But he knew that he'd be fired again if he didn't get to his boss before he noticed the missing guard. So now the pig-guard followed the trail of gore, holding his battle-axe high, looking for a giant grey Hutt.

 

[Armand Temi]

Okay good, Armand had found Sage but he sensed a bit of irritation in the padawan's communication back to him. "Now, now no need to be touchy," Armand sent back to his ally in his mission. He could hear the other padawan's light saber but it was difficult to see Sage over the huge girth of the hutt and his guards. Not to mention the bodies still strewn around. The Hapan male quietly made his way closer to the hutt and the Gamorrean guards but stopped short by the foul smell that surrounded this vile-looking scene. Mother of Kwath! it smelled like rotten corpses and the hutt appeared to be holding a limb and taking bites off of it. Now was not the time, but Armand couldn't help his body's reaction to the offensive display in front of him. Before he had a chance to ignite his own light saber which he had his hand on, he doubled over and retched violently onto the ground. The noise was not pretty nor quiet. Whoever was near the entrance surely heard it. Armand groaned to himself and sent a telepathic message back to Sage saying, "Sorry."

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Sage Bane"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Feline eyes flickered at the brilliant blue that sprung from the hilt of the tiny Jedi, and Zambrano could not help but to tighten his grip on his whip in the anticipation. The pain in his head persisted, both from his proximity to the padawan before him, and also due to his back up. He had exerted himself a bit first coming here, but he felt like he needed to do it again. He could hardly contain himself from sadistic tendencies for long, and his tiny friend was no exception. His guards fanned out at the sight of the blue blade, making sure to make a semi-enclosure around the two, making squealing noises to remind the padawan just how outnumbered he was. One guard in particular noticed someone coming from the rear, and also another guard who was late. Like a mother chastising its child for tardiness to school, it hollered at [member="Gorg"], adding to the noise meant to intimidate its Masters two foes. The Gamorrean would insist that Gorg help him deal with Armand. In totality, the Hutt stood before Sage with five guards spread out around the two, with two other guards possibly just noticing his backup.

"Now, now, that's not very polite dan pateesa..." His coiled whip unfurled in his hand like a dead snake hitting the ground, damp with blood, heavy with flesh, and full of venom. "How about you and I, get to know each other kankeeeee..." Zambrano let that last syllable stretch as he often did with words he wished to emphasize, whether knowingly or in complete ignorance of his own habits. Like lightning, the dead snake shot across the floor like a viper at the command of Zambrano's now outstretched arm, the whip poised to strike across the ankles or shins of the padawan. The burst of speed caused the Hutt to cry out slightly in pain, but also in a short laugh, tongue fully exposed with bits of gore still clinging to his taste buds, and the flesh piercing the air with its foul stench.

Wild, reptilian eyes danced across his victims body, desperately hoping to witness the spray of blood to accompany the ripping flesh that he longed to see. The lightsaber was of no object to him, it was an inelegant weapon to one who loved the prospect of bloodiness and the carnage of muscles. His entire focus was upon the body of the padawan, and he cared little for what potential he might have, or of the threat he posed to him, which in essence made him no threat at all. This may come as a weakness for him however, as his focus was almost entirely forward set, seeking that instant gratification of fulfilling his addiction. Later, when the padawan succumbed to his advances towards friendship, he might make him more acquainted with Zambrano; keep him around for awhile.

Just like the others.

[member="Digo Odel"], [member="Armand Temi"], [member="Sage Bane"], [member="Gorg"],

 

[Sage Bane]

“Sorry,” Armand said telepathically as he hurled up his lunch off in the distance. This was the man who was supposed to be his backup? What a joke. Ok, Sage was thoroughly karked. He turned back to those bulbous yellow eyes which were seized on him as if he were a choice Bantha steak. Sage knew that predatory look well. The Hutt’s grunting piglike guards made a semi-circle around the padawan like a pack of nexu around a wounded gazelle. His narrowed eyes flashed red for a moment betraying his half-Chiss blood and then turned back to hazel. When the Hutt told him he wasn’t being very polite, Sage inched the lightsaber closer to the Hutt’s big eyes, its blue glow like tiny flames dancing in their reflection. “Dirty slugs don’t deserve manners,” he spat.

Suddenly the Hutt flicked his wrist, and his serrated whip cracked out at lightspeed. Even with his Force-enhanced abilities, Sage wasn’t able to dodge back in time and the whip snagged one of his ankles. As guards snickered in the background, the barbs sunk in, rending his the flesh right through his boots. Sage cried out in anguish, turning heads all throughout the shadowport. At the same time, he raised his saber. Sage was a beginner at the Jedi temple, but he knew some of the basics of Shii-Cho combat, although he had no idea how something like a Sarlaac Sweep would fare against a creature such as a Hutt. Still, all the same he brought the lightsaber around, swinging it sideways towards the Hutt’s double-wide flaps of slippery skin in the hopes that it would sear through the slug’s flesh. He would not be kneeling for this Hutt. Not today.

[member="Gorg"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Armand Temi"] [member="Digo Odel"]

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

A sly smile erupted from the contorted face of the Hutt, the barbs of his whip sunk deep into the ankle of the padawan, who was now exposed to a slight venom* of paralysis. Zambrano made certain that the poison however, would not block out the pain the whip inflicted, merely relaxed the muscles into a state that would render more damage upon them with subsequent blows. As a Hutt, he had a slight increased immunity to such toxins (despite being riddled with Hutt specific disease), so the delicacy of tasting his weapon minutes ago held no decent effect over his lavish tongue. The padawan though, would over several moments feel that his ankle was unresponsive... and then his foot, and toes, while possibly even reaching upwards of his calf or knee. In short, in one strike the Hutt critically damaged his prey's overall mobility. Still though, the Hutt had to manage to survive long enough to relish in his perceived victory, though mentally this was not actually a thought that occurred to him. Sage upon reacting to his lacerated foot, would engage in a basic lightsaber technique designed to engage multiple enemies at once. Zambrano's guards though had made certain to be a ways from the two at the beginning of the fight, but the flourish made the more cowardly startle backwards, one even falling down before an ally hoisted them back up.

The Hutt though was not very quick to move from his spot, as he had no legs. He was quick enough however, to finish the action of whipping the padawan, by tearing out the leather and flesh that the barbs had hooked on to only a few half-moments ago. Zambrano pulled back upon the padawans ankle, intending to take his foot from underneath him, rendering him imbalanced, and in a second-wind of pain. At the same time the arm the Hutt had been holding was used to swat at the saber arm of the child before him, causing blood to splatter everywhere regardless of overall success. The Hutt felt a piercing burning sensation around his gut, opening up a good cauterized wound to open up near his midsection despite what Zambrano had just done. This warranted a short pained grunt at the immediacy of the wound, and the dull pain that Zambrano could ignore as having not happened at all in the heat of adrenaline.

Rather quickly, the short pained grunt turned into something more sickly. Zambrano, the fiend he was, knew very well the strength of disgust, and made certain that in this moment the near-human would be covered in stinking gore. The short grunt turned into a retch, before suddenly the Hutt unleashed a sickening bloody finger filled vomit at his poor unfortunate victim. Not only had the padawan experienced a single intoxicated lashing across his ankle a moment ago, just now as he unfurled his imbalanced attack (scaring the tattooed monster), his arm would be stricken with a bloody dismembered limb, before vomit filled with blood, flesh, and bones was spat over his body. While all around him alien creatures laughed. Though it was not entirely his intention, Zambrano knew that sheer humiliation could break a warrior; it could drive just about anyone to do something rash and stupid. It had an element of fear that Zambrano, whether knowingly or not, utilized to dishearten his foes, as it carried a certain element of inevitability of defeat about it, which in of itself could crush the will of many, due to the numbers which the Hutt had in his command to slaughter the poor fellow even if he should overwhelm the Hutt. To say it simply, the slimy bastard had two very basic manners in which he defeated his enemies: gore, and inevitability.

It was inevitable that this one would kneel not to any Hutt, but to a true and proper Master of the Dark Side... hidden only, behind his stubbornly rotten and inept flesh...

*venom was referred to in previous post in italics

[member="Sage Bane"], [member="Armand Temi"], [member="Gorg"], [member="Digo Odel"]

 

[Piraiba]

It was not overly shocking for Piraiba to find himself upon such a shadow port as this one. Ultimately after having left Crusade space, he had found himself joining various mercenary bands and taking up small odd jobs as he drifted from place to place. What was out of the ordinary though was the sudden onset of terrified civilians and thugs running down the adjacent corridor. They were fleeing the nearby hangar.

Was the station under attack?

The Togorian pushed himself up from his empty glass of whiskey and exited the bar he had taken temporary residence in. He didn't have to walk very far before his nose was suddenly assaulted by the wafting scent of blood. Piraiba was intensely sensitive to smell and sounds. It was part of what made him such an exceptional hunter. However, the sheer strength of the smell meant that the bloodshed had to be overly excessive.

The cat's curiosity led him into a run now. His tattered brown cloak flowed behind him exposing his battered mandalorian chest plating and other mismatched durasteel armor articles.

Clicking sounds could be heard as the Togorian's velociraptor like claws clanked against the metallic plating of the floor. This announced his arrival as he finally came around the corner to see [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] smacking [member="Sage Bane"] with a severed arm and then vomiting on him. It was perhaps one of the oddest things he had ever seen.

Of course the Sith had little time to gawk as a startled Gamorrean turned and slashed out at him with an axe on impulse. Gamorreans were strong and not overly bright enough to negotiate better pay or working conditions. They made pretty good guards for hutts, though they did tend to lack critical thinking skills. In this case this particular guard found himself kicked in the chest by the feline he had turned to attack. The kick had been fairly lackadaisical as if the guard hadn't been worth notice. The end result was still the Gamorrean getting knocked violently to the ground.

A ten foot tall, 800 pound, heavily armored and armed feline would be a threat to even a Hutt. Though this one gave off the dark aura of a fellow Sith. It was impossible to say if he'd be a friend or foe. Of course for Zabrano it would be wise not to advertise his name. Every Togorian had reason to hate it.


[member="Armand Temi"]
[member="Gorg"]
[member="Digo Odel"]

 

[Digo Odel]

[member="Armand Temi"] [member="Gorg"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Sage Bane"]

Digo didn't really know what was going on for a few reasons; one: his writer was lazy today, and, Two: he was sneaking on the ship.

His big frame shuffled on board and began looking for the person or persons who sent the distress signal.

(Sorry I didn't have much time to post)

 

[Catalys Maijora]

"Please... Let me go.", the smuggler's words barely escaped as Catalys' firm hand gripped around his throat. "Not until you give me the location.", the agent responded. His voice lacked empathy towards the criminal; he was in the shadowport for one reason: To track down stolen information on The Primeval. The grip around the human's throat continued, Catalys' Umbaran eyes hid behind his helmet but gazed into the shaky expression on the dying smuggler's face as he suffocated. "One last chance.", he warned the smuggler, well aware that he was at his limit. At the last moment the man finally tapped on the agent's armoured hand in a plea.

A solid kick to the stomach, Catalys let go and allowed the him to fall to the floor; followed by the sound of violent coughing. Through the hoarse pale voice words hissed, "Anaxes.", was the only intelligible sound that escaped the mumbling. "Impossible.", there's no way they could've made it to Anaxes. Drawing his kx-80 rifle with the barrel pointed to the man's head, Catalys gave him one last gift of mercy.

"Tell me.", his tone changed to one that lacked patience. "Alright... Alright", his hands went up begging for time; to catch his breath and speak. "Anison, the man you're looking for went to Anison -- He refused to sell.", the smuggler finally gave up the information, valuable at that. It was obvious he intended to cheat out the former Bleeding Sun agent and then sell the information at a higher price. Although Catalys was far smarter, he had spent time amongst the core and outer rim since their return to the galaxy at large. Setting his rifle to stun, the blue pulse escaped the barrel and knocked the man unconscious.

Turning around, he noticed the commotion from through the cranny.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Sage Bane"] [member="Armand Temi"] [member="Gorg"] [member="Digo Odel"]

 

[Sage Bane]

And then, that happened. In his blind rage and bloodlust towards all Huttkind, it hadn’t dawned on Sage just how woefully undermatched he was by Zambrano the Hutt and his snortling guards. Even with another Jedi padawan waiting in the wings to intervene, there was no contest. What happened to Armand...did he die? If he didn’t, then Sage promised that he himself would kill the other Jedi for leaving him in a lurch like this. What Sage should have done was not attack the Hutt, but to wheedle with him, to puff up the vainglorious creature with compliments on his power and prescence. Flattery got you everywhere with Hutts. But anger management was not in Sage’s wheelhouse. It was something Master Drath had commonly struggled with teaching the young padawan.

As the barbed coil was yanked back by Zambrano, it took half of Sage’s ankle with it, and he was swept off his feet suddenly, landing on his back with an “oof.” His ankle was shredded like ground Bantha burger, however there was no time to grieve for it because at the same time, Sage was being slapped with the bloody, severed arm of the port authority guard, disarming him of his lightsaber which clattered to the ground and powered down. Sage had managed to put a small gash in the creature before he lost his saber, but it was paltry compared to the span of the Hutt’s meaty belly. If anything it would only annoy the Hutt, much like a lazy hand swatting at an angry hornet. The sensation of the severed limb’s cold wet flesh meeting his and the squelching sound it made as it connected with his arm was intensely repugnant. Sage Bane didn’t think things could get more disgusting after that, but he was oh so wrong.

In a nanosecond, the Hutt unleashed a torrent of chunky vomit over Sage’s prone body. Disembodied fingers, undigested food, and bile cascaded out of the Hutt’s gaping mouth with a deafening belch. The sight kicked in a sympathetic gag reflex in half the shadowport, and more than a few passersby had to stop and vomit. Woe be to the janitors that had to work this station today.

It was true he felt humilated by the vomit bath, but there was a fierce warrior in Sage underneath his pretty face and glitterstim-ravaged skin. Although his vision was halfway obscured by upchuck, Sage reached for his blaster, clicking off the saftey as his fingers closed around the grip, and aiming for the creature’s enormous feline eyes, fired until he was out of ammo.

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Armand Temi"] [member="Catalys Maijora"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Piraiba"]

 

[Gorg]

It took Gorg a full minute of watching before he realized what was going on. He wasn't the fastest thinker. However evtnaully he put things together; His new aster was killing some human with a glowy sword. Where could he get a glowy sword like that? It was pretty. Gorg's primitive thoughts were soon interupted though when a giant Togorian kicked aside the Gammorean standing next to him. While he wasn't quick to htink he was extremely quick to fight; it was in his species' genetics. So without hesitation the instant his ally got thrown accross the room Gorg turned and swung his vibroaxe in the general direction of [member="Piraiba"], giving out a comedic sqeaking battle cry that sounded oddly like a cross between a dying cat and a Jawa on helium. If the cat saw it coming it wouldn't be hard to dodge- Gorg wasn't much of a warrior- but if he didn't... Well, that would be bad.

[member="Sage Bane"] [member="Catalys Maijora"] [member="Digo Odel"] [member="Zambrano the Hutt"] [member="Piraiba"] @Armand Temi