Log:A Plea For Mercy
The audience chamber of Borgol the Hutt is a sprawling, dimly lit space filled with the scent of exotic spices and the low hum of conversation. Shadows dance along the walls, cast by flickering torches that provide an eerie ambiance. At the far end of the room lies a large, raised dais upon which Borgol's massive throne rests, a testament to his power and opulence. Filled with a thin layer of fog created by the lingering smoke of a variety of enjoyed substances and the music from the live band, the room is filled with enough sights, sounds, and smells to assault the senses.
A diverse assortment of beings from across the galaxy mingles in the chamber. Some come merely to see and be seen, but most seek an audience with the Hutt crime lord for one reason or another -? some to strike deals, others to beg for mercy, and a few simply to pay their respects. They speak in hushed tones, their voices a cacophony of languages and dialects that fill the room.
A group of Rodians, their green skin glistening under the torchlight, huddle in a corner, fervently discussing a bounty they have recently completed. Their excited gestures suggest that the hunt was a challenging one, and they eagerly anticipate Borgol's reward for their efforts.
Nearby, a Twi'lek dancer weaves gracefully through the crowd, her movements hypnotic and fluid. Her eyes, however, remain alert and watchful, observing the room's occupants with a keen interest. She is more than just an entertainer; she is also Borgol's spy, collecting valuable information for her master.
In another part of the chamber, a group of well-dressed merchants haggle with a Trandoshan arms dealer, their voices rising in intensity as they negotiate the price of his illicit wares. The Trandoshan bares his teeth in a wicked grin, confident that he holds the upper hand in the deal.
A pair of Gamorrean guards stand watch at the entrance to the chamber, their brutish forms imposing and menacing. They scrutinize each being that enters, ensuring that no threats make their way into Borgol's presence.
Amid the generally amiable atmosphere, there arrives a figure at the Gammorrean guards who could not have looked more out of place in this environment if she'd tried -- Lady Aria Voss of Elysia Prime, daughter of Lord Ronan Voss and Lady Lira Voss, heiress of the Voss Galactic Corporation, and head of the company's expansion efforts in the outer rim.
She wears a sleek, midnight-hued gown, its shifting royal purple and dark, navy blue clinging to her slender figure as if poured into place. A floor to nearly waist-high slit up one side allows one slender, light-pink leg to stretch out with each of her strides, her silver heels clicking against the sandy floors with each graceful step. Her long, raven hair has been pulled into an intricate up-do, little wisps pulled free to frame her face. Occasionally, its hints of darker purple undertones glint in the light.
The Lady Voss carries nothing in her hands. And anyone that spends more than a few seconds looking at her can tell she isn't concealing anything anywhere else, either. However, along with others in her entourage, she is accompanied by two, black armor wearing guards, their rifles slung rather than carried at the ready -- a sign of peace.
"Promising thus far," Aria mutters, her smile muted as she glances over over at Juria. But then, of course, there were the Gamorreans they were approaching, and she takes in a deep breath as she approaches.
Another figure walks alongside and just behind the Lady Voss, one who stands out in contrast to her own vistage. Bar'duur wears his chromium-plated suit of power armor. He'd have his jet pack and the like, of course, unless it were requested that he be deprived of his weapons, not without an attempt at persuasion to keep them on his person, of course. His helmet is on his head, modified to accomidate his horns, making small bumps at the top of the helmet where it has been molded to make a perfect fit.
While Juria was well informed of both where they were going and what the nature of the visit was, the demure Corellian still opted to wear an aged Corellian Swoopsuit over some finery as Aria had chosen. With a pair of goggles up on her forehead, sans a hood (alas), giving her the impression she'd JUST gotten back from a swoop race. There's even oil smudged on her check. Which was probably intentional. It's almost certainly intentional..
With her hands on her wide belt, she walks with Aria, all casual swagger and goofy grin. "Sure, we've got a pretty good chance of not being fed to a Rancor or something." Even that bit of dower commentary is said with a jovial tone. As if nothing at all can phase her. "I actually don't think Borgol the Hutt has a Rancor.. which is what I'm basing my argument. Now.. if he's got a pack of kathhounds or something?" Big shrug, palms turning up.
"We'll see how it goes."
As they approach Gamorreans, Juria just grins. She doesn't speak oink oink.
Narsha follows in with Aria and Juria. Her arm is looped through Aria's arm. Wearing slightly more conservative than usual robes. Rather than 80% of her skin being shown about 65% is shown in clingy sky blue robes. "I was here for Borgol's birthday a month or so back. The Hutt is certainly one who knows how to throw a party. I can't speak for his exotic beast collection. I haven't been given the honor of seeing his collection though."
Someone else is here for the first time, but she's not with the Voss crew. No, she's technically in the employ of the Hutt himself. Well, her boss is, so that kinda makes her his employee too. And she did a job for him earlier and got paid for it!
Zena Tane of Clan Kloo is doing what Mandalorians do best in the palace of a Hutt. She's found an open spot of wall to lean on, her gun slung on her back. With her arms crossed in front of her armored chest, she cuts the textbook intimidating person in a helmet pose.
Except she might be the shortest person here.
So it might actually be comical to see her over there, watching people through that helmet, looking like someone let their teenager wear armor and have a gun that's almost as tall as she is.
Wanderer that he is, word in places around Tatooine had raised mention of a doings at the old palace that had, for long years, housed Hutts ad B'omarr monks dwelt in their spider droid life support tanks. The latter being the greater interest that found Qutha Pah seated in Borgol' audience chamber, in a corner table beneath a lamp and one of the preserved brains in it's droid carrier nearby, A cord running from it to his datapad where he is reading or typing depending on who is 'talking'.
When the 'party' arrives in fine attire or power armor the zelosian halts long enough to look up, watching to see what new oddities this will bring and sharing a few quiet predictions with his curious table partner.
Cadogan West is among the common press of Outer Rim flotsam and jetsam that powerful people permit to watch their goings on, for the sake of having an audience when they show off. The young human let's a drink hang half forgotten from the fingers of his right hand, while watching the festivities with tilted head. "Both sides showing off," he rumbles under his breath upon seeing the Voss posse arrive. The.. Vosse.
Exiting the private area of the palace, a figure in heavily modified Ubese Raider armor emerges. Immediately Vorcassh just steps to one side and lean up casually against the wall by that wide hutt-sized entrance. The angular helmet turning back and forth, the dark tinted eyelenses taking in the sights. Or watching something inside the helmet perhaps. No need to have weapons in hands right now. So they are gently folded over the buckle of his holster. This is a sentient trying to project casual existence, regardless of the severe looking armor. A flick of a finger, and an ID10 droid lifts off from his shoulder to start slowly circling the room above all the heads, taking in the sights.
The black-clad guardsman of Aria's that's not carrying a small black case steps forward when the Lady draws to a stop in front of the guards. When he speaks, his voice is a rich baritone modulated by the speaker in his helmet.
<< "Lady Aria Voss seeks an audience with Borgol the Hutt." >>
There are grunts and oinks in response, possibly some chest thumping and general snout waving. It was probably some warning not to start trouble, which was fine as far as the Lady Voss was concerned. Then they step back, allowing the group to pass.
It isn't until they've entered the main audience chamber, Aria seeming entirely comfortable on Narsha's arm (or was Narsha on hers?), that the Zeltron looks over at Juria again with a quirk of a grin on one corner of her lips. "Thank you, Juria. That's a /much/ more comforting thought. I'd hate for it to be quick."
And then that violet gaze is over to Narsha with a little cant of her head. "Is that so? I didn't realize you were familiar. /Obviously/ I haven't learned all of your secrets, yet." There's a glint of humor in her eyes, and she guides Narsha over towards a relatively little used part of the chamber.
Notes are made of the various figures she can see along the way, of course -- the tiny Mandalorian leaning against a wall being apparently of particularly interesting note. A smile is offered her way, though she makes no other gesture, simply continuing on, for the moment, to find a place out of the way for her entourage to be.
Sumi Kora occupies one side of the room, presumably holding up the wall she is leaning on, because she has not moved for some time. Flanked on each side by a pretty lady, the Mandalorian seems pre-occupied and unconcerned about the arrival of one party. The soft background of live music is drummed out through a steel drum, with other instruments carrying the tune, makes it an easy atmosphere that laced with a sense of impending danger.
Sumi Kora stood out because of her armor, her cape, and the arsenal that was strapped from head to toe. If that wasn't enough, the woman held a polearm, specifically, a Selonian glaive whose long arm was adorned with the fur of its previous sentient owner. With her helmet on, Sumi's visor was mirror like and impossible to see through, affording those who held her 'gaze' their own reflection. A krayt dragon emblazoned one pauldron, and her clan's sigil was upon the other.
Amidst a conversation with one of the pretty things standing with her, Sumi's gloved hand rises to touch just beneath the woman's chin, which triggered a series of giggles. Charming..
"oh gosh, no." Juria waits until they've exchanged pleasant greetings with the chest thumping, boisterous guards and moved into the audience chamber before speaking more openly to Aria. "I don't really think it would be quick with a Rancor... Not that I've ever been eaten by one, but this holovid program I watch on the anatomy of various carnivorous species of the galaxy definately indicates they prefer to play with their food. It suggested, in so many words, there's a sentience to them.." She shrugs and grins up at Voss, walking casually, almost pleasantly really, into the chamber.
Peering around with big green eyes taking in all the splendor. The music, the people, all the dangerous looking individuals. "Oh golly, it's exactly like I imagined! Only dustier and it smells like poop." Whispering because she's not sure if calling a Hutt's audience chamber poop scented is a compliment. She is, at least passingly anyways, aware they like gross stuff.
"Maybe I should let him know how wonderfully fecal his palace smells? Do you think that'll help our odds of not being eaten?"
Picking up a glass and sipping from it while reading the latest transmission from the B'omarr 'brain in a droid' he sits next to, one brow is quirked and a stylus comes out to quickly write out something in response to whatever the 'transcended' has decided to state to him, getting halfway through when the spindly legs of the droid that carries the disembodied brain simply starts to move. Wandering through the crowd and leaving Qutha with whatever inquiry he had to linger, unanswered. And for who knows how long.
"Oh bother..." sighing and shaking his head, looking to the little BD droid standing on the table, getting a momentary 'look' for his troubles before both return their gaze to the room at large.
"Whatcher reckon is hap'nin' next, eh?" a number of trills and beeps answering and Mr. Pah's lips purse, "I only got most'a that... so bes' keep practicin', reckon." the droid's negativity relayed in a raspberry like buzz from its vocalizer.
Cadogan West turns an unhurried pass of eyes around the chamber, again. Couple Mandalorians, few aliens, lot of armor and firepower. But his attention lingers longest on the Vosse: black armor, black gifts and a ball gown. For no particular reason, he looks around the floor for pitfall hatches.
Narsha just looks at Aria and shrugs as if it was no big deal. "I would have assumed you had caught wind of such an important figure's birthday and attended. But I do know that you are ever so busy with your work. I'm just a layabout who accompanies individuals to parties. Nothing important." Her self degradation was done with a smirk. Looking to Juria "I would avoid such compliments. Borgol is a Mighty hutt and always is honest in his dealings." Giving a small amount of advice.
Of course Zena recognizes Aria. One, she wandered into the Emerald Club once when she was there. Aria certainly won't recognize Zena dressed like this. The last time, the Mando was wearing ... a lot less.
So she likes to party. So what?
She gives the barest nod to the woman as her entourage wanders by, eyes flickering across all of them as they cross through the room. After all, if this goes bad, she might be asked to shoot them by the Hutt. She really doesn't want to, but, well. The boss is the boss. Teela would do it with no hesitation. This means that Zena will too, but she -will- feel bad about it later.
It had become increasingly common to see Terek Rosol of Clan Kora around Borgol's Palace. The Hutt paid very well, after all, and was more than happy to allow a hunter working for him to exercise certain liberties in the performance of their duties.
Which is what has brought the dark armored cathar to the palace, his black R2 droid rolling along behind him as he wanders in through the entrance that leads down into the hangar below the palace, pausing for a moment at the entrance as he scans the room.
Spotting Sumi, he immediately heads that way, <"Alor."> He greets, once he's within vocal range. He doesn't want to interrupt her, while she is very clearly busy, but it would be improper to not greet her. There'll be plenty of time for schmoozing after he's said hello.
The arrival of some and the presence of so many is sure to draw the attention of the resident Hutt Lord. Whether it is on account of a standing appointment or simply the circumstances that draws Lord Borgol from his private sanctum is surely up for debate. From the more secure and private area of the palace arrives the impressive bulk of the the black-and-sand skinned Hutt Lord. The faint glow of his golden cybernetic eye stands out with stark detail in the gloom of the palace interior, but it is his organic golden eye that seems truly magnificent with its great size and vibrant color.
While a veritable hush falls over the crowd with his arrival, Lord Borgol pauses long enough to impart a solemn nod of both recognition and acknowledgment for Vorcassh as he stands outside the large doorway which Borgol passes through. He gestures the Ubese forward with a lone wave of his massive arm, clearly offering a wordless invitation for his presence near the dais.
The rest of the room then earns the attention of Lord Borgol, even as he slides forward and toward his dais. The Hutt's thick, leathery hide creates a sound like stone being scoured by sandpaper while he moves under his own power toward the throne-like dais. It is during his movement that he addresses the room as a whole, mirth evident in the Hutt's native language and the matte grey protocol droid that totters after him works to actively translate, "cheeska ma togwa cheeska ku copah coo oot-main jewz jee-jee duba uba che stoopa droi copah nibobo stoopa apenkee shag cheeska."
The observation is made with a low rumble of laughter that practically vibrates the sandstone floor and sends motes of dust shifting gracefully in the gloom of the audience chamber. He does finally settle himself into his place upon the dais after few long moments. Though once he is finally settled upon his mass of shimmersilk cushions and pillows, Lord Borgol's right arm lifts to gesture to the chamber-at-large as he announces with his great maw resting parted as though a Hutt's smile, "punyoo h'chu keta cheeska, dwana cheeska. nobo dwana uba, uba jeedai nibobo copah nibobo apenkee hakku." [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "So many old friends come to pay a visit and new acquaintances showing their face to make their own future friendships. Do not be shy, my friends. As my guests, I am here to hear your words."
<"Ah, here he is, ladies. The warrior I was telling you about.."> Sumi says, motioning toward Terek. One of the ladies immediately plasters herself against the Cathar's side, looking up and whispering, 'Hey, handsome.' (Even though she had no idea what he looked like under that helmet!)
The other questions, "The one who slayed the Krayt Dragon?"
<"The same."> Sumi confirms, turning her gaze toward Terek and nodding. The other lady joins Terek, claiming his other side. Sumi steps away, lightly punching Terek's arm. <"Have fun."> Then she's walking off, chuckling.
The circling droid isn't being quiet about it, just floating above everyones heads. The ID-10 Likely listening for keywords like poison, weapons, anything hostile. In the meantime, the Ubese just keeps himself holding up the wall behind him. Watching, and listening having the occasional quiet conversation with other Kajidic retainers as they go by. There's occasionally muffled sound within the helmet, comlink conversations as well. Blatantly looking casual.%r%rUpon the entry of Lord Borgol, while he does not change his stance, his helmet does respectfully lower at the passing of the Hutt Lord. The eyelenses go right back to impassively looking over the crowd. It's not subtle, that large angulated helmet bristling with armored studs, computer and comm gear is noticeable. He's already had his meeting, so he's not going to be speaking up. Just watching, occasionally tapping at the PAC-20's on his wrist gauntlets in the process. From the random cries in the crowd of some datapad users, he may be slicing them something disturbing to them with no warning, given a few curses thrown his general direction.
The last time he'd been this close to a Hutt, he got shot in the chest and nearly died on top of a repulsor train. So it wasn't the most pleasant of memories, but it was still another moment worth study. Now it is he and the BD droid alone at their corner table with his hands folded around the clear glass before him.
"Reckon we aught learn Huttese sometiime, tell you what." tail yeew whut "'Cause it's been fortunate that they's had translators on hand." Qutha comments to the droid who moves to sit down, waggling its little feet and tipping its head as if to shrug at the orchardist before trilling something out,
"Reckon I could, but they's got little arable soil, n'I ain't inclined t'hafta escape ifn' it becomes something he felt I should be kept 'round for." another buzzing tweet, "No I ain' scared'a nothin'. But I's also don' wanna hafta deal wit' th'ol escapin' an then there'd be all the datblasted boun'y hunners... N'all of it 'cause I made a garden onna desert world."
There's an easy sort of familiarity that the gown-clad Voss has with her entire entourage, from Narsha her arm, to the swoopsuit-clad Jaria she banters with, to the chrome-plated Bar'duur, and even her personal guards, who occasionally get a small, familiar smile. While Aria doesn't exactly appear at ease in the palace of the Hutt Lord, she is among not just allies and employees -- she is among friends.
"Oh, not another of your holovids," Aria says softly to Juria, her lips pursing to try to hide the smile that still reaches her eyes. "I'm not sure if it worries me more that you believe them all or that one day they might be right."
Back to Narsha, then, grinning. "You're /not/ a layabout, but if you had any idea how many birthday parties I've attended, you wouldn't want to go to any more, either."
Then there's Juria's comment about the smell, and Aria's eyes widen. "You wouldn't," she hisses, narrowing that violet gaze on the woman, that playful glint lingering...
At least until the hush falls over the room, and she looks up to see Borgol the Hutt entering. For a woman that had never, in her life, met with a Hutt in person before, /this/ was a sight to behold all by itself. The sheer bulk of him, the /sound/ he made when he moved, the cybernetic eye... Lady Voss seems to take it all in from her position off to the side, thankful for the moment he took with Vorcassh to have just those few seconds to compose herself.
Slipping her arm from Narsha's, Aria takes one glance back to her group. A signal to stay? A signal to go with her? It's anyone's guess, really, though the one of her guards that still holds the small black box does step forward, ready to move by her side.
One graceful stride after another, Aria moves towards the dais once the invitation is made, not a moment's more hesitation to allow anyone to slip in front of her. Her bearing is pure Core World aristocracy and good breeding, posture perfect, hands folded politely in front of her. The guard is a pace behind until the the Lady stops -- right on top of the metal grate in front of Borgol's podium, unaware or unworried about its presence. Though it would be noted that each point of her stiletto heels rests gracefully between the openings. Happenstance, or deliberate intention.
Once settled, her violet eyes lift to the Hutt in front of her first, a small, deliberate curtsey offered to the crime lord before she glances, however briefly, to Vorcassh and notes his presence there.
It isn't Aria who speaks, though. It's the guard with her, whose voice carries through his helmet speakers, that makes the announcement for her.
<< "Lady Aria Voss, heir to Voss Galactic Corporation, seeks an audience with the great Borgol the Hutt." >>
"They /are/ right..." Juria insists, not necessarily throwing her hands in the air, but certainly hoisting them off her belt. It returns to resting on her hips, but in a far more sassy position than previously. While she glances around the interior of the rather stuffed belly of the Hutts Palace anti-chamber meeting spot. "Oh, hey, it's Qutha." She nudges Aria... then furrows her brow, "Wait you don't know Qutha.... You should meet Qutha, he's great, you'll love him." Mandatory meta joke out of the way, we can move on now.
As for her holovids, which she was definitely talking about before seeing Qutha. "Oh, Sumi too!? Hey once we don't die from meeting the Hutt, we should go talk to Sumi. Have you ever met her? She scares me.. in a good way. Like when you're eating a nice slice of suspiciously grey meat? You're not sure whether your hunger will be satisfied or you're going to be spending the night in a bacta tank.." She squints, considering... then waves her hand, "Nah, nevermind, it's nothing like that, what was I talking about?"
OH RIGHT Holovids.
"Remember that night I told you about a Naboo waterfall that I saw on the Tipsy Trandoshan?-" A vid on a trandoshan, obviously, who makes alcoholic beverages from around the galaxy, "-I believe your exact words were 'this burns like I swallowed fire.'." Hands up, head shaking, as if she's just made a point. "Which exactly what he said... and we didn't die."
Yet, they haven't met the Hutt. Juria puts on her best behavior. "Please tell his Lordship the Hutt how amazingly repugnant his Chamber is and how it has assailed my senses in such a way that I feel repulsed and, oddly, pleased... His amazingly extravagence is both splendid and, kind of, disgusting." She nods once and grins. Sidebar to Aria, "Holovid." wink.
Narsha would watch as the massive Hutt slithers out of his private halls and stop a few feet though mostly still in the front row of the crowd. Aria, of course, seems to take the meeting with an oceans worth of grace and poise. Even as she stands over the metal grate.
Juria on the other hand gets a stare of 'what the fuck' as the 'compliments' come out of her mouth. Stepping away from the swoop clad person slowly but politely as to make sure /she/ isnt assumed to have said that.
The Hutt arrives, and Zena ... doesn't move. Her head's on a swivel, mostly cruising through Aria's Group Of Pals because they're the most likely source of danger or trouble. Though she does scan the rest of the crowd too. These things are often rowdy at the best of times and she feels like this might be ... tense.
And no sniper's nest to be found. Ugh.
Her attention turns to Borgol, watching and listening to what the Hutt has to say. Through the droid, of course. She doesn't speek Slug Gangster. Though maybe she should.
Narsha would watch as the massive Hutt slithers out of his private halls and stop a few feet though mostly still in the front row of the crowd. Aria, of course, seems to take the meeting with an oceans worth of grace and poise. Even as she stands over the metal grate.
Juria on the other hand gets a stare of 'what the fuck' as the 'compliments' come out of her mouth. Stepping away from the swoop clad person slowly but politely as to make sure /she/ isnt assumed to have said that. (re for Dec)
Eirik slowly makes his way in he was off making sure that the ships and perimeter were safe enough slowly making his way up to Aria, armored and helmed in all his Mando glory he takes a place behind Aria.
When Terek stopped by, he figured it would just be for a moment, until Sumi immediately dumps the two women off on him. He was surprised when they came up to him immediately. <"Thanks?"> He asks of Sumi as she heads off, before he looks back and forth between the pair, <"It is true though, I did slay a krayt dragon."> He's not above boasting.
<"Come on, lets go get something to drink."> At the very least he can play along, and see how things play out. He heads towards the bar proper, a pair of aliens moving out of the way of the Mandalorian and his arm candy, freeing up some seats, <"Order some drinks for us, ladies.">
Cadogan West turns a pale eye up as a droid hovers around the throne room, overhead. An expression half between a grimace and a sneer bends his lip briefly before the Hutt's emergence pulls his attention. His focus passes between the massive Hutt with the golden eye, and the Voss alongside her guard-herald. "Gotta get a herald," he mutters half to himself. "That's rekking class."
From his place spread luxuriously across the dais, Lord Borgol's right arm rests draped across his appreciable girth. Propped against his cushions as he is, this permits his left hand to grope blindly for something. Something. Something. Until finally a jewel encrusted bucket masquerading as a chalice is presented to the Hutt Lord's groping paw. He does not drink from it immediately, but instead allows it to simmer: quite lierally. The billowing fumes rising from the container are pungent and definitely more inclined to a Hutt's particular tastes; which is to say reasonably close to anything.
The confident stride forward by Aria Voss does receive Lord Borgol's attention and the bucket-chalice does not cease in its swirling, even while he devotes much of his direct focus upon the arrival of his first guest to take the place of honor before his dais. The announcement made by the bodyguard earns a thoughtful glance from Borgol, but inevitably his focus returns to the real brains of the operation. It is Aria that he speaks down to from his place upon the dais, casually stroking a palm across his thick and leathery hide to assuage some itch or another. Or rub around his nonexistent belly button.
He scrutinizes Lady Voss for a considerable amount of time. Almost an uncomfortable length of time. He is a Hutt however, so he has plenty of it to spare. When he does finally begin to speak, it's with a certain measure of excitement bleeding into his words, "nobata keta!" he begins like a booming roll of thunder that threatens to cause ringing in the ears of those immediately surrounding his dais.
His hand lifts from his side, only to lower again with a jovial slap of his thick palm against his equally thick hide, "killee shag hakku mruishani D'emperiolo dwana!"
Judging by his precise choice of words? It's possible that he doesn't realize that Aria Voss has arrived before him of her own decision. He continues on with that same excited tone, his protocol droid working feverishly to keep up, "pankpa ma oot-main D'emperiolo uba shag ulwan punyoo copah killee keepuna! h'chu apenkee pankpa lorda? mee! pankpa hakku bo killee copah shag goba apenkee stoopa apenkee che; chowba punyoo uba ku copah fwanna mee jee ulwan copah dwana togwa?" [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "Lady Voss! You've finally been brought before me! I've heard a good deal about you in the holonews lately! Attacked on Nar Shaddaa? Inexcusable! I've been very eager to finally meet one of your distinction; who do I have to thank for escorting you to me today?"
While it would seem that most (all?) of the gathered were here for an audience with the Hutt, as was usually the reason why the good Doctor Cas was anywhere, the doctor was, mostly likely, and clearly working. There was certainly no other reason why she was departing what would normally be noted to be the chattel corridor. Dressed for the smugglers moon and not the grossly overbearing heat of the desert planet, yet, she looked none the worse for wear, as she adjusted the bag she carried at all times. Perhaps, now, a bit lighter than it would normally be, but such was the way of the galaxy. Finding herself, alas, in the midst of an audience, the doctor simply found a palce where she was both out of the way, and available for duty.
The sound of spurs rattling herald Sumi's approach, and she takes up residence nearby, within sight of the hearings. A semi-loud 'thoooonk' comes from the glaive she plants against the stone floor before her short stature takes to leaning against it.
Terek found the two ladies with him very resourceful. They both retrieved drinks and began to fight like cats over which of them got to present their drink to him. "No meeee!" Swat, swat. "Hehehe! No meeeee!" Swat, swat, swat.
Terek has a red drink on one side, and a blue from the other. Ironically enough, it matches their respective skin tone. "Which would you like, dragon slayer??" Said in unison.
Having spent an evening talking up the court, Zypha's eyes slide over to the scene unfolding. From the shadowy side of the Audience Chamber, those glowing cyan eyes look over to Borgol and the apparent person of the hour: Aria Voss. His head tilts slightly, sending that onyx-black braid to tumble over his shoulder and his conversational partner becoming neglected. A solid raise of the brow.
With ears perked, the Zeltron approaches to be within general viewing distance, curiosity piqued.
Narsha continued her slow distancing from Juria until she was two people away from the rather uncouth human. Silently mumbling something under her breath, the Miraluka readjusts her blindfold. Re tying it under her hair and then checking out her nails before her attention was back on Borgol and Aria.
Zena is, well, doing her Mando thing. Watching everybody, making sure no one needs blasted with a comically large rifle.
Though most of her attention is on the exchange between Aria and Borgol. That's the real interesting part. Real, real interesting.
Aria's patience, though not nearly as infinite as Borgol's, holds. The picture of poise and sophistication, she remains standing silently before him, pink-skinned chin lifted haughtily even as a few of the the raven tendrils of her hair curl down the sides of her cheeks.
Eirik's arrival is not missed. The Zeltron could hear his footfalls, if not /feel/ is mood through her empathic abilities. It made gaze waver from Borgol for just a moment as her head turned an almost imperceptible fraction to the side. But it was enough. She knew he was there.
"A minor inconvenience, Mighty Borgol, I assure you," her voice rings out, projecting clearly enough to be heard to all that cared to listen. But her voice also betrays her youth, no matter how strong the soprano might have been, it carried with it the hints of excitement and worry that the situation raised in her.
Still, though there's warmth in her eyes, there also lingers a certain darkness. A perpetually shrewdly calculating stare, as if every gesture the Hutt made was being noted and added to some mental equation.
Finally Aria took a deep breath and began, "This, oh great and wise Borgol, is one of my personal guards. I've brought myself before you today in hopes of resolving a matter that weighs heavily on my mind. It has come to my attention that I have inadvertently offended you, and for that," she pauses, lifting one delicate hand to touch her chest, "I am truly sorry."
She gestures to the guard who steps forward, depositing and opening the small black case he was carrying, filled with 20,000-credits -- the same as the bounty that had been offered for her capture. "I humbly offer this payment as a token of my sincere regret, and I ask that you, in your infinite wisdom and grace, consider lifting the bounty placed upon me."
Juria opens her mouth, listening to Aria speak and then a 3PO droid translate whatever Borgol is saying. Listen, she's a pretty patient person, generally... but nobody ever said she's got a whole lot of attention. She's trying to follow the conversation and, to a point, she probably is. Brow furrowed, lips quirked, big green eyes glancing around with her arms across her chest.
who-dat Borgol says, dat-dem says Aria.
She's generally pretty good at this sort of dialogue. The backs and the forths...
Until there's a bounty mentioned. "oh..!" She didn't even know about a bounty! Peering back at Eirik behind them, head jerking up in greeting. "Oh, hey..." She squints, peering at his clan markings, "Oh, nevermind, thought you were someone I knew. You waiting to meet the Hutt too?"
She's here to make sure nothing crazy goes on, hands on her hips. "What're you here wishing for from the Hutt Lord? Or is it a secret? Actually it's probably a secret." Finger to her lips, "Forget I asked."
"dopa dwana?" The Hutt Lord paraphrases with only a hint of confusion slipping within his (enlightened) Huttese. He casts a glance aside toward Vorcassh and then some of his other retinue. It's almost as though he's trying to seek out some answer from them when, precisely, Lady Aria Voss had offended him. Soon his inquisitive expression and glancing around comes to an end as the Hutt Lord's full focus returns to rest imperiously upon Aria anew. The cybernetic eye continues to roam the room, lingering upon the presence of Sumi Kora for a time. There's a slight shift of Lord Borgol's frame, likely indicating some nearly imperceptible acknowledgment of the famed bounty hunter.
Regardless his organic eye remains firmly set upon Aria Voss and Lord Borgol addresses her solely and with one battering ram of an arm waving as though to clear a particularly dense cloud of spice-smoke, "killee h'chu dopa dwana, keta." The socially adept may notice that he does not apply a title. There's a low rumble that causes a tremble in his dais, all while his mighty tail-end rises up and claps once with a meaty slap against the stone dais as his laughter begins to fill the chamber. Dust is dislodged from the ceiling, trickling down to join with the sand upon the audience chamber's floor, "pankpa ulwan chowba, uba nibobo ku goba pankpa ku hakku apenkee apenkee peteessa shag copah. fwanna keta cheeska."
The words are spoken matter of factly and finally the Hutt Lord shifts, leaning ever so slightly toward Aria Voss as his jubilation and merriment softens, though his voice simply becomes a gentler, more conversational tone. Even the protocol droid seems to have to lean in to properly listen and translate, "duba, duba, duba. peteessa apenkee uba lorda D'emperiolo duba apenkee copah killee dwana jee-jee uba moocha moocha copah goba ulwan. chowba ulwan cheeska jee-jee stoopa apenkee apenkee pankpa mruishani droi copah keta oot-main duba mee? uba che D'emperiolo nibobo uba dopa."
He slowly begins to lean back again. Once again assuming his lounging position and staring down upon Lady Aria and the grate which she stands atop before he concludes with another flick of his thick wrist, "oot-main apenkee mee. uba ku duba h'chu stoopa killee." [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "Offend me? You've not offended my, Voss. If you had, I wouldn't have made such heavy emphasis on your safety upon delivery. You'd be dead. No, no, no. Already your name is being whispered on the outer rim and I simply wished to meet you. Whether you show up of your own accord or are delivered by a proactive entrepreneur? I still get what I want. Keep your credits. I have no need of them."
Noticed, the gaze angled his way gaining a nod from the Zelosian whose attention soon turns to the address that is given to Borgol. To pay off one's own bounty after delivering themself to the hutt's own dinner table. Literally and figuratively.
The unfolding situation gaining his undivided attention and the orchardist finishes their glass in a single go, setting it aside and folding his hands on the table. Emerald eyes luminescent in the light cast on him by the lamp above, set in his island of illumination. Waiting and wondering what will come of all this.
Only to find it a happy gathering, of sorts, rather than the groveling and weeping sorts he's previously heard were the norm in Hutt dens.
Cadogan West had his left hand hanging at his side to his point, but at the revelation that this has all been a big misunderstanding, the young spacer sniffs sharply in flat humor, shakes his head and takes a long drink of the vessel in his right.
Keeping along the periphery, Zypha's glimmer of comprehension is dim, until the 3po droid translates. A nearby gamorrean grunts something into the Zeltron's ear, which, for a moment, gets the attention of those synthetic eyes. The look he gives the beastly creature is akin to getting ready to take his earrings off and pull out some tusks. That is, until a snort, a smile, and his eyes return to the Hutt's interaction.
Almost as though confirming what's being said, Zypha taps through a datapad, amber-hued matrices delivering data, quirking a brow, before grinning in vague humor. As things turn out to be better than expected, the Zeltron merely leans back against a nearby pillar, curious about the drama of misunderstandings unfolding before the audience chamber.
The booming of the Hutt does make Vorcassh shift. His helmet shakes to one side slightly. Specifically the side the Hutt boomed from, likely he had receptors up on full blast to selectively listen here and there. Temporarily Deafened by the Boss, it's his lot in life. He takes the time to really shift his shoulders to lean back into the molding of the archway once again. There is shifting side to side. Possibly scratching his back under the armor, while trying to be subtle about that too. With the look from Borgol, there is a shrugging of shoulders and his hands splay upwards in a classic silent 'beats me, boss' gesture. He's not about to tell the Hutt how to send invitations! %r%r The dark tinted eye lenses focus upon Aria as she pleads her case. Vorcassh stays relaxed, everyone is being polite and behaved thus far. The ID-10 blatantly circling them all. Though, one of Aria's entourage catches Vorcassh's eye and he looks from Juria, to the Hutt, to Juria and the Hutt again, and the helmet tilts slightly to one side in silent question.
Eirik kept his poise at Aria's back his hands clasped in front of him as he glances around that emblem of Clan Kurshi Deathsnake emblazoned upon the Pauldron. He taps his finger head canting to Juria he gestures from him to Aria and than stands straight and tall saying he's here for her protection should she need it without saying it.
Those first (translated) words draw a flicker of confusion from Aria that's matched only by Borgol's own curious glances around. No offenses made? The 20,000 credit bounty was a SUMMONS? Oh, how she longed for the days of living on Coruscant, where the social rules even of the Sith seemed to make more sense to her.
The mention of being dead sends a shiver down the woman's spine, and it brings a ghost of a placating smile to her lips to replace the moment of confusion. Her shoulders, notably, seem to relax every so slightly one the explanation is complete.
There is a moment, however, that Aria takes before she responds. A moment to turn her head more fully over her shoulder, to the voice of a woman that carried into her audience with Borgol. The violet gaze she has for Juria isn't exactly /withering/ , but words certainly aren't required to make her point.
And a moment later, her attention is fully back on the Hutt, a broad if apologetic smile curling her lips. If she noticed (she did) that her title was omitted, she made no correction regarding it. "Gracious Borgul, you are truly generous," the Lady says, dipping into another curtsey and then making another gesture for her guard to move up and collect the case again.
"I am truly grateful to have the privilege of being in your presence and honored that you would go to such lengths to meet me." A beat. "I would ask, though, if you might allow me to make one further request?"
Here, Aria's eyes seem to sharpen, and there's something almost predatory to the little curl at the corners of her lips. Perhaps it's directed at Borgol, though given the rest of her demeanor, it's likely much more related to her anticipation of her next point of business.
Tamsin, having found herself, for the moment, at loose ends, that is, having been directed to reconnect no pulled off limbs, or removed entrails, found herself a seat at the edge of the room, pulling her bag into her lap, gaze looking away from the Hutt Lord, who was clearly the center of attention at the moment, and beginning a brief inventory of her ready supplies. Simply because Borgol had not ordered any disemboweling yet did not mean that he never would. Capricious was the Hutt Lord of Tatooine.
The two drinks being presented to him, Terek looks between the pair, <"Please, ladies. No need to fight."> He says, with a bit of a laugh, as he reaches up and takes off his helmet with a hiss, pulling it off and setting it at his side, before reaching up and taking both of the drinks, "Come on, sit. Relax." He runs a hand through the greying mane, pulling it back out of his face a bit, before he takes a drink from the red one first.
Juria up-nods at Eirik, giving him a big thumbs up. "Glad you changed your mind." Because last time she saw him he was pretty adament about not dealing with Aria at all. She grins brightly as ever, looking back up at the Zeltron conversing with the Hutt, only to be hit with the not quite withering glance. A pale nose wrinkles...
And one arm hoists, leaning in towards her armpit to give a couple sniffs... then the other, just to make sure she's 'balanced'.. She shakes her head slowly ands hrugs helplessly!? "It's not me..." She whispers, possibly a little louder than necessary. "I think it's the Gamoreans..." Wiggle pointing off the dias where one may, or may not she wasn't paying that much attention, have leansed a little to the left.
Hands up, big shrug.
Everything is playing out nicely though.
Nobody is being fed to Kathhounds (in the absence of Rancor). So Juria goes quiet. Rocking forward and back on her heels. Looking around at the dias, at the people in line.. at the people back enjoying themselves.
A couple slow nods in time with the bands music. Just shy of drumming her fingers on her arms.
It's not like she just got like this.. Nobody is really paying attention to her, though. so she bows... and backs up... and bows... and backs up... annnnd bows... then turns and starts towards the bar, fishing around in her pockets looking for credit chits.
Sumi continues to watch in silence. She is unaware (seemingly at least) of the Hutt Lord watching her with his artificial eye.
The ladies with Terek both giggle as he accepts both drinks. When he drank the red one first, the lady that had offered it to him grins. "Yeesss, now tell her how good it was, Dragon Slayer." She stares at Blue, but Blue is pushing Terek's arm up to try the other drink. "Tell her how much better mine is, Dragon Slayer!" The two stare daggers at each other while hanging off the Mandalorian.
Maybe it's all the movement. Maybe it's all the banter. Whatever it is, something draws Borgol's attention away from Lady Aria Voss. It is toward Juria that the Hutt Lord's attention gradually shifts. Even his cybernetic eye ceases its lazy roaming of the entire chamber. All of Lord Borgol's attention is soon found converging upon Juria. Borgol the Hutt stares upon the human female without thought of distraction. Even Aria's words seem to fall upon deaf ears, because when she falls silent; Borgol does not continue their conversation. Now it is Juria who has gained the Hutt's attention. The conversation grinds to a halt while the Hutt Lord patiently stares down from atop his dais and his tail slowly, slowly slaps against the dais upon which he lounges. Even the swirling of his bucket-chalice has ceased. All in the interest of devoting the entirety of his energy into the simple art of staring at the lifeform for the next few weeks. Only when Juria's presence begins to move toward the bar does Lord Borgol's attention drift away and back to Aria.
Sobered by his distraction, Lord Borgol's manner seems to have subdued substantially when he begins to speak anew, "uba goba nibobo apenkee jee-jee, jewz hakku nibobo dwana hakku punyoo." The Hutt Lord pauses for a moment to allow his own spoken decree to sink it and for his protocol droid to cease its electronic prattling, "keta punyoo stoopa copah goba ulwan keepuna punyoo nibobo. copah copah shag ulwan. duba. nibobo lorda apenkee jee-jee, droi stoopa keta?"
The Hutt Lord settles heavily into his shimmersilk cushions and he does finally drink from his chalice. The liquid sloshes and splashes within his cavernous maw. The smacking of his tongue against his mouth is audible, though short-lived. Only after he has quenched his thirst, no matter how briefly, does he seem prepared to hear out the request presented before him. [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "I will hear your request, but you'll hear my words first. Be mindful of the company you surround yourself with. They reflect upon you. Now. What is your request, Aria of Voss?"
The one's antics had been noted and the internal question of when they would be addressed, indirectly or otherwise, was suddenly answered. Looking to his droid and then back to Borgol and finally to Juria headed for the bar, Qutha's lips purse and he is set to puzzle out the potential next bit of foresight he was bound for, but more as like it would be as likely as a Cathar being struck by energy from a magic sword and turned into a raging Battle Cathar as anything at his best guess.
"Tell you what, Oh Bother... I's startna wunner ifn' we's might jus' need t'hit the ol' dusty trail, 'fore sommat gits kicked up 'roun' here. Reckon."
The droid gives a low tone and ducks its head, tweeting softly,
"Ayuh... ifn' we'd even be 'llowed t'right now."
The cathar takes the blue drink and gives it a drink as well. Red one was better, he thinks. But the last thing he wants to do is get these two fighting.
Or maybe he does. That'd be a good way to get them off of him.
"Actually, if I'm being honest, the red one was a bit better." He leans back a bit, to give them better room to get at each other. Once they start fighting, he'll duck out and find himself somewhere far away from the pair to lurk.
Speaking of lurking, R2-Z3 has been lurking near by, and is more than ready to swoop in and save Terek. Again... Eventually.
That silence is like a weight that sits heavily on her chest, her violet gaze shifting once more back to Juria when Borgol's attention is stolen from her. Ever so quietly, ever so calmly, she draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. As if she were trying to keep her panic down while staring into the maw of an angry predator.
There is no emotion; there is peace.
Not her words. Words she'd had spoken to her. Words that had gotten her though more than one stressful encounter in the last few weeks.
Her violet eyes watched Juria go. No withering glare, just quiet contemplation.
And then she was all eyes for Borgol, watching him speak and looking up at him directly, even though she was listening to the protocol droid.
"You are wise, Great Borgol," the Lady says, bowing her head. "And I thank you for your counsel."
And the Hutt wasn't wrong. Her company did reflect upon her. In more ways than she was comfortable publicly admitting.
"Put succinctly, your eminence," Lady Voss resumes her previously scheduled meeting with the Hutt Lord, "I would ask that you stop doing business with Black Nova Corporation immediately. I prefer to conduct business, but as you mentioned, they have resorted to measures that I cannot allow to stand without swift and decisive action. I would ensure that your assets are not the victim of any unfortunate collateral damage as a result of this entirely unnecessary turf war."
So, there was going to be collateral damage -- some time just after immediately.
"When I first heard of the bounty you'd offered," she says, "I assumed I'd done something to offend you while I was establishing our outer rim operations on Nar Shaddaa." She offers a smile, then, and a little bow of her head. "I'm pleased beyond words to know that I haven't. Now, I seek to be /sure/ that the steps I take to protect myself, my people, and my clients do not jeopardize our relationship." A pause. "I am prepared to assume any existing contracts you have with Black Nova at a ten percent discount, to be renegotiated after one year."
Zena takes another look around. She's seen enough, honestly. This isn't going to break out into a fight. If it does, there are better soldiers working for the Hutt than her. The diminutive Mando levers from the wall and readjusts her slung rifle.
Taking one last look about, Zena heads for the exit, sparing Aria a glance on her way out. She's glad she didn't have to shoot anyone today.
If there was surprise at how all this was unfolding, the Ubese does not seem surprised. Then again in that helmet, he could be making face at people and noone would know. There is a visible relaxing from Vorcassh as a figure moves away from it all. Once Borgol addressed Aria and the company she keeps, there is sound at last from the Ubese. There is a horrible grating as the scrambled vocodor at first tried to translate the sounds. Laughter from the Ubese complete with his head and chest bowing forwards from it just once. A loud 'ahem' sound is translated, and he goes right back to up against the wall trying to look casual.
Juria suddenly realizes, as she's making her way towards the bar, that maybe she'd gone a little heavy on the levity. She can feel eyes on her back.. big ones.. nasty ones.. half of them real even! She peers back over her shoulder at Borgol staring at her and... okay well she probably deserves that. She did insinuate that one of the Gamorrean's had made a toot.
She isn't entirely sure what his level of defensiveness for said Gamorrean's social honor is? Suffice that everything seemed pretty chill until she brought up he may have leaned intentionally and wasn't just adjusting her weight. That or she's just being obtuse at this point...
Her bottom lip tucks into her teeth as the stare continues.. until he looks back to Aria and says she's making a poor impression.. Well, whatever her personal opinions are, she's fairly well sure Aria is going to defend her! Certainly she'll tell him, 'oh she's just a lovable, albeit socially awkward, kidder'. That's not what she says.
Her lips press together and her hand comes out of her pocket to count credit chits, sifting through them with her finger. With a nod she shoves them back in her pocket, really wishing she had a hood. Without one, she has to just walk out without dramatically tossing it up over her head.
Blue scoffs at Terek, not believing her ear cones! Her mouth hangs open in total surprise as Red melts into a lazy, self-satisfied smile. "Want to know my secret, Dragon Slayer?" She purrs, rubbing slightly up against his armor and standing on her bare tip-toes. "Spice." She whispers. Red meets his gaze and nods her head.
Blue grumbles, "But I wanted to drug him. It's not /fair/ ."
Sumi can't hear the soft commotion by the bar, but she glances toward Terek to see how he's holding up. He... seems to be hanging in there. What a champ...
Lord Borgol weighs what Lady Aria has to say and he considers it long. The hand draped across his midsection rises up. The movement of his hand across his chest results in the quiet sloshing of slime. Wet and sticky. That same slime is transferred from his chest to his chin while his thick fingers begin to rub it. There is thoughtful consideration paid to the request made.
Borgol does offer the chalice aside to one of his attendants. The casual hand-off of his drink results in another attending stepping onto the dais aside the Hutt Lord. Golden eyes still fixed upon Aria, Lord Borgol leans back ever so slightly that he may have a morself hand-fed into his cavernous mouth. It isn't some plump fruit plucked by unsullied hands of Twi'lek servants that are placed delicately into his waiting maw, but instead a small container of fluffy and skittering creatures. Their screeches are miniature in volume, barely more than a squeak as they tumble into the Hutt's open gullet. The tiny screeching comes to a gradual halt as the Hutt Lord begins to chew, instead replacing their panicked sounds with audible crunches and snaps of tiny bones being ground.
Only when he swallows with a sound akin to a stone being dropped into a river does Lord Borgol finally address Lady Aria Voss and her request, "uba jeedai mruishani copah pankpa oot-main jee-jee nibobo apenkee hoohah bo, oot-main keepuna stoopa dwana apenkee. uba goba dopa oot-main copah jeedai k'wanna punyoo stoopa keta ulwan pankpa. mruishani chowba uba oot-main togwa dwana oot-main lorda dwana jee-jee nobo oot-main mee? chowba nibobo shag stoopa dwana..." he pauses for a moment to rumble out a low, quiet chuckle, "goba."
His own stipulation to the - for now verbal - agreement presented, Lord Borgol falls into silence. Where previously Aria had adopted her own momentary and subtle predatory leer; Borgol's own stare is calm, cold, detached, patient. The stare of a centuries old creature who would be present when nearly everyone in the audience chamber was long forgotten by many generations in the future. [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "I am amiable to such a partnership with your stated terms, plus another of my own. I will receive a thirty five percent share of Voss Galactic Corporation. This way I ensure that my investment is returned and as a result? Protected with all of my... tenacity."
Lumbering down from the ground floor is Snogrutt! The glowering Gamorrean pauses just inside the entrance, glancing at one of the other Gamorreans on sentry duty. "doo duphi ghevaethie rhu? tearh py ghiethivoow uhefevus ghiethivoow hevukoogh ofezaaghae if oomapijyf ma thaa ghevaethie il il..." he mutters, scanning the variety if visitors. Of course, Aria gets the Captain's attention for a moment as she's directly addressing Borgol. "aghooz. easitem ath etaetutov egheagaepo ghevaethie ghevaethie gho wif sigh ehaa poogiewod thaa duphi sosedo. tearh aghiese femamu ihirheph if on ghevaethie ofezaaghae thaa thyp! aghal ghevaethie etaetutov sas py yvyka...." he smiles at his compatriot. "wydoote sege rhemit as fevierh hoofooph oodimoo, if kosa etaetutov ghevaethie yvyka sat ma ghevaethie ath lae ghevaethie amifake ivu rhaefer if raekaa aghal nipheghaza fadewaetoo! sat!" Of course, the Gamorreans find this hilariously amusing, their snuffled squeals of delight echoing off the walls as they have a little moment amongst themselves. [Language: Gamorrean]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Snogrutt, "What's all the racket? I go away for a small trip and you let in the riff raff... Hrmpf. Maybe she'll get fed to the Sand Beast those Jawas brought in awhile ago. I haven't seen anything fall through the trap in ages! Starting to get boring around here.... Fifty credits says one gets locked up, and we get to hear how loud they squeal when the pliers come out and fingernails start coming off! Hah!"
Another look shared between zelosian and droid before Qutha slips from the table. The little BD unit hopping onto his shoulder. A brow lofted at the cavorting gamorreans but it's soon put behind him in the most literal fashion. Adjusting his jacket and moving among the varied pools of light that he can find.
A last glance foe Aria and one for Juria before he disappears into the crowd, humming to himself and heading for his ship... and a means to go somewhere with more green... and more water.
There's something /tired/ about the way emotions weighed on the young Zeltron woman, and the expression on Juria's face just before she'd turned away weighed heavily on her.
It wasn't that long ago that Aria was making the tabloids for the latest rich Sith notable or wealthy mogul the young and extremely eligible bachelorette was suspected of bedding. She, who as an only child, stood to inherit her father's position as owner of a massive interstellar shipping company. Spoiled, irresponsible, and playing philanthropy with her father's money by starting the Galactic Hope Initiative, they'd said.
But now there were attempts in her life. Now she was ordering executions on public streets. Now she was risking friendships for the sake of business... for the sake of /retribution/ . How dark was the place this road she was on led to? How much farther could she go before she couldn't find her way back into the light, anymore?
Aria was waiting. Watching. Thinking. Feeling. Her eyes were staring up at the Hutt, still, watching him... eat. She at least had enough poise not to grimace at the sight.
And then, at long last, came the words. And if it had been anyone else, the glint that touched her eyes would have induced laughter. As it was, she managed to quite literally swallow her reaction, reducing it to a small smile and a gulp.
"Considerate, Wise Borgol," the young woman starts, opening her hands slightly in front of her in a regal shrug, "that is, I'm afraid, something I'm unprepared to negotiate to fruition. As you're undoubtedly aware, shares of Voss Galactic are held by a variety of stakeholders throughout the Core, and a decision of that magnitude would need to be put before the board for a vote. Our company is large, but its assets are largely committed to government contracts." The Sith Empire's contracts. "While /I/ understand and appreciate the generosity of your offer and your need to provide your own protection, the board may not be as inclined to support the acquisition of such a large share, and I do not wish for this to impede your decision to withdraw from dealings with Black Nova."
A pause, then.
"May I propose five percent?" She lifts one hand mildly. "I cannot guarantee the board will accept that offer, either, but it is something I am more likely to be able to negotiate, considering the side of our outer rim fleet compared to that of the core. As your business increases the value of our company, I'm certain they would be open to renegotiation."
Spice? Aw, frag. It's not that he's never had it before but, well, usually it's under circumstances where he knows he's going to take it. He shakes his head a little bit, "You know you two should ask first." He says, as he pushes himself up from the bar. He's already starting to feel the effects of the spice in the drink, too.
He puts his helmet back on, and motions with a hand as Zee rolls up. Terek gives a glance towards the two, shaking his head a bit, <"Maybe don't play your hand so early next time."> Speaking of hands, Terek remembers he has them as he looks down at them, before he puts one back on the top of his droid, <"Hey buddy, get me back to the ship. This is gonna be a weird night.">
Ah. A gammorean. Tamsin looked up from, well, whatever she had beend oing, which looked to be sipping on a bottle of the most precious fluid to be found...or alternately, not found, on a desert planet. Clean, filtered, perfectly ph-balanced water. Things were likely to either get even more interesting...or not at all. Maybe double check her supplies levels. Still, having worked for as many years as she had with the Hutts, the doctor was as stoically calm as ever. Had it been shy, bringing an offer for Clan Cas, she might have felt entirely differently. But, such was the ease of escape for the dcctor, who was only a doctor tonight.
Now it is Borgol's turn to speak of reflection and company kept. The arrival of his Chief of Security in the form the Gamorrean, Snogrutt the Mighty, results in Borgol's attention drifting lazily away from Aria Voss. He considers the porcine pile of muscle and a little drool. As the commotion carries on though and Borgol seems oblivious to what is actually spoken, Lord Borgol the Hutt does finally speak up and directly to Snogrutt. The fact he does so likewise interrupts his discussion with Lady Aria Voss, who stands upon the metal grate before the Hutt Lord's dais, "killee copah copah," he states strong and firm across the audience chamber to gather the attention of the Gamorrean. "uba jeedai hakku nibobo oot-main keta. uba nobata ulwan copah oot-main apenkee ma bo lorda jee-jee keta fwanna stoopa dwana uba."
The Hutt Lord's golden eyes stare heavily upon the Gamorrean for a long moment. Gradually his attention does return to Aria, however.
To the Voss corporate heiress, Lord Borgol answers her counter-offer. It seems they've delved into the art of business exchange and the dance of negotiation, which the Hutt Lord only seems to relish with a satisfied pull at each corner of his wide mouth, "hakku k'wanna. nobo dwana dwana ku apenkee keta? punyoo k'wanna punyoo apenkee h'chu copah goba killee stoopa copah h'chu copah keta nobata h'chu droi stoopa coo punyoo jee-jee droi killee cheeska dwana keta. peteessa ku keta oot-main jee-jee duba copah lorda copah pankpa stoopa D'emperiolo yocula copah keepuna punyoo pankpa chowba chowba, duba, che apenkee stoopa apenkee copah killee dwana jee-jee mruishani oot-main stoopa togwa. goba dwana uba goba punyoo ma nobata jee-jee mruishani togwa duba hoohah? goba hoohah ma uba D'emperiolo nibobo lorda ma."
It is after this statement that the Hutt Lord's golden eyes, one artificial and one organic, shifts across the audience chamber. He looks to the assortment of hired guns, bounty hunters, and other upstanding entrepreneurs. Then his golden eyes turn back to regard Lady Aria Voss with the full weight of his stare. [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "Snogrutt the Unflappable, I am meeting with a guest. I expect you to keep your men under control and be respectful of MY conversation. Twenty percent. As my advocate among your board? I'm confident in your ability to convince them of the need to buy back shares from their current holders and usher them into my ownership. It would be a considerable shame to draw the attention of others beyond the Black Nova Corporation who could, potentially, sense your weakness on the outer rim and take advantage of that. While my name will deter many threats and those that aren't deterred? Will learn how I defend what is mine."
Lady Aria Voss, her body covered in Coruscanti silk the dark purple and blues of midnight that looks as if it were poured into place, shimmering like moonlight with gossamer threads woven through it. The dress was precious. Sensual. Rare. And entirely out of place on this dust-ball of a world.
Not at all unlike the woman wearing it.
The pinpoints of Aria's silver stilettos manage to find purchase through chance or careful selection on that metal grate, allowing her to maintain her balance without breaking an ankle. And dressed as she was in that form-fitting gown, those delicate shoes, she was -- perhaps -- the most striking and yet fragile thing in the chamber. Any number of beings could likely end her with barely a thought. Likely she'd never even survive the fall through a trap door, much less whatever waited on the other side.
And that wisp of a woman, with her light pink Zeltron flesh and purple-hued raven hair, waits patiently for Borgol to finish his business with his employee. There's no shift of her gaze. No pointed looks. No hint of recognizing that Borgol, just like she, sometimes suffered at the lack of propriety of her retinue. There was no mention of it.
And there wouldn't be.
"That is gracious of you, your eminence," the Lady says, bowing her head respectfully. "I promise that I will take your offer to our board and fight on your behalf. The power of your name alone, if not your might, will be," not would be or could be, "our greatest asset, not just here on the rim, but in the core as well. With our partnership secured, that knowledge alone will ease our expansion and increase profits for both of parties."
A pause, then, as Lady Voss raises her hands slightly to clasp in front of her. A symbolic gesture. A joining of two.
"Thank you for your generosity, your wisdom, and your counsel. I will take my leave and return when I have news from our board. You are a most gracious host."
And then the Lady dips once more into a curtsey, though she waits to be dismissed before collecting her allies and departing.
Lord Borgol watches and listens while Lady Voss presents her answer. There is satisfaction evident in Borgol's expression as he offers a solemn nod of his head, which results in the slight forward lean of his entire body since there is little separating the Hutt's head and body from being one. One great arm lifts and he gestures with a wave of the appendage toward and around Aria, stating as he does so, "uba nobata ulwan copah ma nobo dwana keta, jewz uba goba bo jee-jee mruishani duba coo copah apenkee peteessa yocula. killee lorda stoopa hoohah killee nobata shag." Though Borgol does not dwell on or state the fact that it's of less critical importance to himself. He offers a parting nod of dismissal toward Aria.
After that matter of business has been resolved, only then does Lord Borgol the Hutt's attention turn back to the chamber-at-large, "lorda stoopa nobata h'chu copah keta hakku? mruishani peteessa chowba chowba punyoo mruishani duba nobata jee-jee dopa punyoo duba moocha D'emperiolo?" The offer is simple: business or party. [Language: Huttese]
5P-KR (3P0 Unit 9872) repeats after Borgol the Hutt, "I invite you to remain as my guest, but I will understand and take no affront to your swift departure. Time is of tragic importance after all. Is there further business to be discussed? Or shall we partake in our favored vices and indulge in some simple pleasures?"
Aria's smile warms.
"Your offer is kind and generous, Mighty Borgol, but I must excuse myself for now." Aria brings her hand up briefly to touch her chest. "I will, however, endeavor to remain when I return so that we can be better acquainted, if your schedule allows. May you be kept safe until we next meet."
With a final tilt of her head, Aria turns and her guard turns with her, her collection of allies -- those that are left -- departing with her in the direction of the palace's landing pad.