Log:Hutts: What we intend to do
Guards and patrons alike are herded away from the entrance of the fortress's great hall. Gamorreans guided by Nikto, but a cadre of masked Kaleesh are most prominent - walking encircled about the gargantuan hover-sled that is at the center of the entourage. Laid out upon a heap of cushions and pillows crafted specifically for the titanic bulk that reclines upon them.
Mottled brown and gray flesh that is darkened from the top of the wedge shaped head to the tip of the tail, becoming chalky until it fades to dirty along chin and belly rests Chrouda the hutt. Slit pupil purple eyes take in the sights of the grand hall, flabby arms resting to lace fingers before its chest. A Dug sits amid the coils of the six meter hulk, filing its nails and adjusting the lay of its grandiose clothes, looking up as they all arrive; but it's the robed Muun that stands at the front of the throne, to the side of the Snackquarium that speaks.
"Announcing, his most vast and amazing entity! Lord Chrouda The Hutt has deigned the Fortress of Binding to be graced with his most fantastic presence." the narrow skulled being bowing and sitting on the edge of the throne before it comes to a slow rest close to the central dais, repulsor systems lifting it a full meter above the level of it.
The Fortress is abuzz with the typical nefarious commotion that this place is known for -- drunk gamblers, ruffians, and nefarious scum of all sorts make up the establishment's clientele. Near the bar, a three-piece jazz band belts out an up-tempo tune as a trio of scantily-clad Twi'lek dancers entertain the crowd.
"And don't forget to tip the girls if you like what you see, huh?! Spend those credits! Hahahahahahahah." Gooza's voice bellows from his plush throne, upon which the massive Hutt slurps from a four-liter tankard of bubbling green liquid. As the second Hutt motors into the Palace, the Labor Lord's eyes go wide. "Ahh! Lord Choudhra... we are honored by your presence at the Fortress of Binding. To what do I owe the honor?" Gooza drinks to that.
The Muun remains silent and the Dug keeps his peace as well as Chrouda's twilight gaze levels on Gooza's form, the repulsor thread keeping him where the light won't get out of his view, jaw working slowly and a massive hand lowers into the dry terrarium to draw a screeching, furred, mustelid creature from within. Squeezing periodically to shift the pitch and timber of the cries while speaking in a sound more like thunder through gigantic brass pipes than from the cavernous chest.
"Goooooza..." a grinding sound from the hutt's bite plate and a milky line of drool seeps from the corner of its mouth with one of the shrill cries of the long bodied creature in hand. "Your slave trade is to be expanded... Your Ylessian interests are being granted a boon and you are going to begin sales closer to Corellia and Alderaan." at last the mustelid is deposited on a curling tongue, wrapping around the shrieking little thing that tries to claw and bite as it is drawn in and can be seen actively trying to escape Chrouda's mouth, shaking and being floored by its continued speech rendering it deaf, judging by how its cries further change.
"Is this understood?" a crunch cuts short the muffled cries and pink joins the milky white sliding down its blubber.
The Hutt slaver's curiosity is evident on his face as he guzzles another few deep gulps from his tankard, his eyes bulging for a moment. Gooza's lips then curl upward to bare his yellow-tinged incisors, and the Hutt lets out a deep laugh that resonates off the Fortress's bulkheads.
"Granted an extension to my slaving trade? I am grateful. I can assure you that you will not be disappointed -- I will continue to source the finest inventory and make profitable sales." That commitment is accompanied by a sinister grin from the slaver.
"Your merchandise is less the concern, but your services in transporting them is enough that I feel it be beneficial." one hand is waved slowly, sending the Dug into action; producing a datapad that upon initial inspection is locked and its contents hardwired, including a biometric lock requiring Hutt contact.
"Those species listed, from the noted slave corrals. Two for every ten of your normal stock. No more, no less. You will have guaranteed buyers each time, you needn't specify where, but those with... the mark in that pad will be delivered to those markets near the designated systems. The families will not interfere with those sales of your additional merchandise. I have made arrangements." chewing slowly, a tube is lifted from a stand and something thick and bubbling is sipped from a repository within his sled, swished to mix with the paste of the creature being chewed and the lot swallowed.
"They are not to be auctioned. They will always will have buyers and they will also have a small token to be brought to you. No one else opens the token, but you. No one buys the slaves with the mark I have provided but those who come to buy them with those tokens. Do not fail me." another mustelid lifted and dropped into his mouth.
"Agreeable?" Chrouda crunches again, cutting the animal cries off.
"Ah. Yes, I understand. I will ensure that we process and transport the cargo according to these specifications." Gooza reaches out for the datapad with a vile smirk spread across his lips, taking another gulp from his raised tankard.
"I am grateful for the opportunity. It is always my desire to be useful to the Cartel." One who observes Gooza's daily life on Nar might think that he's more preoccupied with hunting down the best slaves and throwing the most outrageous parties. "You will not be disappointed in my efforts."
"The families and I expect you to make this a truth, Gooza." the Dug returns to Chrouda's sled and settles in once more, getting comfortable among the great length of the hutt's tail before the sled begins to back up and lower back towards the floor as the gathering of the elder hutt's guards and flunkies begin to withdraw as well.
"Do not disappoint; a young hutt of your years should have amassed a fair collection of tactics and methods. I am intrigued to see what you do." once at ground level the sled turns and meanders towards the hall entry - again the employees and guests of the Fortress being herded aside by the varied guards. The ancient hutt having no notable patience for anything their passage now that work was concluded.
A small group of Ugnaughts, though, linger - a half dozen of them carrying a cate on poles that rest on their shoulders. Set down and with a code tapped to open as they walk away, presenting an arm cushion of Hapan silk and looking luxuriously overstuffed; dark green with silver threading making it look liquid when the light strikes.
And then Chrouda's gatherum is gone, leaving a quickly closing gap in the assembly within the fortress.