2008-02-14 - A Hutt Paroled

The guards without seem little concerned with the admission of visitors. With a sneer and a shrug, the Gamorreans unbar the looming gates, and allow almost anyone to enter. Strange laxity for a Dungeon, perhaps, but it isn't as though most of the prisoners are very mobile, nor do any of them seem interested in leaving. Few of them even look up from their murmurrings amidst the gloom.
And indeed it is gloomy within this vast, humid chamber. The smell of spice is nigh stifling, and the softs sounds of lurid music trickle from the depths of the private cells. Within one of these, an exceptionally large old Hutt lounges restlessly, ministering to a well-kept old Force Pike with whistful caresses.
"Gom gom jagoora, dun-do lathie?" the creature murmurs in a harsh, deep voice.
What news of the war?
In response, a nearby Protocol Droid consults his datapad, and inclines his head, "Bothawui is still beseiged, or so it is said, and the Republic still musters greater forces."
Cerebra the Hutt smiles slowly, and continues to caress his Force Pike.
Nash Dragen chooses an opportune moment to arrive, which is something that he has been a trademark of his in recent years. He seems rather unusually comfortable in these surroundings, as the Warlord of the Black Imperium comes back to a familiar scene from his roots, smiling rather thinly at the spice-soaked Hutt. After all, the self-imposed Baron of Kessel supplied it, you know. He approaches the Hutt and stops a respectful distance, waiting to be addressed.
A young Twi'lek in his mid-twenties enters through the gates. Besides the frown of his brow, he seems not nervous at all; he'd rather fit here, with his outfit and relaxed stance. He lets the Gamorreans scan and frisk him without even noticing. His attention is divided between Cerebra and his guess, Dragen. A smile arises at the corner of his mouth and he nods to Nash, head angled.
Cerebra looks up slowly from the caresses of his Force Pike, and his lower lip thrusts out as he turns his engorged left eye to look carefully upon Dragen. Recognition is perhaps slow in coming, or perhaps the Hutt is a patient creature. After a time, he leans back against a sweeping durasteel throne and props his Force Pike on an arm rest. Then he hooks his elbow over the rest, and opens his hand to Dragen.
"Hardoola doola, grimbo Dragoo. Loog hoog garoon?" he grumbles softly.
The droid looks up from his datapad, and cants his head to one side, "The infamous Cerebra bids you welcome, Lord Dragen, and inquires as to the purpose of your gracious visit to an old imprisoned Hutt."
Nash Dragen smiles. "Well, perhaps I have some business with a venerable and glorious Hutt." he says, smiling thinly, and nodding to the Twi'lek. "The current Hutt in charge is... very unreasonable about doing business, and I was wondering perhaps if another Hutt wouldn't want to profit from this costly mistake."
The Twi'lek stays back and watches the scene, showing no rush. Nash's able sweet talks make his smile wider, even. His only move is to step some paces away from the Gamorreans, perhaps because of the smell.
"Grung!" Cerebra mutters coarsely. He lifts his hand to his scabborous chin, fingering it gingerly. His narrow eye he turns now to Dragen, at once thoughtful and suspicious. Then he looks to Okran, and for a long moment says nothing.
"Har garoog, habba jung jor garoona. Grim groog habba jona dinga rooga, gor greego harog Zergata. Jam jam garoo?" the Hutt asks, and at this last he directs his gaze to Okran as well.
"My lord Cerebra expresses his distaste," the protocol droid says swiftly, "And reminds you, Lord Dragen, that he is yet a prisoner of the Hutts. He would express his thanks at the trouble you have stirred up in the greater galaxy, as he suspects that this may yet be the key to his freedom and the reestablishment of the Brood of Zergata. However, my Lord Cerebra expresses that business has never been his forte, unless it is the business of war. Still, the infamous Hutt will listen to any proposal that either of you may wish to offer."
Nash Dragen smiles. "Well, what are his goals? Being a prisoner here is easy enough to change. As much power as Darlana has amassed...his power is rather pale in the face of mine..which is why he could only watch as I seized spice production. But let the young twi'lek speak...He seems trying hard enough to get my attention, and he has it."
The Twi'lek registers Cerebra's look, so he grants the Hutt a courteous bow and steps forward, to stop just a bit behind the Warlord, on his left. "Thank you, your Huttness.", he says to Cerebra, advancing now to be equal with Nash. "The Warlord's kindness will be remembered and he may find my request interesting. I am Yyss'a Okran, spokesman of the Cloud City Union and the new C.E.O. of Bespin. I come here to offer opportunities in helping us make Bespin a free world."
At this, the copious Hutt only steeples his fingers, wet red eyes glittering as they flicker between the Twi'lek and the Human. He says naught, and the protocol droid cants his head to one side, folding his arms behind his back with a creaking whirr.
Nash Dragen nods. "I am indeed interested. The Black Imperium stays out of Rim World affairs, and looks forward to securing exclusive partnerships with them."
Yyss'a gives Nash a glance, nods and grins some, before returning his focus on the Hutt. "Your Hutness, Bespin's been drained dead broke. We wish for neutrality, with everyone. We cannot afford another war in our skies. Your arbitration, your Hutness, is greatly needed."
The massive Hutt laughs slowly, and his huge tail coils about in front of him. "Ho ho ho! Galgorra? Grom jadda dooka, meento treega. Horm do logorra. Bo droga? Hrok do ma!"
As this last is said, Cerebra slams his meaty fist upon his armrest, which resounds with a dull thump.
"The Lord Cerebra is amused," the protocol droid reports, "at your request for arbitration. However, he will arbitrate, if you so wish. He informs you, however, that peace is not what he desires-- that, indeed, he loathes the word."
The droid makes a sound of clearing its throat, and motions a hand to Cerebra, "I wonder, my friends, if you know why Lord Cerebra was imprisoned here?"
Nash Dragen snorts. "There are no neutral planets in this war. What you need to do, is pick a side under the table, and pledge neutrality to the Galaxy. All of the rim worlds have already done so." he says, shrugging. "And from my air of confidence, I hope you can guess which side. Except for the Hutt Nation, of course." he says, frowning. "But war is my business, and I will need your support to keep you out of it. I, of course, do not intend to be neutral. And how did you end up here, Lord Cerebra?" he asks, curiously.
The snort is answered by a wink. "Would I be here, dropping my pants, Warlord, if I didn't know who to deal with?", he asks, rhetorically. "My young ears, your Huttness, await being enriched with hystory instead of the rumors they've been filled with. Please, tell us.", he enquires Cerebra.
"Hutt Korgoo!" Cerebra says with a sly and secret grin. His thick fingers again caress the Force Pike propped against his throne, and he chortles deep in his copious belly.
"The Hutt Intercession," the protocol droid translates. And then elaborates, "The last great war of the Republic. Lord Cerebra was the chiefest of the Generals, and the only Hutt to personally fight. This is considered... something of an abberation. In the 'ceasefire' that followed, a condition of ending hostilites was Cerebra's imprisonment."
The Hutt sneers pridefully and leans back in his durasteel throne. "Grooda deeda, mo jo horrig. Duppa grindo, needa dooka."
The droid looks back to Cerebra, but then to Dragen and Yyss'a. He makes a nervous coughing sound, and does not translate.
And with the war, soon these terms will not matter. Soon I will be free again.
Nash Dragen raises an eyebrow. "Well, if you are a exalted Lord General...and I assume that you are not looking to become a Republic General....perhaps we should definitely speak on this a bit more. The Black Imperium does not discriminate against the Hutt race, as the Republic does...and more practically, I have need of Generals." he says, turning to Okran. "Speaking to Hutts is not exactly the way to go. Darlana cannot protect you. I can. Both of us have our prices, though, I'm sure."
Okran raises an eyebrow, nods to Cerebra, nods to Nash. "One side or the other will win this conflict, Warlord. Then, the Galaxy will remain the Galaxy. I have no clue myself on who to bet on except his Huttness Cerebra, who sure will find back his righteous place if any Hutt holding needs to fight back against a threat." Yyss'a smiles and turns to Cerebra. "Did I hear you well, your Hutness? Won't they need you, if they feel the heat?"
Cerebra's grin turns wry.
"Chooba naga doo Darlana, grom grom dorooga. Gro?" the Hutt murmurs with a rumbling chuckle.
Whether Darlana can protect you, this depends on his stance to me. No?
The Hutt runs a finger down his chin in a thoughtful gesture, and his smile turns grim. "Groo dorda... do reega, Mosh Dragoo bo Dagga Loth."
And of course... your stance to me, Lord Dragen of the Black Imperium.
Then the great Hutt turns to regard the Twi'lek with his bulging left eye, nestled amidst its terrible scarring. And he smiles, long and slow, "Hasha tooka; bo dragga mo neetha, dooga Rom sho motta do hinka, jedda doona doona Hutta. Bo dro gaggo. Dinda dinda ho bo lath, do drin do dee koth."
Perhaps it will be so; but no matter the case, the Republic has other things to worry about than the continued imprisonment of a four century Hutt war criminal. In time all is forgotten. And this forgetfullness and distraction, this will secure my freedom.
Nash Dragen laughs. "I can quietly inquire, but I am sure that there is no one in the Senate or War Council worrying about you. But with your help, I would like them to remember....very violently remember."
There's a pause on Okran's traits. Then, "As Coruscant and Corellia are locked down, by fear of war or bloated egotism, new deals will be cut with new partners. The longer they stall the better, for all of us here. I say, someone with unmarked ships and experienced spacers could, very wisely, attack convoys sailing between Sullust and Bespin. War brings out piracy, nobody will be surprised, your Huttness and Warlordship."
The Hutt looks between the Twi'lek and the Warlord and frowns.
"Dro drig mo jidda, dunga dunga?" Cerebra asks, first of Okran. Then he turns his narrow eye on Dragen, "Po needa dunka?"
What do you want of me, Twi'lek? -- and then to Dragen -- And your proposal?
The protocol droid looks between the two, and readies his datapad with the slow whirr of creaking joints.
Nash Dragen smiles. "I have thought this exactly, but have lacked a cunning enough person to accomplish this. Perhaps you have someone in mind?" he says, curiously. He turns to the Hutt. "I propose that you lead my ground forces against the Republic, and prove once more that you can terrorize the Republic. With my clones, this time you will not fail."
"I agree I have no choice but bend to the Warlord's authority, when outside his Huttness's underground palace.", Orkan confirms through a sad grin. "If had enough capitals to raise a small task force, there would be a third of the Tibanna gas, paid for by Sullust, returned to your Hutness, to his Warlordship, and to me. At random intervals, of course." On that, the Twi'lek beams to Cerebra. "In exchange, wouldn't that be reasonable to let Bespin out of the open war?"
Cereba's eye glistenes beneath its heavy lid at Dragen, and a bit of thick milky liquid runs down his withered cheek. "Do lotha gorta?"
And what do you offer?
Then the Hutt turns slowly to look carefully at the Twi'lek, and he paws at his copious chin thoughtfully. "Bestooni. Hibba needa do dro deena. Gom gibba needa doot. Gros teeda nimba doota."
Bespin. It's location is strategically important. Too important perhaps. I have no interest in Tibanna gas.
The U.C.C. spokesman hesitate, looking between the two generals. "May you forgive me for my lack of clarity. The cloud city will, of course, accomodate everyone that needs to stay, with no prejudice. The pirates, on the other hand, may shoot better at core ships going through.", he thinks aloud, showing efforts to please everyone.
"Dooga Kessel hoonta. Drom drom do ladda hatha reeda to togath," the Hutt says, blinking slowly as he turns to Dragen.
You hold Kessel. This would be a powerful bargaining chip for me.
Then Cerebra turns to regard to Twi'lek again, and he grows thoughtful. His red eyes take on a sudden cruel look, and the protocol droid gives a bit of a shudder, taking a step back into the shadows.
"Hotho drogo hinda dooda, jedda needa doth do rindi. Bestooni dinda shogo, yindi shogo deenda. Bo nath nath horada gimba troodo. Gom gibba needa donta meego rahd," the Hutt says slowly.
Perhaps there is a better way, to serve both ends. Bespin is important, and the Republic will not tolerate a Black military presence openly. The Blacks wish for my service. But the Republic might tolerate a Hutt military presence if it appeared to be opposed to the Blacks.
That said, Cerebra leans back and steeples his fingers, glancing shrewdly between the pair.
Nash Dragen nods. "That sounds much more in line with how I like to do business. And we can definitely speak on Kessel, to be sure, my Lord." he says, smiling. "I certainly would rather see it in Hutt hands. Lord Bulba ran it much better then I would."
The tension leaves Yyss'a's shoulders, at last, with Cerebra's offer. "We welcome Huttese military presence on Bespin, your Huttness, so we can trade freely and enjoy the gifts of neutrality. All we need is the Cloud City Union to remain in charge of exploitation of the mines and the expansion of the recreational areas.", the Twi'lek counter-offers, showing open-mindness by turning his palms to the ceiling.
With casual disregard for the otherwise frightening surroundings, the veiled woman in white allows her guards to open the gates for her and her guests. Blanche motions those behind her to enter the ominous chambers as she glides her way to the Hutt and his company. "Your eminence.." she bows her head. One arm out, she presents Shea and her business partner, "Some guests to see you." 
Faint music from the private cells beneath wind its way through the courtyard. A lithe slave pushes her way towards one of the ramps leading below, not taking any notice of the newcomers.
At Blanche's introduction a simply-clad woman by her side bows respectfully in Cerebra's direction, pushing a pair of black shades up into her purple hair.
The corpulent Hutt waves his hand dimissively, as if this last by the Twi'lek is wholly inconsequential. He rumbles a deep, bellowing laughter. "Jimba jooda, nee do riggi. Gronto heeda dotha deeta hohb, de shmash o Brooda Zergata?"
With the Hutt's laughter, his protocol droid shudders again. But a quick motion of Cerebra's hand brings the protocol droid striding back into the dim light. He makes that clicking sound, as though clearing his throat again, and says, "His infamousness Lord Cerebra reminds you that he does not care about Tibanna gas, and has no interest in encroaching on your petty economic endeavors. However, his Greatness asks how much you are prepared to pay for the security of the renowed Brood of Zergata?"
As the protocol droid translates, Cerebra focuses the glare of his narrow eye upon his 'visitors'. As his eyes slip over Shea, a fetid purple tongue slithers over his jutting lower lip and he rumbles another chuckle deep in his barrel-chest.
"Nooda teeda grindo," he mutters.
The droid looks up, and bows to the newcomers, "The mighty Cerebra the Hutt bids you welcome, and expresses his amusement that he has so many guests today."
 
A tall figure steps in behind the woman in white. He is clad in a grey robe that hangs loosely from a powerful body, rips and tears in it revealing tanned skin below. His brown eyes are sharp and focused as he glances around the room, a gaze set within features that might be familiar to one in this room -- very familiar indeed, yet different slightly, his face too well proportioned and without imperfections or quirks. Myriad follows the woman almost idly, silent and confused. 
The Twi'lek pouts his lips, showing much brooding, at the coming of new guesses. As he returns his attention on Cerebra, he put extra efforts to regain his poker face. "I humble myself before you, mighty Cerebra. Since we regained control of the city this same very week, it's hard for me to give numbers.", Okran concedes, gazing down. "Total access is agreed, for your forces, then we may buy the troops from you as the economy comes back to its full health?"
Shea's gaze sparkles with interest as it shifts from the protocol droid to rest upon Cerebra the Hutt.
"Tell your Master that I'm very grateful for his welcome," comes the woman's dark alto. Even if she speaks to the droid she does not offer it a look. "Also tell him that my name is Shea Sonara, and that I hope that today will be a day for good business."
She tilts her purple head at the reclining Hutt, eyes roving curiously around the area, resting briefly on Okran. However, standing closely to the white-clad woman, she does not notice the man that steps in behind them - yet.
A whisper of silk, and Blanche removes her veil, letting her blonde curls tumble free. With a flick of her wrist, she calls a slave over and in an icy voice instructs, "Bring some refreshments for the master and his guests." 
 
Taking a step back, the pale woman leans in close to the robed figure behind her, a gloved hand coming to rest on his arm in a comforting gesture. 
The larger of Cerebra's two eyes regards Okran impassively, and the Hutt's jutting lips twist up in something of a smirk-- whether this is at the Twi'lek's 'humbling' or at the words of Shea. The latter rests beneath the lurid gaze of his narrow eye.
"Jimba doonda," the Hutt says curtly out of the side of his mouth, and his protocol droid glances to him askance, but then bows and turns back to the Twi'lek.
"The terrible Cerebra bids you not to worry. The Brood of Zergata will provide security from the Black Imperium for Bespin out of the kindness of the great General's heart, and he will speak with you of payment when you have the funds to do so. For now, the Hutt bids you relax, and enjoy the hospitality of Nar Shaddaa's dungeons," the droid says politely. He taps a few buttons on his datapad.
Then the Hutt speaks again. "Domba doonda, needa Sheda?"
The protocol droid turns to Shea and the other visitors and cants his head, "The mighty Cerebra asks what business has brought you to visit a humble prisoner of the Nar Shaddaa elite?"
Cerebra looks between Shea and Blanche, and he raises a finger to his lower lip thoughtfully.
Sharp brown eyes settle on Blanche Snow for a few moments, the tall man nodding slightly. "Learning is important. Those who know nothing are nothing ..." His gaze shifts down again, focusing on a slender finger; something sharp flicks out of it for a moment, then disappears. "This is a very interesting place. What is its purpose?" Eyes settle on the Hutt for a moment, before moving to the rest in the room. 
Yyss'a beams and bows with much flourist to Cerebra, granting the Hutt the importance of a King in front of everyone. "Thank you, your Huttness. Rizzo, my droid, will hand coded clearances to your protocol aid. Your hospitality is a bliss and it saddens me to have to leave, so our City is ready for your presence.", the Twi'lek ably provides, both as a closure and an excuse for his departure. "I wish you long health, Cerebra."
Never turning his back to Cerebra, Yyss'a backs to the gate. He nods from there to Blanche, to Petrus, to Shea, working his killer smile at the ladies.
"Tell your great Master that I have heard rumours of how well connected he is," says Shea with a smirk at the droid. She flicks a lazy glance at Petrus and Blance by her side. "They have reached evennnn .... bloody hell!"
Her eyes widen in shock. She forcefully tears her gaze away from the pair - notably the man. She looks back to Cerebra with a brilliant and brittle smile, looking as if sanity could be shattered any moment, now.
"Uhh. What I meant to say was, children...," she offers, weakly.
Cerebra only smiles. He leans back in his great throne, and begins to caress the Force Pike propped there, rather idly. His foul red eyes glance between Petrus, Blanche and Shea.
"I'm sorry, Miss Shea," the protocol droid says hesitantly, "But children? How shall I translate?"
A pink-skinned twi'lek, hardly clad in but a slip of leather moves nervously towards the guests still in the old Hutt's presence, carrying a silver tray with wine glasses and exotic Rim delicacies. At the purple-haired woman's outburst, she quivers, nearly spilling the drinks. Muttering apologies, she offers Shea a glass. 
"Ah, my friend, the nature of this place is known to the Hutts alone," Blanche tells the robed man, a faint smile crossing her lips as she looks Shea over. "Watch, and it will reveal itself to you." 
Myriad, for that is what he knows himself as, looks up to Shea at her sudden outburst and frowns. "You seem to be surprised by something, woman," he suggests with a raised eyebrow, not impolitely, no ill intent in the words. "Have I done something to you?" 
"What I mean is this," says Shea to the droid, her dark voice once more confident: "I have no children of my own. But I have heard tell of someone who can, let us say, make copies of other sentients. Tell your Master I would be very interested in contacting such people. I have searched high and low, but so far in vain."
She turns an easy smile to the Cerebra, resting a dark-eyed look on the Hutt. Myriad's words draws her attention back and she gazes at the man with wide-eyed, apparant fascination.
"No," she says, simply, "no, I guess you have not."
Shea picks up the offered drink from the tray, drinking deeply from it.
The Hutt smiles slowly, and within his dark open maw that fetid purple tongue can be seen. His thick-fingered hand reaches out and takes a goblet from the jittering tray of the Twi'lek slave. Then the Hutt guzzles deeply, licking out the goblet with that foul tongue and tossing the empty vessel over his shoulder.
"Druuuuung," the Hutt says slwoly, drawing out the word. The protocol droid looks startled, and glances back at Cerebra. He does not translate.
"Needa tonta midda doonta, shima Sha?" the scabborous Hutt inquires.
The protocol droid looks back to Shea and makes a nervous sort of laughing sound. "Ah. Yes. The great General is saddened by your loss, and wonders, Miss Shea, why you ask him about such matters?"
The slave moves on to Blanche, who takes an offered glass and passes it instead to Myriad and motions for the girl to go on her way as she turns to say something to the robed man. 
 
Continuing her route, the twi'lek retrieves the Hutt's goblet off the floor and flees back to the safety of her curtains. 
Myriad takes the glass in one hand and peers down into it, cautiously raising it to his lips and taking a sip. Not liking the taste, the glass is casually dropped. "Well you seem to be oddly interested in me, miss. Do we have business to conduct? I am looking for my family." He inspects his hands again, as if fascinated with himself, as claws slip smoothly out of the fingers -- a frighteningly odd yet somehow natural motion. "I have met my brother, only. Maybe you know more." He nods to Blanche. 
"Tell your Master that I was hoping he could put me in contact with someone who could help me," says Shea to the protocol droid. She hooks her thumbs into belt, looking on Cerebra with solemn eyes in a moment's silence.
"A business deal of contacts, as it is. And I will, of course, pay your Master."
The purple-haired woman's gaze lingers on the Hutt for a while, allowing the other to answer, should he wish. Then - inevitably, as if drawn by a magnet - she turns back Myriad.
"I... ," she makes a sudden, throaty sound at at the sight of his claws, but she rallies magnificently: "I /would/ like to talk to you again, yes," she tilts a nod at Blanche. "That is, if your lady agrees."
"Jimba nieda," is all that Cerebra has to say by way of reply to Shea. "No doggo rho timbie."
"The great Cerebra says that you and he should talk again of this matter, at a later date," the protocol droid says simply, "And he advises you that what you seek may be dangerous."
Then the droid pauses, and steps forward, "Cerebra invites you to be his guest at Fortress Zergata; while the great Cerebra may yet be a prisoner, he is yet free to have land holdings on Nar Shaddaa, and here his ministers would welcome you."
Blanche's delicate features take on a wicked crinkle as her mouth curls into a smile. "He is free to go as he pleases," she muses melodically. "But, do be careful with him. It would be quite.. unsightly if something were to happen." 
 
She pauses for a second, nodding to the Hutt's words. "Very dangerous," she adds. 
"Careful?" Myriad muses, claws grating against eachother before they slip back into his hands, disappearing and leaving no sign of their existence in their wake. "I thank you for your concern, but I have ways of taking care of myself. Still -- I am very interested in whatever you may be interested in showing me. There is much to learn, and very little time to learn it." 
"Tell your Master that I thank him for the invitation to his Fortress Zergata. Also tell him that I will take his advice very seriously. I don't know how many credits he will deem this information worth, but I shall pay it most readily... for a price within reason, of course. And to his Ministers, if he prefers."
Purple-haired Shea tilts a graceful nod at the huge Hutt. Then she turns to Blanche with a curious smile.
"You have strange friends, lady Blanche," she offers mildly. The sound of retracting claws draws a shiver, and she lights another gaze on Myriad. "I'm staying on Nar Shaddaa for a while. You can find me in the spaceport near the towers."
Cerebra glances to Petrus and licks his lips. They curl into somewhat of a sneer. Then he beckons to Blanche to come closer, and he motions for the protocol droid to continue speaking.
"My dear Miss Shea, you are staying in the spaceport? We have no idea the sort of people who might be hanging about there. The Lord Cerebra insists that you stay at his fortress. There you will be safe," the droid says.
"Allow Myriad to accompany you, Miss Shea," Blanche offers, "He seeks answers, knowledge.. that you perhaps might have." She finishes with a smile, and steps away from the robed man to approach the Hutt. 
 
With a faint rustle, she drops to one knee before Cerebra, lowering her head respectfully before looking up to ask, "My liege?" 
Myriad turns to glance Shea over for a few moments, then takes a step closer to her. "Strange?" He suggests curiously. "Yes, I suppose so. I am not acquainted with the customs of you strange species. To me, it is you who are strange. It is all subjective, surely." He glances down at his arm, some dried blood encrusting his forearm; he frowns but does not seem terribly concerned. 
Cerebra leans forward, then, muttering deep and harsh in his own tongue-- but the protocol droid seems to distracted with his insistance to Shea to bother with translation.
"Deenda doota mella needa dee. Sneeda rooga hadda bee dinta? Droto neeto sdeeda hoda rin: bo dinga droga hoe-to trid Shaddaa."
Soon the time will come when all will have to choose their loyalties. Where do you stand? In the days to come there is one thing of which you may certain: safety and glory will be found only in Shaddaa.
That said, the Hutt lets his gaze flit between Petrus and Shea, and he rolls his shoulders easily in a shrug.
This makes the woman hesitate and run a thoughtful hand through her hair. Then her lips crease in a polite smile and she turns to the droid.
"Tell your Master that his hospitality is beyond limits, and that I'm most grateful." She turns back to Cerebra with a pleased smile - and a brief, if curious, glance at Blanche.
"However, I wish not to exceed my hospitality. My ship can be locked, so the spaceport should be safe enough. If only Myriad would escort me back, that is all I ask."
She turns to Myriad, then, gaze intensifying on his face - even if it is his arm that is injured. "Yes," she says with a light smile, "I suppose we are the strange ones."
Blanche nods at the Hutt's words, then responds, "Chubba foonta jee. Dobra do chinka nak - ta pateesa stuka footoo." Her Huttese sounds awkward coming from human lips - guttural and unpracticed.
My loyalties to the Hutts and Shaddaa, but my dealings everywhere in the Galaxy.
At that, Cerebra the Hutt nods slowly, fixing his shrewd eyes on the young woman for a long time. His smile is slow in coming, and when it does he leans back heavily in his throne.
The protocol droid bows, finally, in obsequience to Shea, "As you insist, Miss Shea."
There is a moment of silence, and suddenly the looming gates give a low scream as they are opened on their crusted hinges. A man stands tall, framed in the light from without and flanked on either side by a small contingent of Gamorreans. Several of the Hutts look up from their conversation, and the black-clad man lingers on the threshold for a moment before passing inside, Gamorreans in tow. He holds a datapad before him rather prominently and makes his way straightaway to Cerebra and those with him.
"Again, give your Master my thanks," Shea tilts a nod to the protocol droid. She lights a most puzzled - and admiring - gaze at the kneeling Blanche when she speaks the guttural language. "And tell him that I look forward to paying a visit to his grand Fortress."
The purple-haired woman falls silent, then, allowing the black-clad man and the Gamorreans to enter.
As the gates creak open, Blanche turns her head slightly to study the visitors. She rises gracefully and silently save for a whisper of silks, gloved hand moving to brush her skirts. Standing in attention, she offers Shea a small smile before turning to the newcomers, face impassive, yet her eyes twinkle with curiosity. 
When the man approaches Cerebra, the Hutt does not seem particularly surprised. He lounges back in his throne, and hefts his Force Pike, turning and motioning to his droid, who begins to collect some things from a nearby desk.
The black-clad man clears his throat, "My Lord Baron Cerebra Gronoogle Zergata: I am Treelan Noth, and it is my great pleasure to bring your Excellence good news from the under-Council of the Barony of Nar Shaddaa."
The man pauses, glancing up to the Hutt as though weighing his reaction, but the Hutt gives him none...
And Shea remains standing where she is, idly gazing around, and - yes - sneaking another look at Petrus.
Then her gaze turns to Blanche, eyes sparkling somewhat at the sight of the lady's silken clothes.
Blanche watches the man with interest, but as he speaks, she smiles knowingly. She instead walks over to Shea and softly, so as not to disturb the man as he continues to recite his message, she tells the other woman, "Allow me to escort you back to your ship." 
"I hereby present you with this pardon: you are absolved from your responsibility for the incidents of your incarceration, and discharged from the custody of the Barony of Nar Shaddaa," Treela says shortly. "Your presence is requested, at your earliest convience, before the Barony to discuss the growing matters of war in the galaxy at large."
That said, the man bows, and slips his datapad in the crook of his arm, "My Lord." He turns on his heel, and with ghis Gamorrean escort, departs.
Cerebra slithers slowly off of his throne, crooking his Force Pike beneath his elbow. He moves quickly and lithely for a Hutt of his size and years. And across his face a slow and terrible grin has grown.
"Doonga doreega," he grumbles with a chortle. Then he motions a hand to Blanche and Shea, "Noth jeeta donta dreeta. Meeda doompa."
The protocol droid finishes collecting a few items, and looks to the pair, "The Lord Cerebra expresses his surprise, and wishes you both to know that you will be welcome to his hospitality any time. Good day."
That said, the copious Hutt slithers towards the exit, his droid in tow, and the terrible gates scream open to let him out into the galaxy again.
Category:February 2008 RP Logs