Open Black is the Business

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music OOC

In space they say that no one can hear you scream… Well, Perla put that stupid theory to the test and proved how wrong it was. Her master screamed when she poked his eyes out with a spoon and fed them to her pet monkey-lizard named Fofo. After Fofo tried to bite her Nunion his mommy sliced Fofo’s ears off and fed them to his pet nexu. Nexu didn’t have a name on account of being deaf.

So, here we are, there in the Sable Chariot in space between the stars. Outer Rim? Definitely. Did it matter? Not really. The casino barge was at its best drifting around the cosmos, sailing here to there and back again while its mistress cackled on her black leather throne made out of nexu hide.

“Grand citizens of the galaxy!” came a broadcast across the galaxy in Basic. Nothing fancy here, nothing unusual, just an HV advertisement that could also pop up as spam on your datapad. Camera pans to a Hutt and maybe at first you don’t know if it’s male or female till you hear that lovely female voice, mmhmmmm.

“My name is Perla, Perla the Hutt,” Perla smiled that way a Hutt smiles as she sat on her leather seat in the Manager’s Office. It showed some obligatory rancor statues and gold goblets and whatsithaveit. “I bid one and all a very lucrative welcome to the Sable Chariot Casino! You won’t find us on a planet, no moon, but anywhere and everywhere! KYAHAHAAA!! Right now, right here, come find us in the Outer Rim! Gamble to your heart’s content! Eat and drink and grow fat and merry! I know what you're thinking, kyaha! Why trust a Hutt? BECAUSE you WON'T find a finer casino or a fairer Hutt in the GALAXY! KYAHAHAHAHAAAA!!”

The advertisement cut short on account of a Hutt hacking from cigar smoke. She would remember to peel the fingernails off the imbecile who had allowed that but the galaxy got the message. The Sable Chariot Casino on the floating Sable Chariot was under new management and anyone and everyone was welcome to come and play…and come and pay.

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

Nor’baal was doing what he enjoyed the most, more than drinking, feasting or observing the pitfights - totalling his profits. The preeminent Hutt Lorda, senior member of the Desilijic clan, was deep into his ‘work’, thumbs racing over his datapad as he calculated the percentage of profits each of his various undertakings brought in. Salivating slightly as he worked out how much he could bring in over the next three years if he continued pulling money from Kessel to fund offworld synthetic spice operations, the Hutt laughed slightly <Ho! Ho! Ho!> the gutteral sound rolling around his study aboard the ‘Glorious Jewel’ as he made his way to the latest casino operating in the galaxies.

He was alone in his study, nothing organic was present - only a protocol droid which waited in its charging station for the master to beckon. At nearly one-hundred and ten years of age, Nor’baal was considered a young adult by many of his Hutt peers, and quite a successful one given his relative infancy. Despite his physical abilities, the Hutt decided to make use of a hoverthrone to move about, something of a status symbol rather than a personal mobility aid. It was top quality, the best pegats could buy. In fact, everything the Hutt owned was top of the line, after all, why not? Why should he deny himself the trappings of his station?

Indeed, he even extended his excess to other areas. The finest dancers, palaces filled with slaves to cater to his many whims. Vaults of treasure across the known galaxy, art collections and great pantries stocked with food, much of which Nor’baal woudl simply have thrown away at the end of each week.

His tastes were expensive, and Nor’baal delighted in that simple fact. The profits he read from the screen in his pudgy hands only allowed him to expand that decadence further still. However all was not contentment in the seclusion of the Hutts study, for the world of crime had been unsettled of late thanks to the actions of the perfidious plotters in the Zaa Fenn Crime Family.

From time to time they had come to blows, the Zaa Fenn and the Desilijic clan. Nor’baal doubted that this latest bout of Zaa Fenn lunacy would be the last he would hear of them. Neither the Zaa Fenn or the Desilijics were above combative methods to get what they wanted - and neither of them could be underestimated. What if Gareth Ginns recent actions where merely a distraction from a larger play? What if he was removed and replaced with someone more unsteady, or worse, more threatening?

Nor’baal knew that whoever assumed control of the Zaa Fenn would need to be watched closely. And, whilst he was pleased with this year's profits, he would always need more and more and more to satiate his desire for growth, and to hedge against the possibility that someone somewhere could supplant him.

Soon, Nor’baal sneered, the Desilijic will have a mountain of credits, with which we could crush the Fenn, and wipe them off the face of the galaxy! Like a plague, they’ll be burned out of Hutt Space,and removed forever! Desilijic will rule Ploo, Coruscant, nay - all of Hutt Space as well, unopposed!

And yet, the Zaa Fenn could still surprise him. They could throw in their lot with another power, move to a new Syndicate, or worse - undermine his operations! They’d already killed Durr. The financial impact of that action had undermined some degree of confidence in the Hutts' abilities to keep on top of things. Most unfortunate.

Nor’baal sighed. This other family would continue to be an issue, of that he was certain. Gareth was ruthless, he could pounce on the Desilijic at the slightest sign of weakness, as could anyone who stepped in to replace the White Lion should he be supplanted. Still, he knew they envied his wealth and power, it was a sign of his success that the other families loathed the great Nor’baal. The life of a Hutt was fraught with betrayal and treachery, yet Nor’baal thrived on it. With another sigh, Nor’baal stowed his datapad in a safe and rubbed his eyes as he felt the yacht connect to the casino he was visiting. Safe in the knowledge that business was good, Nor’baal gently brushed the control of his sled and moved out of the room, and down into the Casino, three liveried Gamorreans in tow alongside his protocol droid, in search of bets to place, and wager to win…

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music OOC [Recurring]

“WWWWWWHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?!?!?!?!?!?>$%$%#$#((&fr?SDFKSDFLKIUJ??>>!!!?!?!?!!??”

The cry could crack mountains, split skies, devour deserts, and so on and so forth in the abyss of alliterations. It came from outer space! Well, to be precise, it came from the quote-unquote ‘Throne Room’ AKA Manager’s Office AKA Slathering Chamber of Perla the Hutt.

“Nor’baal is coming HERE!?” Perla tossed a statue. It cracked a guard’s skull open. “HERE!?” Another statue, another skull. “To MY casino!?” Another statue, another sk—

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE NO THROW YOUR SWEETEST SUCCULENCE” Pleaded Guard Number Three.

“Hmmmm…” Hesitating, Perla rubbed the flaps of her chin and pondered. Invite him in? Hire three more guards instead of two? Hmmm… “Hmmm…” Ultimately, the guards were paid with pots to piss in and Nor’baal probably owned whole restroom corporations so where was the loss?

“Send a messenger to our mighty and magnificent—” She snickered, trying to contain herself. “—Nor’baal the Hutt. Tell him that Perla the Hutt says the pazaak table is for poodoos, the sabaac table is for suckers…but the roulette ring is for those who know how to make money as much as take it. KYAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!”

How would the illustrious and luminous Nor’baal take the message? Would he interpret it just so? Would he think it a riddle? Would he spite such a minor Hutt giving him advice or take it as tribute? Would he poke holes in it like a Gamorrean with a needle and a mynock? Will he accept my gift or piss on it?

Perla looked around her office for a messenger, blinking. Oops…seems I already threw that third statue… EL OH EL! She cleared her throat. “GUAAAAAAAAAARDS!”

@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

“That will be quite suitable.” Nor’baal confirmed, signing off on the appropriate choice of marching music for his retinues descent down into the casino proper. He had decided to eschew mechanised modes of movement for this particular occasion, after all, here the daft laws of the Core surely, did not apply? He had taken his own hover sled to the entrance, yet now he moved from that ‘modern’ mode, and onto a large palanquin.

It was a gaudy item, a wooden palanquin, in which the great Hutt could recline underneath the shaded umbrella at the palanquins rear, cast from exotic silks and clothes from the Hutt worlds. He had surrounded himself with plump cushions, his hookah pipe and a small snackquariam. Held up by eight strapping slaves of a heavy-set humanoid offshoot species, the Palanquin was flanked by his Gamorreans, and two Twi’lek slaves, fanning him ineffectually with the fronds of an exotic plant.

In front of the palanquin walked a small band, who, at a gesture from the Hutt, began to play a massively over the top tune. Almost, almost in a uniformed way, the Palanquin guards proceeded to take three steps forward, and then one back, in time to the music, as Nor’baal was paraded into the Casino, the stupidity of his bearers march making it take a ludicrously long time to cover the short distance.

Drawing up in front of their host, another Hutt, Nor’baal waved forward a diminutive servant, as the music wound down, who opened a datapad and read with a soothing baritone “His Emminence, Nor’baal Desilijic Fa’athra of Nal Hutta, Sovereign Magnate of Llanic, Tyrant of Teth, Eminence of Tatooine, Potentate of Ploo II and Supreme Being of Kessel.”

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC

“That is quite unsuitable.” Perla confirmed, signing off on the death certificate of Guard Number Four upon failing to hold up one corner of his mistress’ litter. He proceeded to ball his eyes out like some abused Zeltron but it didn’t earn him any respect, oh no.

It was a gaudy item, a black wooden palanquin studded with diamonds no less, in which the Hutt (soon to be great) could recline underneath the shaded umbrella at the palanquin’s rear, cast from exotic silks and cloths from…somewhere. Held up by eight strapping slaves of a heavy-set humanoid offshoot species (or not), the palanquin was flanked by her Shistavanen, and two Zeltron slaves, fanning her ineffectually with the fronts of an exotic plant.

Well…Perla is also a Hutt after all…so…yeah…

In front of the palanquin walked a small band, who, at a gesture from the other Hutt, began to play a massively over the top tune. Hmm…spunky! Perla thought as her litter approached Nor’baal’s. She had no band of her own, the music of her very own casino’s speakers an ever present marching theme, and in that way it…did it dwarf Norb’s? Hmm… Steadily, his music wound down whilst her own never let up.

Spoiler: Music IC

As Nor’baal the Hutt was introduced, Perla the Hutt stroked her chin with all three fingers and a thumb, though was really just masking a yawn that would put a rancor’s roar to shame. Yes, yes, Sovereign Magnet of Lilac, Tyrant of Teeth, Poodoo of Poopoo and Supreme Teabag of Kettle. Blahdy-blahdy-blah-blah-blah—

“Her Eminence, Perla the Hutt,” a Human began. He was a tall gaunt man in a white robe who took great pains to keep it from getting dirty, so generally stayed in the corner of the Slathering Chamber when it came time for his mistress to throw statues at guards.

As he spoke, the entire room of the casino barge stirred into silence, everyone watching the engagement of one Hutt meeting the other. The major meeting the minor. The music still played though.

“Mistress of Coin, Manager of the Casino, Captain of the Sable Chariot, Annihilator of Anzat, the Golden Queen, the Silver Lady, Binder of Chains, the Princess That Was Promised, Bride of Wealth, Mother of Nunion.”

As the introductions ensued, Perla filed her nails, stifled a fart and wondered how much energy Nor’baal saved during the day to unleash in bed at night. Hmmm…

"Bids His Eminence, Nor'baal the Hutt, Sovereign . . . " Human proceeded to rattle off repeat titles until: " . . . Bids Nor'baal the Hutt welcome to the Sable Chariot!"

@Nor'baal

 

[Nor'baal Desilijic]

"...Bids Nor'baal the Hutt welcome to the Sable Chariot!"

With great effort, Nor’baal smiled as warmly as he could muster at the gaudy Hutt in front of him. ‘Perla’ was not a Hutt he had ever heard of, and the Desilijic Daimyo found it odd that she had not introduced herself with her curvias, as was customary. Instead, she had rattled off a number of non-territorial titles, in some sort of half-baked attempt to impress someone she must clearly see was her superior.

He remained silent, unwilling to speak directly to this upstart who ran the casino, instead gesturing for his Majordomo to slink over to the side of his palanquin, where he muttered something into the alien's ear.

“His Emminence wishes to partake in gambling on pit-fighting, does your humble establishment accommodate for such desires?” the Majordomo enquired, his tone laced with venom as he lingered on the word ‘humble’, with a little too much emphasis.

 

[Perla the Hutt]

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

Whilst other upstarts in this galactic nonsense called a galaxy would have done differently, well, Perla the Hutt knew what cards to play as much as which ones to keep close to home. Nor’baal the Hutt wished to partake in gambling on pit-fighting and, considering Perla was not one to dismiss a potential prospector, she happily obliged.

You’ll suck my teets sooner or later, Tyrant of Teth. “Humble,” Perla spoke after Nor’baal’s majordomo. “Define it.” She inquired directlly of the Majordomo, not of his Hutt or his guards or anyone else. Defy it.

“What is humble, Majordomo?” Would she get a more assertive answer from the Majordomo's answer? Perla was not one to waste her tongue on someone else. She had a flashy casino and she knew it. Did her guests? “You want a pit-fight?” Perla asked Nor’baal eyes to eyes.

“Follow me,” she winked. “Unless you’d prefer to have your representative speak for you, in which case I tell him to ask you to follow me to a pit-fight gamble and, who knows, maybe his head will be on the betting table? KYAHAHAAAA!”

Kyahaha was half-serious, half-japing, turning around as she did in the hopes that her host would follow. Nor’baal Desilijic was not a Hutt whom she intended on turning down or around.

He had indeed come to her humble barge so she would offer him the grandiose tour that only a Hutt could expect. Inspect your winnings, Nor’baal, for every win you cash in will be a win-win for Perla. KYAHAHAAAA!!


@Nor'baal