The Putrescent Hutt Cantina

[Crox Rava]

"My cargo, actually. Her family wants to buy her freedom, but the Hutt isn't selling. So they're paying me to... negotiate?" Crox checked the power cells in his custom blasters. Satisfied, he slammed the cells back into the mother-of-pearl grips and finally accepted the bottle. "For luck." He tilted back his head in a long gulp. "Let's go see what's become of our wayward man. The girl will have to wait."

EDIT: cuz I broke it :P

[Markis. D Thatch]

Thatch nodded and darted to the kitchen door wall. He flattened his back against it and held his blaster pistol low.
"Rookie!" He shouted as the patrons scampering and whimpers clamored to a halt. "You made three mistakes....first...you used your flash grenade on the bar making Crox and I very upset..." Thatch inched closer on the wall to the kitchen door. "Second...by the sounds I heard earlier you have at least one dead guard in there...and you can bet thier boss will be as upset as Crox and me..." Thatch's eyes narrowed showing anger as he peered through the glass cover of the kitchen door. "But the worst mistake you made...was endangering the ladies..." Thatch glared at Zeeto and inched his pistol to the cracked kitchen door. "Drop the toys and maybe Crox and I can get you off the hook with the owner..." Thatch flicked his pistol setting to low power.

[Pax Eternus]

As soon as the glare died down, Zeeto adjusted his optics to send and receive x-rays. Nothing in the room let the rays through enough to be an entrance. Concerned, Zeeto adjusted the optics again, this time to their max gamma ray settings. He calmly circled the room until he found something. There was definitely a large opening inside the walk-in refrigeration unit. Zeeto reduced his settings to normal and pulled back on the cooling area's frigid steel door. Inside a dimly lit corridor snaked down below ground level and out of sight.

Zeeto hesitated as he heard a voice from the kitchen entrance. "Rookie!" It was Thatch's, the stranger at the bar, voice. "You made three mistakes..." Zeeto didn't stick around to hear what they were. Besides he was about to make a fourth chasing a Hutt down a snake hole. He grinned to himself, 'Might just find out how high these goons can count before the end of this night.' He closed the cooling unit's door behind him and descended into the tunnel.

Not a long ways down Zeeto noticed that the tunnel widened out. Up on his left there was coming into view a large service elevator, big enough to fit a Hutt or two in. This lift was probably the main entrance and in all likelihood went straight to a private shuttle dock above the cantina. It was also probably where the two guards from the kitchen had been stationed. A little ways down and off to the right was the first bend in the ways, Zeeto took a quick spot check around the bend and caught a glimpse of an iron studded blast door.

This was it. Either he could blow the door and go in guns-a-blazing, or knock and see where it went. Somehow over the months the trooper in him had been suppressed, and the cocky smuggler attitude of bar patrons had been rubbing off on him. He knocked.

All at once a gatekeeper droid consisting primarily of an obtrusive eye and a voice piece part poked its way out of a hole in the wall and straight into Zeeto's face. "Who are you?" Zeeto's internal translator drowned out the gargle language of the droid and turned it into basic.

"I'm...making a delivery." Zeeto almost made his answer sound like a question. The joints in the keeper's extension adjusted as it looked Zeeto up and down. Barely pausing the keeper replied, "The Mighty Orta the Hutt is not expecting any unscheduled deliveries." Zeeto wasn't sure what to say next. He hadn't been a smuggler long enough to learn the ins and outs of sweet talking the various intelligences across the galaxy. He made a hand gesture as if about to answer, and then grabbed hold of the keeper's mechanical arm with his own robotic one. Without a word, Zeeto pulled one of his pistols with his free arm and pointed it up under the droid towards the ceiling. As he did so he noticed the wiring inside the keeper's compartment. He shifted his attention back to the squirming machine in his grasp and pulled the trigger. The optic piece exploded upwards, blackening the ceiling above.

Zeeto reached past the lifeless mechanical arm and began to bare wires with his cyborg hand. It wasn't long before the door jolted and sprung open. But he wasn't prepared for the sight that met his eyes.

[Damek Critou]

The first few muffled bangs were not a concern. People were always getting in fights outside or up in the cantina. Orta's opulent growths quivered slightly at the noise, but she was still in a deep sleep. Damek was sitting in a chair to the side of her, watching a few terminal displays about the status and identity of various ships filtering through the area beneath his very feet. A small spiral staircase in the corner let all the engine noise filter into the room, but it was muted and actually a quite relaxing drone. Several Gamorrean guards were dispersed through the room, in a pattern around Orta's "throne." The room was actually pretty bare, with only the minimal amount of technology and additives to know when something went wrong. Of course, Orta was muscling in on the spice trade of the Smuggler's Moon. Which meant a lot of other, more powerful, players were not happy. But Damek didn't mind the danger of immediate orbital bombardment if her "base" was found, she paid a lot better than most Hutts.

But some disturbance was apparent. Damek could barely hear the automated door droid talking to someone, before a blaster shot went off. Orta snorted and awoke, and the guards around the room all shouldered their slug thrower rifles. That was another thing with Orta, she prepared for almost everything. If a Jedi or Sith ever showed up, they wouldn't be able to block or reflect slugs from slug throwers. The door, strangely, slid open with its familiar hydralic whoosh, and a simple human just stood there. Damek didn't even have his blasters out, but the flaps on the holsters were up. The human just stood there, several high powered rifle barrels in his face. He had some clear cybernetic attachments, but that wouldn't save him if Orta decided the intrusion wasn't worth her nap. Damek leaned back in his simple chair and figured he could relieve tension somewhat, the cyborg looked pretty green around the gills. "You must like breaking doors to get them upgraded. Otherwise, why are you here?" He said it while signaling discreetly to Orta, the guy wasn't a threat. He didn't even look like he knew what he was doing.

[Markis. D Thatch]

A beeping noise came from Thatch's wrist crono and he checked the current time. He disabled the device and listened for any noise from the kitchen. As the sound of a distant blaster reached his ear he straitened up and twirled his pistol around his index finger then slid it into its holster. He straitened his duster and walked calmly back to the bar to retrieve his massive duffel bag. "Crox...If I were you...id get that pretty lady into some non dancer clothes and come with me..." He hefted the massive duffel bag with his left arm and slung it over his left shoulder. "I have a meeting with Orta and both of you can come with me as part of my crew for the time being... With all the damage and ruckus the rookie caused...I wouldn't be suprised if certain people ran for their lives and never came back..." Looks at Crox with a sly smirk, "Agreed?"

[Pax Eternus]

Zeeto had expected a busy audience chamber where he could just slip into the crowd without being noticed. What he wasn't expecting was to be staring down two dozen slug loaded barrels and Gamorean pike shafts. He just stood there motionless. Across the room Orta the Hutt was reclined on a hover dias, her large eyes open and clearly annoyed.

Finally, Zeeto found his voice, "I, uh, fixed your door. There seems to have been a problem with the gatekeeper droid." There was no answer. Something seemed to have calmed down the Hutt as her mass relaxed back into its sobbingly form. "Anyway," somewhat encouraged he continued, "I'll send the bill via the holonet. You have yourselves a very nice day." He tipped his hat and slowly turned to leave, not daring to let his mind live in the moment but only thinking of the next step closer to the bend back up to the kitchen.

He was almost home-free. Suddenly the elevator doors erupted open in front of him. Six Gamorean guards escorting a group of bound Twi'leks of various sizes and genders became visible. Zeeto jumped. In the same instant he heard a blaster go off from somewhere right by him. One of the guards slumped over with a plasma burnt hole in his chest. A sneaking suspicion crept its way into his gut as Zeeto looked down to where his blaster was usually holstered. It was empty. He traced his eyes up his side and along his arm until he saw the piece clearly in his hand. He saw it, and yet he still didn't register it.

There was loud grunting from the guards and a sharp pain in Zeeto's side as four metal points found their marks. He was brought back to reality. Plans immediately began racing through his mind for an aggressive escape, when he heard the unison click of an orchestra of slug loaders being cocked and readied to fire. With only the tiniest hesitation, he dropped his weapons and clasped his hands behind his head.

More guards closed about him and took up an escort position behind him as they ushered Zeeto towards Orta the Hutt. The floor below him had changed to grid iron as they came to a stop. "Search him." Orta's deep bellow of a voice in the translator seemed especially grotesque considering her gender.

Fat, slimy hands began to play over his cloak and the armor hidden beneath. A supply of thermal detonators, flash grenades, energy cells, and his blasters were removed from their respective gear lashings. Orta eyed the various array of weaponry, "So, are you here to see me?" Zeeto looked up at the Hutt not knowing what to say. Orta must have interpreted this as a lack of understanding in Huttese because she motioned for a protocol droid. The droid stuttered forward and began to translate in its hollow, almost pretentious sounding way. "The mighty Orta asks why you are here."

Zeeto couldn't think of a reasonable answer, but he did think of a plan. He faked an air of annoyance, brushed a green piggy hand off his leg and reached down in his boot and picked out an explosive charge and a detonator, concealing them in his sleeve. Then an answer came to him that would get the Hutt's attention. "Why, I'm here because I heard you were looking for fresh rancor meat."

Upon hearing this the Hutt burst into a echoic laugh. As she did so her mouth stayed open and Zeeto saw his chance. Quickly he tossed the explosion charge that he had concealed in his sleeve into the gaping mouth of the Hutt. Her eyes lit up as she felt the device fall down her throat.

"Now, the..." began Zeeto as he raised the detonator before everyone's eyes, but before he could voice his demands Orta's fist came pounding down by her side, the order to execute. Immediately Zeeto's body was littered with slugs and blaster bolts from the surrounding guards. His grip on the detonator went limp as it rolled out of his hand and into some recess of the chamber. The integrated human and mechanical shell that had once contained the life of the man called Zeeto slumped to the floor in a heap.

[Crox Rava]

"That... that is an excellent idea!" Crox blinked, astonished he hadn't thought of this before. He'd been planning to pack the poor girl in a crate like he had the last two. If only... "Thatch... you said we would join your crew. Do you have your own ship?" Thatch smirked, and Crox felt a twinge of pride wash over him. Crox smiled. "Cover the doors. I'll only need a moment."

Crox turned and headed for the stage door, stripping away the false lining of his long coat as he went. He pulled a slim, vacuum-sealed bag from the inside and cracked the seal to inspect the contents. A change of clothes, a week's supply of rations, and a tiny blaster were inside along with plain looking coin purse. He slipped the rations and purse into his coat pocket, tucked the bundle of clothing under his arm, and gripped the little gun before proceeding to the back.

He found the dressing room easily. Some of the girls shrieked and fled as he entered. A pair of them stared at him with glazed eyes, a spice packet lay on the side table between them. Shan'in started at first, then recognizing Crox she sighed and nodded in understanding. We must go immediately. Our plans have had to change. I hope you are ready for travel and possibly more danger than I had expected. He tossed her the clothes and blaster, drawing his own pistol as he turned to watch the door. Elation and fear mingled in waves from Shan'in as she fumbled with the street clothing. "How did you learn to speak that way?" she said aloud to Crox's back. He was silent a moment, his joints popped audibly as his grip on the pistol tightened. "I was once a slave myself. I learned from the others. Your people are... a common sight in the pens, I'm afraid." Shan'in dressed in silence. So much pain.

All at once Shan'in gasped. Crox spun to the side and in a blink drew his second pistol to send a bolt through the eye of any approaching Gamorean that walked through the door. To his surprise, he saw Shay'lin standing there instead. "Go." He motioned Shan'in toward the stage entrance and brought his right-hand blaster to bear on the traitorous Twi'lek woman. But the menace was gone from her. She was euphoric. Weeping. Her eyes shared the same glazed look as the two spice addicts across the dressing room, but unlike them she did not have a bleak lack of understanding on her pale green face. Her head-tails positively twiddled. She was filled with loathing. Regret. "Just go. Get her out of here. Get her off of this blasted rock and fly her up to heaven."

Crox lowered his guns and nodded, a swell of pity in his throat. The Hutt would answer for these lives one day. For now however, survival, and with luck a new life beyond. He spared one backward glance at the broken Twi'lek. Farewell.

Crox ran after Shan'in and gestured toward Thatch. Our ticket out of here. She nodded. "I am Shan'in. I thank you, sir."

"Alright, Thatch. You have your new crew members. Tell me your plan."

[Markis. D Thatch]

Thatch looked the young Twi'lek up and down and gave a nod of approval. "Pleasure mam...Thatch is the name" Thatch looked to Crox and noticed he was shaken slightly. He thought to ask what happend but that would have to be a question for another time. "You will need to hide her face..." Thatch faced Shan'in again and looked into her eyes so she knew he was serious, "Mam...Hutt buisness states that they inspect every piece of property that comes into their posession...she will remember your face...we need to mask it...smudge, dirt, grime, scars...something that will throw her off...also..." Thatch grabbed a bottle of strong Coreallian Ale from the floor and placed it in Shan'in's hand. "Hutts and Gammorrean's have a strong sense of smell...you will need to douse yourself in this to mask your scent..." Thatch turned back to Crox. "Stay here for exactly one minute...make sure her face is covered and she wreaks of alcohol...after that minute come up behind me and look as intimidating as you can...that will be the selling point...if all goes as planned...I can get you two and the rookie out of here"

Thatch turned from them and walked briskly through the kitchen door with his duffel bag in hand. He heard the blaster echo down the corridor followed by a scuffle. As he crested the top of the stairs a small devise slid a foot infront of him. Thatch recognized it as a detonator and laughed to himself. "Kark Rookie..." He picked it up and hid the small device up his sleeve. Thatch walked through the darkness of the corridor and spoke out into the room.
"Orta the Hutt....I have come at lord Nemrano the Hutt's request to discuss your spice trade. Do you have a Negotiator? " Thatch walked into the room and fully took in the sight infront of him.

[Crox Rava]

"Stay here for exactly one minute..." Crox checked his wrist chrono and dashed to the stage to retrieve his discarded false coat lining. He pulled a slim knife from his boot and began stripping the fabric. "Old fashioned theatrics, coming up! Now Shan'in, just douse yourself in the liquor as Thatch said. And listen to me very carefully..."

..........................................................................

Moments later, two figures crept down the hallway after Thatch. Crox stopped just outside the door and waited.

"Orta the Hutt....I have come at lord Nemrano the Hutt's request to discuss your spice trade. Do you have a Negotiator? "

Crox let Thatch stride into the room. He could feel the repugnant alarm of the guards within. He flicked his head-tendrils at Shan'in. Remember. Stay focused. Do NOT fall in love with me. Above a makeshift bandit mask her eyes smiled back at him. She was ready. Confident. As for the falling in love bit, the easy flip of her head-tails said that ship may have sailed already. Crox gulped. Then he puffed up his cheeks and forced a concentrated pheromone out of his body as he switched his blasters to low power.

The guards, still on alert from Zeeto's entrance, began to raise their weapons in Thatch's direction. Crox strode in, his face covered to his black eyes with black cloth. His coat hung open, billowing behind him in the acrid breeze from the staircase. A bandolier of explosives was strapped across his chest, and anyone with a nose would be awed (if not outright enamored!) with the cool ease of his entrance. Two guards on his left were apparently unimpressed, turning to train their rifles on Crox. Crox didn't even look at them as he strafed them with stunning blaster bolts and trained his right hand pistol on the Mon Cal at the Hutt's right hand. That one might be trouble, he signed to Shan'in. "Please pardon my rudeness, your eminence. Your men seemed a bit unsettled and I thought it best if we didn't start killing each other just yet." He flicked his blasters to full power. "How about if everyone takes a deep breath." His black, pupil-less eyes could be looking anywhere (or everywhere) and they swirled with crimson. Meanwhile Shan'in had slipped in to Thatch's right and leveled her blaster at the other guards. They were grunting in astonishment, their heads swimming in pheromone as they fumbled with their rifles.

"You were saying, Master?"

EDIT: for removal of pit-of-doom and egregious spelling errors
SUPER-EDIT: several previous posts now contain " "'s for clarity

[Areku99]

A strange man entered the cantina, a blue, crystal medallion dangling from his neck as he entered. He was in a black jumpsuit, with a disruptor pistol at his side, featuring prominently--and a lightsaber that he had concealed. Sith as he may have seemed, he couldn't have been farther from it. That said, looking like the bad guy was useful. Information...money, power, it all came to him. But by no means was he a good guy, nor a bad guy.

He sat at the counter. "Something strong," he said, putting a credit chip on the counter. He took out a cigarra, and began to smoke.

[Finx!]

Taking in all the action quietly in the rear of the chamber, the rounded shadow of a Nirama plains wide-brim hat gave way to eyes finally looking up at the one familiar voice and 3 dark figures.

Finx pondered "Cro...Crox? ... Naaa it can't be him. Although he always did have balls the size of Bantha sacs. I haven't seen him in ages. And who is that Mirialan? Hey! That Twi'lek!... she owes me a dance"!

Not able to move much because of titanium cuffs and ankle shackles securing him to the rear wall, he was at least able to bring the ends of his gloves to his bloody lip as his teeth produced a toothpick from within. He loved his toothpicks indeed and usually has one in his mouth, but his most recent one was separated from him by Crox's now stunned Gamorrean guard that backhanded him earlier.

That was when the Finx's much anticipated after business visit to the bar's lovely ladies was cut short when he felt that same Gamorrean guard's axe blade behind his neck as he was in the middle of a dance from a magnificent dancer named Shan'in. His pistols got confiscated and was being dragged away as Finx glanced at more guards carrying in his cargo through the rear hallways.. Thatch's lord Nemrano the Hutt incased in carbonite that Orta the Hutt hired Finx to smuggle in to him. Too bad Finx's lust for Hutta Twi'lek girls and a too-good-to-be-true reward from a Hutt impaired his gut feelings only to be double-crossed by Orta.

So there Finx was, waiting to see what happens next. "Hey partner, I believe you and my cargo know each other?" Finx shouted out to Crox or Thatch as he cautiously thought to himself..."Orta is NOT going to play nice".

[Crox Rava]

If Crox's hands hadn't been pointing blasters at Orta's henchmen he would have been rubbing his temples with great vigor. He had tried to prime Finx on lekku-speak once, but the man was always more interested in the... rounder portions of a dancer's anatomy. Then there was the other problem. Hanging on the wall next to Finx was the Hutt that Thatch worked for. The Hutt he claimed to work for, at any rate. Thatch could be bluffing. Crox had laid his pheromone on much too thick and it was getting difficult to read anyone in the room through his own musk.

The next move was up to Thatch, but Crox could at least stall a moment. "Hello, Finx. How have you been? I can see you've resumed pawing at the staff at every watering hole you visit. Did Orta not find you as amusing as the others did?"

[Markis. D Thatch]

Thatch paid no mind to Crox and Shan'in's entrance but instead focused his eyes on the carbonate form of Nemrano. Kark! When did she get to him?... Thatch then turn to examine the beaten and bloodied smuggler. Who is this guy? By the sound of it...he likes to touch instead of look...heh... regardless...I need all the friends I can get right now..., Thatch kept his duffel bag over his left shoulder and nodded over to Nemrano's carbonite tomb. "It would appear that your competition has been eliminated..." Thatch turned to Orta and stared into the massive eyes of the female Hutt. "If you already had my boss...Then why did you agree to meet with me?"

Thatch dropped his hand to rest on his pistol hilt very slowly as he spoke. "What business do you want with me and my crew?" He kept his gaze as stern and sharp as ever, all the while feeling the growing tension in the room. He could smell the intensity of Crox's pheromones and knew that the Nautolan was getting nervous. Thatch couldn't tell how Shan'in was faring but he hoped the young Twi'lek could keep a straight face and hold out under the pressure. With his peripheral vision Thatch could see the gamoreans shift their feet and grip their weapons tighter. Only one other member in the room seemed to be as placid as Orta. The figure that had been reclining in his chair and gazing at them the entire time.

[Damek Critou]

Damek laughed. The sound was harsh and cut through the tense air like a metal grinder. He sat forward in his chair, and his bulbous eyes seemed to light up. "You can tell the Nautolan to turn off the musk. It's really making my gills itch." It was true, all the pheromones were hard to breathe in. Not that Orta or the guards would've noticed, but it helped being "a fish" sometimes. He looked at the body of the first intruder, which had sparks leaping along its cybernetic replacements. Poor rookie. He looked back at the group assembled in the chamber, flanked by guards and defiantly keeping a sense of courage about. Damek stole a look at the corner. With Nemrano gone and Orta to blame, it was only a matter of time before the true powers of the moon descended on Orta like mynocks on power cables with stripped insulation. He would have to get out, but he definitely didn't want to see Orta get some twisted satisfaction first. He whispered to her quietly about taking care of the strangers. Her more globular movement to what could only be described as relaxed was an indication of success in that regard.

The one who had come on Nemrano's ill-behalf had asked a lot of questions. Damek ignored them, and simply put forth one of his own. "I'm more interested in what you guys want. You wouldn't dredge up a blue-skin and one of the girls from downstairs for negotiations. So where do you plan on going from here?" He had a small remote in his pocket. Absent-minded, or at least it appeared so, he reached into it and pressed a few key buttons. None of the guards or Orta would hear the very slightly louder and higher pitched sound of a docked ship's engines warming up. There was a beep too, and Damek almost lost his composure. Two beeps meant all-clear on the ship's passive scanning. One beep meant quite a few troubling things converging on it. He didn't have as much time as he thought. But he would have to play this out carefully. Let the strangers reply, then see what he could do to get away from this greedy Hutt.

[Areku99]

Hearing the blaster shots going off, Aima threw himself to the ground, thinking at first that it was a trap by the Sith to execute him, or worse. He drew his blaster, and advanced until he saw what looked to be a confrontation. Blaster in hand, he stayed out of sight, preferring to stay out of the confrontation until he knew what he was going on. He just prayed none of the people involved was able to detect him--or, for that matter, had seen him--or he'd be using the disruptor rather soon...

He stroked the blue amulet again, drawing comfort from feeling it slide through his fingertips.