Log:Hutt Cartel: Man in the Middle

Hutt Cartel: Man in the Middle

OOC Date: January 28 2020
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Mydas Gryph, Kryll, Mak the Hutt, Emma Starflare, Lefty

One-hundred and six years is nothing to a Vergasson, a near-human race with an average lifespan of seven-hundred years. As a Vergasson, Gorshin Gorch has seen many galactic events unfold, such as the Clone Wars, the Galactic Civil War, even an internal conflict within the Bounty Hunter's Guild where a lone Mandalorian killed a dozen of his fellow hunters in the defense of a child. And through many of these events of the past one-hundred and six years, Gorshin watched as the Hutts on Nar Shadaa pulled the strings on their little puppets across the galaxy; everything and everyone from Senators to Moffs, even Jedi. Up until fifteen years ago, when he was finally able to open his weapons clientele to include galactic forces many are just now learning about, did he see the potential to cut his own strings, and now, after one-hundred and six years of servitude and supplication, that potential was becoming an apparent reality.

The Hutt Sector of Nar Shadaa had been tense for a week, after Gorshin refused the Cartel's final offer to return to the fold. Now, clad in a gleaming green suit of CEC Light Power Armor, Gorshin left his residence at the area's most expensive hotel and stepped out into the middle of the main street of the Hutt Sector, which led to the palace. From the road's surrounding buildings, other armored mercenaries and thugs gathered behind Gorch, quickly forming a crowd, and then an army.

When well-over three hundred soldiers had gathered behind him, Gorshin raised his right hand and pointed north towards the Hutt Palace.

"<March!>" Gorshin shouted, and marched ahead.

Kryll is on the ground floor of the palace, armored and armed to the teeth? Who arms their teeth, or are the teeth arms too? Who can say. He has his E-11 blaster rifle slung over his chest, one hand on the pistol grip and ready to raise it against the oncoming, mass, of hostiles. As he speaks his helmet augments his voice, <"Well, that is quite the party they have provided against us. Gorshin is the head of this spear, and likely the paycheck. If you can take him out, they should collapse and fall since there is no paycheck in it for the rest of them."> his helmet marks him as a priority target, and starts looking for any other weapons that may be a threat.

Vergassons aren't the only species in the Galaxy to whom a century merely marks the transition to adulthood. As he nears his seven hundredth year, Lord Zlurbo Qwig Makooja would probably have much to chat about with a fellow geezer, and maybe even have some life lessons to impart. That is, if he hadn't drank away his most valuable life lessons so many times that he exists in a perpetual cycle of rediscovering them.

Heavy substance abuse is the only way to get through a seven hundred year life span.

But what he lacks in most things, he makes up for by being the Fastest Hutt with a Blaster from here to Zergnux City. He can outfight, outfly, outeat, and outromance any Hutt alive, he always says. His own self-created legend occasionally turns up to bite him though, like when the Hutt Cartel asks HIM to stop his space trucking and handle actual political matters on the Smugglers Moon.

"NATCHERLY they come to me for somethin' like this, on account of my oozin' charisma and lightnin' fast reflexes. No need to worry yersef about a little... uh... negotiatin'! I'll be back home 'fore ya know it, Lefty!"

The holographic projection on Mak's wrist is of a small green Twi'lek wearing very little but a bandana and a pair of boots. The holographic Twi'lek is oiling himself with... something very slippery.

"I'll hold you to that, Master. You'd better hurry back and oppress me, before I get any ideas about being a Rebellious Slave..." Lefty the One-Lekkued Twi'lek Dude practically purrs into the holoprojector before shutting it off.

Growling seductively, Mak shuts off his own holocomm, and returns to the matter at hand. Stationed right near the front doors like a prize ham the day before Life Day, he's near enough to the doors that he can possibly get back behind them before he gets cut down in a barrage of bullets. IF his vaunted charms don't work on the Disgruntled Weapons Dealer.

Posting up, the Hutt braces his back against the door frame, and gives the Oncoming Horde his best Come Hither Look.

"Why hellllllooooo there. You bipeds look AWFUL tired in that hot, sweaty armor... why don'tcha come on in wit' me and have a little... afternoon refreshment?"

Freelance, one goes where the money is. Fittingly enough around here, it was the Hutt Cartels...and this was far from the first time Emma had worked for them. Wrapped in her figure-hugging body-suit with the medium armor plating in place, the blonde sniper was in her high perch with her comlink and visor synched to the display being marked out by Kryll. Deft hands assembled her rifle, practiced eyes looked over the weapon that was less familier than those she'd lost, but certainly capable of doing the job. At the small of her back, her 'tracker' rested ready for a 'oh shit' retreat, but for now the woman eased herself into the overwatching position and flicked the safety of her weapon off. <"Understood...usually it is one or two who are slow on the uptake after the leader goes down."> she speaks in her accented tones. <"I will cover as best I can.">

From rooftops across the city, several men wearing black leather swooper jackets with gold trim on them and durasteel Journeyman Mandalorian helmets; on the backs of each of these jackets are the sewn-in signet of the Paragryph, a fearsome winged beast native to Dxun.

On one of these rooftops is Mydas Gryph, Second of House Gryph's "Fifty-Two Sons." He wears a crimson Journeyman helmet and crimson Void armor beneath his swooper jacket, but he is also flanked by two other soldiers of his House. An AFD Sniper Rifle has already been set up, but Mydas it laying in the prone position and manning the rifle.

"<Don't focus your rifles solely on that green bastard,>" Mydas commands into his internal comlink to his squad. "<And do nothing until you get a signal. Lord Mak apparently wants to talk 'em down.>"

The streets remain clear as Gorshin's army marches through them, but there isn't a single awake resident in the city that isn't watching Gorshin's March from the window of their apartment or storefront. The march finally ends with Gorshin coming within fifty-feet of the Palace's entry.

<"HALT!>" Gorch shouts. His army obeys his command, and Gorch breaks from the crowd and approaches Mak as he emerges from the palace. Sealed in his power armor, it is impossible to see the expression on his face when Mak tries to charm him, but he bursts into a mechanized laughter anyway.

"<It's my Palace now, Fattie. That is the beginning and end of negotiations,>" Gorch says.

Kryll sets his blaster rifle against the wall, using it as a firing position and listens to Gorshan as he speaks with Mak, when he hears that negotiations are over he gives the call. <"Open Fire. Mak, get back within the walls!"> and then fires off three red bolts, the first two miss wide, but the third strikes him hard in the right leg. <"So it begins.">

Right in the middle of a folksy retort delivered in Outer Rim-tainted Basic, Mak is interrupted by the fire from a weapon. He can't help but smile, even as the first couple shots miss, with the look of someone whose Brilliant Tactical Plan is all coming together nicely. Surely they didn't expect him to just walk out all on his own without hiring a few snipers, did they?

Moving backward as fast as his massive, sluglike body will allow for, Mak fumbles around with his trusty bandolier, pulling out his slightly less trusty blaster pistol. Usually, Lefty puts snacks in his blaster pouch for him, but today apparently his faithful pleasure slave/majordomo thought he might just need something more substantial to negotiate with.

"Yer a FLOOF, Gorcho!" Mak yells over the sounds of blaster fire. "And yer about to learn how to negotiate from a dadburned PERFESSIONAL!"

He's still fumbling with that blaster, getting the safe ready, and preparing to showcase the skills that gained him such a fearsome reputation as a gunhand. For a Hutt.

Emma's rifle sings out, a heavy bolt slamming into the armored leader. Were it not for his armor, the bolt might have damn near killed him, but the sniper is already taking aim for her nest shot as the weapon's power pack spools up.

PEWPEWPEWPEWPEW!

Down on the streets, the firing starts, and the second it does, Mydas gets into position at his sniper rifle.

"<The fight's started. Let's get dirty,>" Mydas orders into his internal comlink, and just like that, he and the other roofttop Gryphs are firing into the army of Gorshin's followers.

Gorshin is staggered by the immediate fire from Kryll, and turns in Kryll's direction to fire back, but the shock of Kryll's hits forces off his aim.

"<YOU BROKE PARLAY! YOU BROKE PARLAY!>" Gorshin shouts at Mak, and his men raise their weapons. "<KILL THEM ALL AND TAKE THE PALACE!>"

The hundreds of mercenaries raise their weapons and open fire at anything moving that isn't among their own number.

<"You said negotiations were over!"> Kryll yells out over the helmet's amplification, then fires three more bolts downrange at Gorshin, this time hitting him in the chest. <"Words are important, now we speak with weapons."> he draws a vibro dagger in his left hand and then continues to track his primary target.

"DaggggggNABBIT! I been HIT!"

The durability of Hutts is a thing of legend, which is fortunate because the slowness of Hutts is also a thing of legend. As Mak tries to back his way behind some cover, he fires off some random shots into the crowd with the blaster that Lefty had the good sense not to replace with snacks today.

Calling it a 'flesh wound' isn't particularly descriptive, since Hutts have so much flesh and most of their flesh is hard to tell apart. Suffice it to say that due to the actions of the mercenaries, his body hurts. Right in the body, they got him.

More bolts from seemingly out of the dark, so far Emma had yet to be seen. She knew there were other shooters, other snipers on their side, but she'd been directed to take out the leader and that's where her focus was for now. Of course, the hollering Hutt had her clenching her teeth. She didn't really want -her- paycheck killed either after all. Still, cloaked by stealth she wasn't going to be yelling back at the enemy.

"<Spotting...spotting...>" Mydas says into his internal comlink, and then opens fire into the crowd of mercenaries again, but his shot misses.

<"Still spotting...still spotting...>"

Just as the Gryphs on the rooftops fire into the mercenaries below them, mercenary snipers begin scanning the rooftops for the Gryph snipers.

"<C...COVER ME!>" Gorshin shouts as Kryll and Emma's rapid-fire shots continually strike his power armor, weakening it. He slips back into the crowd of mercenaries behind him, and as he does, they fire without relent at Kryll.

A serious hail of blaster fire comes back at Kryll and his position, the wall gets some serious scorching and he takes a hit in the right arm. He growls lowly inside his helmet, and continues tracking Gorshin as he runs for cover. <"I will cover you."> and he pulls the trigger, three times, three blaster bolts track through the gaps in the crowd to seek out Gorshin. The first round hits a trooper in the torso, knocking him aside. The second round hits another trooper in the left arm, spinning him out of the way. The third shot? That finds its mark and hits Gorshin square in the torso as he felt he was in cover and protected. <"Anyone else wish to negotiate!?"> he leans into his cover and prepares for any retaliation fire.

"HA! I got 'im! Toldja you were a FLOOF, GORCH!"

The King of Smugglers is inflated by his victory, despite the wound in his... uh... Hutt Parts...

Mak continues to fire his blaster out into the crowd of mercenaries in a mostly celebratory fashion, which is fortunate because he doesn't actually hit anything.

"KEEP FIRIN', BOYS! KEEP SHOOTIN' TILL THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' LEFT BUT RED STAAAAAAAAINS!"

• ZURK!*

A blaster bolt from Mydas' high-powered rifle bursts in through one side of a random mercenary's head and out of the other, and other Cartel snipers continue to rain red bolts on other mercenaries below.

The death of Gorshin Gorch, the man who started this underworld revolution, doesn't even slow down the remaining mercenaries, who know they will not be forgiven by the Hutts for their insurrection. In fact, they become collectively enraged and fight harder.

"<If I'm dyin' you're dying too, slug!>" one merc shouts, and fires two bolts at Mak.

Others concentrate their fire on Kryll, but their shots miss.

Kryll activates his helmet's amplifier again and calls out to the enemy forces. <"Your leader is DEAD. He came here attempting to claim this palace for himself, assuming he would throw your bodies against our defenses and then claim it once you have all spilled your blood for him."> he gestures to the corpse, <"Now HE is spent, and you have a choice. Go home. Or if you want, sign up to fight for a Hutt that won't throw your lives away for simple greed. Or you can stay, and we will cut you down where you stand, or running for cover like your fearless leader.">

"GACK!"

In the heat of the moment, Mak forgot that battles generally shouldn't be celebrated until they're actually over. Yet another of the valuable life lessons he drank away centuries ago. He'll remember it this time though, until his next Drinking Session.

"DAGBLAST it! They got me! The bastards GOT ME!"

Slithering away, he finally manages to get all the way behind that cover that he was moving toward this whole time. It's a miracle that he didn't get shot quite a bit more, but then Mak is pretty hard to hit. For a Hutt.

"Avenge me, bipeds! And... *KAFF!*... always remember the lessons I've taught you... *KAFF!*... and build a great statue of me... SPARE NO EXPENSE! Make sure that my legend lives on... fer.... the chillrends..."

Getting woozy, Mak props himself up against the wall, clutching at his boo boo and wishing very much that he'd gone home early.

A supple, One-Lekkued Twi'lek Dude is waiting on him, after all.

• ZIP*

With another blaster bolt fired from Mydas' sniper rifle, another mercenary falls--and its then he sees Mak's wounding.

"<Disengage, I repeat, disengage! Codename: Godfather has gone down, protect him immediately!>" Mydas shouts into his internal comlink. "<I'll cover from above. I'm gonna spray and pray into these haar'chaks." The Cartel members and Gryphs on the rooftop continue to fire down at the mercenaries, thinning their numbers rapidly by the second. The battle for the mercs has already been lost, but still they fight more desperately by the second.

Having finally gotten Mydas' location through spotting, the mercenaries on the ground fire up to his position.

Kryll steps out from his cover, firing blaster bolts into the enemy masses as they are cut down and then kneels down next to Mak. <"Well, you did well. You dropped their leader and their forces are being routed. How about, next time you get yourself into cover so you don't draw so much fire?"> he puts his dagger away and pulls out a medkit, making sure Mak doesn't bleed, or ooze out. <<I'm tending to Mak, put the rest of those fools down please.>>

"I... DID do that, didn't I? By gum, I... *KAFF!*... give 'im what fer, didn't I?"

With the closest thing that Hutts have to a back pressed against the wall, Mak is still clutching frantically to his boo boo when he's found, but eventually takes his hands away. Reaching into his Other Bandolier Pockets, he finds his trusty can of Old Pugno's Chewing T'Bacc, and shoves a fist-sized lump into his mouth.

"Ya might have to DIG around in there a bit... my pertective blubber is... real ornery to work with..."

Apparently Kryll drew the short straw, and will be digging around in Hutt blubber, or whatever it is that Hutt Medical Care actually entails.

"Too bad Lefty ain't here ta do it. He's got such... soft... handsssssssSSSSSSSNNNNNNZZZZZZZZZZZ...."

With a fat dip in his lip, and t'bacc juice oozing down his face, the King of Smugglers goes into a Healing Trance, which looks deceptively like a nap.

With Mak injured and taking fire from Cartel enforcers above, the mercenaries begin to scatter and storm throughout the streets of the entire Hutt Sector in a frenzy of firing off weapons and looting.

The Hutt Sector of Nar Shaddaa has fallen into pure chaos.