Log:SUPERNOVA DANCEPARTY BLAST
A danceparty goes terribly sideways. As they do.
OOC Date: May 31, 2022
Location: Nelkar 2
Participants: Borgol the Hutt as GM, Amal Jha, Caius Sentari, Fshmaw, Shimmer, Snogrutt
[Borgol the Hutt]
Nelkar 2 invites the guests of Lord Argamorok the Hutt with open arms and much revelry in the streets. The local Hutt Lord has declared that the week is intended to play host to all manner of celebration and excess. Already the gambling dens and cantinas are packed with visitors who, while awaiting completion of their ship's refuel, have decided to make use of that downtime with a little Party Time.
The first night of the festivities finds many honored guests within the palace of Lord Argamorok himself and the celebration is already well underway. Outside the luxurious palace that contrasts greatly with the industrial structures and avenues which adorn the surface of Nelkar 2, the various gathering places are packed with all manner of species and visitors.
All the while it is the servants bearing their collars and their eyes averted that work industriously to keep it all running smoothly.
Lord Argamorok presides over the gathering of his guests within his palace, a self-satisfied smirk adorning his pudgy Hutt features as he announces with a wide sweep of his thick arms while a translator dutifully conveys the Hutt's native tongue into Basic, "Lord Argamorok welcomes you all to his home and is thrilled to see so many fine people accept his hospitality. In recognition of your attendance, you will be credit with a two percent discount on your next refuel. For Lord Argamorok is generous and kind," the translator notes.
Soon enough there's a meal, a good deal of entertainment, and even a couple murders when some unruly slave or another gets a bit, well, unruly.
Then comes to the period of the night where one presents themselves before the Hutt Lord, makes an offer, or potentially makes a request. Near the back of the room a party planner is actively arranging the various guests who wish to present themselves into a neat, orderly line.
[Amal Jha]
Amal, who had drifted through the throngs of attendees, supplicants, partygoers, and slaves, had drank little and ate less. This was not the demesne of any Hutt Lord with which she was familiar, and she was loath to walk into a trap of any sort. And so, anything which might be judged to have the potential to dull her senses was politely refused, or accepted and discretely discarded as she wandered, dressed as she ever was, in that white on suit and duster. Familiar faces scattered around the room were noted, but discreetly. No need to give away more information than was strictly necessary.
[Shimmer]
"From what I've been told, his lordship is very generous with his time, and I assure you, fighting for position in the line will more likely cost you your position than improve it." Shimmer, that Firrerreo party planner, is looking up to a towering Cathar who stood nearly a full foot taller than the top of the thin-framed planner's wild black-and-green mane. There's a lingering growl, and a nod, and the... 'Gentleman' takes a step back into his place, leaving the much shorter Bothan in front to offer a quick, quaking nod to Shimmer, who returned it before making his way down the line.
He wears a simple silken vest of silver with white sequins stitched to it. His pants are simple, black, and just flared enough to cover the tops of some sort of heavy-laced boot. Similarly-dressed personnel are helping to arrange party-favors in a back corner area, as well as pre-placing some fo the specialty goods the Hutt's people had requested on his behalf. "Everyone, please wave down any of the people dressed like me if you wish for a refreshment or something else we can bring you to make your wait as enjoyable as possible. I'm certain the great Lord Argamorok will be most agreeable to hear your petitions soon." Is he saying this right? He hopes. A faint sheen of sweat dapples the Firrerreo's golden skin.
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw, less clinical and tactical, or just more prone to revel when the opportunity arises? It'd be rude not to take a plate, and soon enough poor S3-P0Y is orbiting its master balancing a modest pile of seafood so fresh some of it is *still wriggling,* much to the poor droid's consternation! Foosh merely represents Borgol's court, and so simply keeps himself from excess or 'obvious, public scorn' while he slips another mollusc between his tusks. *shorlp!*
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is here! Moreso for the food and beverages, anything else is just icing on the cake.... wait, there's cake?!
The stocky Gamorrean grumbles a little as he picks over a few of the fancier foods at the buffet, electing to horde most of the meat section to himself. A plate is piled high! Including some sort of turkey leg, wrapped in bacon, the server called it a 'Swanson', Snoggy is not one to disagree! Chowing down on his meal, he waddles out to an empty spot to watch the other people enjoying their time.
[Caius Sentari]
Caius, as always, does not care. He's already where the alcohol is - apparently finding his way there first thing - sampling all the hardest liquors available. At least he's clad in that garish crimson armour - for when his face goes red, nobody will notice. He's positioned himself where he can have a good view of that formation of petitioners - and within hearing distance too, but that probably doesn't matter to the lush as he progressively gets tipsier. There's a certain deliberate-ness to it, though, as he watches on in between sips.
[Borgol the Hutt]
The line progresses under the iron-fisted direction of Shimmer. Soon it is that same short Bothan's turn to stand before the Hutt Lord. The Bothan approaches tentatively, sketching out a deep bow before the Hutt Lord as the Bothan raises his voice that he may be heard, "Lord Argamorok, I am Taryn Dan'lor and I am here to present you with a gift," he announces with a brilliant, toothy smile as a pair of Lord Argamorok's slaves begin to approach while gently guiding a hoversled forward which sports a flimsy metal box upon the flat surface of the hoversled.
Lord Argamorok meanwhile looks on with subdued interest while the box is moved forward. Meanwhile Taryn Dan'lor maintains a respectful distance from the Hutt's throne.
The pair of slaves move the box to an appropriate distance before the Hutt Lord and begin to work at removing the container's flimsy lid. It is during this that one of the two slaves turns to face their master in the form of Lord Argamorok and announces in passable Huttese, "No longer will you be a master!"
The world goes silent. The air goes still. The palace's interior turns white.
There's a sound like a short, fast breath being taken. Then a pause. Followed by a roar of sound.
Blinking furiously to clear the white from ones eyes, they'll soon discover that the slaves and their hoversled are gone. Half of Lord Argamorok is likewise gone. Specifically the front half of the great Hutt Lord, which had been facing the slaves and their cargo. Notably Taryn Dan'lor is likewise gone. Of course a number of other nameless, faceless individuals which had been lurking in the vicinity of the blast radius are likewise gone without a trace.
What has arrived in the place of those missing individuals is chaos. There is the sound of screaming and shouting, all bearing the hallmarks of confusion and terror. Then there is the sound of blaster fire and battle cries.
The revolt is underway. Already the slaves are swarming their former overseers, blades plunging into soft flesh and lives being ended. As the guards and overseers are overcome, so to are their weapons adopted into the revolt.
Even outside the sound of fighting can be heard as though some signal has been set off within the palace that the time to rise up and throw off the shackles of oppression has arrived.
There is the scent of blood in the air and the slaves are metaphorically throwing off their collars. Armed and prepared to die in their newfound revolt, those who had been the guests of the Hutt Lord would surely be at risk. Whether of capture, harm, or even death. For those who are not slaves? The best bet is surely to evade and depart to the landing bays in a bit to escape the moon of Nelkar 2. Even now some of those slaves begin to look in the direction of the man in the crimson armor that is Caius Sentari, or the woman in white that is Amal Jha, even the one called Shimmer who had voluntarily elected to work for the Hutt Lord, or those sporting the Hutt Cartel insignia in the form of the Aqualish Fshmaw or Gamorrean known as Snogrutt.
[Amal Jha]
Amal, who, if one had asked would have had no opinion on slaves one way or the other. They were just cargo, to the Echani, bought and sold like any other form of cargo, and so, she made no attempt to either assist in the uprising or to put it down. Instead, she began to move through the bodies, stabbing and kicking where necessary, to try to begin the process of gathering up the members of the cartel and associated allies, "We need to move to the closest transit point! Better together than each alone!" But she would not wait long, before she would be on her way to the closest escape route. Was it altruism? Unlikely. More likely she had, at some point, been charged with ensuring that Borgol's assets remained intact.
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw's precise opinion on the enslaved was murky, and if asked the general din of 'active revolt currently in progress' would doubtless obscure the finer points of S3-P0Y's extremely technical and long-winded lecture. The 'droid appears to be using the platter as a shield, while Fshmaw throws elbows and wriggles toward his comrades in the melee!
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is caught by surprise by all the commotion, he didn't see what happened, but he could hear the results! Seeing the Hutt's guards being attacked and overwhelmed, and the other Cartel members around him starting to make for the exits... Snogrutt follows suit! "ofiraaphaa ovi ghevaethie dootheamuta adorh sigh... sat.. sat!" he begins to snuffle, but is then faced with an errant slave to his front! "rhaefer fadewaetoo adorh kosa!" he bellows, the hulking Gamorrean using the sheer fact that he is.. well, a Gamorrean.. and an angry one.. the slaves COULD go after him.. he's not terribly fast... but is it really worth it? The Gamorrean's already leaving, there are smaller fish in the pond.. with far less teeth. [Language: Gamorrean]
[Shimmer]
Shimmer's eyes are already big on his face before that Bothan goes up in... In something. It's a huge event and he's in over his head, but contracts... When it all goes to drek, though... "Kriffkriffkriff..." Muttering loudly, he looks to the man who had taken over the bar at Mos Espa, his second in command. "Leave everything. Containers, supplies, we can replace. Get everyone to the ship, on the double. If I'm not there before the mob shows up... You leave me." Before the man can dissent, Shimmer cuts him off by repeating: "You leave me." And with that, he's moving toward the nearest group of slaves, pointing to the nearby crates.
"I have plenty of medicine - and not-medicine - over here. And a lot of space on my ship. I can get a lot of you out of here, take you anywhere you want to go. That's why I brought such a big ship tonight!" It's a passionate plea, but made of false promises. He knew their plight, but Shimmer didn't kill bystanders when he ran. He just had to buy time for his people. Even as he saw Amal moving his direction. One foot edged backwards, ready to run... Or try.
[Caius Sentari]
"Ah, fark it.", Caius whines. See, he had turned about and waddled away in the interim to enjoy the stellar panorama from one of the nearby viewports, his back turned towards the Hutt Lord for /one second/ - apparently not seeing a way to interject himself - and luckily, the action only helped him as he managed to avoid any of the backdraft from the formerly-nearby explosion. Didn't blind him either, so first things first - he finishes off his current drink with one stiff shot, and then throws the glass at the nearest revolting slave coming at him as a distraction for him unclipping his helmet and putting it on. <"Here I was hoping to hit on some Zeltrons.">, comes the extra-whiney vox as Caius backpedals it over to where Amal is, E-11 upraised in one hand, now.
[Borgol the Hutt]
Only some of the bystanders within the palace of Lord Argamorok are left unscathed. Plenty of others lay upon the floor, attempting to staunch bleeding or shove some vital organ back into themselves. Others have stopped moving and breathing altogether. Outside of the fear that a group of slaves seems inspired to by the Gamorrean that is Snogrutt, another group seems entirely thrown off and confused by the plea made by Shimmer.
Those distractions do not last long however. Soon enough calls of, "Get them!" and "That one accepted a drink from me!" or "Look at the armor on that one!" can be heard from the slaves. While the mob continues to be an element of chaos, that chaos seems to be attaining alertness. Less wild and more focused. Which is surely not a great thing for one or ones caught in the path of that focus.
Soon the chase is on. Shouts only serve to draw even more attention to the group attempting to rally and escape together. That garnered attention only serves to further bolster the growing numbers of the mob.
[Amal Jha]
Caius' quip brought a terse reply from Amal. "Take some of Argamorok's on the way out. *He's* not going to need them." Amal, though, didn't actually look about to help gather up slaves, willing or otherwise, she only came up on Shimmer, "Move, now, or you're not getting out of here." She turned away almost as soon as she spoke, going back to fighting her way through the melee to make a path out into and through the exit. Shimmer could follow or not, at his own choice.
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt swings his axe about behind him, more to keep the scrabbling slaves at bay. The Gamorrean is intelligent enough to realize it's not just one or two... but a whole bunch! By themselves, these slaves wouldn't be worth much... but grouped up? Even six or seven could pull the Gamorrean down to the ground! Those slippered feet thud noisily on the ground as the Warrior powers himself after the crowd, his lips pursing as he puffs and wheezes, Snogrutt does not like doing cardio!
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw, relatively fresh from a ride in a Sandcrawler after an unfortunate incident involving a downed skiff, has 'negative desire' to be restrained or detained... again, this week... by yet another mob of growling savages. He turns with S3-P0Y in defensive circles, each using the other as a shield/ballast when called to. The fists are up, but his priority is *escape.*
[Shimmer]
Shimmer looks to the Echani, the flash of her chain whip, and then to the slaves who... Haven't quite torn him to pieces yet. There's a nod and then he's throwing in his lot, having no defenses of his own (his Seeker droid will have something to say about stayign on the ship). He points to the crates. "A lot of medicine, and... Well, you know what else! Save those people you shot, they can pay better ransoms alive." They will... Or they'll see what the slaves' own experiences had been like, probably. Or both.
The Firrerreo starts pounding feet after the group of very capable fighting people, hoping that someone has a soft spot for the helpless and hopeless. "I have a ship, painted like a rainbow, can't miss it. If you need a way off the planet, we just need to get there before the revolt does!"
[Caius Sentari]
<"I would...">, comes Caius' reply to Amal as he digs his heels in beside her to fire off a shot. He blows a hole in one of the revolting slaves' arse. <"...but they've all joined the revolt, unfortunately."> There's no doubt the cop is manic beneath that helmet, smirking at his quip - and the violence - as he lets loose a second shot, now at one of those said revolting Zeltrons. Their left arm comes off and they fall down dead. <"Too fragile anyway, they can't handle me."> And he almost got away with that joke, too, if another one of them didn't snag him in the arm with a thrown bottle. <"Bah. It's a tide. Gotta backtrack it out of here. You call it.">, he tells Amal as he hunkers down.
[Borgol the Hutt]
The few former guests of Lord Argamorok that have began to rally together are soon escorted outside. If by escorted one means 'a violent mob is pursuing them out of the palace', then escorted is the correct term. In this case a few fall, but more seem ever-ready to join the cause of attempting to capture and likely stomped a few heads into gooey matter.
[Amal Jha]
Amal, having made sure she had her straggler in tow, continued out into the streets, paying more attention to the best route to escape than further engaging with the revolting slaves. Unless they made the mistake of attacking her that is. And then all bets, as they liked to say, were off. She kept, as well, an eye on the rest of Borgol's retinue as she moved, and would, if needed, veer off to assist them if such as necessary, "Back to the landing bay!" Or return, to fight off any slaves that were getting too close.
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is mad! Moreso when a Slave clonks him over the head with a beam for being so slow. "iekoove oomapijyf oon zawe!" he bellows, the Gamorrean throwing ALL his weight into a nearby column. Being the slowest, the Gamorrean's trying to knock over the tall column so it will at least slow the wave of slaves behind them... it's like fighting a zombie horde at this point! [Language: Gamorrean]
[Shimmer]
Shimmer does his best to keep up. Really, it's an A for effort. Unfortunately, the designer boots were not built for running. He makes his best attempt, but there's a trip and when he stands, it's just enough to take a club to the back, which motivates him to move faster in an unfortunately familiar way. There's a cry out and the Firrerreo does his best to put on a little more speed. Speed he doesn't have, but he tries to borrow some on credit. He runs past the Gamorrean as that one begins attacking the very structure of the architecture itself. "Run!" You know... In case he didn't know.
[Caius Sentari] Caius is keeping himself rather well-composed considering the amount of unknown liquors he consumed before all this mess, backpedalling along with Amal as she moves closer towards the exit and, like the gentleman he is, letting the lady take the lead in front of him. He /is/ a ranged combatant, after all... <"*hic* Move, move, move!">, he yells out more towards the Gamorrean than anything, taking aim at the horde pursuing Snogrutt, in case some covering fire will be needed.
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw's motivation is white-hot fury, and it serves him well as he's obliged to keep revolting peasa-- er, newly-christened freedom fighters-- off himself and occasionally off S3-P0Y, who toddles obediently along!
[Borgol the Hutt]
Lead by Amal Jha, the collection of Hutt Cartel and regular people in the form of Shimmer, make their way through the streets. While the violence is still very much underway, there's likewise a sense of celebration to it all. In between brutal murders in the streets, there's plenty of time for singing and dancing among the mob. It's chaos in one of its most primal forms. Though the presence of those who aren't filthy, malnourished, or otherwise mistreated is sure to gather notice.
Amal leads the procession into a side street, circumventing a makeshift barricade which has been erected by an element of the mob. It would add a few precious seconds to the trip back to the docking bays, but it surely beat trying to force ones way through a makeshift fortification under guard by murderous rebel slaves.
[Amal Jha]
"Come on, this way!" Amal would take a few more seconds of work and a bit more running (Sorry about it, Songrutt!) to fighting her way through that gathering mob, and there was, perhaps, even a second or two in there where the team of ragtag escapees could catch their breath as they made their way down into the less chaotic alley, and continued on towards the docking bay. "If you came in a ship, try to get back to your ship. Unless you want to leave it as a gift to this mob. If you can't, get to the rainbow ship." Whatever got them out, yes?
[Shimmer]
Shimmer's designer boots finally give. Well, the right one does, as he tries to negotiate the sharp turn to the sidestreet. Maybe it's his too-big eyes lingering on the barricade, but the turn takes the heel off his right boot, causing the Firrerreo to stumble. He takes a small roll, and is struggling back to his feet to try to keep up, but now starting to lag behind the rest. The sound of the chasing mob is motivation, but the man was never made for endurance running. Maybe he can find a home to throw himself into...
[Caius Sentari]
For once in his life, Caius came dressed to the occasion. Sentients in the Outer Rim wouldn't know it - especially so far removed from the time of the Galactic Empire as they are - but he is in the full regalia of a Coruscant Guard, law enforcement troopers that specialised in putting down rebellion. And Caius is a law enforcement official that specialises in putting down rebellion. <"We should bombard this station from frakkin' orbit.">, comes the comment from off-center as Caius joins Amal in the alley without further trouble, blaster trained towards its mouth as he continues back-pedalling. When he lays his eyes on the freighter with a psychedelic paintjob, though... "Well, how the frak are we gunna Base Delta Zero this revolt in /THAT/??", Caius whines... though he does place himself at the ramp all the same, to cover those who would get in.
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is waaay at the back, by now he's got slaves jumping on him, the Gamorrean doing his best to hurl them aside and keep moving. "afed.. sigh.. yhasu.." he growls under his breath, sweat glistening on his brow as he thunders forward. Snogrutt is not some portly, fat gamorrean.. oh no... he's made of lean muscle and sinew, a true powerhouse! He's just.. really bad at running! He can lift HUNDREDS of pounds.. but not running.. no.. Snogrutt is gasping for air at the back! [Language: Gamorrean]
[Amal Jha]
As Amal moved, shepherding their small flock, and knocking off some of the ones determined to catch hold of them before they could make their escape, she breeched the entry to the docking bay, lifting her voice as she called out to the security detail, "The slaves have revolted. The mob is making its way here! Secure the docking bay for evacuation!" Whether they would actually listen to her or not, well, who could say. But she did know how to project her voice in an authoritative manner. The whip bleeding crimson light might help with this.
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is clearly not a runner. Nope, moving from point A to B? He'd prefer to walk! Sweat is just pouring down the Gamorreans brow, barely able to keep away from the horde behind him. "afed.. rhemit.." he squeals at the top of his lungs, smashing the face of a slave who gets a little too close, "yhasu fadewaetoo adorh!" he bellows, snarling as he literally has to drag his green-butt closer to the docking bay. [Language: Gamorrean]
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw may not even know why he was compelled to pick up a screeching, panicking party-planner in broken heels rather than leave them to "ghevaethie easitem," apart from recognizing them as part of Borgol's entourage-- but either he or the protocol droid might have wrenched the poor dear's precious abdomen. (Hurried escapes from bloodthirsty mobs are dicey!) [Language: aqualish]
[Caius Sentari]
Caius listens to Amal, at least. Right after letting loose a shot at one of Snog's stragglers. Turning about with a stifled hiccup, he trains his gun towards that which lies behind them - the launch bay. Which, since every other sentient is in the mob outside carving out territory, seems to be quieter than usual. <"Just get everyone on board so we can get outta this dump, frak who's vaporised in th' escape.">, Caius voxes as he makes his way back towards the ramp after his sweep.
[Shimmer]
Shimmer, in full Firrerreoman carry by a strong-but-surprisingly-gentle Aqualish, has a lot of time to watch the goings-on, the surprise attacks, the Echani defense, the flying bottle that hits him right on the back and he tries to duck but can only curl into the torso of the stranger carrying him.
"Ow, hey! I-" What, Shimmer? "Ow! Please run faster, sir!" Can the Aqualish understand? He hopes. Shimmer glances to the protocal droid, hopefully. He shakes his head, rolling his shoulder as he tries to be ready to... Bat the next one away? Cover Fshmaw's back, literally and figuratively? He looks over his - and Fshmaw's - shoulder and sees the dock where the Liminal Mineral still stands. With this security, they wouldn't have left yet.
"Dock 19! If you need a ride out of here, the Mineral's at dock 19! The bay's empty, we can fit everyone!"
[Borgol the Hutt]
The call from Amal seems to garner at least a modicum of action out of the docking bay avenue's defenders. While some seem to simply shrug off the information as though they already knew, others seemed to take her authoritative tone as a reason to hustle into position in order to defend what may very well be the last bastion of escape for the Cartel and its guests.
The air is thick with shouts, some near and some far. The smell of smoke wafts with the ebb and flow of the winds. The sky glows a subtle orange, likely the flame that accompanies that scent of smoke on the air.
For now the guests of Lord Argamorok are safe within the docking bay complex. One of the security detail guarding the complex is quite insistent as the Human, speaking Huttese, urges the group of Amal, Shimmer, Fshmaw, Snogrutt, and Caius to, "Get the hell out of here before it's too late! We're giving it ten more minutes, then we're withdrawing! Don't you worry though, we'll take this place back and show this scum who's in charge! We just have to regroup. The Hutt's aren't going to take this sitting down," then he seems to think about the anatomy of the Hutts and shrugs, "well, sure, they will, but they're not going to just take it on the chin. They're going to want their pound of flesh and then some". That Cartel thug nods back the way which the group of survivors had come, lifting his chin as though to indicate that direction. A simple glance in that direction would reveal already the mob seems to be amassing far in the distance, perhaps organizing and preparing for an attack on the docking bays.
"You need to go. Now," the human thug remarks in his heavily accented Huttese.
Then he sets to the task of organizing the defenders of the docking bay complex.
[Amal Jha]
Ah. People willing to stay and fight the mob. Well, better them than her, and Amal broke away from the Hutt thugs, heading for the ship that was as the least conspicuous means of escape that likely existed in the galaxy. But that did not matter. As long as it started and could lift off that was all that mattered. "Heading to the cockpit!" Amal, not knowing the crew, wasn't about to let some unskilled pilot try to get them out of danger.
[Snogrutt]
Snogrutt is completely out of breath as he hurls himself across the 'finish' line. The Gamorrean is on his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing, GULPING down air as best he can as he straightens up. "afed!" he howls, shaking his head, just taking a moment to catch his breath before he glances up and around. Those broad shoulders heave as the burly Warrior starts to stand, taking some careful steps towards their escape vessel, "etaetutov.. adorh.. rhaefer... fadewaetoo yvyka..." he wheezes! [Language: Gamorrean]
[Caius Sentari]
<"I want in on that on that clean-up, frak it.">, Caius tells Argamorok's mook as he takes his position on the mouth of the ramp, gun trained on any constituent of the mob that dares pop their head into the bay. His free hand gestures towards Fsh and Snog and whoever else in the retinue is lagging behind. <"/Move/! Hoof it! Trudge on over! Ain' got all day!"> Despite the tone, the cop has the manners to stick around and wait for everyone to get aboard before climbing up himself.
[Fshmaw]
Fshmaw does his best 'well excuuu-se me, Princess!' face/expression. Direct translation may not be necessary. He indicates he was carrying someone? Then, for good measure, the 'drinky-drinky' pantomime, so everyone knows Caius' only passenger on their flight to safety was Jim Beam!
[Shimmer]
Shimmer pats the Aqualish, in case some signal is needed for 'probably safe to put me down.' Once his feet are on the ground, he takes a seat and quickly undoes the boots, taking them off and rising on bare feet with the boots left behind. They weren't practical, he wasn't keeping them. He starts trotting faster, favoring his right foot from the twist of his ankle as he waves to the bartender who had been given the responsibility of seeing everyone safely to the ship. There's a wordless nod, and Shimmer sighs with relief.
"All accounted for..." Somehow. That's lucky. He gestures to any of the Hutt Cartel folk who may be joining them. "We're giving some new friends a lift if they need it. Priority, VIP passengers. Get them anything they want from the VIP lounge?" There's a nod with no words, and the taller man is off, gesturing. Shimmer looks to the Aqualish, fishing a flimsiplast card from his vest. "When things aren't so... Insane, I owe you thanks, and my life."
[Borgol the Hutt]
There's something thrilling about escaping a mob alive and relatively unharmed. Unfortunately while it's very quick and easy to say 'I am fine!' after evading a bloodthirsty mob; it's often months or even years later that the real weight of such an ordeal tends to settle in on the shoulders, mind, and heart.
For now though, those who survived and made good their escape are able to blast away from Nelkar 2 with their lives and futures still intact. The same could not be said for some others.
Some of those making good their escape may even be returning soon at the behest of the Hutt Cartel. Though it surely won't be with escape in mind or as part of the plan.
