Log:The Twubble With Twiweks

The Twubble With Twiweks

OOC Date: January 27 2020
Location: Pwiff Skoogo
Participants: Mak the Hutt, Kryll, Ca'tra Kora, Karic Tern, Vex, Sshylisk, Gweezo Pudz,

Under ordinary circumstances, getting clearance to land anywhere on Pwiff Skoogo takes something close to an hour. However, for some reason, the incoming freighters and shuttles accompanying Lord Zlurbo Qwig Makooja and his AAA Freight shipping business are rushed through to the Freight Entrance practically before they can finish asking for authorization. There are few things more sketchy-sounding than a Neimoidian, unless it's a Friendly Neimoidian.

But a Friendly Neimoidian is EXACTLY what's there to meet the assorted smugglers, soldiers, shiphands, and cattle wranglers. Gweezo Pudz, Assistant to the Sub-Viceroy, stands near the freighters with a small retinue of Neimoidians, and a couple of leftover droids from the Trade Federation Days.

Mak and his crew are quick to descend the ramp of his trusty SoroSuub Nestt freighter. Well, quick for a Hutt. With Mak, it's always important to add on the 'for a Hutt' bit... Like the rest of his crew, Mak has been issued a stun gun and a shock staff, though he's having a bit of trouble finding a place to put either of them in his trusty old leather bandolier. Maybe if he eats some of the snacks first, he'll free up a pocket or two...

"Wowd Makooja! It's twuwy a pweasuwe to weceive you and... uh... the cwew? Tew me, is this aww of the cwew you've bwought?" The Assistant to the Sub-Viceroy looks a bit alarmed at the relatively small force.

Mak, however, looks Supremely Confident, though he doesn't look Supremely Competent. "Sheeeeeeit! This ain't nothin' we can't handle! I only called the BEST, no the BEST of the BEST! We'll get your tonnage taken off the station before you can even MISS 'EM! Now that's A Makooja Promise!"

Kryll makes his way down the boarding ramp of his ship, Purgatory, and surveys the area as well as looking over to Mak as he disembarks. He is wearing his helmet and in full hunter regalia if one were to put it thay way. As he speaks, his helmet modulates his voice. <"Well, this is somewhere new. New experiences are good for life, so I am told.">

A smaller slighter figure follows behind the bounty hunter, anonymous as the rounded H-shaped visor is, it is only worn by Mandalorians. The tans and black of Ca'tra's carapace has been well lived in, scuffed and repaired and is crossed by the harness of a rocket pack and well broken bag with the universal sign of a battle medic in a barely discernible green cross on its closed flap. A blaster strapped to her hip is the only obvious weapon.

Karic thumbs the weapon he'd been given for this job. He takes a slow look around as he steps off the transport, his brow creasing as he considers the job. He makes a point of trying to look like this is just another day on the job as he reminds himself that he's looking at twenty thousand credits.

Vex fully looks the part of a thug. Glad in leathers, half cybernetic, dimly glowing eyes and some truly wicked scars only made worse by the fangy, wolfish grin she wears as she swaggers her way down the ramp, an unlit cigarra held at the corner of her dark lips. The lights that're run through her hair shift and dance with various patterns and colours, seemingly conveying what mood the Falleen is in. Apparently tonight's mood is: Groovy. "Oh yeah," Vex notes after Kryll speaks, "We're about to go on all sorts of mystical adventures, eh, Slick?" Her cybernetic hand taps against the stun gun gently, holstered as it is, her eyes darting toward the black scaled Trandoshan that she never seems to be far from. When you grow up on the mean streets of Nar Shaddaa, you learn that it's best to have a big dumb friend to trick into doing big dumb things, and apparently 'Slick' is precisely that to the green skinned woman. She takes in a sharp breath through her nose before letting it out with a soft groan, "Oh yeah," She repeats her earlier statement. "Air's all kinds of right for it."

Slick doesn't look too taken by his shock staff. Maybe it gives him bad memories or something, but it basically remains deactivated and basically hanging off him like, yes. Sure. He'll take it. But he won't /use/ it. Instead, he's busy tearing off the trigger-guard for his .. Nonharmful Safety Buzz Gun.

He rips it off, and promptly tosses it away. He then weighs the buzz gun on his clawed hands, settling it into his dominant right hand. He even checks the charge on it, before setting it on 'safe' and giving the trigger a few experimental squeezes - just to make sure that his clumsy trandoshan claw-hands are capable of handling the weapon when it calls for it. He sniffs, and snorts, and then hauls up his helmet and shoves it over his head. He thumps it with his hand twice, until the holo-image in the helmet stops flickering and shows him a clear display. "You ssssssaid it, Bosssss." He speaks up for Mak, before pausing. He swings his head over in Vex's direction. "You ssssaid it, Bosss-lady." Ah. He can make out the difference between Mak and Vex. "Myssssstical adventuressss, Bossss-lady." He swings his head back forwards.

"A Makooja Pwomise? Vewwy weww... I know that you don't enjoy to be fwetted about, so I shaww WEAVE you! But I beg of you, Wowd Makooja, pwease wemove them IMMEDIATEWY! We ah OVAWUN with them... OVAWUN!"

Gweezo Pudz, Assistant to the Sub-Viceroy, is way more emphatic than he needs to be, wringing his hands together nervously. Flanked on either side be a couple more Neimoidians, and a handfull of Leftover B1 Battle Droids, one wouldn't think that he'd have much to worry about, but worrying seems to be his defining character attribute.

Mak, however, is as relaxed as a Hutt in a mud bath. But without the mud bath. Emptying a pouch of snacks into his gaping maw, he finally has a place to fit his Safety Blaster, freeing up his hands.

"Not to worry, Mister Pudz, we won't let ya down! We're ON IT! Just tell us where to go round 'em up, and we'll GIT TA ROUNDIN'!"

The Assistant to the Sub-Viceroy looks confusedly at Mak, and then at the rest of the would-be space truckers assembled.

"Wound them up? Why.... we've alweady wounded them up. We ah bwinging them heyah as we speak."

One of the doors to the hangar bay opens up, revealing a few giant shipping containers, being pushed by some B1 battle droids.

"We... just need you to take them AWAY!"

Mak scratches his head thoughtfully, looking around at the rest of the group.

"Uh... well... sheeeeit. Easy money for us, ain't it?"

Kryll looks over towards Mak and the viceroy, or sub viceroy, or whomever Mak is talking to and then looks to Ca'tra. <"They are being delivered to us? That makes it easy, should we lay out snacks and such for them? How does one entice twileks to board your ship?"> he pats his pockets and panels, <"I don't have snacks. I don't even know what a twilek wants."> he moves to clear the ramp, just in case they do decide to board his ship anyway.

Ca'tra's helmet tilts slightly, watching the by-play between the supremely confident slug and the Neimodian. She replies dryly over their private coms, <"Heh. Be realistic. What will go wrong, will go wrong when their is a Hutt and Neimodian involved. But, let's say yes, to that for the moment. I brought universal electrolytes and rations. We'll be fine."> Following him down the ramp, the tell tale wash of silver passes over the visor as she turns the tactical HUD on so she can watch the hangar.

Karic frowns, taking a look over the crowd he lets out a slow whistle. "Well this isn't what I expected. Anyone here speak Twi'lek?" He moves to the flanks of the crowd. "So, they've been rounded up, just gotta herd 'em in right? Just like moving Bantha." His tone is calm as he gets his stun gun ready, he's no plan to get close enough to use the prod if he can help it.

"Freedom, mostly, I'm wagerin'. Pretty sure the promise of that'll get them on that ship right quick." Vex snorts softly, looking between those gathered with an idle sort of curiosity. "Why they're payin' us to get rid of 'em, though, I couldn't tell you. In fact, there's no reason I can fathom to get rid of twi'lek slaves ... especially if they're paying someone to take 'em away." Her head turns, the inhuman irises of her eyes shifting, growing slightly brighter before dimming again as she stares toward Gweezo, her lips pursing. "... Our lad over there's proper nervous," She points her chin toward the Neimoidian, squinting in his direction as she considers all that's unfolding. "... Don't load the cargo, Boss. Somethin' doesn't smell right, and I'm wagerin' it's whatever's in them boxes. Maybe they're sick," Her weight shifts to one side, her jaw working like she literally chewed on whatever thought's weaseling through her head. "... Maybe they're dead..." Her hand lifts to wobble back and forth in a so-so gesture, "Whatever it is, my suggestion is to move away from the crates... stand back here and let them open them for us."

SNIFF.

.. SNIFF SNIFF ..

... SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF ...

Slick's nose. It knows. There's something awry. Something not quite right. Something not quite Camp Chippewa. His head turns to stare off at Vex, and he reaches up and pulls his helmet off. He sniffs hard again before eyeballing the Neimoidian that's still speaking. He begins pacing over - ignoring any 'Hey, don't hurt the Neimoidian' style conversations that might be thrown his way - and he sniffs again.

"You're ssssweating."

That statement is some sort of accusation, and he seems to agree with Vex as he maks his way to the cargo. He ignores requests not to - so if he doesn't get physically stopped -...

.. Oh he wishes he was stopped. You see. Trandoshan's usually don't change colour. Their scales are whatever they've got. Slick has black scales. Except now they seem to shift and hold a strange hue of green. He gives an audiable heaving noise before he recoils from the crate, and promptly begins stomping back towards Mak and Vex. Horror and distress written on his usually plain, not-really-listening features.

"Get him to open the crate!" His voice cracks. Something has him.. not right.

Kryll slings his rifle from his back to rest on his chest, placing a hand on the grip once the trandoshan decides it is going to bodily vomit. <"That."> he gestures, <"Appears to be a problem. Be on your guard, who knows what is about to happen or come from those crates. If it goes bad, secure the ship. Use your rockets to get on top for a firing position."> he readies his rifle and waits to see what happens. <"I am certainly not opening the box.">

"Now just hol' on a dingblasted MINNIT!"

Contentedly munching away on the remaining snacks in his bandolier, the King of Smugglers looks as if he's close to drifting off to sleep. Bloodshot yellow eyes have narrowed to tiny slits, as the chewed food begins dribble out of his mouth and down his nonexistent chin. He doesn't seem overly concerned about the job, or really all that interested in life generally. 'King of Smugglers' is a self-given title, but truth be told, he's mostly just cargo.

Fortunately, he has helpful bipeds to give him a hand. He rouses as Vex raises some Valid Points, and finishes rousing as Slick goes to check out one of the cargo containers. Slowly, he begins wobbling his way over toward the giant cargo containers himself, holding Gweezo Pudz by the shoulder and leading him along.

"Now you know me, I always mind my own BIDNESS! I'll haul ANY dagblasted thing, no questions asked! But... you're makin' me feel powerful CURIOUS!"

Mak points at the container door, a Concerned Expression on his face.

"Open the crate, PUDZ!"

The Neimoidian sighs, snaps his fingers, and one of the B1 Droids opens the door.

There, inside, are several tons of nearly naked, HAIR-COVERED TWI'LEKS!

"JUMMMMMMPIN' JUGS! WHAT IS IT? WHAT IS THAT!? OH GODS ABOVE, I CAN'T LOOK!"

Mak covers his eyes with both of his pudgy hands, and looks as if he's about to weep.

A waft of short hair pirouettes on an air current. Fortunate for the helmeted, filtered air breathing woman not much can be smelled. <<Good one. Never met a Neimodian I didn't hate,">> Ca'tra relays in a private aside to the other bounty hunter. Inside there is a bewildering array of lekkus, limbs and torsos...with...HAIR.

A couple of quick strides takes her close enough to confirm they don't have fur coats on. <"Ahhhhh. Twi'leks don't grow hair! That's. Not. Right.">>

It's the first time since getting here that Karic's aware how truly alone he is on this job. He readies his weapon, taking in the Twi'leks and the Neimodians. When the container opens he takes a breath. "What the hell is going on here." He takes a step back.

Vex makes a bit of a face. Is it disgust? Is it gas? Nobody really knows for sure. What can be said, however, is that it doesn't seem particularly pleased with the situation that's being discovered in all its hairy glory. She stares toward Pudz pointedly, slowly shaking her head in his direction, scowling like the champion of bitterness that she is. The lights in her hair shift to deeper, somber shades, shifting and flickering through her mane as she glowers on. Apparently her mood has shifted. It seems that this is what judgment looks like.

"An abomination, that what that is. Many, many aberrant abominations in all the colours of the kriffin' rainbow, not one of them right. What're we meant to do with defective slaves?" Vex pauses, clearly thinking, "Wouldn't even be fit to feed to the pit beasts, who knows what kind of diseases and defects they have?" Like they're not even people. "Not so fond of this whole deal now, y'see, and I'm thinkin' maybe we renegotiate the terms of our service, eh, Slick?" Her brows raise, gaze turning toward Mak, "They should sweeten the deal, what with this deception, they've broken the original contract. I'm not even sure these ARE Twi'lek!" She snorts softly, then snoots out a breath in a haughty 'hmph'.

"Ssssssssssweeten the deal."

Slick echoes Vex's statement, as he then pauses to look towards the Droids. With their blaster rifles. Then back to the Neimoidian. He smiles brightly, showing all of his teeth at once. It takes a bit of effort to make a smile that big, but for Vex, he's more than willing to try.

"They don't have enough Droidsssss." He wags his zapping happy funtime blaster in one hand, then back over towards Vex and Mak. "I'd lissssten to her, Bossss. They owe you for that. Bossss-lady alwayssss talksss ssssensssse." He flexes his toes. The talons give the soft 'click clack' on the ground beneath him.

"Excellent points... and very well put! Don't ya'll think so?"

Mak still pointedly avoids looking back in the shipping container, which the battle droids have mercifully closed back up again. This allows him to calm himself down a bit, and get back into the Haggling Spirit.

"Now, ya'll wouldn't want us to just up and LEAVE, would ya? But we can't very well take DEFECTIVE TWILLIKS back ta Hutt Space, now can we? Why... they'd boil me alive if any of 'em got out, started BREEDIN'... and hell... ya said these was particularly horny little bastards, they could cause an epidemic!"

When Mak shudders, his entire body jiggles like a tower of gelating that's in the middle of getting pushed off of a table.

But the Neimoidians don't seem convinced by his arguments. Maybe Mak isn't as good a negotiator as he thought.

Gweezo Pudz simply shrugs his shoulders, and affects a yawn. "That's fine with us. WEAVE, if you must. But we wiww have no choice but to give yowah Twucking Company a... bad weview on the holonet."

Mak shudders once again, gasping audibly.

Looking back at the group, a pleading expression on his face, his croaky voice is nearly a sob. "Hey... uh... little hep here, someone? Convince these lovely gentlemen that we mean BIDNESS! And also convince 'em not to leave us no bad reviews... It took me a hunnert years to build this comp'ny up to a THREE STAR BIDNESS!"

"I mean, they can only leave a bad review if they live to record it, right?" Vex's intimidation is a passive thing, it seems. It lacks a pointed effort, and thus doesn't really offer the same level of success someone more blunt, more Trando-like might. "Take our charge by way of collecting on the black market trade of their delicious sweet meats, yeah?" Her brows raise and she looks about from person to person with a helpless, non-committal shrug. "Got stun guns, those droids don't do so well with electricity... take them offline, deal with the fleshy delicacies, sell their organs, sell their droids, take the cargo and jetison it into the great yawning divide... but that's still technically a loss of revenue, what with bein' unable to sell 'em after." She rattles off options, then glances toward Slick, then gestures toward the Neimoidian.

"I dunno. Slick, why don't you tell 'em what they've won? I'm about done chatting."

Kryll calls out to the furleks, <"If you want out of here, board my ship! First come, first served. I can't make any promises how many rides you're going to get offered!"> he lets go of his rifle and motions them to board his ship, standing to the side of his ramp. <"Get those food and supplies ready.">

Recoiling a few steps takes Ca'tra closer to the mountain of fat slug of a Hutt, <"Reviews can be changed especially when the shippee tries to frack with the shipper. Don't give him a second of your time. Take a holo of them. They aren't Twi'lek they are something else."> Privately to her fellow-Bounty Hunter, unheard by the others except for Kryll, <<"How many folk can say they were in on the birth of a whole new sub-species? This is...a crime against every Twi'lek in the galaxy. We can take a load of them.">>

Aloud she says, <"Walk away from it, Mak. I would. Too much trouble.">

Slick doesn't seem to have any problems with taking orders, or suggestions, from Vex. He holsters his zappy-fun-times pistol and looks around for a moment before his gaze lingers on an empty cargo crate. He walks over to it, resting his claws on the metallic box. He wobbles it, testing how heavy it is.

Huh. That's pretty heavy.

He reaches down and begins flexing his muscles. Not to look impressive. But because he's now hauling this heavy large metal cargo crate above his head. It shuffles around a bit as whatever is inside clanks and cracks and crashes. "Ssssssoundssss expensssive. Ssssshame if sssssomething happened to it."

He promptly - and with no subtlety - lobs the crate off the edge of the loading platform, giving a snarl of effort as he lobs the crate off the end. He pauses, standing there, then turning to look towards the Droids and Neimoidians. He eyeballs Kryll, sniffing once. He licks his sharp teeth with a 'ttck' noise. A momentary look of disdain. "Whoopssssss." He offers.

He begins to walk back towards Mak and Vex, grunting at Ca'tra. "They pay ussss extra for the sssssssuppliessss and for the threatsss of a poor review. We pride oursssselvessss on cussstomer ssservice."

"Ssssshould I provide more cussstomer ssservice, Bossss-Man, Bossss-Lady?"

Karic looks at Mak. "Getting rid of the twi'lek is easy enough, long way between here and home boss, but it's lost revenue. You're going to take a hit anyway I figure it. Probably the biggest hit if we start shooting." He studies the Neimodian, then the furry Twi'lek. "We can take 'em get rid of 'em somewhere." He shakes his head. "Or we leave, let the Galaxy know what's happening here, we're recording right?" He looks at the Neimodian. "How big a PR crisis you think this'll be? How much would it cost to cover up this whole mess?" He watches Slick and shrugs a shoulder. "Especially with all the property damage you might sustain."

Decisive Man of Action that he is, Mak looks askance at everyone with him and tries to avoid making any actual decision of his own. He'll be decisive, after someone else comes up with an idea. That's called tactical brilliance.

Fortunately, the bipeds he's brought with him are more than just a bunch of pairs of legs. Sexy, sexy, pairs of legs. THESE bipeds are also chock full of sexy brains! Or at least functional, non-drowsy ones.

"True... we could just keep the images, just in case. Wouldn't want them on the holonet unless absolutely necessary, lest we scare some chillrends... but... that'll pertect us, at least."

Mak draws himself up to his full height, which mostly just means rocking back on his Giant Haunches. The group has spoken, and Mak is ready to make a Grand Bargain.

Until Slick throws a perfectly good shipping container into the void of the Garbage Compactor. Or whatever is below the shipping platform.

Gweezo jumps with a start.

"Fine! Fine! We AGWEE with the tewms that have been PWESENTED! We wiww pay SWIGHTWY mowe than TWIPPWE! And give you a FIVE STAW WEVIEW! And..." Gweezo looks around, a bit flabbergasted, but one of his aides whispers something into his ear.

"And... we wiww wewcome you aww back, to take advantage of one of owah DEWUXE SPA PACKAGES!"

Mak looks from Gweezo Pudz, back to the group, and notices that Kryll is already in the process of trying to get the cattle on board his truck. This pleases Mak, if the smile on his face is any indication. Holding out his pudgy hand, he takes Gweezo Pudz' pud-puller in his own, shaking it firmly.

"Alright, pardner! You got yerseff a deal! Get the droids to load 'em up and we'll be outta here! And we DEFINITELY WON'T drop them off on a lava planet, right fellas?"

Mak turns around, and winks one of his enormous, bulbous yellow eyes. His tongue hanging limply out of his mouth.

Kryll motions and escorts as many furleks onto the ship as he can carry safely, ensuring that they all get on board and settled in with the most amount of comfort they can find. <"Thats it, everyone on board, nobody touch anything that glows, switches, or looks explosive. Sit down and strap in, or have someone else hold onto you. Don't rush, get comfortable, and we'll be out of here in no time."> Kryll waits until his ship is full up, which Ca'tra will likely signal him, and then he'll board with her.

Vex sniffs then, scowling out at all involved in this heinous crime against humanity. Her shoulders lift and roll in a shrug, and her braid-lights shift once again to paler shades, casting shifting shadows in every direction in their patterned flash. She smacks her lips quietly after a blackened tongue darts out to wet them, turning fully and marching her way right back up the ramp, but not before spitting out her still unlit cigarra and sharply lifting her cybernetic arm to give a quick wiggly-fingered wave over her shoulder, "Toodles, darlings."

<<Mak, we can take a load off of your life support systems.">> It's easier to say sorry and ask forgiveness than to ask for permission or so they say. None of those pithy proverb makers were dealing with a Hutt. Still, the bounty hunter is skipping off to the ship with Kryll, shepherding a rather comely lot of disoriented Furleks. Broadcasting aloud, <<"You heard the man, don't touch a thing. We have open holding cells that have a few bunks which can be shared. I will passing out rations once we are in hyper.">>

Slick appears to be delighted about this whole situation. A spa day, extra pay, AND he got to throw something! In some gaps in his fanged maw, his tongue dips out for a second to flick out, tasting the air. He sears it into memory. A victory for Slick. His clawed feet give audiable 'click' noises as his sharpened foot-claws scrape to keep himself with MAXIMUM TRACTION. "Look, Bossss. They're even handling it for you. You hired sssssome good extra ssssstaff."

Slick isn't even going to argue about it. You can literally feel the happiness flowing off him. For anyone that gets Trandoshan body language, that is. For anyone else it looks like he's either got indigestion or something stuck in his teeth. He saunters his way back on to the main vessel.

Frowning as Karic looks at Mak he seems to consider his words. "Well, no lava planets on the way, so I wouldn't suggest it." He turns his attention back to the task of getting the twi'leks loaded. He's not offering rations or bunks, he's much more interested in keeping them stored near an airlock. Can't be having possibly damaged Twi'lek's running around with who knows what wrong with them.