A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
Nal Hutta Aboard "The Azure Pearl" Gorda the Hutts 'Pleasure' Barge Theme
Like it or not, life is a game of survival - everyone's just in it for what they can squeeze out of it. Everyone. The slave dancers bathing themselves in neon light, the guards rigidly posted beside their masters and more than all of them, The Hutt Lords folded over their thrones.
Gorda Desilijic Jetiure understood them - and this game - better than he understood himself. The Hutts had built the Kajidics out of simple necessity. Survival. The pirate constitutions, the bounty hunters guilds and all other gatherings of filth were just there to keep the predators from destroying each other while they scrambled for the ever abundant prey.
It wasn't about honor. It wasn't about codes. It was all about living until someone better caught up to you. But Gorda had a trick to it all. No one was better than him.
Another cloud of ashen smoke rolled from his greasy lips, rising to encircle Gorda like a crown. A raised platform at the head of the Barge's clubroom kept him out of the pulsing neon, casting him in a veil of shadow that broke only when a significant burst of red or blue light gave the gathering a view of he and the bulbous entourage he kept. Beside him, like statues, the contingent of grossly obese forms loomed over all those in attendance.
Scum from across Nal Hutta had been gathered to see the pleasures the so-called Lords of Nal Hutta could provide for them. And it was all on display. Trandoshan hunters clawed at each other for the chance to buy a wookiee slave. Zeltron paraded about, whisking away hired guns to backrooms and dark corners. Twi'lek dancers mesmerized patrons, who threw credits about the stages and species of all varieties rolled, smoked, shot, snorted and escaped themselves in endless bags of spice.
The world needed to know that its masters had returned - and though the loss was heavy, the outcome would be more than worth it. After all, the Hutts had disappeared to their Throne Worlds nearly 200 years prior and let Nal Hutta fall into the hands of scum...it was time they took it back.
"Pleasures" he had said, standing before the whole of Desilijic in the ancient halls of their Throne World, "I am a connoisseur of pleasures. If we wish to build an empire, we must become addictive. Irrestiable."
For the past five years of her life Cori had existed in her primary form as the apex predator she was born as, prowling the streets of Nal Hutta and hunting simply to survive after the cataclysm that ravaged the galaxy. It was a simple existence, one that necessitated her instincts and nothing more in order to make it to the next day.
Recently, however, things had changed. The Hutts had finally returned to their homeworld to lay claim to what was theirs, and for most that was more than welcome. It meant resources were returning to the planet, and soon enough life and work would follow. For those like her that meant credits, regardless of how illegal going about it happened to be.
News of the gathering spread quickly through the underworld, and she decided to show her face as well. There was nothing to lose and everything to gain, and with her particular skills she was a valuable resource for any crime lord or gangster.
By the time she arrived the party was already well underway, and so she was able to slip through the door almost entirely unnoticed. For a few minutes she stuck to the fringes, biding her time in order to observe and get a feel for the climate of the meeting. Very rarely did criminal gatherings go smoothly, and she wasn’t particularly optimistic about the bloodshed here being kept at a minimum. Gang rivalries didn’t cease just because they were preoccupied with drugs and alcohol; if anything they only got worse.
Slowly she worked her way through the crowd, this time approaching the Hutt at the center and raising her voice to be heard over the pounding music, "So, uh, you hiring?"
The hypnotic glister of the strobe lights continued to enthrall the guests - who had begun to slowly sink into the full ecstasy of the booze, spice and sexual encounters they'd chosen for the night. Some were so completely taken by their highs that they could do nothing but slump back into the leather seats strewn about the club. Even the Trandoshans had managed to brawl themselves out, but not before one of them had won the right to the Wookiee's chains.
And it seemed, at least for the moment, that even bitter rivals in the crowd had struck truces in favor of partaking in the euphoria. Gorda's slimy lips folded into a wide smile as he brought his end of the hooka up to his mouth, slicking it with a flick of his dripping tongue before taking a long drag.
"Ho-Ho" Gorda's gut heaved in laughter, smoke pouring from his gullet, "It is just like I said it'd be. Look what can be achieved with a little generosity and a few bags of bad spice."
Gorda's huttese was thick with the natural slime that endlessly spilled from his mouth and as he spoke, the rolls of his greasy, glob of a body wriggled from side to side. Hoja Desilijic, a hutt only thirty years junior to Gorda, spat on the ground - splattering the durasteel with green and yellow,
"This is getting far too expensive, Gorda." Hoja grumbled, his faced squeezed into a frown as he looked at the merchandise being snorted away, "You promised us capital gains - all I'm seeing is loss."
Gorda barely gave him the curiosity of a lazy, dismissive wave of the hand, "you lack vision - and that's not my problem. A moister farmer could tell you that credits must be spent to make gains."
"Don't assume to tell me about gain and loss, Gorda. My credits bought these slave girls and-
"And maybe you'll get them back after my work here is done" Gorda gave only the slightest tilt of his head, eying Hoja from the corner of his eyes, "maybe."
Hoja's fat rippled, a quake of anger shaking his bulbous form before his amber eyes shot back to the party. The threat was understood, that much was certain. With a satisfied grin, Gorda turned back to the party himself. Already the girls and men had followed through with the plan, taking several key gang members by the hand and guiding them away from their leaders.
Already there were dozens of various aliens being led around the Hutt's platform to a much darker and much more secluded lounge. Meanwhile, the gang members left behind were none the wiser - their focused entranced by the grinding of Twi'lek dancers and the rush of street spice. Gorda took in the views himself, eying the forms of the various dancers in the reflections of the mirror lining the port side wall.
Running the length of the room, the mirror reflected everything and everyone in the clubroom below the Hutts...and Gorda narrowed his eyes to be sure that was all that could be seen.
"So, uh, you hiring?" the voice caught Gorda by surprise, his large eyes shooting from the mirror down to a female standing at the foot of the platform. Several steps separated her and the flat, circular area twelve feet above her - where the shadowy bulbs of the Hutts peered back down at her.
Already the Weequay guards had moved in on her, several of them. Some openly wielded rifles that glinted in the flashes of light, others simply took a solid stance and reached under dark coats. Gorda couldn't help but be amused.
"Ho-Ho" Gorda bellowed, slicking his lips with a flick of his oozing tongue before continuing in Huttese "You are either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish." he paused a second to look her over, his eyes rolling over her like puddy as he admired what could be seen under her dense layers of clothing.
"But you are bold. I like that. Bring her to us." The Hutt waved the woman up and the guard before her, not asking if she knew huttese, explained to her that the Hutts would see her.
"I've collected many dancers in my time, but never one who comes to me more than half-dressed. No...you are a different kind of item, aren't you?"
Before she could answer, a protocal droid wabbled to Gorda's side and looked at the newcomer with two blank photoreceptors. Gorda had it specially imported from Hapes before the collapse - it had a flair for the dramatic that he not only appreciated but found useful when speaking to those who did not know Huttese.
Not that he didn't understand basic...he just refused to speak the filthy tongue.
"The Wise Gorda Desijilic offers you greetings. He admires your boldness and remarks on your professional attire. The Wise Gorda is looking for many additions to his majestic collection and bids you to tell him what your services would add to its already magnificent splendor."
No more than a glance was spared to the protocol droid, the majority of her attention remaining on the Hutts before her. Cori had worked with their sort on numerous occasions, and knew exactly what they liked to hear. The only thing bigger than a Hutt was their ego, and manipulating that was the secret to getting you wherever you wanted to be.
"Better guards than that, for one." She jerked her head towards the Weequay, ignoring his insults. Considering her audience for a moment, she glanced toward the mirrors to make sure nobody beneath was watching too closely, not wanting to reveal the ace up her sleeve to everyone in the room. She was hesitant to do as much even with the guards about, but she figured they would either stay quiet or get killed for their trouble.
Clearing her throat, she continued, "Been alive for about three centuries, give or take a decade. Whole lot of experience doing work like this." Not that they had any reason to believe her, but for all the illegal dealings she took place in she wasn’t much of a liar. That was a job for those that employed her, she was simply the hand that got things done.
"Oh, and I’m a shapeshifter." She let that hang in the air for a long moment, holding the gaze of each Hutt in the passing seconds, gauging their reactions. It didn’t take long for proof to be demanded, and she raised her hands in acquiescence, glancing down to the party again to double-check for any eyes that happened to be too curious.
Turning her attention back to the ever-gracious hosts, she took a breath, her eyes shifting from their unremarkable hazel to the burning orange canine irises of her true form, and she raised one hand which had changed to resemble that of the Weequay that stood beside her, holding the transformation for no more than half a minute before reverting back to the way she had walked in.
Raising an eyebrow, she held her arms out. "Well?"
A tide of alien curses rolled over the guards, some of the weequay spitting at her feet and defiling her honor in their own tongue. But even as the guards let anxious hands slip over blasters, Gorda's slobbering grin grew even wider. "Ho-ho" the gaseous laugh bubbled up once again, bringing with it a swell of noxious odor that tainted the entire platform. Hutt's were a grotesque species to begin with - their mounds of fat smelling of excess and greed. This breath, however, it smelled of something far worse. Muck and swamp and...decay.
"You" he began in huttesse, his boil slathered tongue slipping from his lips and wetting the folds of his mouth, "you are far more collectible than a common whore. You are a fine addition to my ship."
Gorda's pipe took the place of his tongue, his fat fingers twirling the hooka line while another scratched at the follicles of hair erupting from his scalp. Soon enough, he was pulling at them until his folds became littered in tiny hairs. The smoke rolled out once more, enveloping his head as scratching hand moved to the splotchy areas across his body and continued the same absent minded pulling of hair.
"I will have you."
"Perhaps I'll hire her myself, Gorda." Hojascorned from the background, his huttesse thick with contempt.
"Silence! If you interfere I will remind you of why I am Lorda Desijilic and you are still a sniveling worm!" Gorda shared a sullen look with Hoja, then turned back to his new fascination, "you will be my underling - with an advance in payment for your loyalty. One-thousand Credits now and we can discuss your further payment later."
The protocol droid bobbed happily, translating his master's words as follows,
"The Wise Master is stricken with great pleasure at your arrival and is fascinated with your abilities. His eye values your skills and offers you an advanced payment of One-Thousand credits for your immediate servitude. His graciousness will discuss your further payments and work after tonight's festivities have concluded."
Cori wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but one-thousand credits upfront wasn’t a bad deal no matter which way you cut it. There wasn’t much people wouldn’t do for that kind of money, and all he’d asked of her so far was loyalty. That wasn’t a problem, especially considering that her idea of loyalty followed wherever the credits went. If the rest of her paychecks kept looking up like this, well, there was no reason not to stay employed with the Hutts for a little while.
Nodding her head, she glanced again to the party, considering for just a few moments the 'festivities' he’d mentioned. There were an awful lot of gang members in one room, and in her experience when the Hutts were in charge that meant a good portion of them wouldn’t be walking away. Considering that for a moment, she decided to cut her losses and throw herself into the mess for real.
"If you need help taking caring of the problem," her head jerked towards the partygoers below, "I’m willing to start work early. Ever seen what a Gurlanin can do in their primary form?" It was how she’d stayed alive in recent years, but still, returning to four legs so soon wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was what was comfortable, and how she did her best work. Besides, there was no need to worry about recognizing a face when the one doing the killing was a monstrous, orange-eyed beast.
She could still remember the taste of blood in her jaws, and would be lying if she said the thought of going hunting again didn’t send a thrill through her bloodstream. "If not, I think I’ll take up residence a bit away from all the fun they’re having. Wouldn’t want to get caught in the crossfire."
A sharp inhale - followed by a slow, grumbling sigh as the Hutt narrowed it's eyes on his new investment. The mouth on this one was bound to get it into trouble...it maybe best if he kept her seen but unheard. Gorda wasn't going to risk making a scene of what she had said, it was bad enough she had said anything already. So, instead, he took one of his meaty palms slapped the side of his bulbous frame, "No. An item such as you is better seen beside it's collector - come, sit beside me. I will have use for your skills soon enough."
"The Wise Master," the droid began, "commands that you be seated beside his admirable throne - as a servant of your particular characteristics is better suited to be seen beside their master. He assures you that your skills will be made useful at his pleasure, which will be quite soon."
The droid paused, gesturing to a stone lip that held the Hutt's throne aloft - just above the reflective, mirror like floors of the ship.
Whatever the Hutt had actually said, Cori could bet it wasn’t half as pleasant as the droid’s translation. Not that it really upset her, she wasn’t here to make friends. Their kind were notorious for making bad business partners, but so long as you remained on their good side it was profitable to work for them. It was an art few managed to perfect, but with her innate talents she didn’t have to worry quite as much about it. Existing alone made her invaluable, and then it was just down to how much they were willing to pay her to stick around.
Her nose crinkled as the droid named her a servant, but she bit her tongue against any retort, well aware it would get her nowhere fast. Instead she considered the monstrosity seated before her for another moment, her mind already made up. As much as she hated drawing undue attention, she hated being on two legs even more, and there was no real compromise. This was most certainly going to devolve into a massacre soon enough, and she wasn’t about to be caught defenseless in the midst of it.
In the blink of an eye she shifted from solid to liquid and back again, though this time she took on a very different form: that of a gigantic black canine-esque creature that stood nearly three feet at the shoulder while being just over five feet in length, fangs protruding from its snout and burning orange eyes taking in this new vantage point. Finally she leapt up onto the platform next to the Hutt, stretching with a yawn that bared her teeth before laying down by his side.
