Audience with Mighty Juuka

Ambrosia(#4866PnACcF)

A few permanent lines of tension draw across the forehead and brow of this otherwise smooth, angular face. Sage-green eyes watch the world from beneath well-manicured brows. High cheekbones slope with gentle transition into a long, slender nose and placid, full lips rest above a squarish jaw. Her olive skintone is livening up, having soaked in a bit of richness from the sun. Waist-length hair has a few shades of blond that blend well into a light, sandy mix, but there's a silver strand here and there trying to sneak into the mix. Faintly puckered, pink blotches encircle her neck - old scars from a former life.

She's about 1.75 meters tall, long-limbed physique lean and willowy, and sporting a slightly bony set of child-bearing hips. Her hairstyle today balances the ornate with the simple. Half the mane is unbound but styled into large, tumbling curls. The upper portion is drawn back from her face, twisted and looped into a nest of intertwining braids. Tiny, pearlescent pins twinkle in the light, holding the ensemble together.

The Ambassador is a sight for sore eyes in today's splendor. A gauzy, sheer silk of merlot fits her in the form of a wispy, ankle-length 'gown', cinched at the waist by a bronzium link belt and split down the front from hip to floor so that it flutters along behind when in motion. The long sleeves show nothing but skin beneath, but her torso is masked by a black camisole and legs clothed in sleek, black pants. The tips of painted toes peep out from the ends of strappy, black sandals. No heels, just flat - she is practical, afterall. A few rustic-looking bracelets of bronze encircle her arms under the sheer silk, studded with green gems. Matching earrings pierce her ears a few times. Her decolletage is bare, necklace-free.

Juuka

I am a slug. Eventually, I will write something more substantial, but for now I would like to progress past this @lock. Thank you.

(Best desc ever!)

This cavernous chamber serves as the audience chamber of Juuka's palace. The curved architecture, and numerous alcoves make the room seem even larger than it is, and portions of it are obscured in shadow. Cloth hangings make some of the alcoves semi-private, and stairs lead downward through some alcoves into other parts of the palace.

The audience chamber walls are reinforced stone undecorated with ornamentation. Large metal braziers line the walls at irregular intervals, which are often lit in the evenings to help stave off some of the desert chill once the twin suns have set.

The centerpiece of the audience chamber is the huge stone dais which Juuka reclines upon when he's holding court.

The festivities at Juuka's palace were nearing their end, only a few more days were left, but they remain as boisterous as ever. Various pit fighters congregate at one end of the audience hall, near the entrance, a grand melee underway to determine which of the guests was the best fighter on this night. Most of them were dispatched quickly, the drinks having been offered to all liberally and no doubt Juuka made sure to bet on just the right fighters.

The Hutt roars in approval as one of his bets pays off, a wiry Zabrak punched out out of the makeshift ring. The ring in question was nothing more than just the opening created by the melee's spectators. Not all those in the audience hall were paying it attention, small groups having formed of people talking and enjoying their time. Juuka was on the other end of the audience, but the elevated position he occupied above his dais gave him a good view of the whole thing.

"Shall I make an introduction on your behalf, Mistress Delgard?" Chatters a chrome-plated protocol droid - TC-81 - to its well-dressed companion as they approach the final few meters to the compound. Armed Republic guard lead the procession, four-strong, followed by the Ambassador and her droid, while four more bring up the rear. All sentient faces seem calm enough - serious, even. The droid, on the other hand, manages to convey a sense of nervousness despite lacking any physical ability to emote.

"No," Ambrosia waves a hand casually in dismissal of the idea. "I'm quite content to state my own name, and reasons for being. You're here to be a translator - that is all." And the little parade comes to rest outside the gate, parting just enough for the diplomat's face to peer forward. And wait.

The Ambassador isn't kept waiting for long, the gates swing open and out comes an elegantly dressed, overdressed for the occasion even, Devaronian. After a cursory glance to the guards, the ruddy-skinned being bows to Ambrosia. "Welcome to...", the Gamorrean guards that line the corridor past the gate suddenly begin to squeal in excitement, pointing out the guards that Ambrosia brought with her. The Devaronian turns back to them and with a glare he silences them "Welcome to Juuka the Hutt's palace, it is my pleasure to receive you and your party. I apologize for the guards' caution, but you will not be able to come with all of them."

"How many, then?" The clear, authoritative voice of Ambassador Delgard rings out as she swishes softly forward amid a fluttering of weightless silk and quiet tinkling of jewelry. A knowing twinkle illuminates her eyes as she peers into the shadows beyond at the mystery horde of Gamorrean. "I would assure you that we come to do no harm to you or your master, but I do not think such assurance is required. Your security force is strong, and we are few. But, in the nature of diplomacy, I concede to house rules. So I ask...how many?"

The droid remains silent. The guards, too, though a couple of them do /not/ look happy.

"Of course.", the Devaronian answers, bowing again, and when he straightens it is with the sort of smile that Ambrosia should be plenty familiar with; diplomatic, polite without giving any true idea of what the person is thinking. "The Republic is always welcome here. But you see, Juuka has insisted that all guests be on a relatively equal footing, to discourage anyone taking offense and it would hardly be fair to let the Republic bring more than its fair share. Which is two in this case.", a look at the droid and he smiles once more, "The droid can come as well of course. And your men can wait outside the palace grounds, we will provide them with ample refreshments and food for as long as you are to stay here. And if you wish to stay longer, we will see that they are properly housed."

"That is very generous of Lord Juuka," Ambrosia bows in turn, golden locks tumbling over her shoulders with a light cascade of perfume. She cleans up fairly well, considering three hours ago she was lounging on a half-dismantled couch in her PJs, munching crumbly snacks while her flight crew counted down ETA. And now? The embodiment of grace and manners. Somewhere, under that pile of resentment clotted in the form of a heart, is the ability to kiss ass. Risen from its dormancy. Moderately so.

"My men and women will make camp outside, if I am so fortunate to enjoy your Master's company for long." A nod to the guards. "Two it is, then." She taps the nearest pair on their armored breast plates. "And you, TC, of course." A soft smile and wink to the silently frantic droid, who is quick to tottle forward and rejoin her side.

Through dark corridors, the sand of this world not covered over, at least for the first few bends and turns, the Devaronian leads the ambassador and her group. And then finally they get to a spiral staircase, only there were no stairs, there wouldn't be in a Hutt's palace. And at last, the sandy ground gave way to floor, stone tiles expertly packed tightly together to make a seamless floor. "My lord will be pleased to receive you, he had almost given up on having your people send someone to his grand festivities.", the Devaronian's words come as they halt before a large archway, beyond it, the audience hall could be glimpsed and the various groups that milled about. "Whom should I say is coming to pay their respects?"

Tension carries high upon the shoulders of the Ambassador's armed escorts as they follow a seedy underling, well-versed and courtly as he may be, deeper into the lair of Juuka the Hutt. Ambrosia would be lying to herself if she didn't acknowledge a little twinge of unease herself, once they stand before the archway, where sounds of the rowdy bunches beyond reach their ears.

"An emissary from the New Republic. Ambassador Delgard," she clears her throat and flashes a faint smile before looking forward again into the den of debauchery. It's not a place that a former slave might feel inclined to relax, after all. Or anyone who tends to shy away from all things ostentaciously rank and unruly. In fact...it's been at least sixteen years since she'd set foot on this sandbox. For the first time, ever, she finds herself hoping that her features have 'matured' enough that any old 'dewback racing ring' enthusiasts wouldn't look twice and see the one-time 'champion' for what she was. It was, after all, another lifetime ago.

The melee had broken up by then, a champion crowned among the scrappers, and Juuka's mood was high, after all, his bet had paid off. And so when Emmit enters and announces the ambassador at his side, the Juuka's smile is welcoming. Predatory, yes, conniving, it goes without saying. But also welcoming. "Ambassador.", the Hutt's booming voice reaches her easily, "I was starting to take offense that your kind has not sent an envoy to my party. And worlds have burned for smaller insults than that. But, you are here, you bear gifts presumably.", and already Juuka is looking past the Ambassador, trying to see just what goodies if any she brings. "And all is well."

"I am grateful for this admittance into your court, mighty Juuka. It seems," A sway of sheer silk to the side as Ambrosia twists her head and shoulders to gesture at the thinning yet still rambunctious crowd of fighters, "quite the entertaining affair. Our passage here was of course not an empty-handed one. I'm afraid my hands are too small to bear the load alone, however, so if you will permit..." Facing her host once more, she plucks a simple, nondescript comlink from her belt and makes a gesture to use it. "My men should have the sled ready by now. If it please you, one of them may guide it in. If not, I will instruct them to relinquish it to one of yours."

It's clear that the two bodyguards she brought along with her are not budging from their hover to complete the task themselves.

"It pleases me very much.", Juuka answers with a chuckle, saucer-sized eyes growing wider as he waits for the sled bearing his offerings to be brought in. "Where is that insufferable man...Emmit!", the Hutt's bellow brings the Devaronian scurrying, "Offer our guest whatever she desires." A clap of the majordomo's hands and a pair of servants appear at Ambrosia's side bearing trays filled with a variety of foods and drinks.

"As you wish," Ambrosia bows her head, hair sliding gracefully over shoulders while Juuka summons his servants. She looks to one of her men, nods, and he makes a quiet call into comlink. Outside the palace, the Republic troops are stirring - passively, of course. The repulsor sled is ready, as promised, and one of the marines (a woman, small but sturdy) guides it along inside when admitted.

While they wait, the Ambassador does indulge a little in what the Hutt's hospitality offers. One of the bodyguards makes a move to sample the goods first, but the featherweight of a few fingers to his forearm halts the maneuver. Ambrosia locks her gaze with his for a moment, offering a subtle shake of her head before she takes up an indigo-hued beverage in metal goblet and 'toasts' in Juuka's direction with "My thanks, for a gracious host," before drawing a tentative sip.

And as they wait, Juuka gorges himself on a handful of some sort of slop from a golden bucket beside him, a goblet of some dark drink used to wash it down. And after he wipes the bits that dribble out of the side of his mouth, the Hutt burps, loudly. "Juuka will never be called a skinflint.", a blatant lie as anyone who's ever tried to do business with him will attest, but nevermind that.

"I certainly wouldn't dare," agrees the Representative, offering a small wink before imbibing a longer swallow of her own drink. Her throat tenses briefly, belly echoing the maneuver in resistance against the gag reflex triggered by the smell of what her Huttly host has just ingested then expelled in gaseous mist to 'share' with the rest of them. Her lips curl into a tight smile and she motions for her small crew to pick their own poison as it were from the tray. Her fingers find some greasy, meaty thing diced and squeezed into what may as well be fermented vegetation. Oh, lord.

She gets one bite down but is saved from taking another by the shape and sound of the sled advancing through the tunnel. "Mm!" She exclaims with a little point and then gifts the nearest guard with the remainer, pushing it neatly into his open mouth before he can take a gulp of his own drink. "It seems my escorts were ready, indeed with Lord Juuka's gifts."

If he notes the woman's reaction to his...actions, Juuka pays it no mind. After all, this is his palace and he is not the one who has to mind his manners. "Very well Ambassador, let us see what you have brought me. There are those who have brought gems and even rare pieces of art, so yours will have to be out of this world in order to impress me." The Hutt, however, is already rubbing his meaty hands together, his eyes fixed firmly on the sled.

There is a trunk. A very big trunk, centered on the sled. It alone could be considered a work of art - made from richly colored Teel wood and carved with ornate designs, including a depiction of what may be the hallowed ascension of Boonta. Once the sled's been brought to a halt, the marine guiding it takes a step back, bows her head and turns on heel to leave.

Wordlessly, Ambrosia moves around it to delicately insert a golden key and pops the latch open. Before she reveals the contents though, she spins the sled and trunk in a slow circle so that Juuka may take in the details of its craftsmanship. Both hands are needed to open the heavy lid then, and she does so with a little grunt.

For others, the trunk would have been enough. And Juuka certainly does appreciate the skill with which it has been made, a whistle escaping his lips as he shows his appreciation. Of course, this is a Hutt we're talking about, and beyond that, this is Juuka, a particularly greedy being even for Hutts. And so he waits for the rest to be shown.

The first item to emerge from the trunk is a large fold of cloth. Tomuon cloth, to be precise. It is dyed a bold red. Ambrosia slips both palms under the supple, silky fabric and carries it forward to present it to Juuka, but stops a couple meters from his dais, watching the Devaronian from her eyes' corners. She gestures it up in offering. "The highly coveted tomuon cloth, fit for royalty." What a Hutt might use this for, she suspects the options are few, but has seen record of some donning ornamental head cloths, scarves, and the like, so it's with a smile that she touches a knee briefly to the floor in flourished presentation. "The second gift we offer to you."

A servant walks over to Ambrosia and relieves her of the cloth, that's as far as the ambassador would be allowed to come. Juuka waves the servant over and grabs the fabric from the Rodian's hands, feeling it between his. "Very nice, very nice indeed. I know tomuon cloth is quite rare and of great value." And however genuine those words might be, the Hutt is not bowled over, that much is clear by his tone.

"But not enough token to suffice as proper gift for powerful Juuka," Ambrosia acknowledges plainly, waiting for him to finish looking and feeling it over before she steps back and pillages the trunk a second time. Next, she dips both hands into the box of goodies again, but this time pulls out a pair of small, metallic domes - etched with geometric design and bearing a tiny, blue button on one side. "Holo tapestry," she states, holding each aloft in full display for all wary eyes to behold. No, it's not a thermal detonator - at least not the likes of any on the market, black or legit. Turning to Emmit, she nods. "You may activate them for your Master, if you wish." The Ambassador casts a knowing look to some of the dark alcoves that surround and - quite frankly - could use a little sprucing up. "There are three images to choose from," she further explains.

If and when activated, each majestic scene spans several meters in height and two meters wide.

The Devaronian does of course, as much to examine the Republic's gift as to make sure it was no trap. And Juuka looks on as various scenes of Hutt glory, from the palaces of Nar Shaddaa to the swamps of Nal Hutta display. "Much appreciated. It is good to have reminders of home.", Juuka even dips his head at the woman's choice. It's always nice to receive personalized gifts.

"It is, indeed," Ambrosia's professionally polite expression softens with a touch of maternal thought before she proceeds with the task at hand that is satiating a Hutt's materialistic appetite. Lest she be put on the menu. It's this reasoning that quiets her inner guilt of having secured these gifts for a slobbering crime lord before even searching for an adequate one for her daughter, who in three days is due to turn twelve. One year shy of a teenager. Force be with us all...

The final unveiling takes considerably longer. There is some packaging fluff to work around before Ambrosia and one of her guards slowly, carefully, extract a crystalline, curvacious beauty from the trunk. It's a hookah. But not just any hookah! "Sculpted from the crystals of Shownar..." she announces softly. The tentacular hoses are wound around her arm, almost too heavy to bear the rest of her end of the thing's weight. The body of the hookah is seamless crystal, reinforced with caps and garters of chrome, studded with a few tiny gems. "May the delights smoked within be as pleasing as the song of a Shownar lullaby." And indeed, as air moves over a few slots of its neck, a low, mournful melody whistles through.

At long last, Juuka's eyes open wide and the Hutt licks his lips, his hands grasping at the hookah as soon as a servant passes it to him. "Now this is something.", no small praise from a Hutt reknown for his collection of various treasures and luxuries. "Very well, your offerings please me greatly." A simple announcement, but one that felt more like a door being opened than anything else. He hands over the hookah back to the servant, instructing the Rodian to take great care of it and the other gifts. "And now, tell me what it is that Juuka can do for you. Or is your visit truly a social one? Not that I would mind, of course."

"It has been a very long time since I explored the intrique of Tatooine," Ambrosia starts, casting another glance around the diverse throng of guests. "And I look forward to partaking of Your Majesty's hospitality and hearing tales of your accomplishments. But I confess there is additional purpose behind my travels here." Massaging her right arm for a moment, she straightens out and gestures aside to her companions, including the droid who's remained delightfully quiet thus far.

"The Republic is faced with a great problem. We think that the very influential Juuka may have insight into the matter, as we suspect your tendrils of informants reach very far indeed, or so your admirably secure security and prosperity would suggest."

The Hutt chuckles at the flattery. Of course, even if he's aware of what the woman is doing, it doesn't mean that it doesn't work on him, Juuka basking in the series of compliments. "There are very few limits to my reach, Ambassador.", he says, "And my eyes and ears can hear and see almost anything I focus them on. However, whether I share that information or not is something else altogether. Now tell me, what is this great problem that you face that I can deal with?"

"The trafficking of Kashyyk's people." There is no accusation in Ambrosia's tone, only a sad statement of fact. "We are not naive to the ongoing practices of slavery in the galaxy, nor do we anticipate, despite our best efforts, that it will ever cease to serve purpose. However, we're talking thousands of Wookiees a day, in some cases, all from the same region of Kashyyk. It seems to be a systematic abduction, village after village. A trusted source suggested that they were being transported through a third party before arriving at their final destination. A destination and master which, if this intel is correct, spells nothing but trouble. Possibly for all."

Piercing green eyes gaze upon Juuka and all his girth with unblinking steadfastness. Her hands fold passively together against her belly. "The problematic Bloodclaw clan of Dosha are the ones executing the abduction and transportation - this much we have discerned. But where they are going from there...." Her hands roll palm up, towards Juuka. "I look to your wisdom."

"I am...aware of the situation.", the Hutt says enigmatically, leaving unclear whether he simply had heard of it, or he was profiting from the smuggling, or even from the sale of the wookies. "And I know of the Trandoshans you speak of. A particularly...bothersome set of them, but they have not given me cause to pay them too much attention as yet. So you wish me to what...tell you more information or actually help you in stopping the enslaving of your people?"

Ambrosia glances aside to the sound of TC-81 scuffing in a half circle pivot, the droid responding to a sudden shadow passing by as a couple brushes past her marines to another alcove. Exchanging a look with her protectors, she presses her lips into a thin, grim smile. "The Republic is always receptive to assistance from those willing, in whatever form they with to contribute. I understand that embedding your resources deeply enough into this matter to directly interfere with the trafficking may not be incredibly profitable and has the potential to of course draw the ire of the Bloodclaws. I would not wish harm to befall any benevolent parties, much less ones for whom these abductions are not exactly "their problem"."

"Information would suffice. Perhaps a name of a reliable contact who may be near enough to the 'inside' to serve our future inquests into the matter. Juuka and his court are in no way beholden to the Republic, so we dare not demand. Only stand at the ready to graciously accept assistance. In whatever form it may come." Rings clink together as she folds her hands together at her waist and offers a little bow.

"Nonsense.", Juuka says, his smile as insincere as they come, "I will of course provide you with the information my people can gather. And I will also put you in touch with a man I know, a mercenary that has interests that might coincide with yours." The gift is taken away to one of Juuka's vaults, the Hutt watching it leave covetously before he looks back at the ambassador. "Of course, the next question to be brought up is how badly do you want this?"

"It is among our highest priorities to resolve the matter. Prevent further abductions and recover those tens of thousands already lost. And, of course," Ambassador Delgard's lips curl with a chillier smile. "bring adequate justice to the doorsteps of those responsible." She's not a woman to be crossed, having a history of very patiently waiting for opportunity to strike back against old wrongdoers, and the new. Personal and professional. A quiet thirst for blood and vengeance, masked behind platitudes and courteous smiles - a fine representative of the Republic.

"You need only tell me what it is Juuka's heart desires. What form of payment you prefer. Through me, the highest of command will hear, and negotiate accordingly."

"A reasonable proposal.", Juuka says, "So here is what I will do. I will find the information you need, I will even tell you who might have matching interests in seeing the Trandoshans brought down that you can cooperate with. In turn, what I want is for my ships to move unharmed through your worlds, regardless of what they carry." After a moment, he adds, "Not slaves of course, I understand your people's...dim view of that practice. Basically, how badly do you want the abductions to end?"

"What you're proposing sounds akin to a trade agreement, Lord Juuka." Lifting her chin a few degrees in thought, Ambrosia lets her gaze wander the intricate whorls of color embedded in those globular, yellow eyes, each nearly the size of her head. "Free passage through Republic space by those terms can be arranged. As a neutral entity, you are free to trade with whomever you wish. The Republic will no doubt appreciate your exclusion from those manifests what we view to be among the most heinous violation of sentient rights. If any ship should seek to dock with one of our stations or ports, however, they would be subject to the same cargo and contraband laws as any other visitor. This is of course for our citizens' safety, not meant to inconvenience your business dealings.

A big beefy finger is tapped against Juuka's lips, the Hutt hmms and haws as he considers, finally, he nods. "Very well, we agreed. But remember that I will not appreciate if once I deliver on my end of things, your people suddenly get uncomfortable with the sight of my ships moving through their space." A dramatic pause. "I do not take kindly to betrayal." And then just as quickly, he's all smiles again. "But, we are agreed ambassador. Give my men some days to gather the information and I will pass it to you, and in the meantime, would you care to enjoy the hospitality of my palace? I am sure we can find something to keep you and your people entertained, even if it's not the fight pits."

"Nor do I," Ambrosia murmurs with a raised brow to the uniformed man standing over her right shoulder - the one she'd forced the food on earlier. "So long as your ships' passages through Republic space are peaceful in nature and direct no threats toward our member worlds or protectorates, they will be respected and unmolested by our Navy." A little nod then to that marine, who immediately starts to mutter away on a com.

"My many thanks, to a most generous host." Her sleeve flutters gracefully with a flourish directed to the dais-dwelling lord of this castle. "I've no doubt that we will find some pleasures in the colorful company of yours...while our way of diplomacy tends to eschew violence, not all of us are offended by a little sport." Offering a small wink - daresay flirtatious!? - to Juuka and his attendant, Ambrosia backsteps away from the dais a few feet before adding "I will leave my contact information, and that of the Intelligence Officer I correspond through, with your man. We look forward to hearing from you." On cue, the protocol droid produces a small data chit from some hidden compartment on its palm and toddles forward to offer it up.