Seated within the Glorious Jewel of the Hutts, the Winter Palace is situated on a remote island near the planet’s equator. Although blanketed with the pollution from Hutt industry, its location makes the climate hot and humid. Surrounded with trees and vines, it could be considered to be a paradise, even among the barren wasteland of Nal Hutta. Outside of the Winter Palace, a network of sewer pipes transfer the waste from the palace to wherever seems far enough to dump into the oceans surrounding the island. Flora and fauna that have adapted to the Hutt’s environmental changes thrive in the polluted forests surrounding the Winter Palace.

Stepping through its gilded gates, the lavish interior greets your presence with the main audience chamber. Once belonging to the wealth of Jiliac Desilijic Tiron, the gleaming stone of the main aisle leads up to a Hutt’s dais lined with an expensive carpet. Beautiful tapestries line the high walls, telling of the sordid histories of those who woven them, awaiting execution in Jiliac’s dungeons.

Finally, the antechamber to the throne room is illuminated from above with high-skylighted ceilings. Constructed from lightly colored stone, the antechamber might have been where the late Hutt entertained his guests before an audience with spice and exotic dancers. In the hands of the Hutt Kajidics, however, these traditions have continued as the Winter Palace now serves as a front for criminal and business ventures.

Glorious Jewel my karking tail, thought the sweaty and uncomfortable Ryn as he walked the halls of the Winter Palace.

The humidity was awful, but the smells were worse. Kordath Bleu was in a special kind of hell in this place. The air smelled horrible, his clothes were sticking to his body and everything covered in hair itched. Which meant everything karking itched. The stares from others who had business in the Hutt palace weren’t helping his attitude at all. Nobody liked seeing a Ryn wandering about, not even those who worked for the slugs, it seemed. Between clutched handbags, glares and the superstitious way a passerbyer would pat their pocket to ensure their wallet was still in place, it was grating on the Arconan’s nerves.

He’d come to the Hutt homeworld on orders from the Dajorra Intelligence Agency, to pick up a piece of ‘artwork’. An ancient vase, or at least a mock up of one, that as far as Kordath knew had a data card embedded into the ceramics. Information the DIA wanted, though they’d been less than clear about why, not that it mattered. Kordath’s duties as Captain of the Nighthawk meant being the DIA’s errand boy from time to time. Of his crew, he was sadly the best suited to go down onto a Hutt world and make the pick up, but he was starting to regret not bringing Zakath along. The Barabel would have made him look at least a bit more respectable, or at least scary.

But no. “Keep a low profile,” he’d been told, “Don’t let on that you’re working for anybody. Just pick the bloody thing up and get off world.” Retracing his steps within his own mind, Kordath was certain he was almost to the vendor who would be holding the item. Just a pass phrase and a stressful walk back to the spaceport and this job was done. Rounding the corner, the Krath paused and felt a small shock of surprise as he spotted a fellow member of his Clan. Nikola Valtiere was pocketing a receipt and a few credits with one hand and cradling a wrapped package with the other.

Kordath watched as the man turned away from the booth before him and started walking away. The Ryn shrugged and started checking the signs for the stalls set up along the passage. He quickly spotted the vendor he needed. A sinking sensation swept up the Krath for a moment as he realized it was the same one Valtiere had been speaking to. With much trepidation the Ryn approached the booth, eyes wide as he looked at the small Bothan sitting behind it. Taking a deep breath, Bleu uttered the phrase the smiling DIA agent had given him.

“Blew it all at the races, can you help a guy out?” he asked, annoyed at the play on words the DIA seemed to enjoy when it came to his name.

With a jerk the Bothan looked at him anew, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders slumped. “Blast, I knew this was going to happen. He...he wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

“The Human with the funny eyes?” asked the Ryn with a sigh. The Bothan nodded rapidly, wringing his hands. It didn’t do a person good to have a reputation of breaking contracts when doing business on a Hutt world. “Not your fault, mate.”

Kordath turned and jogged after the Sith, who was just taking a turn into another corridor of the palace. “Valt!” he shouted, watching the man freeze midstep before turning his green and blue gaze on him.

“Bleu? What are you doing on Nal Hutta? And why are you running around yelling my name like a crazed idiot?”

Bleu held a finger up as he bent over, holding himself up with the other hand on his knee to catch his breath. “Need...the….vase...mate.”

“Like hell, I have to get this back to Selen,” retorted the pilot, shoulders squared as if he expected an argument.

“What!? Why? What could you possibly need a Hutt vase for?” asked the Ryn, incredulity thick in his tone.

Nikola sighed, shoulders slumping a bit. “I may have sort of, kind of, ticked off the Proconsul.”

“You...you angered Arcia?” Kordath felt a chill run down his spine. Poor bastard.

“She collects this kind of poodoo, you wouldn’t guess it from looking at her. Or talking to her. But she’s got this junk all over her place in Estle City.”

Kordath arched a bushy white eyebrow. “What are you doing in Lady Cortel’s quarters, Valt?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” replied the Sith, coldly.

“Either way, I need that vase...Clan business, mate. So umm, could you, ya know, hand it over?” asked the Ryn, smiling widely at his clanmate.

Valtiere pulled the package back a bit and away from the smiling Krath. What he knew of Kordath personally was slim, but reputations had a way of getting around in Galeres. “Can’t do that, Bleu. She’s mad. Real mad. This might at least get her to calm down.”

Kordath nodded, pursing his lips and giving off a vibe of understanding, “I get it mate, I do. It’s okay. I’m sure you can find another one, we’re on Nal Hutta after all.”

“Excuse me—”’ the Sith started to say, as the Ryn stepped in close and used both hands to knock the package up and out of his hands from below. Kordath grinned as he caught the vase and turned to run, only to stop in his tracks at a surprising pressure on his tail. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Valt’s prosthetic right hand clamped firmly on his trailing appendage.

Oh, poodoo.

Nikola yanked the Krath back towards him, letting go of the tail as the Ryn was in movement and cuffing Bleu across the back of the head. Kordath yelped in pain and surprise while the Sith took the package from him with a glare.

“Don’t try that again, Bleu. I promise the next hit will put you down.”

Valtiere turned to leave again and felt a nudge as the vase was pulled from his grip and the Ryn ran past him.

“Bloody well catch me then, Valt. I need this more than you do!”

Valtiere began to stammer a response, rage stoppering any words from forcing their way through bared teeth. The creature scurrying away was locked into his gaze as the Battlemaster began to charge after the Ryn, shouldering the smaller occupants aside as he felt his rage rising to a fever pitch. The furious energy swept through him and he began moving faster and faster, superhuman.

Plans to take out the furry cretin faded away, their complexity reducing as his rage, strength, and speed grew. Nikola’s hand stabbed forward in an attempt to grab his opponent’s tail, the obvious weak point.

Valtiere stumbled as the tail whipped out the way, crashing into the floor with an angered outcry. The commotion had attracted the attention of the guards, their uninterested eyes flickering to one of the many altercations that sprouted up around places where money and illicit objects met. None of them moved, years of experience telling them that this wouldn’t escalate. Even If the tall human was now yelling, a continuous distorted bellow. One of them smiled a bit, the human’s face was so red...

Valtiere kept pushing forward, moving around people with preternatural senses. As he did so, he caught up with Kordath, who kept throwing worried glances back. He was used to seeing a cold, calculated tactician, not the inhuman beast charging him down now with an almost visible corona of rage cascading around him. The Ryn turned back and pushed himself as hard as he could, package gripped tightly to his chest.
A powerful blow struck Kordath, and he exclaimed as the vase came tumbling out of his clawed hands. He felt his feet skitter on the ground as a long leg tripped him over, moving precisely where he was going to step.
And the world seemed to slow to a crawl as the vase tumbled towards the ground.

Valtiere is DQ'd for failing to meet the minimum word count.