Private Son of a Hutt

[Dreadheart]

The shuttle's hatchdoors close, as the engines push the craft up and off the hangar, into the skies of N'orlannia. In frequent intervals, the life-support spat hot humidity into the cabin, providing to the pseudo-tropic artificial atmosphere onboard.

"We are a tough breed, us Hutts." Malaga nodded to the life support, after tapping on Valoo's arm to attract his attention. "Varl, our ancient home, was a jungle. We are meant for humid environments. To resist most the Galaxy has to throw against one's skin is a Hutt's gift. I spent long time on Tattooine. It is a desert. Wasteland as far as the eye can see, with the little water on the planet hidden in underground caves the natives guard as if its emeralds. Heat was exhausting."

"But you pulled through, my son Malaga." Paparag shook his head. "You found your way. This is how us Hutts survive. This is how we stir the Galaxy for thousands of years."

"When you are ready, Valoo, I will take you to Tatooine. You will see." Malaga nodded.

"First, he will go to Nal Hutta. He will require time to heal. Then, his journey will start!"

 

[wraithslayer101]

“Mmm… I think Nal Hutta would probably be more to my liking then Tatooine. No offense my brother, but when I fully become a Hutt, due to my size I would want to constantly be within either mud or water to just sorta… relax. Even more so then a recliner can ever offer.” Valoo sighs wistfully, longing for that submersion. However he shales his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll still visit Tatooine on occasion, it just won’t be my home is all.” Valoo smiles earnestly, sweat already glistening off of his body in the heat of the cabin with his mind wandering to his eventual Huttdom as a mountain of living flesh.

 

[Dreadheart]

Malaga shook his head. He felt pitty for the young man, for he had experienced enough hardship to believe there would be none yet, by the time he became a full-fledged Hutt himself.

"Tattooine is not about taste, brother." he explained. "It is a rite of passage."

Malaga extended his bionic limb, clacking the talon at the far side. His wide eyes studying it as he spoke.

"I got this, in my journey on Tattooine. Given to me by a Jawa. Tinny little creatures, native to Tattooine. That particular one was a Jedi. And I did not know."

Malaga knew Paparag was observing the conversation. He chose not to intervene, knowing well what Malaga would say then. Paparag wanted the boy to hear that from his brother.

"There are times when we must find our way. Tattooine is hostile, to us. Desert, without humidity or any of our kind's luxuries. All must be made from scrap. Worked for. Earned. I found my way, down there. I survived. And I prevailed, like all Hutts should. Leisure and luxury is something you will know and enjoy, my brother. But a Hutt's will must be tested, or else others, lessers, find the way to trick us. A Hutt must never allow himself to be tricked. We are the ones who rule the Galaxy through sound. Let others do it, through blaster."

 

[wraithslayer101]

Valoo nods understandably “That… makes sense. Testing myself should be a priority, but I was mainly thinking of beyond those tests and beyond those. I have visons of what I want to do and how I would go about those tasks, as while I don’t mind being tested, if I don’t have a goal to focus on after each task’s end, then I fear that I would lack the motivation to move forward.” Valoo sighs “Sorry for uh… springing that out of nowhere. I just… want to focus on the good in case the huttification fails somewhere down the line and I die.” Valoo scowls before leaning back towards the wall, slick with sweat “Oh, and sorry for bringing the mood down too.”

 

[Dreadheart]

"It is natural" Malaga rested his bionic arm on Valoo's shoulder. "We are brothers, now, Valoo. I understand how you feel. It will not fail. Dr Vein will make it happen. Until then, you have time to do what many of us hadn't. You plan. To plan is to be prepared. And preparation is the root of success. We will talk of this."

Paparag had slithered to the cockpit, no longer engaged in the conversation at hand. Malaga took notice, turning his wide eyes to the view beyond the narrow window.

"Look, Valoo. N'Orlannia." he gestured.

Outside the window, jungles spanned as far as the eye could see, forming a carpet adorned with oversized tropic leaves and trunks that stretched far above the swamps below, all coated by the layer of white mist caressing the surface like a veil of ether. In the distance, some small settlements protruded from the landscape, half-buried beneath the beauty of the feral world. The lower the shuttle flew, the more the elegant buildings appeared, hanging atop one another, casting shadows on the relativelly small landing platform.

"Come, my sons." Paparag extended his tinny hands to the sides, as the shuttle experienced a slight bump, as it touched down. "N'orlannia awaits!"

 

[wraithslayer101]

At first, as the planet came into view, he thought nothing of it, with the predominant thought being ‘How do Hutts stay here when it looks like it’s all jungle?’ However, when more elegant and modern buildings appeared, it all clicked for Valoo and he got excited. Not only for the prospect of eating and hoping gaining dozens, if not hundreds of pounds, but also what this friend was like and how he would react to Valoo himself. Would it be curiosity, disgust or something else all together? Those were Valoo’s thoughts as he would be the last one off the shuttle, the sweat across his body being as thick as molasses.

 

[Dreadheart]

"This world is distant." Malaga shook his head, gesturing his long cybernetic limb to the view of the shanty buildings. There was a strange elegance in them, as if built by architects proper and not merely stacked with view only survival. The air was coloured by the perfumes sold in the dozen shops staffed by aliens wearing strange tattoo-like dyes on them, resembling what could have been local native deities, or customs.

The Hutts slithered slowly. There was no rush, after all. Paparag, the hulking Hutt of the two, took his time enjoying the view from through the different corridors and elegantly built corners of the tiled road. There were Mandalorians dotting the streets, perfectly blending in with the locals and off-worlders. From trinkets and spices, to foodstuff and delicacies yet unknown, to masterfully crafted decorations, the market had it all.

"The Malsonikes have done good work with this place..." Malaga admitted.

 

[wraithslayer101]

“Yeah.” Valoo was still awestruck by this world, and for the possibilities that await for him during this feast. However, those thoughts back at the shuttle still remain, but he does look to the Mandolorians as well, as he hasn’t ever seen any before and their strange sense of culture.