<div class="floatleft">(https://us.123rf.com/450wm/sergeydv/sergeydv1308/sergeydv130800014/21530625-the-image-of-alien-planet.jpg?ver=6)</div><br/>The pleasure barge of Mo’grin was a decent sort at first glance. Lifts and anti-gravity fields worked well enough to propel the sleek vehicle over the burning sands of Assom at a powerful pace. Environmental control devices and deflection shields kept out the worst of the heat while providing an artificial breeze of cooling air. Servants walked with fluid grace over the surface of the barge, balancing trays of drinks and various foods while the barge made its way leisurely over the landscape. Gems glittered on the horizon, forged from the weight of the dust on the ground and the heat above. These jewels were one of the major exports of the planet, but not the most profitable. Small children of the natives ran barefoot to collect the sparkling stones so that their tribes could later sell them to the Hutts at an abysmal rate. The conquered and the conqueror never had an equal relationship.<br/><br/>A discolored sun rose high above with an intensity rivaled on only the most inhospitable planets. Twi’lek dancers seemed not too notice as their own planet held such harsh conditions. Their body undulating and gyrating with elegance that made their people so desirable. A gift and curse for them these days. Only the flaws of the barge could be found with closer inspection as the cracks showed themselves only under the surface. Aged slaves and water downed drinks spoke that the owner was not so wealthy any longer. The distant hum of the engines spoke that this particular vessel was no longer in its prime and fast passing the date of retirement. A thin veil of smoke could be seen chasing the barge, much like time chasing down all people.<br/><br/>Still there was luxury to be had and money to be made here. Otherwise Rema and Speedo would likely be settled somewhere else. Credits needed to be made and so meetings must be held. Mo’grin reclined on the main deck of the barge and that is where the two would find themselves with the crowd opening a space up for them to meet their employer. The brown and green exterior of the Hutt glistened under the sun above, heavy shields allowing the bulky frame to remain unharmed while two slaves constantly lathered oil and sprayed water over the surface. A heavy scar ran down the side of his face, piercing his eye so that the orb was a disconcerting white. Many forgot that Hutts were a warrior race at one point, but looking at the powerful frame of Mo’grin that detail was very obvious.<br/><br/>A Huttanese translator spoke up alongside the frame of Mo’grin, her meak voice a heavy contrast to his booming voice.<br/><br/>“Mighty and magnanimous Mo’grin bids you walk to the pleasures and delights of his house. He hopes you will be a frequent guest and partaker of all he owns as this business favors all parties.” The voice belonged to a timid seeming Cathar with fur of soft gray with black stripes.<br/>