Alratania, the third and most distant planet of the medium sized star Aphorma is one of the most popular vacation destinations in the galaxy thanks to its large beautiful beaches and the lack of large hideous beach monsters. As any savvy business man will tell you, royals are great for tourism. As such the monarchy if Altratania has enjoyed one of the oldest, most beloved, and well-known royal families in history. Excitement grows every day as the next big royal wedding marches steadily closer.
The royal palace was a monumental sand castle with towers topped with giant spiral shells of long extinct gastropods. The outer walls sparkled with domestic pearls and valuable gems and metals imported from across the cosmos. Deep within the palace corridors an ear-piercing shriek echoed down the halls from the bedroom of the lovely bride to be. The palace staff briefly exchanged disinterested glances at one another before resuming their mundane work, their webbed feet flopping awkwardly out of rhythm as they walked. Those who had the pleasure of knowing the royal family personally felt less warmly about them than most.
“No, no, no, no, no! That dress is hideous! Absolutely Hideous!” Princess Yuirra the IV screeched moments before ripping the sleeves of a gown valued at more than a small planet. The fin on her head popped open like a sale and her skin dark from a light blue to a deep purple as she stamped on the tattered remains of her garment.
Most of the handmaidens had dealt with the princess tantrums before, and had known well enough not to interrupt. Only one had been foolish enough to cut in. “Your majesty, the dress was to your specifications. It was at Lady Meridian’s coming of age party you said-” that was all the further she got before being escorted out the room with claws at her arms and tentacles at her throat.
The princess brushed her clawed hand by her head in a gesture that was puzzling in a species that lacked hair. “Ugh, Gems and beads are like so last season.” No one in the room knew what period of time the queen to be meant by a season as their planet rotated on a 90-degree axis, but they all knew that wasn’t the sort of question you asked. “Feathers are all the rage now. Make a dress with great, big, giant feathers of the most beautiful shades of green and blue” She danced around the room her claws clasping one another and her tentacles twisting around themselves. No one dared to question the sensibility of matching her dress to her skin tones.
Eventually, the grand vizier stepped forward. “I may know someone who can help.
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Vulgasor’s office doubled as his trophy room. The walls and shelves were decorated with teeth, claws, skulls, pelts, and other body parts of creatures few have ever seen, much less imagined. Even his desk, which those of great courage and a modicum of taste would describe as gaudy, was carved from bone an accented with fur. A pair of antlers laid across the front edge behind his monitor. He tapped his claws idly on the edge of his desk as he worked on financial reports. Valgasor was one of the few individuals with the cunning and ruthlessness to succeed in both the field and the administrative side of Bazelglott’s Exotic Imports. He had risen to such a level that taking calls from clients was now something he considered beneath him, unless it was a client with particularly deep pockets, or underwater trenches filled with treasures as the case may be.
“Yes, I think we can work something out. In fact, I have just the creature in mind."
Subject: Bazelglott’s Exotic Imports IC