Shadowed Deals and Unfinished Business: Nar Shaddaa

[Lismand Bripear]

YEARS AGO

THE VIEL'S EMBRACE

The first time Lismand Bripear set foot in The Veil's Embrace, she was barefoot, bruised, and worth exactly 2,500 credits.


The number had been whispered in the cargo hold of the slaver's transport, passed between merchants who bartered in flesh. It was more than some, less than others. Enough to make her valuable—but not enough to make her untouchable.


She had stopped counting the days since she'd been taken. Time blurred together in the suffocating heat of the transport ship, where she had been crammed between other captives, the air thick with sweat and the scent of unwashed bodies. The slavers barely fed them, tossing scraps into the hold like feeding animals.


It wasn't her first brush with slavery.


She had seen it all her life—on the streets of Nar Shaddaa, where the Hutt cartels traded sentients like spice, where orphaned children were plucked from alleys and sold to the highest bidder. She had spent her childhood hiding from the slavers, outsmarting the hunters, and running from the syndicates that claimed every shadowed corner of the Smuggler's Moon.


But she had run out of places to hide.

Her captors hadn't even bothered to tell her where they were going. The ship landed on a barren world—a nameless Outer Rim dustball littered with rusted starships and crumbling durasteel structures. A slave outpost, where the unlucky were sold off to criminals, warlords, and twisted nobles looking for entertainment.


They were herded out of the transport, chains clanking against the dry, cracked ground. A towering Weequay slaver barked at them to move, cracking an electro-whip against the dirt.


Lismand's throat was dry, her stomach hollow with hunger, but she didn't falter. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.


The crowd at the auction was a mix of syndicate bosses, low-life criminals, and backwater business owners looking for cheap labor. Lismand scanned their faces, memorizing them. A Rodian with a scar over his left eye. A corpulent Hutt lounging on a repulsor-sled, smoking a thick cigarra. A human woman in ornate robes, whispering to her Twi'lek bodyguard.


And then there was Kyze Melcor.


A Twi'lek with sickly blue skin and yellowed teeth, draped in expensive silks that reeked of cheap perfume. He leaned lazily against a crate, half-listening to the bids. But when the auctioneer dragged Lismand forward, he straightened, eyes gleaming with interest.


"What do we have here?" His voice was oily, slithering through the air like a predator sizing up its prey.


The auctioneer—a greasy Devaronian—grinned. "Fresh stock. Good figure. Strong-willed." He gripped Lismand's chin, tilting her face toward the crowd. "She'll last years if treated right."


Lismand jerked her head away, glaring at him with silent fury. The Devaronian just laughed.


Kyze stepped closer, looking her over. "I like them with a little fight in them."


"Then she's perfect for you," the auctioneer smirked. "Bidding starts at 2,000 credits."


The bidding didn't last long. A few half-hearted offers from lesser traders, but no one was willing to challenge Kyze. He had a reputation. He was syndicate-connected—the kind of man you didn't cross over something as trivial as a slave.


"2,500," he said with a smirk, waving a dismissive hand.


No one else spoke.


"Sold."


Lis' fate was sealed.​

 

[Lismand Bripear]

The first thing they did was slap a shock collar around her neck.


She had seen them before—used on slaves, prisoners, and disobedient pets. A press of a button and the collar would send a surge of electricity through her body, strong enough to drop her to her knees. Kyze liked to demonstrate it early. As soon as she was dragged into his shuttle, he pressed the remote. A white-hot bolt of pain lashed through her nerves, sending her to the floor in an instant. Her vision swam, her limbs convulsing.

"That's for future reference," Kyze said, crouching beside her. "You act out, I press a button. Simple, yeah?"

She didn't answer. Couldn't.

He grinned and let her choke on the pain before finally releasing the charge. "You'll learn. They always do."


She was hauled into the back of the shuttle, where other girls sat huddled together—some crying, some staring blankly ahead. Broken already. Lismand wasn't broken. Not yet. But she knew, deep down, that The Veil's Embrace would try to change that.

And if she wasn't careful, it just might succeed.

 

[Lismand Bripear]

The shock collar around Lismand's neck, was like a weighted chain wrapped around her soul.

The cold metal pressed against her skin, smooth yet unyielding. The red blinking light on the side was a constant reminder—she wasn't free anymore. She was property.

Kyze Melcor smirked as he observed the locking mechanism, his yellowed teeth flashing beneath darkened lips. "Now, you belong to The Veil's Embrace."

The remote in his hand was small, sleek, and deadly. He pressed a button again without warning.

Lismand barely had time to brace herself before a jolt of searing electricity shot through her spine. Her legs buckled. Every nerve screamed as she hit the cold durasteel floor.

Kyze crouched beside her. "See? That's obedience. Quick. Effective. I don't have time for slow learners, little dancer."

She gritted her teeth, struggling against the pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

"Oh, you've got spirit," he mused, straightening. "That'll make you valuable… for a while."

 

[Lismand Bripear]

They dragged her into the holding quarters, where the other girls were kept when they weren't on the floor.

The room was windowless, the walls bare except for a few weakly glowing neon strips. Along one side were thin mattresses, barely more than padding on the floor. There were no locks on the inside—only a reinforced security panel that kept them in when Kyze decided they should be caged.

The other girls looked up as Lismand was shoved inside.

Tessa was the first to approach.

A Zeltron, older than most of the others, with deep violet skin and tired, knowing eyes. She had been there longer than any of them, and it showed in the way she carried herself—not broken, but careful. She knew how the game was played.

She knelt beside Lismand, offering a hand.

"You fought back, didn't you?"

Lismand's fingers twitched against the floor, her muscles still spasming from the shock. "I didn't scream."

Tessa's lips quirked in a sad, knowing smile. "That's how it starts. Then you learn when to fake it."

She helped Lismand sit up as the others gathered closer, some curious, others hesitant.

A Twi'lek girl, barely older than sixteen, swallowed hard. "Does… does it hurt?" she whispered, touching the collar around her own neck.

Lismand forced herself to steady her breathing. "Only if you let them see it."

Tessa sighed. "We all let them see it at first. That's how they keep us afraid."

She gestured to the room around them. "Everyone here has a story. Some were stolen, like you. Others… were sold off by families who needed the credits. Some came willingly, thinking this place would be different. But in the end, we all end up in the same chains."

Lismand's throat tightened.

She had known this place was a trap, but she hadn't realized how many had walked into it willingly.

Kyze knew how to lure them in. He promised opportunity—a life of luxury, credits, protection. And when the lies unraveled, it was too late.