Two Months a Slave

[Jacota Fiik]

[This is a private topic involving myself, [member="Julius Sedaire"] , and [member="Raka the Hutt"] . Anyone who was not just listed is respectfully asked to refrain from posting.]

The low, pulsating hum of the Dreadcutter's engines reverberating along the hull rattled the head of the unassuming young man - his cheek currently pressed against the hull of the "Shaft Room". Jacota never understood what the shaft was for, but all he knew was that he was supposed to turn it over and over every day. Perhaps it powered something? But why utilize manual labor when you could easily automate the process like everything else in the galaxy? Perhaps his pirate master was just cruel and liked to see his slaves suffer as they performed a menial task that could have been solved with the use of a few servos.

These thoughts did a poor job of distracting Jacota from the boot firmly planted on the other side of his face, pressing his skull into the cold metal barrier between him and the infinite vacuum of space. Unintelligible grunting came from the mouth the foot inside of the boot belonged to. The former archivist never could understand Trandoshans. It was certainly fascinating how they managed to evolve bipedal bodies and develop relatively advanced technology while never once figuring out speech that wandered beyond a spectrum of grunts and snarls. Whatever the lizard man - named Gussk as he was told by another slave a week ago - was saying it certainly sounded angry. Did Jacota forget to scrub Gorlek's throne again? Or did he somehow manage to screw up his job pushing the shaft? He doubted it was the latter. After all, it was a shaft. It wasn't difficult to grab on to a bar protruding from it and walk forward. Jacota endeavored a few words back at Gussk.

"I donb' 'hink I shee duh point of da briolenshe..." he said, expressing his confusion over Gussk's assault as best as he could with his jaw being forced in a direction it wasn't meant to go. The Trandoshan released his hold and pulled out a durasteel baton, proceeding to swing it at Jacota's face. The metal weapon hit hard, knocking his glasses off of his temples and sending him to the deck. The slave shook his now dizzied head and hoped the new ringing in his ears would stop soon.

As he reached for his glasses, he cleared his throat and used his sleeve to wipe away the lime green chlorophyll that seeped from the new wound on his forehead.

"Again, I don't really see the point." he remarked as he placed his glasses back on his bruised face, "I mean, pain really isn't much of a motivator compared to-"

Jacota was cut off as Gussk raised his baton once more.

"Alright! Geez." he thrust his hands out, "Take me to Gorlek, already."

The Trandoshan grunted in a pleased tone, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the Shaft Room as he grinned, and pulled out a pair of manacles from his back pouch. After clamping them to the slave's wrists, he yanked him towards the door and it hissed open, revealing a long hallway leading towards the lift to the bridge of the frigate. Jacota sighed and stepped through, ready to deal with yet another scolding from His Highness the Death Pirate Gorlek.

 

[Raka the Hutt]

Raka happily ate gorgs as his "borrowed" cartel ship flew through space. Raka had finished the new bounties (which seemed to keep growing everyday) and sent them off to the cartel for the thugs to deal with it. Due to an "incident" Raka's pet Acklay, Telka, had a full stomach and Raka was in need of new slaves. Gorlek had never failed Raka with bad slaves so the news of Gorlek obtaining new ones was very pleasing for the Hutt. "Nah tey Gorlek u wa. Uh kia tull me ne e baca." The droid next to Raka quickly started translating what the Hutt had said. Comm Gorlek's ship now. I need new slaves quickly or else you all are ending up in chains.

[member="Jacota Fiik"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Jacota Fiik]

(OOC: I was gonna wait for Julius, but I can go ahead and make a short post to give you something to do in the meantime, Raka. EDIT: That wasn't so short. Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.)

The dull orange lighting of the Dreadcutter's main lift flashed and cascaded across Jacota's beaten face as it traveled upwards to the bridge. The slave gave a sideways glance at Gussk, who was busy picking at the daggers he called teeth, and then at the two other guards that accompanied them. Another Trandoshan from Gussk's company and a Togruta woman who didn't look all too pleased to be there. Jacota had heard from other slaves that Gorlek would sometimes recruit his captives into his band of pirates if they proved to be particularly strong. Perhaps this Togruta was one such slave? The former archivist was suddenly thankful that he wasn't very proficient in combat. The very idea of fighting and dying for a Gamorrean slaver churned his stomach.

With an uncharacteristic dinging noise, the lift stopped it's ascension and the doors swung open with a massive hissing sound. Jacota felt the butt of Gussk's blaster rifle between his shoulder blades before he was thrust out of the lift and into the hallway outside of the bridge. The Trandoshan hissed with laughter as he left the lift along with his two guards. Jacota looked around and noticed a pair of fellow slaves peeking behind a corner, friends he had made in his two months on the ship. They waved sorrowfully, looks of death on their faces. Well now it was clear that Jacota wasn't being brought in for a mild scolding. Another sharp impact of the Trandoshan's blaster on his back and he lurched forward at the giant automatic doors separating the hallways and the bridge. It was apparent that the Dreadcutter was built for function as opposed to fashion. The doors almost seemed to be cobbled together out of junk metal. Though he knew well how sturdy they were. Gorlek's ship had survived two would-be sackings since Jacota was brought on board. The door in front of him showed scorch marks from copious blaster fire, but not once has it been breached. At least, not to his knowledge.

The immense doors opened with another low hiss. Slowly at first and then impossibly fast. The deck of the ship shuddered from the impact of the doors arriving at their resting places. Gussk grasped Jacota's arm in his scaly talons and yanked him into the bridge, the doors slamming shut after everyone was inside. It was more of a throne room than the bridge of a ship. Lining the walls were various navigation screens and controls, but even more numerous were the copious amounts of trophies from past conquests. Animal pelts, jewelry, armor, weapons, skulls of all kinds, it was a gruesome - if a bit wondrous - sight. An amalgam of species milled about the room. People from all over the galaxy who joined Gorlek's crew; either by choice or by force. In the center of the room sat a gigantic throne adorned in jewels and, unfortunately for Jacota's stomach, severed heads thrust onto spikes. Likely the heads of Gorlek's former adversaries. The Death Pirate himself - a gargantuan Gamorrean with who could crush Jacota in his fist - sat upon the throne looking out into the blackness of space through the main viewport. Against the throne rested Gorlek's prized battleaxe which was nearly as long as Gorlek was tall.

Gussk placed his blaster rifle on his back with his other large firearms and strode over to the left side of the throne; his spot as the great pirate's "left hand". To the right of the throne stood a slender, green skinned Twi'lek man, a massive scar running from one end of his face to the other. He rested his hands on the pommels of two clearly stolen Mandalorian vibroswords that were hitched to his belt. A'tunda was his name, Jacota had been told, and he was the other "hand" of Gorlek. The blademaster scowled at the scrawny slave, swishing his long cloak to to side to give Jacota a better view of his weapons.

The throne turned around as Jacota attempted to avoid the gaze of the Twi'lek. Gorlek lounged in his throne, head resting in one of his meaty paws. He opened his mouth and a lazy grunt escaped his lips. A nearby protocol droid jerked back at the sound and then frantically waddled to the throne.

"Yes, your wonderness?" it asked in an eager if slightly terrified tone. Another grunt found it's way past Gorlek's tusks followed by a series of low swine-like grunts and squeals. The droid turned to look at Jacota.

"The great Death Pirate Gorlek has brought you here for your final disciplinary session. It seems that you have not been fulfilling your duties as slave and must be relieved of service." the droid parroted sympathetically.

Jacota's heart leapt for only a split second before realizing what being "relieved of service" actually meant.

"So you mean..." the slave began.

"Yes. You are to be put to death." the droid interjected sorrowfully.

"Great. That's definitely what I wanted to hear." he muttered with words as dry as the surface of Tatooine. Jacota's heart raced as he attempted to cope with his impending demise.

The Gamorrean warlord straightened himself and stood up from his throne, grasping the shaft of his axe as he took a step forward. Jacota braced for his death, but was interrupted suddenly as the ship's communication's officer shouted from his console.

"Great Gorlek! We have an incoming transmission from Raka the Hutt's ship! His droid says it is urgent." the Rattataki shook as he stared at his captain. Jacota wasn't sure if it was out of fear of reprimand from Gorlek or out of terror that a Hutt was contacted them. The pirate captain stopped mid step and turned to his officer, eyes suddenly wide. He gave a loud grunt and the Rattataki nodded, flipping a switch. Two holoprojectors on the ceiling came to life and conjured up the image of a Hutt surrounded by Trandoshans. Gorlek quickly sat back down and turned his throne around to face the hologram, attempting to compose himself. He grunted and squealed once more, this time in a much more subservient tone. The protocol droid once again relayed the message.

"The Great Gorlek welcomes your transmission, o' wise Hutt. He wishes to know what he can do to serve such an esteemed and powerful Hutt such as yourself."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Julius wasn't by definition sneaky and stealthy in the sense he could pass up detection easily. Hiding a Force signature was, for instance, beyond him. But on a ship such as this, a slaver ship? Crew and hands came and went quite frequently, without much notice or care by those higher up. At least in so far as those coming and going were peons. It was nothing, really, to take an old pair of breeches, spacers shirt and leather vest, and disfigure and disguise them as slightly grubbier versions of themselves. His lightsaber was hidden in a hastily sewn holster at the bottom middle of his back, easy to tug open in an emergency or summon with the Force. It was too unique to try and trot out as a trophy, damn the Skywalkers anyway. His MP1, however, was slung at his thigh in its' usual holster, with a bandoleer of assorted explosives.

Sauntering about the ship, he cut a figure from Corellian stories, smirking and swaggering with little excuse. This gamorrean wouldn't really be a challenge to take out. Not really. Now his twi'lek enforcer, the one with the Mandalorian made vibroblades... That one might be the challenge out of the group, though his days on board the ship didn't reveal much on the trandoshan, except a cruel streak noticeably long and twisted even for a slavers' enforcer. But still, he doubted any of them had much experience against Jedi. Particularly one of his talents and abilities in battle, which is what the upcoming confrontation would be.

There was a slight milling of assorted mercs and grunts into the chamber following the poor slave half-drug into it, and so Julius slipped in then, adjusting the G.E.A.R. made mask fitting over most of his face and nodding to one. His time had been spent gambling, carousing, and drinking with these folks. Not all of them were by definition evil, or even cruel. They just saw the universe from a slightly more relativistic point of view than he and other Jedi might, no matter how orthodox or divergent that Jedi may be. In many of their opinions, slavery would continue with or without their involvement, and without their involvement their own families might starve or go without, so how were they the bad guys? It was certainly an interesting debate, one with intricacies he was sure the New Order would just gloss over with a thin varnish of superiority.

As he settled in, he took up a position with as clear a line of sight as he could get. Up above him was a support beam, he noted, in case he needed to get above things. Under his clothing was his streamlined suit of armor from G.E.A.R., which he was grateful for. It would give him long enough to get out when the shooting started. Or long enough to plan a counter. The droid began speaking, first to the young slave, and then apparently to a hutt over comms... Raka the Hutt wasn't exactly Popo or some of the others he knew of... Popo at least had some legitimacy to him.. But Hutts commanded more disciplined troops, by and large, than this self-style warlord.

He waited until the Droid cut off transmissions, and then began slowly walking his way forward. He acted naturally enough none really seemed ot notice him until he stood just behind the young slave, bleeding green sap from several cuts and abrasions. The lad had some sort of potential with the Force in him, and so in particular he would see him safe from here if he could. Smiling briefly, he patted the lad on the shoulder, and as the trandoshan turned to eye him, raising a clawed hand and gesturing with a blaster in Julius' direction, he felt an internal alarm trigger, warning of imminent danger, and without really thinking, he acted.

The gun at his side rose up into his hand, and with a trio of blasts directed at the face of the scaled enforcer from point blank range from the mass-driver, he roughly grabbed the boy and shoved him into a bulkhead well out of the way. He himself? A couple of steps back, a crouched stance as he scanned about the make-shift throne room, stretching out with his senses to keep a monitor on any immediate threats as he began to talk quickly, not really bothering with much besides a flurry of shots from his MP1 into the comms console. The less that Hutt knew, the better off he was and the more time he had really. Stow the lad somewhere safe and move to escape and retrieve him when exit was obtained.

"Now... I realize that might be getting off on the wrong foot.. But lets say we talk about what just happened and what we should all focus on going forward: you maintaining your current level of existence..."

[member="Jacota Fiik"] | [member="Raka the Hutt"]

 

[Raka the Hutt]

"Me waka tal nock ti yug mena tell Telka fana fel." The droid stop for a moment to translate and then spoke. "The almighty Raka is in need of new slaves, his old ones were rather rebellious and had a nice chat with Telka. He will be there shortly and expects the best slaves you can offer." The transmission cut off after that. On the cartel ship Raka was preparing to board the ship, riding his hoversled and surrounded with Tradoshan body guards.

 

[Jacota Fiik]

The Gamorrean snarled at the brief nature of the transmission after the hologram faded not two sentences in. However, it seemed Gorlek would be getting a private audience from his employer very soon.

"A Cartel ship wishes to dock, Great Gorlek." a Quarran spouted from his position at a console with a full map of the ship displayed on the attached screen. The captain growled and waved his hand. The lackey nodded and toggled a switch, causing a portion of the map to flash orange for a few seconds and then illuminate in green.

"The Hutt is docked, Gr-" the squid man was cut off by the sudden blaster fire from a previously unnoticed figure aimed directly at Gussk. The battle-hardened Trandoshan quickly hit the deck, his armored shoulder being scorched by one of the blaster bolts. The impact sent the lizard man spinning, but he managed to grasp a weapon from his back as he spun and catch himself with his left leg to stop his trip. Gussk let out a suddenly excited screech and he produced the weapon his hand grasped and pressed a button on the side of it. A faint beep sounded from the weapon and two protrusions of metal capped in polarized orbs flipped out from the sides. A Wookiee bowcaster, famed for their destructive power combined with high accuracy. It was one of Gussk's new toys - taken from the body of a fallen bounty hunter just last week - and he had been itching to try it out in combat

Gorlek squealed as he whipped around to face the source of the blaster fire and his other "hand", the Twi'lek, had already slipped into the chaos out of sight. The other crew members reacted in a spectrum ranging from drawing blasters to running for the door and frantically fighting over the "open" button. The Gamorrean stepped over the arm of his throne, not bothering to turn it around this time, and took up his axe once more. With a ferocious roar, he leaped from the platform his throne sat upon and landed mere feet from the assailant. Gorlek stared down this single adversary, the corner of his mouth arched in a vicious sneer.

In the midst of the action, Jacota was flung into a wall. The sudden surge of chaos was something he should have been used to by then. It was certainly never dull on the Dreadcutter, but never so out of nowhere. The comms console a mere six feet from Jacota's face exploded, sending scraps of debris into the air. The slave covered his face, but felt nothing as the metal, wires, and circuits came raining down. Opening one eye to peek at his fate, he found that he was - indeed - unharmed. Thankfully, the communications officer - who was now motionless on the deck - had taken the full extent of the blast. Jacota scanned the room, eyes darting from both panic and some sort of morbid excitement. The numbers present had dwindled significantly, but those that stayed all had their weapons primed on this new target. Suddenly, the Togruta he had seen on the lift came to mind. The slave scanned the room for her and found the reluctant pirate in the crowd. She was pointing her blaster at the man in the center of the room just like everyone else. The only difference was that her finger was not wrapped around the trigger.

The stranger swaggered and gave a sudden heroic remark. It was the kind of thing the protagonists of Jacota's favorite novels would say. Gorlek shook and then burst into raucous laughter. He stamped his axe's shaft on the ground and squealed a retort. Surprisingly to Jacota, the droid hadn't left the room. Either it was programmed for combat or it had a death wish. Whatever the case, it made itself known as it translated the pig speech.

"The Great Gorlek laughs at your weak boasting. He invites you to prove that you can back up your bravado with strength."

Jacota yelped and crawled to the fallen officer. Panic keeping him from a rational state of mind, he frantically searched for something to defend himself with. All he found was a particularly scratched up blaster pistol at the dead pirate's belt. Hand trembling, he took it and placed his back against side of the blown console, still firmly seated on the deck. He had never been in the middle of a firefight before. He had no idea what to do and judging by his breathing the slave was going to hyperventilate before he got a chance to defend himself. That was assuming he even had it in him to use his new weapon.

It was then that Gussk fired on the stranger, a huge emerald bowcaster bolt burst from the muzzle. It was quickly followed by three smaller bolts fired from the blasters of a portion of the crew.

[member="Raka the Hutt"] | [member="Julius Sedaire"]