Populate [Black Sun] All Sales Are Final | BSS Populate of Pesmenben IV

[Velzari Tharn]

A L L - S A L E S - A R E - F I N A L
A - B L A C K - S U N - S T O R Y

Like the lithium-laced dunes of Pesmenben IV, the machinations of the Underworld never truly rest.

Deep in the desert, surrounded by an endless sea of sand, a slave auction organized by Black Sun is about to begin. The location is nondescript, a long-forgotten shadowport half-buried along with its history. Where once it might had been a hub for lithium miners to sell their precious minerals, it now serves as a sandstone crypt within which hundreds of slaves are housed and eventually sold to the highest bidder. Cryptic invitations arrive at their destination via backchannels, dead drops, and DarkNet data clusters. Among those on the guest list are crime lords, corpos, Imperial officers, and foremen of mining guilds. The message is brief, containing a set of coordinates and four simple words: "all sales are final."

* * *​

The auction hall buzzes with activity as slavers force a pair of chained Wookiees to drag metal cages across the sand-strewn floor, centering them around a platform stage upon which Black Sun's enigmatic majordomo Arcadian is standing. One by one, the stage is surrounded by fine specimens of varying species, backgrounds, ages, and talents. Some of them push against the rusted bars, desperate to get out; some weep, hyperventilating as they take in the crowd of buyers who view them as little more than property to be acquired; others remain stoic, having silently accepted their fate.

Regardless of their state, each one will go home with a new master - those who do not sell are turned loose in the desert, where lithium particles and the scorching sun guarantee death within hours.

OOC: Buying Slaves

The rules of this slave auction are very simple!

• All posts with a bid must have the number PLAINLY LISTED for visibility. Tag Arcadian to have your bid recorded.
• All slaves are being auctioned at the same time, so feel free to place as few or as many bids at a time as you'd like.
• Bids start at 1,000 UCs and increase by reasonable increments.
• NPC slaves are yours to keep unless otherwise specified by the OOC owner of the submission.
• DM posts will come roughly once per day to update current bids and who's in the lead.
• Final bids should be paid to Arcadian at the end of the thread.

Slave Name	Slave Occupation/Skills	Slave Faction/Loyalties
Aiden Porte	Jedi Padawan	Royal Naboo Republic; Order of Shiraya
Ceri Fraissi	Jedi Padawan	Royal Naboo Republic; Order of Shiraya
Kule Loklo	Prized Gladiator	Unaffiliated
Kreg Jare	Mandalorian Bounty Hunter	Clan Jare; the Empire
Kurineth Cull	Dark Side Freelancer	Unaffiliated (formerly Dark Empire)
The Madclaw	Dark Jedi	Black Sun; Tojj Clan
Makko Dres	Shadowrunner	Code Zero; Rule of None
Nat Björk	Senator of Karlinus	Royal Naboo Republic

O B J E C T I V E - 1
S L A V E - A U C T I O N​

The crowd that gathered around the slave crates was a motley bunch. Some were suited corporate elites representing the galaxy's largest conglomerates while others were pirate captains looking to fill their brigs with free labor. No matter their profession or reason for being here, each of the "investors" hushed their spirited chatter when Arcadian's voice called for silence.

"Esteemed guests," he croaked, "it is the pleasure of Black Sun to offer you a fine selection of slaves today." He said it nonchalantly, as if they were peddling used speeder bikes instead of living beings.

"All shapes. All sizes. Jedi, slicers... even a senator, far from home." Arcadian ran his fingers over the top of each cage as he stepped around the stage. "One, or even more, of these fine specimens can be yours... for a price."

He moved to the center of the room and stood still for a moment, shifting his gaze over the crowd. Who he was focused on at any given moment was unclear thanks to the Ubese's cuboid helmet. They couldn't see the sinister grin he wore beneath it, but Arcadian was a kindred spirit who believed in survival of the fittest; they knew he was smiling, just the same as they were. He raised both hands in the air with palms up, as if feeling for rain within the dusty confines of the slave pit. His voice rolled over the growing chatter once more, for the last time before welcoming their bids.

"Do I hear 1,000 credits for the Wookiee?" he opened.

O B J E C T I V E - 2
H O S T I L E - T A K E O V E R​

The expansion of the Empire to the east has led to an influx of new customers across various markets in Hutt Space. With the dedicated efforts of Prince Velzari and Vigo Hakar Scaleback , the syndicate has formed a mutually beneficial relationship with the advancing Imperial Confederation, one that involves strategic ignorance on part of the Empire at the low cost of exclusive trade agreements.

To feed the Empire with a consistent supply of raw materials, Black Sun turns its hungry eyes to Pesmenben IV, a key source for lithium in Hutt Space. This strategic resource is not only vital for powering the Empire's formidable fleet, but also for fueling the technological advancements that ensure its continued dominance. The planet's mining operations have seen a recent boom, but the greedy mining guilds that own rights to the lithium deposits are unwilling to make a deal with the syndicate.

Black Sun must show them the error of their ways.

The lithium mines in question are moderately guarded by in-house patrols, security droids, and autoturrets - dangerous for unorganized raiders, but perfectly manageable for a Black Sun strike team. Descend upon the mines, overwhelm the guild, and claim the site for Black Sun.

O B J E C T I V E - 3
L I T H I U M - D U N E S
(B Y O O)​

Pesmenben IV is steeped in a tragic past marked by unsuccessful mining ventures and guild conflicts, leaving behind a landscape littered with abandoned sites and hidden troves of precious minerals. Emerging settlements frequently establish themselves to support salvage efforts, scavenging these forgotten mineshafts for anything that can fetch a few credits on the black market. Some prospectors even tell tales of a vast lithium deposit hidden within the dunes, buried beneath layers of sand and the bones of unfortunate treasure hunters who succumbed to Pesmenben's harsh deserts.

The challenges of exploring Pesmenben IV are as formidable as the rewards. The harsh climate tests even the hardiest individuals, while the political tension of competing guilds adds a certain unpredictability to any social engagement one might find themselves in. Explore this sandy world as you see fit, and don't forget a canteen - God only knows when you'll find another sip of water when you leave the settlements behind.

Threads Referenced:
The Imperial Connection | End of Cisco
​

 

[Makko Dres]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
S L A V E - A U C T I O N

Makko's last waking memory was of running from CorpSec in Etti IV's warehouse district.

They'd finally caught up to him after nearly three months of slicing into CSA data hubs across Mondder and leaking sensitive records on the DarkNet. For all the territory they held, all those planets under their boot, they really weren't the brightest. It was no wonder the Planeshift collapsed the whole thing around their ears. Makko remembered it, but it was foggy. Chaos, police sirens, martial law... a broadcast from Castor Crane announcing the dissolution of the Direx Board and the collapse of the Corporate Sector. At the time, it was confusing. Makko hated the Corporate Sector, but it was the only home he'd ever truly known. He couldn't understand what happened, at least not until he arranged to flee from Etti.

The CSA heavily suppressed journalism in the Sector. The only information you could get was from CorpNet, the nationalized news network, or from the DarkNet... if you could verify it was accurate. By the time he pieced together what had happened - that Etti IV was flung from its orbit near the Braxant Run and landed somewhere on the eastern edge of the Slice, it was too late.

CorpSec had fully locked down the planet, leaving only risky, one-way flights as the last method of getting off-world. After leaking every report he could find on the Planeshift, Makko packed what little he had and fled. He made it to the warehouses by Mondder Spaceport where his shuttle was supposed to be, but when he reached the dock, he realized it was all a ruse. A sting. He turned to run when he saw the sleek Espo armor, but there were two officers already waiting for him. Makko dashed to his right, dodging barrels and pallets of produce as he bolted down an alley. He risked a glance over his shoulder, and that was his last mistake. He tripped over the edge of an empty pallet, sprawling forward and hitting his chin on the duracrete.

The Espos picked him up, dazed and bleeding, and dragged him back to the shuttle. He heard bits and pieces as he faded in and out of consciousness, something about Denon... but when Makko finally woke up, he was nowhere near the Republic world.

He was crumpled on the floor of a sandy cage like dirty laundry. His head was spinning. Makko forced himself to blink through the haze, and when he finally was able to see the room around him, he realized immediately what was happening; it was a slave auction, and he was for sale.

Tags: OPEN​

 

[Sars Sarad]

---

The Halls were abuzz with activity as 'Investors' crammed around a central platform where a pair of Wookies were dragging various cages, positioning them so that potential buyers could peruse the stock.

He'd stepped inside, out of the hot sun and the winds that blew sand wildly from the dunes.

Navigating the multitude of bodies he'd step around many of them, letting his senses expand as he felt the force and let his instincts guide him. He saw The Madclaw in one cage, curious that the powerful warrior had let himself be captured. The Wookie was not the one Sarad was searching for though nor did he imagine anyone who bought him would find him a slave for an overly long amount of time.

A subtle smirk played across his features.

There were other cages too. One with a Senator, Nat Björk that he thought he might have recognized from an alert that had been posted recently. A wonder she had found her way to an auction when she could have been a better hostage. He looked at her but moved on.

Eventually he came to another cage, his senses buzzed as he felt the connection the occupant shared in the force and he squared himself with the cage. Reaching out he'd set a hand against one of the bars and slowly run his fingers over the durasteel...

"What is your name?"

...he'd ask Ceri Fraissi , she looked young; to young yet the connection he felt was undeniable which made him wonder...

"Who is your Master?"

...maybe no one but maybe someone, his head turned towards the auctioneer Arcadian and he called out...

"A thousand (1000) to start the bidding on this one!"

 

[Avari II Avaricious]

The Madclaw Makko Dres Sars Sarad

The symphony of greed and desperation, was a sound Vigo Avari found profoundly… uninspired. He stood at the edge of the elevated viewing platform, a silken robe of deep red draped over his slender if slightly muscular frame, its ornate embroidery shimmering faintly under the harsh spotlights.

Three ID10 Seeker Droids, no larger than his hand, circled him, each one presenting a tiny, perfectly polished durasteel mirror. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flitting between the reflections. Flawless. Of course. He had, after all, sculpted the very concept of perfection.

"A Wookiee," he murmured, his voice a soft tone, entirely lost to the clamor below. He plucked a stray thread from his sleeve, examining it as if it held the secrets of the cosmos. "Such a coarse creature. Limited utility. One might as well bid on a particularly stubborn rock." He caught his reflection in one of the hovering mirrors, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Arcadian's guttural croak carried across the pit, announcing the "fine selection." Avari simply rolled his eyes. Such a vulgar display. He had created this galaxy, instilled within it the very essence of chaos and order, and these lesser beings merely squabbled over its detritus.

The senator, the slicers, even the Jedi all puppets in the grand design he had so meticulously woven. He adjusted a cuff, catching the light on a ring embedded with a shimmering piece of raw kyber. The galaxy hummed with his influence. It was him.

"One thousand credits for the Wookiee," Arcadian voice cut through the air again. Avari scoffed, a delicate sound. "A paltry sum for a creature in my galaxy," he mused, then waved a dismissive hand, allowing the probe droids to resume their silent orbit around his perfect form.

He had no interest in such crude transactions. He merely observed, a divine architect overseeing the predictable machinations of his creations.

 

[Aiden Porte]

Auction
OBJ-Escape
Tags:Open

I don't have time for this chit.....

The Jedi Padawan hit the wall out of frustration.


As was the life as of lately for the Jedi Padawan. His father, Kahne Porte was gone, that included his mother and sister. He gave his life in service of Naboo and its people. And his mother and sister were lost somewhere, or dead for all he knew. He had mourned for them, but that wasn't going to help him anymore. Right here and now he was on his own. His hand raising to touch the force suppression collar around his neck. He couldn't believe this had happened, and how it happened.



"I swear when I get out of here...…"

There was chuckles from the side as various individuals whom he didn't know, bounty hunters, smugglers, maroons. "What is the Jedi going to do...." One of them spoke and Aiden reached through the bars as quickly as he could to reach for him but they all moved out of distance. "Why don't you come in here and find out." Aiden hit the bars with his palms once more as he turned away and walked down the walkway ignoring the snickering and obscene comments from them. There were others with him and at the time he honestly didn't care right now, with the force suppression collar on his neck he couldn't even send out a subtle message.

Aiden wearing some tattered clothes, and some worn shoes to fit his now wretched and slave like state.

It was obviously clear that he wasn't happy in the slightest. And as soon as he got the chance, he was breaking outta of this hell hole. It couldn't happen right now, it would have to be timed perfectly.

 

[Ave Jathassa]

ALL SALES
ARE FINAL
Devil in a New Dress - Chapter 1
———
TAG: Arcadian | Makko Dres

LEXRUL

Oh how much she hates the stench of a slave auction. No matter the effort one put to dress such events with glitz and glamour, it will never remove the core depravity, the source of her disgust, from it. Ave had arrived in the auction with two guards, money to spend, and reputation to maintain.

She looked around, studying each person being sold in the marketplace. Jedi, darksiders, criminals, even a senator. She played her part, analysing each fresh meat, crossing one by one from her list. The Jedi are easy cross; it’s almost impossible to use those Jedi as assets, and she doesn’t want problem with the Order. The darksiders are too unpredictable, she doesn’t like the risk that comes with them. The senator is almost tempting; a woman in a high place, a perfect Black Sun asset in the heart of the Republic, all for her own consumption. If she is actually planning to buy one, she would be the call. But she is expensive, and losing the bidding war on her will only put her on the senator’s radar when she eventually gets rescued by the republic.

So her gaze shifted to the final person on the block; a young and frail man, a slicer. Ave can feel her acidic flux rising from her stomach, the pungent taste assaulting her throat. Her brain rushes back to her past, when she was just a little girl, yet it was a third-person view; she is not on her own foot, but her buyer’s.

It was all too familiar, too repulsive, yet she has to keep an appearance, she has to act like the Vigo she is. Whether she will get the slicer or not, she doesn’t really care, she just want to get over with it.

“1000 for the slicer,” she raised her offer at the Majordomo.​

 

[Kreg Jare]

Warrior No More

Objective 1 - Slave

Makko Dres | Sars Sarad | Aiden Porte | The Madclaw

​

The cage in which he was contained was not only physical, but mental as well.

Imprisonment happened so quickly. Kreg had tracked down a Sith Knight to the planet Trevi_IV. It was supposed to be a routine capture, one that he had completed many times before. Restrain the target, freeze them in Carbonite, and drop them off with the bounty contractor. His entire living was built off of this process. Like clockwork, the Sith was hunted down and snared. The Mandalorian had no trouble bringing the filth to his ship. Getting out of Sith space proved to be a whole other issue. What he had failed to recognize was that overnight, The Blackwall went into effect. No way in or out without any high-level clearance.

Being the cocky individual that he was, Kreg made a run at pushing through this barrier. He would not be so lucky. Almost immediately his vessel was overrun by Sith starfighters. Eventually, a nearby corvette dispatched a boarding party. All of Kreg's energy cells soon became depleted within every blaster he owned, but it was not enough. The hunter became the prey. When the officials found the Knight aboard his ship, there was no possible way that he would be able to walk free.

The Mandalorian was stripped of all of his Beskar, minus his helmet. It would be culturally impure for him to remove it. In a moment of honor, the Sith officers allowed him to keep the helmet. This did not stop him from being locked away in his own Carbonite prison though. Kreg was soon shipped out of the Blackwall, along with a freighter full of others who suffered a similar state of capture. Each were sold to various worlds as a final effort to gain credits before the system was shut out for good. That is how Kreg ended up in the hands of the Black Sun.

By the time he was unfrozen, the man's Beskar helmet had deformed his face and thrashed his internal organs. The Carbonite bled through his bare skin, poisoning the man. The only thing keeping him alive was the helmet on his head. Only able to remove it for barely a minute. In this weakened state the man was prodded into a cage wearing chains made of his own armor. Each piece was melted down and forged into shackles. Those evil bastards. All that was left of his clan was Kreg and his helmet.

So, when bids started to be shouted out, he stayed quiet. He was defeated; broken by the shadow he had become of his former self. His new fate would soon be decided by the deepest pocket.

 

[The Madclaw]

Yellow eyes consumed with hate stared out from within the bars of the cage. A soft blue light flickered around the Wookiee’s form. Madclaw chuffed. Ray shielding.

The metal of the stun cuffs around his wrists pulled at his fur and he longed to be rid of them, rip through the bars of his cage, and tear into the onlookers. It would be a righteous slaughter.

A force collar sat around his throat, needles flicking out at intervals to inject him with a constant stream of ixetal cilona, inhibiting his access to the Force. He stood in his cage and wondered if those outside knew… Knew that the only thing keeping them from a violent, screaming death was that collar.

Those yellow eyes continued to envenom the beholders.

If any dared to try to become his master, the collar would not matter. He would be free.

Today.

Or tomorrow.

Their purchase would be their own death warrant.

 

[Kule Loklo]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
S L A V E - A U C T I O N​

Kule Loklo aka Bu Becdaua
Ray-shielded cage. Slave auction pit. Pesmenben IV.
The Madclaw | Other slaves, slavers and buyers

---

The sand had teeth. It ground its way into Kule's fur, into the creases of his scars, into the long-dried blood that never quite washed from his memory. It clung to the collar on his neck, rubbed raw the skin beneath it. The slavers called this place a market. Kule knew it for what it truly was—a crypt.

He didn't move. Didn't twitch. He crouched in the corner of his ray-shielded cage like a carved totem, unmoving, unblinking. His blind eye, clouded and useless, stared through the energy field. The other—sharp, dark, and deadly—watched everything.

Next to him, the Wookiee paced like a storm barely contained. Kule felt the rage bleeding off of him like steam from scorched stone. The Wookiee's yellow eyes seethed. He could smell the chemicals pumping through the Force-suppressing collar, taste the hate on the air.

Kule understood that hate. He'd worn it since the day the Trandoshans came.

He saw their faces when he closed his eyes—his mate, his daughters, his son. What was left of them. The pelts they turned into cloaks. The bones into decorations. The meat into something far worse. He hadn't screamed then. Not when they made him watch. Not even when they laughed.

He had killed six of them before they brought him down.

That should've been the end. It would've been, if not for his talent. For the bloodlust they could bottle and sell. He became an object, a thing to throw in a pit and cheer for. Bu Becdaua, they called him—the Badger. A joke name. A cage name.

But his real name was Kule Loklo. He had not forgotten.

Now he sat on the auction block, old and worn by years of slaughter, his reputation dulled in the eyes of slavers too stupid to see what still burned beneath his hide. They paraded him as scrap meat, something to send to the lithium mines of Pesmenben IV until his heart gave out in the tunnels.

Let them.

Let them think he was finished.

He could still feel the rhythm of the Wookiee's breath, the timing of his restless steps. There was a predator in that cage. Just like in his own.

If one moved, the other would follow.

And if the ray shield ever dropped—just once—it wouldn't be an auction anymore. It would be a reckoning.

Let them place their bids.
Let them tally their credits.
Let them believe he was something they could own.

Kule Loklo waited, silent and coiled.
He had survived the pits. He had survived the Trandoshans.
He would survive this too.

And when he came for them,
they would not survive him.

 

[Arcadian]

Tags:

[Black Sun] Avari II Avaricious | Ave Jathassa | Sars Sarad​

[Slaves] Aiden Porte | Ceri Fraissi | Kule Loklo | Kreg Jare | Kurineth Cull | The Madclaw | Makko Dres | Nat Björk​

Location: Slave Pit, Pesmenben IV

“Most excellent,” Arcadian purred. “I have 1,000 for the slicer and the Jedi girl, do I hear 1,500?”

The room buzzed with activity in a dozen languages spoken by twice as many species. Pesmenben’s slave pit was, ironically, a cultural melting pot - only it was catalyzed by the barbaric exchange of credits for people.

Arcadian looked upon the crowd with a cold placidity, egging them on to place more bids.

“How about the Ewok?” he asked, stepping around to the tiny creature’s enclosure. Cade locked his left leg in place, bending the right at the knee to prop on the lid of the cage. “This one’s a fearsome gladiator. Would you not like to see it shed blood in your fighting pits?”

CURRENT BIDS​

• Ceri Fraissi for 1,000 UCs - Sars Sarad
• Makko Dres for 1,000 UCs - Ave Jathassa

 

[Kurineth Cull]

TAGS: The Madclaw Ceri Fraissi

The rise and fall of different powers meant little in a galaxy that was ever changing.

The people that she had surrounded herself with had withdrawn to whatever hidden sanctuaries they had secured. Tucked themselves away to regroup. To clean house. To center themselves once more after an extensive campaign against the powers that be.

A dance as eternal as the existence of the galaxy itself between those that aligned themselves with Ashla and the Bogan.

Kurineth had removed her gear and hid it aboard her own ship. Leaving both behind until she decided to call upon it once more for whatever purpose it could serve her. Playing the part of an ignorant being and tying herself to a fate many tried to avoid.

A cage. Collar. Cuffs. Leering eyes that did not see her as a living being but something that had a value to be bought and paid for with material things.

Laughable.

The Hounds she had surrounded herself with had taken and plundered without such novelties as money. Fought and earned their prizes. This charade was simply to showcase that one being was superior to another.

It made her giddy in some strange way to participate.

A fact that could be seen by the smirk that painted her features as she slowly blinked. Watching. Feeling. Enjoying. All of the feelings here were a feast separately. Together, made a banquet for the strange being with disheveled hair and grungy rags in place of her finer equipment.

Perhaps seen as stark raving mad as she made unblinking eye contact with the jedi girl.

"You'll live girl. And come out stronger for it." Kurineth giggled as she let her unblinking gaze move to the wookie. The one who held so much contempt for every being in the room that his gaze alone might shave the hides of these buyers.

"And you, bide your time. Or death will find us all." Words coming in the language of the wookie rather than the common tongue as she began to rock back and forth.

This place was like a vacation.

 

[Vaux Gred]

Objective: 1

Vaux sat quietly, almost the opposite of her usual hot-headed nature, but she was trying to be as unidentifiable as possible. Slip into a slaver ship the fleet intercepted, look like she was left behind, and a little record falsification, and boom! New slave with no name or history given. She took a slow breath as she looked at the others. If she'd been here as herself it'd be guns blazing and the support of her clan and the fleet. Now she didn't exactly have that, but they also weren't gonna risk sending anyone with slave ties to do something like this, no matter how "ready" they felt.

"This one even said a word? Think she's just quiet?"

"How'm I supposed to know? Just don't crowd her so the buyers can see." Vaux looked to see a fellow Mandalorian. Child of the Watch was her best guess given the helmet. Then a Jedi who had a fire in him. Actually got a smirk out of her. Something always made Vaux love seeing Jedi not try and hide how they feel about things. Common now, but not universal.

"Easy jetii." She started in a whisper his way, some Mando'a slipping through in the word "jetii," and a Concord Dawn accent slipping through. Not the easiest since it was similar to the normal word, but possibly something. "Better to live than die right now." There was also a Wookie and Ewok, who Vaux simply gave a nod too. She couldn't speak their language, but she could at least start planning.... Yeesh the lengths she was going for intel.

Arcadian Kule Loklo Kreg Jare The Madclaw Aiden Porte @Everyone else

 

[Kule Loklo]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
S L A V E - A U C T I O N​

Kule Loklo | Bu Becdaua
Ray-shielded cage. Slave auction pit. Pesmenben IV.
The Madclaw Arcadian and everyone else at the slave auction.

---

He heard it.

The way Arcadian said "the Ewok."

Not a name. Not even a "he." Just a thing. A savage curiosity to be owned, paraded, and bled dry for spectacle. Kule didn't move when the Ubese's shadow fell over his cage, nor when that smug boot locked into place atop it like a hunter's claim over fresh kill.

He simply lifted his head.

Slow. Controlled. Purposeful.

One blind eye, milk-white and unmoving, glinted faintly in the ray shield's hum. The other—dark and cold—fixed itself on Arcadian's visor with the stillness of a predator long past rage.

Kule didn't bare his teeth. That was what they wanted—feral snarling, a display of threat to tempt the bids higher. No. He offered silence.

Not submission.
Judgment.

He could smell Arcadian through the helmet: plastoid, ozone, spice, and blood. A connoisseur of pain. The kind who never fought for anything in his life but always spoke with the confidence of those who sold violence secondhand.

Fearsome gladiator, he'd said.

Kule had been that once. In the pits of Dakhm the Hutt. Covered in sweat, blood, ash, and glory. They'd cheered when he crushed bones and split skulls. And when the years weighed heavy and the crowd moved on to newer monsters, they sent him here. Forgotten. Devalued. Chained.

But Kule was not done. Not yet.

The hum of the ray shield distorted Arcadian's voice. To Kule, it was distant now—like water washing over stone. But the words etched themselves all the same. The offer. The foot on the cage. The taunt.

Would they like to see him shed blood?

They would.
He would.

But not in the way Arcadian expected.

Not in a pit. Not for credits.

When the time came—and it always did—Kule Loklo would make sure that blood spilled wasn't for entertainment. It would be for vengeance. For justice. For the family he buried in screams and memory.

He never blinked.
Didn't speak.
Just stared.

And though the mask obscured Arcadian's face, Kule hoped—no, he knew—the Ubese felt it. That cold promise burning in his gaze.

Buy me, fool.
Unlock this cage.
Let's see who sheds blood.

 

[Makko Dres]

O B J E C T I V E - 1
S L A V E - A U C T I O N

Makko felt the primal urge to fight for his freedom, but he knew that it would be impossible to escape from his cage without help. What could one slave hope to accomplish against a pit full of eager buyers and Black Sun goons.

He looked around, vision still blurred by the strike to his head that knocked him out. Through the stars, he could see a young man whose cage was close enough for him to speak to without being caught so easily.

“Hey!” Makko whispered. He rapped a knuckle against the rusty bars between them. “We’ve got to find a way out of this chit. Any ideas?”

The guy didn’t look that much older than Makko, but with the bruises and cuts they both had from being wrangled by slavers, it was hard to tell just how close in age they were. It didn’t really matter in the long run; Makko would accept the help of a geriatric Hutt if it meant getting out of here alive.

Tags: Ave Jathassa | Aiden Porte​

 

[Avari II Avaricious]

The Madclaw Makko Dres Sars Sarad

His gaze traversed the cages, taking in their occupants one by one as the three ID10 Seeker Droids floated around him. The young nerf herder and seemingly Jedi Aiden Porte was seething in his force-suppressing collar, his frustration evident and somewhat pathetic for someone of his abilities to have been captured and sold like livestock.

The broken Mandalorian Kreg Jare stood out prominently, his beskar chains serving as a cruel reminder of his past glory as the wrath of Avari, for he had once commanded their culture to serve him.

The enormous yet thoroughly odorous Wookiee The Madclaw exuded pure, unfiltered hatred, his yellow eyes blazing behind the protective ray shield, although the Vigo showed no interest in bidding for him, as he had no desire for a walking carpet to adorn his new throne room on Ruusan.

The diminutive Kule Loklo caught his attention, seemingly hailing from a gladiatorial background rather than being the ideal creature for a forest management company in the galaxy. His small size was an affront to Avari, who had designed the galaxy to produce giants, not diminutive insects; a failed experiment that had been allowed to persist beneath his perfect scrutiny.

The one being that truly captured his interest was Kurineth Cull , her disheveled appearance a stark contrast to her unsettling amusement. There were others like Makko Dres and Vaux Gred but they weren't interested enough for him to even give a small internal description for they had failed to please their creator in more ways than one.

"While I am loathe to admit my interest in such lowly creatures, 1,000 Credits for the uncouth Dark Imperial Kurineth Cull . They shall serve me well...for who can truly compare to the Glorious and Ever-Youthful Prince of Ruusan, Creator of the Galaxy and life-bringer of you all here..." Avari finally declared to Arcadian .

His voice cutting through the rising chatter below, surprisingly loud and clear. He paused, letting the silence ripple outwards, drawing all eyes to his elevated platform. His smile widened, a cold, almost predatory expression that seemed to absorb the light.

 

[Allura Kahli]

Allura didn't so much as slow her gait as she crossed the threshold to the auction. Dens of scum and villainy were quite familiar to the Umbaran woman. Her white eyes also helped deter people staring for long as they tended to get stared back at with an unreadable expression. Anyone foolish enough to try and engage in an unsolicited manner would find out it wasn't just the eyes that unsettled them.

"A Senator?" The Umbaran scoffed quietly in the crowd to some nameless nobody as if the very idea was absurd. Though, honestly, what did they think they were going to do with a Senator? Put them up on a mantle and crow about them to their friends? Perhaps brainwash them. Karlinus, wasn't it? Sith might find some defensive, strategic value out of them, perhaps. "Sounds just stupid enough to work."

"One thousand for the Senator. Perhaps they'll clean my feet," Allura laughed regarding Nat Björk . "And the boy," she pointed to Aiden Porte , "and the Wookie each," The Madclaw . She took a moment to look around and smirk at all those present. "And two for the girl," Ceri Fraissi . Time to see if the Arcadian was up for a greedy bidder.

Which one was she after? That was the question they'd have to ask themselves wasn't it? Which one was the Umbaran woman prepared to go all the way for? Or were they all on her list? Perhaps it was one she hadn't bid on just yet. Times like these an instigator found her stride.

 

[Arcadian]

Tags:

[Black Sun] Allura Kahli | Avari II Avaricious | Ave Jathassa | Sars Sarad​

[Slaves] Aiden Porte | Ceri Fraissi | Kule Loklo | Kreg Jare | Kurineth Cull | The Madclaw | Makko Dres | Nat Björk​

Location: Slave Pit, Pesmenben IV

Things were moving smoothly.

The slaves were getting riled up, though several remained placid, likely still adjusting to their new realities. Kule Loklo in particularly looked rather rabid, but to Arcadian, most of the beastfolk did. Wookies, Ewoks - they were all walking carpets.

His helmeted head turned as a new bidder threw her hat into the arena. She was greedy, aggressive. Cade liked that.

“The credits flow!” he proclaimed with open hands raised. With one hand, he pointed at the newcomer, wheezing a chuckle through his scorched lungs that sounded choppy and ominous when it came through his vocoder.

“The stakes are raised. Will you raise with them? Do I hear one-five for the senator, the Jedi boy, or the Wookie?”

He titled his head down at the other Padawan and shook her cage with his boot. “Two-five for the girl?”

CURRENT BIDS​

• Aiden Porte for 1,000 UCs - Allura Kahli
• Ceri Fraissi for 1,000 UCs - Allura Kahli
• Kurineth Cull for 1,000 UCs - Avari II Avaricious
• The Madclaw for 1,000 UCs - Allura Kahli
• Makko Dres for 1,000 UCs - Ave Jathassa
• Nat Björk for 1,000 UCs - Allura Kahli

 

[Mr. Usher]

A Bid Not for Flesh​

The husk stood apart from the crowd—not above it, but behind. Humble in posture, unassuming in shape. A tall figure, sun-faded and pallid, garbed in veiled layers of black linen and bone-stitched silk. A mask of hospitality adorned its face, tight over the thing beneath. It did not blink.

Its head tilted as the Mandalorian’s auction began.

Chains made from clan-steel. Carbonite-gnarled lungs. A face that could not survive the air.
And silence. Not defiance—emptiness.

When the bidding stalled, the husk stepped forward towards the stall containing Kreg Jare

“I bid,” it said, “EIGHT THOUSAND CREDITS.”

A pause.

It bid not for ownership, nor servitude, nor vengeance. Not even for sustenance.

Allies for a monstrosity such as Mr. Usher were few and far between. This was a gambit - purchasing the freedom of one who might overlook his nature in turn.

It turned, just enough for its blank gaze to rest on Kreg's fractured form.

I offer purchase not of your body, but of your chains.
To break them, and give you distance enough to choose who you will be next.

If he wished never to see the agents of the Greater Ego again… that is his right.
But the Greater Ego hoped, quietly, that he wouldn't.

A hush fell. The husk bowed simply.

It stepped back, disappearing once more into the press of slavers, syndicates, and warlords.
But even in stillness, the husk’s presence lingered. A mind separate from his own was not something Mr. Usher suspected he would value so highly. But as he consumed more sentient minds, the need to communicate to something external, non hostile, grew with it. An inconveniently human aspect of the Greater Ego.
A singular blight of empathy in a market built on despair.

Arcadian Kreg Jare​

 

[Sars Sarad]

---

He'd been watching Ceri Fraissi through the bars of her cage, waiting for her to answer her question and reveal the name of her Master.

She looked to young to be more than a Padawan. His interest her was purely cosmetic, she was the key to drawing out whichever Jedi was responsible for her. Oh, whomever that was could have her back; Sarad's interest was more in them then her.

Turning his head when he'd heard someone make a bid on the girl his eyes set upon Allura Kahli and he'd regard her quietly. If her way of bidding, which was to say she'd bid on almost everything was any indication she was meddling. It didn't impress him and there others here that might take issue with her as well...

"Careful."

....was all Sarad had said before his eyes turned back towards Arcadian at which point he'd call out...

"Four thousand (4000) for the girl."

...the credits meant nothing to Sarad in the conventional sense, he'd accumulated him through work for one of the now defunct Imperial regimes. They'd paid well, it was a shame they'd collapsed though he'd heard another faction had taken their place; a confederation of Moffs and Warlords he'd heard.

Over at another cage he'd hear someone call out a bid of eight thousand credits. Quite the sum. Whomever was being bid on must have been of some importance.

As his eyes turned back to the cage ahead of him he stood, looking past its bars towards the girl then over to the nearby cages of the Wookie, The Madclaw and the Ewok, Kule Loklo . Idly he wondered if he might use them, not as slaves but as allies...

 

[Marlon Sularen]

A L L_S A L E S_A R E_F I N A L
Objective 1 : Slave Auction

IMPERIAL CONFEDERATION
PESMENBEN V, MID RIM

​

Marlon Sularen stood amongst the crowd gathered for the slave auction on Pesmenben V. For an Imperial he was completely out of place, given the stark contrast between the nature of Imperials and the Underworld. However despite this, the Underworld had it's uses, which led the Imperial Supreme Commander to today's events. Given the Imperial Confederation's connections with the Black Sun it wasn't long before word of this slave auction had reached Sularen's ears and while most of the high-ranking Imperials would stay away from direct involvement in Black Sun business, Sularen saw an opportunity to further advance his plans within the Confederation itself.

The catalogue of slaves that were being auctions here today was quite impressive, including Jedi and Dark Jedi, Proud Warriors such as a Gladiator and a Mandalorian, a Politician and even a Slicer. Many of the slaves present had a lot of potential, whose particular skill set could benefit him greatly as he worked to build-up the Confederation's influence and power across the galaxy. However there were two slaves in particular whom Sularen had taken a great interest in, and it would be those slaves that he'd be willing to purchase.

Thus, the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Confederation's Armed Forces stepped forward and pointed first at the slave crate containing the Ewok Gladiator "For the Ewok Gladiator Kule Loklo. I bid One Thousand Credits." Sularen began, before then pointing at the slave crate containing the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter. "For the Mandalorian Bounty Hunter, Kreg Jare. I bid Ten Thousand Credits." he added.

Tags [The Competition] | Mr. Usher
Tags [The Slaves] | Kule Loklo | Kreg Jare ​