Break The Back Of The Beast [open to OS]

[Triss]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5sIXUbMgF0​

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Coruscant, OS prison​

Water. The first thing Einar tasted upon waking was pure, clean water against his lips. He lay face down in a puddle, some of the liquid unintentionally getting into his airways. Shadowmane coughed, then ran a hand across his face, wiping his dark brow. No sign of grime of Rangoon IV was left on his skin; he had been washed clean recently, the entirety of his body still wet from it. Scant loincloth that barely covered him was removed, leaving him barren. The air around him was stale and damp, pervaded by a familiar metallic scent typical of damp steel. A part of him wondered where he was and whether the slavers had recaptured him.

The last thing he remembered was melding minds with a rancor and attacking those whom he thought were there to enslave him again. A dull pain at the base of his skull reminded him to the episode with the Chrysalide beast, when he allowed for an effective exchange of consciousness between himself and the rancor. He still remembered how it felt to be trapped inside the mind of a hormone-driven beast, albeit faintly. Somebody must have tampered with his head, otherwise serious mental trauma would ensue if he was to experience the demise of rancor while sharing the bond. Whoever had picked him up knew a thing or two of mentalism. However, such intricacies were far beyond Einar's cognitive grasp, his instincts telling him he was far away from the jungle world of Rangoon.

He pushed off the ground to stand, but found himself too tall to stand in the dark cubic room he found himself in. Instead of a ceiling, there was a grid, faint light glimmering from above. Footsteps were heard, followed by squealing and cursing in an unknown language. Shadowmane drew closer to peer through the minute openings, but failed to see anything but a set perfectly polished black boots and a black cape trailing behind them. Einar stepped back, crouching under to hid in the darkness of the cell, only his viridian orbs coruscating in the shadows. He would wait until the figure left, before inspecting his prospects of escape from the compound he found himself in.

 

[Iron Knight Loarko]

Loarko lay in a crumpled pile on the floor. He hadn't moved much since he was thrown in jail. He hadn't known why. He tried to stand but his servos locked up. Being a shard had its disadvantages. The droid body you chose could lock up and freeze forever. This happened to Loarko, but it could be fixed. He whispered to [member="Einar Shadowmane"].
"So, what now?"

 

[Darth Timoris]

Prisons. They were always worth a visit. Sometimes you found someone worthy of releasing to do something specific. Other times you needed...test subjects. Those already sentenced to death were often glad of a chance of a reprieve - however slim the chances.

Today? It was a poor day. Half of the cells were empty and the ones with occupants were not showing any promise. Emaciated figures huddling in corners. She needed ones with a bit of back-bone.

She stopped at one cell and looked down through the grill underfoot. She recognised the occupant. [member="Iron Knight Loarko"]. "Looking to impress me?"

And then she realised he was facing another. This one was also Force Sensitive. How the guards missed this fact she had no idea. Or why they hadn't simply escaped. "And who is your friend?"

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]