Private Conscripted Cargo

[Xurux Jeshal]

Xurux finally had a lucky break, his last batch of slaves had sold out quickly and for good prices, of course, silently raiding a tiny village of Twi’lek provided a lot of very in-demand goods. Both living and nonliving. So he made quite a bit of credits on them, both for work and…… entertainment. Regardless it didn’t much matter, now he only needed to purchase a number of new collars for containing future prey.

He placed the order with a local scrapper, who told him that it would be complete the following day. So he had an evening to kill. He was no alcoholic, but he was no lightweight either. So he figured a few shots of vodka couldn’t hurt. So it was time to visit a bar of some kind. He asked around and found out where to find one.

So finding it and then placing his order with the barkeep, he took his first shot of the powerful brew.

Alana Calloway

 

[Alana Calloway]

Slumped against the top of the bar, Alana had reached her drink limit three glasses ago, but she stopped caring at least five glasses before that. Her frontier hat now served as a makeshift pillow, the gunslinger laid slumped against the bar top, gurgling drunkenly into her hat, as she fumbled through her pockets for a death stick.

Her most recent job had been a bust, the bounty she caught was apparently some convoluted prank, and her 'buyer' had skimped out on paying her in full. As such, she came very close to her job being a wash, so being the intelligent person she was, she traded in the few credits she got from her work into drinking down her sorrows. Unable to find her death sticks, she slowly raises her head, a large red mark marked where she had laid her head for the last few hours, though through half open eyes she could make out a figure before her, and it wasn't the bartender. She sat up a bit straighter, brow furrowing as she tried to figure out who this stranger was. Unfortunatly for Alana, it was then that the bartender was reminded of her existence, looking at her expectantly for the unpaid tab. Mumbling drunken words to herself, she fished out the payment and placed it down, though she spent several moments counting the credits over to ensure she didn't pay too much.

After losing count for the fifth time, she gave up, finding a death stick in her coat pocket, she now fixated on slipping it between her lips and puffing away on it, her mind still struggling to identify the stranger that had just walked in.

Xurux Jeshal

 

[Xurux Jeshal]

A druggy seemed to be one of only a few customers there. And probably the only one there worth looking at. Did he have any collars left? A couple, but he could only use one of the three force-suppressing collars he kept on hand, ever since he'd caught both a jedi and a sith he knew better than to leave the force at their disposal, but force users were rare, so these collars rarely got used. So what was the harm in using one now, even if it did end up having a useless function.

So he decided, first slave in the new batch. After all, who cared about a junkie?

So he got himself a few more shots of vodka and waited for the woman to leave the building, once she had he'd follow her out into the dimming light. Maybe if she caught him he'd strike up a conversation to sell the story before hitting her with one of his stun bolts. If not, he'd simply stun her and pull her aside before clicking the collar shut around her neck, which would automatically adjust itself to hug her neck snugly.

But that was only the beginning of the adventure, he had to confiscate her weapons, and by the looks of it she had some serious ones, which meant she knew how to use them. A dangerous catch.

He bound her wrists and carried her back to his ship, maybe he'd sell her tomorrow. So he simply set her in one of the storage compartments, making sure to link her collar to one of the many anchoring chains that lined the walls of the compartment. You'd probably recover yourself by this time, and since I hadn't gagged you, you'd be able to speak or protest as verbally as you'd like.