Dragons and Chains

[Vrak Nashar]

The Slave Markets
[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

Vrak slowly wandered through the Slave Markets of Zygerria, his lips thin, his person surrounded by half a dozen Red Cloaks. They hovered around him, pushing peasants and lords alike away from him.

Some attempted to approach him to gain favor, others were ignorant of who he was. It didn't matter really, none of them would get through. The Red Guard had recently taken up a stronger initiative, with rumors of assassination attempts swirling threats against the Council were taken far more seriously. On a world like this? Filled with Slavers, smugglers, killers and all sorts it was difficult not to be out in the open.

Yet Vrak felt more than safe.

These people would not try to kill him, at least not anyone who actually came from Zygerria. There were few government in the galaxy that still tolerated slavery, and Zygerria's entire economy depended upon the trade. Thousands, if not millions of living beings were bought and sold on this planet every year. If one searched hard enough, and long enough, they could find anything. Vrak had even seen a Hutt here once.

Of course there were the more common species, Humans and Twi'leks mostly, but every now and again you found something a little bit more rare.

"There." He pointed the Guards to the right. "The Royal Markets."

It was generally reserved for guests of the Queen of Zygerria, only the best and most unique of races were sold there. Vrak had found half a dozen warriors that now served him withiin the Royal Markets, and although a few had attempted to turn on them, all of them had their uses.

He hoped to find something new there, something more...valuable than the usual fare.

 

[Blackthorne]

As a Komodi she was used to the glares and the leering, the scathing remarks and cutting insults. Her people were often considered a pestilence - while rare now, they could be found in just about any thriving trade port, and where Komodi went trouble often followed. Melfa had lived a life of many troubles, though usually they were not of her own doing. Today was a testament to this.

A broken down scrap ship had limped its last leg of hyperspace and broken down just outside of Zygerria space. In this sector you didn't call for help, you simply hoped and prayed that the real scum would simply pass you by. No such luck. Wrong place, definitely wrong time. Now here she was, bereft of her armor, limbs bound in heavy shackles, tail spikes bagged and tail tethered to her waste. Despite the fact that Melfa stood at least a good head taller than many of those escorting her along this slave parade she'd used her firebreath less than a day ago and had little left other than brute strength to her name.

Not even a broken down ship to sell for scraps. They'd taken that, too.

Slow and heavy footfalls and the sound of clinking chains heralded her arrival to the square of the Royal Markets. She stood in line behind other slavers, other slaves, a bounty of aliens and races she didn't recognize. The crowd was thick and chaotic and loud.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

The Royal Markets were always something of a treat. Almost always Vrak found himself surprised at one or two of the specimens that were brought up. The last time it had been a Hutt, not just a Huttling either, but one of the ancient ones. He'd not been sold as a laborer or anything of the sort of course, but rather had been vaunted for his inside knowledge of The Hutt Cartel. The auction had become heated, though Vrak hadn't bid a single cent.

He was more interested in the standard fare, something that he could use to further his own goals. Generally that amounted to a Twi'lek or gifted human, something that would blend with the others of the galaxy. His work was in intelligence, and generally speaking he-

Vrak's thoughts seemed to come to a grinding halt when he spotted a creature that stood nearly a head taller than every other being within the line. His lips thinned, his gaze narrowing for just a moment as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking at. The thing was like nothing he'd ever seen before, tall, claws, horns that seemed to make it appear almost...demonic. He frowned for a moment. It reminded him of a Massassi in a way, but twisted somehow.

Sith Magic perhaps?

He mused for a moment, then motioned to one of his guards. "Find out what that thing is."

The Guard nodded, then slowly ducked away from the Sith Lord. He moved quickly across the crowd, returning just a moment later to hand Vrak a small datapad. The Sith frowned, finding the information severely...lacking. A moment passed, and then the Auction began.

"Pay whatever necessary." He told the man at his side. "I want that...thing."

 

[Blackthorne]

She was lead up a set of stairs and walked out along a stage, slit pupils the color of molten fury quietly simmered beneath the sun of the market. The others around her sweat and wiped their brows while Melfa's skin relished the unforgiving rays. Once the bidding commenced there came a stranger hush over the crowd, giving way to those voices that would call through the swelter. Melfa took a deep breath and tried not to think of all the valuable things lost within her ship.

Adivak's forge and forging tools, gone.

The bidding for the Komodan warrior will start at 3m.

Three tonnes of beskar ore, ripe and perfect for forging, gone.

I have 4.75m.

One tonne of Mandalorian steel blanks ready for custom crafting, gone.

5.25m, do I have 5.5?

Three crates of mined gemstones, gone.

I have 6.1m.

Four sets of unused armor, gone.

7.25m! 7.25!

Five crates of dehydrated plains turkey, gone. Perhaps the most lamentable of the losses, she thought to herself with a glance upwards while her stomach growled. Melfa passed a forked tongue over her lips, tasting the air.

10m.

Melfa flexed her arms against their metal bonds. It was only durasteel.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

Komodan.

So that was the species. Vrak had never heard of them, though then again that was hardly surprising. His people had been stuck on Athiss for the last five thousand years, most of the customs and traditions of the galaxy at large were all but foreign to him. True enough he knew most species, but the galaxy was a big place, and something like this? Well they weren't all that common. As the amount went up and up Vrak frowned slightly, glancing at some of the other bidders.

Briefly he wondered if they knew what this creature was, or if they like him were simply curious. He frowned as someone bid twelve million credits. "I'll have none of this."

Vrak said to himself.

"Twenty million credits." There were some gasps. "Final bid."

The auctioneer jumped.

"SOLD!"

Twenty million was nothing to him, not when The Empire was ravaging dozens of worlds for their riches and plunder. The crowd seemed to shift slightly, as if they were slightly...abashed that he would destroy the spirit of the auction in such a way, but Vrak didn't care. He motioned towards the guards. "Bring it to my estate."

 

[Blackthorne]

She was trying to think of how she would explain this to Adivak. A man whom she held a great amount of debt and gratitude for, but nothing so close to ownership or slavery. He'd accepted her openly, willingly into his clan and gave her a job and purpose. He taught her how to mine for Beskar ore, how to refine it and forge it. He taught her how to make many great things out of that remarkable metal, and then he set her free to create as she saw fit.

Before the sundering of Mandalore Melfa was making a profit on her creations.

"Twenty million credits." There were some gasps. "Final bid."

The auctioneer jumped.

"SOLD!"

The Komodo blinked, gaze panning from the buildings around her and back to the crowd. She couldn't see who made the winning bid but at this point it hardly mattered. Twenty million credits was a lot. She'd never once considered herself worth so much, though Adivak would say she was invaluable. Her tail twitched within its restraints, making her handlers jump slightly. Despite their experience in handling the more questionable races of the galaxy, there was an added amount of relief to be handing her over to the guards that came to collect.

Melfa sniffed, third eyelids winking over her eyes as she watched the exchange, then turned to slowly make her descent off stage.



Thum.

Thum.

Thum.

Clink clink clink.

Thum.

Thum.

The slower, heavier footfalls followed the strides of the guards without preamble. Where they were taking her she hadn't a clue. What they intended to do with her was just as much a mystery. It was most often seen with Komodi sold into slavery that they were taken to the gladiator pits where they put on a good show for the spectators. For a while. They weren't creatures of other-wordly powers or abilities, but a Komodo's fight to survive was among the strongest around. Adaptable if nothing else.

Melfa could adapt, she told herself, but she still felt bad about the fate of Clan Ioren. Responsible, even. She had been one of their last hopes.

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

The estate that Vrak had here on Zygerria was paltry compared to those on Athiss or Dromund Fel, but it was still more than most people could ever want from a house.

The interior of the palace was ornate, decorated with gold, marble statues, and everything else one generally thought of when they pictured the homes of those of a higher class. Vrak of course had made himself comfortable in one of the foyers, sitting within a tall chair, a small table in front of him with a set of tea. He hadn't touched it just yet, not because of any sort of politeness of course, but simply because he wasn't yet thirsty.

Then he heard the loud clink of chains. "Ensure that it remains trapped."

He told one of the Red Guards that stood beside him. Within the hall before him the creature came into sight, flanked by two other Red Guards. Vrak watched it for a moment in silence, taking in the creatures stride and exactly how it carried itself. It seemed almost...beastly, yet with distinct humanoid qualities.

The Pureblood mused as the creature finally came to a stop in of him.

"What." He began. "Are you?"

 

[Blackthorne]

Out of all the homes Melfa had seen in the last several years this was certainly the largest, cleanest one. It also wasn't underground, nor in a colony ship, or anything more common of the vagrant society she hailed from. Slit pupils the color of irritated embers passed around her surroundings with some curiosity. There were lots of things decorating this theater that held value.

Komodi may not have been heralded as the most intelligent creatures of the galaxy but they sure as feth knew trade value.

A blink at the man's words, Melfa shifted her gaze towards him. So this was the man who paid twenty million credits for her? Twenty million credits could have saved all of Clan Ioren and rebuilt their home. A scowl came to her face at this thought. She'd been improperly valued.

"Am Komodo," she replied, voice rough like the volcanic stone presently inundating Ioren mines, "what you?"

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

He watched the creature for a moment. A part of him was rather surprised that it could speak. It's appearance was humanoid enough, but basic didn't really fit in everyones mouth as well as one might think. In some way the Komodo reminded him of a Wookiee, though quite a bit more lizard like. For a second the Pureblood considered not responding.

"I am a Pureblood." He told it simply. "Those of divine right."

That was how he had always introduced his species, it was the truth after all. They alone held the true power of the darkside, they alone held the understanding of the galaxies twist and turns. Others would have denied this, the Jedi did, but they were of little consequence. "Where do you come from?"

He continued his questions continued.

Vrak wanted to know more.

He wanted to know what his investment would get him, there had to be some return.

 

[Blackthorne]

This answer did not seem to help.

Melfa's scowl deepened in thought on how best to answer the next question posed. With a shift of weight and a flex of claws the bonds of her limbs clinked and clanked. Was he asking where she came from or where Komodi came from? She didn't really know where Komodi came from, truth be told. The histories of their people were fading day by day, retold and shared only by the Eldars. Melfa had never met an Eldar in her life and her own colony had been quite small.

"Melfa come from Mandalore," she settled on this rather simple answer, "Clan Ioren."

A beat, Melfa scented the air with her tongue and gave the man a slow look over. She may have been sizing him up, "What Pureblood?"

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

He frowned.

Mandalore? No. That couldn't be right.

The only species that came from that world had gone extinct thousands of years go. There was no way this...Komodo race was from Mandalore, not natively anyway. The culture had a way of taking in stragglers however, and that was likely what this one was. He narrowed his gaze.

"No." He answered simply. "Where do you come from."

Vrak ignored her question. "Your species."

Slowly the Pureblood leaned back within his chair.

"Mandalore is your home, yes?" That much was obvious. "Where did your kind originate?"

 

[Blackthorne]

Oh, damn. Back with the tough questions again.

The Komodo narrowed her eyes, head tilting to one side, the hulking woman gave a shrug to the chorus of rattling chains.

"Not know," there, that was simple, "Komodi vagrant, travel in caravans always. Only Eldars know where Komodi from. Melfa not Eldar."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

Vrak was almost entirely sure that this creature was an idiot. This of course explained why it fit in so well with the Mandalorians. The brutes weren't exactly known for their intelligence and it would make sense that this beast would fit in with them.

Of course, it's explanation of 'traveler' also made sense. "Where are your Elders?"

Was the entire species scattered? It seemed likely if this one was with the Mandalorians. He frowned for a moment, briefly thinking of his thin alliance with the Mand'alor. It was unlikely that one errant slave would ruin the relationship, but Vrak would have to ensure word of this creature didn't reach her homeland.

"And what can you do?" The Questions continued. "What are your...talents?"

He needed to know after all, if she was going to be useful.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Never seen Eldar."

Melfa had not been part of the last great commune - no, she had been enslaved to mine Obsidian for the Skarsovi witches of Wayland. There was a pattern forming here but it was lost on her. Survival was all that really mattered ever since the last of her caravan fell to disease. She supposed the Ioren Clan was her new caravan, in a way. Strange how it kept marching to the forefront of her thoughts.

"Only one Eldar left, Melfa remember from life in caravan...." a low, guttural sort of rumbling sounded, traveling from deep within her chest up into her throat. It was not a pleasant sound. "Rrrrrrrrravegar Utek," the Komodi flicked her tongue. Her memory wasn't so bad after all, but it certainly wasn't a name she had spoken in quite a long time.

"Melfa warrior for Warlord Alor Balac Kotyc'ade, da Wayland. Melfa mine black rock from mountains for Wishes. Now Melfa mine beska. Make great weapons and metal skin for fleshy hoomans, ha."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

Ah. Now there was something.

Beskar.

It was valuable, and one of the few secrets that the Mandalorians had managed to keep for the last few millenia. Their mysterious metallic ore wasn't something that just anyone could create or forge. They had crafted it for centuries and it had served them well. Mandalorian Iron was one of the reasons why the culture had been able to stand against both Jedi and Sith. Their armor and weapons allowed them to survive combat with lightsabers.

In other words, he had found a use for this thing. "You are able to craft Beskar?"

The Pureblood slowly leaned forward with interest. This was something he could take advantage of. His questions on the elders of her species, where they came from, was momentarily forgotten. Twenty Million credits may well be a small price to pay for the crafting of Mandalorian Iron.

Especially if this thing cooperated.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Melfa craft beska, yih."

She was aware the metal ore was quite valuable, hence the reason Adivak had agreed to sell many of his beloved pieces. The pricetag on them had been quite high. He'd given her the forge and the raw ore to craft more things on her journey. Make as much as you can as quickly as you can, Melfa, he'd said to her, the Clan needs help and we're counting on you.

"Brick taken from Melfa," she added, "much supply for craft in Brick."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

He frowned, mostly because he had no idea what 'brick' was.

Vrak let out a sigh, realizing that communicating with this creature would be far more difficult than he would hope for it to be. For a moment the Pureblood simply mused on what it could mean, perhaps raw ore? Perhaps it's tools? He frowned.

"Explain." He coaxed it.

The Pureblood needed to get a straight word from this creature, he needed to understand so he could actually make this worthwhile.

 

[Blackthorne]

She shifted again, metal chains responding. There came a resounding CHINK as she flexed her broad shoulders. Melfa's arms at her back suddenly did not feel so restricted. The Komodo reached up to itch absently at her head, completely unaware she'd snapped her bonds.

"Mmmmmrrrrr..." another deep rumble, "Brick is...ship," she gestured upwards, the dangling chain whacking her in the side of the head. She eyed it, realized her folly, then quickly put her hand behind her back again. Whoops.

"Ship break in hyperspace, Melfa stranded while fix Brick. Slavers take Brick when find Melfa."

 

[Vrak Nashar]

[member="Melfa Exmoore"]

Vrak visibly tensed for a moment, one hand dropping to the lightsaber at his side just in case the creature tried to move.

Melfa was bigger than him, both in height and weight, but he had the force. It was a small comfort in truth, the thing could rush him quickly and try to take his head off in one single swipe. Lips thinned for a moment at the thought, and his other hand slowly curled. The force began to ebb through him, slowly curling at his core just in case.

"I see." He finally said, preparing himself for if the creature decided to strike.

Technically he owned this creature already, but a cooperative slave was always far more useful than one who resisted. He could torture and break it, but maybe there was another way.

"If I return this ship to you." An easy enough task. "A debt would be created."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement.

 

[Blackthorne]

A blink, the Komodo glanced curiously at the man's movements. Despite being brokenly fluent in nearly a dozen trade tongues, Melfa was rather bereft of the ability to read body language. Well, aside from the movement of an opponent on the battlefield. His tenseness was lost on her and she also did not pick up on his coaxing of the Force. Such magical things were a mystery.

She thought on his words for a moment, his notation of a debt being owed seeming strange in this particular scenario.

"Melfa cannae craft beska without supply."

Another shrug, she lifted a leg to scratch clawed toes at an itch on the opposite, straining at the bonds to reach.

CHINK.