Every Dog Has His Day.

[Mirvak]

[member="Darth Metus"]

"Why'd I even bother with this thing?"

This aging slaver was getting too old for this kind of 'product.' He swore to himself that he'd limit himself to the less 'physically capable' species after a close encounter with an angry wookie that got out of his holding cell. At first there was the potential to sell this monstrosity, this killer of such a rare species, to a Hutt of some sort. But when the 'product' overheard this, it made the slaver a certain promise that it would do his best to uphold to him if he went along with it. Usually unphased by threats from those in captivity with no future of being free, the slaver was perturbed by this greatly, for whatever reason.

He was closing into the space port over Ryloth soon, in a short queue to dock. As he scrolled through his manifest on his holopad, he found himself repeatedly scrolling to that one certain product and mulling his decisions over. "I gotta get rid of this thing."

He looked at the price. "10,000 credits?" He thought. "Anyone will take one look at this thing and wager he's not worth more than 2,000 for how dangerous he is." He adjusted the price down to 2k credits and updated the product's sale profile. After staring at it for a little longer, he reconsidered, and lowered it to a very generous 1 grand. "If he's not gone after this, I'm spacing him. Don't care how much I got him for."

The slaver pressed a button on the intercom and leaned in as he observed his ship gently self-navigating into the docking bays of the space station,"X-55, lemme get 50 general servants, 50 hard labor, 20 pleasure products out in the bay ready for processing. Oh, and, uh... Put 'Nasty' in the lot with the hard labor slaves." He lifted his finger off the button and leaned back into his chair. There was a pause, then a robotic voice replied,"Affirmative, captain. Interrogative, is it wise to put that Worgian with the hard labor group? My manifest records indicate he is a--" The captain quickly leaned forward and pressed down on the intercom button again, cutting the droid off,"Just do as I say, X-55. Make sure his shock collar is operational, put a muzzle on him, bind his hands, chain his legs, and get a couple chokers on him. He'll be a hard sell, but I've done worse than him!" The droid immediately replied,"Yes, captain."

The captain hummed to himself as he took a sip from his mug, kicking his feet up as the ship entered its final docking procedure to the Rylothian space station. "These rich, fruity Confederate types won't know the difference anyhow."


...

The slaver registered himself a spot to 'set up shop' on the main floor of the space station. He quite liked the security of a civilized space station, less chance for his merchandise to escape as well. Straightening out his tunic, he watched as some affluent looking Twi'leks accessed the portable holoconsoles that his droids had set up in front of his venue. He smirked to himself as he saw them scroll through some of the 'pleasure' models. "Easy money." He moved to sit at a desk placed between the two roles of consoles. As he was just settling into the chair he heard a pained bark and followed by an angered roar behind the venue. Some of the Twi'leks looked up at the slaver in a startled manner. He smiled and nodded at them, gritting his teeth as he feigned nonchalantly leaning back into his chair. He pulled his handheld communicator off his belt and angrily whispered hoarsely threw it,"X-55, I told you about the damn muzzle!"

...

Back behind the venue, in the dark and gloomy holding area for the slaves being sold, laid an arrangement of crates with shielded door barriers and several slots open on either side. There was a large group of slaves of various races and sexes already outside their crates and ready to be taken out into the venue, surrounded by a small security detachment. At the end of the row of crates there laid an especially thick and large crate that was surrounded by several security droids with stun batons and shock lances. One droid with a white line down the middle of its head pointed to the crate. "Security units, interrogative, ready to proceed with transportation of product: Nasty?" They all blurted out at once,"Affirmative." X-55 dropped its hand and nodded,"Proceed."

A loud growl erupted from the darkness that permeated behind the red shield of the crate. The hulking mass of Mirvak, wearing only the rags his master allowed him, appeared before the droids. He was bound at his hands, his feet in chains, his shock collar was blinking actively, but there was no muzzle to be found. X-55 raised his hand as the droids readied their shock lances to stab through the slots on either side of the crate. "Halt! Product: Nasty, is not muzzled. Cannot be processed to holding area until it is muzzled."

A droid walked up with a large leather muzzle, and the hair on the back of Mirvak's head and neck stood on end as he growled lowly, snarling as he spoke in a deep rumbling voice,"Lose your hand if you try that, machine." He backed away into the darkness of the crate as he finished saying this. X-55 looked to the other droids surrounding the crate and lowered his hand again,"Prosecute!"

The lances were slotted into the sides of the crate, and Mirvak's body was lit up in the darkness as blue and white arcs of light struck across his body. He let out a dry, pained bark, as his body shook violently and he fell to his knees, absorbing the shock damage as his body convulsed. He laid his head down to the floor but was very much still conscious, his arms supporting his weight as they tried in vain to pick himself up. X-55 looked down to the holopad in its hand, and with one mechanical digit it accessed Mirvak's shock collar and upped the percentage to 75 percent. The convulsing Mirvak roared in great pain and anger, raising his head, scowling so hard into X-55 he could have burned a hole in its processor. The other slaves covered their ears as the monstrosity roared. The roar was shorlty cut off by another burst of electricity that halted his lungs.

Mirvak was in so much pain he could no longer make a sound, his maw agape as he focused all his hatred on X-55, which stood there holding the device of his pain. As X-55 reached down to up the percentage again, its torso began to creak and shutter. The droid's head turned off to one side erratically, then its neck bent down at a 90 degree angle. Its chassis was crushed inward as its voice module began to call out strangely,"Prosecute-Prosecute-Prosecute-Prosekeeeeeeeuuuoooowooooo--" its head completely twisted off and fell to the ground with a clang. Its arms fell to its side and the droid crumpled inward. Mirvak lowered his head and passed out from the pain, his amateur force rage having unknowingly 'pinged' himself to other force sensitives in the area.

The droids continued to shock for a moment more, then one of them, X-54, called out,"Cease, product is incapacitated." The droids retracted their shock lances and lowered the shield on the crate. The portable communicator lit up on X-55's hip, the slaver captain whispering angrily,"X-55, I told you about the damn muzzle!" As two droids moved in to secure the muzzle over Mirvak's face, X-54 plucked the communicator from the destroyed X-55 and spoke into it. "Captain, X-55 suffered critical systems failure. This is X-54, taking command, Product: Nasty, is muzzled and ready for sell." There was a pause, then the captain replied,"All the money I put into you damn things and you still manage to blow your circuits for no reason! Well, get him in line with the other products and get him ready to be sold. I want him bumped up on the sales queue and I want him marked as a 'special deal.' Now!" The droid obediently responded,"Affirmative, captain."

Mirvak was moved into the lot with the rest of the hard labor servants, two droids holding staffs with tight ropes around his neck on either side of him. He panted hard into his muzzle, sitting on his knees as his eyes fluttered and his head lolled from side to side.

Outside, the captain propped his head up by his hands on his desk and rubbed his temples. He had no idea that he was about to get rid of Mirvak faster than any of the Worgian's previous masters ever had.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Change had come to Ryloth.

In the eons past, the world had been a cesspool. Spice. Sex. Slavery - the world was practically a backwater variant of Nar Shaddaa. However. When the modern Confederacy set foot on the forgotten planet, countless chains were broken. This congregation of worlds differed from its ancient predecessor in but a single regard - the practice of slavery was seen as abhorrent in their eyes. Barbaric. Pathetic. Unworthy of any place within their budding nation. And thus were slavers condemned by the sword.

And thus was Ryloth freed.

Yet, there would always be those who were emboldened in the face of fresh changes. Some would look at the "meager" size of the new Confederacy and think themselves above the rule of their law. One such creature was the one who dared hold [member="Mirvak"] under lock and key. This brazen sod saw fit to slither into the underbelly of Ryloth and present his wares as if nothing had changed at all. And, in this particular corner of the planet, he was getting away with it. For this place...This was but the shadow cast by a bright light shining upon a larger problem - a haven for escaping roaches.

But even the darkness could not hide them forever.

This day, the Vicelord himself walked among the filth. He did not bring a battalion of battle droids. He did not bring a cadre of the Mandragora. Instead, he had only brought the saber which hung from his waist. His face and features were obscured by the hood pulled over his visage. At a glance, he was but a typical, seedy customer browsing the wares that the slavers and spicers had to offer. With a single hand in his pocket, the Sith wandered the byways, casting his sulfuric gaze upon the filth...until he felt it.

Pure. Unbridled. Wrath.

Turning, pure curiosity bore Darth Metus into the direction of the captain's stall, where he bore witness to the distressed man. "What're you selling?" came his inquiry. But he did not wait for an honest answer. A mere wave of his offhand produced more results than a true conversation ever would - for a trick of the mind had been played upon the Captain. "By the gods man, I've got this mongrel inside. I've been trying to sell him all kriffin day. I'll give you a fair price, hell, I'll give you a cheap price. I just need him off my hands!"

After the confession, the Captain's eyes widened as if to question whether he had actually said this or not.

"Truly? Well, what are you waiting for? Take me to this mongrel of yours."

And, in but a few moments' time, the Sith would first lay eyes upon the shattered Worgian.

[member="Mirvak"]

 

[Mirvak]

The captain led the disguised Darth to the back where the slaves were being held. Coughing and the echoes of crying and moaning could be heard, as the captain shoved a security droid aside. They made their way to the back, where the beast was being held. At his knees, Mirvak's head was lowered as he panted into his muzzle, still weakened by the shock treatment he had just received. Even kneeling, the beast's eyes were level with the Darth's. The captain, under the sway of the Sith lord, motioned to Mirvak with great enthusiasm,"Here he-- it is! Nasty, we call him! Wake up!" He grabbed the muzzle of the beast and shook it, and this immediately enraged the weakened Worgian.

The beast opened its yellow eyes suddenly, his ears flattening to either side of his head as moved its head to snap at the captain in vain. The two droids with the beast's collars on staffs leaned back and pulled hard, giving Mirvak a sudden choke. The beast reared its head back with the sudden yank from the droids, as two more approached from behind with shock lances, ready to give him another jolt if need be. The beast was on edge, watching the captain intently like a predator at the zoo watches a mocking patron. The slaver captain gave a nervous chuckle that he tried to play off as confident,"Heh, heh, heh... Yeah.. Well, look at him, he's a mons-- I mean, he's massive! Forget buying a work droid, just feed this thing and you can put him in the mines, he'll be at it for days!" Mirvak's gaze darted to the Darth as the captain spoke to him. The beast quirked its head to the side and snarled viciously under the muzzle, before he received a set of shocks from the lances behind him and winced. When he recovered from the shock his gaze returned to the Darth.

The captain looked slowly from Mirvak to the Darth,"Sooooooo... 1000. It's a steal for what I got him for! Whaddya say?"

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Magnificent.

The Worgian reminded Darth Metus of another. A warrior that commanded his respect - and disgust as of late. The reigning Mand'alor himself, Ra Vizsla, appeared as a graying man to most. Yet, when the situation demanded, he could turn. His body would engorge into a mass of fur, fangs, and ferocity. And, while the Worgian was clearly different than the Mand'alor, the similarity was yet there. Strength. Brutality. The destructive potential was enormous.

"He's massive alright." conceded the Sith, giving the Captain a slight nod. "And I bet, once he's been fed, he'll be more than worth the price." His sulfuric gaze met the eyes of the Worgian. Mischief colored his expression. Discreetly, yet intentionally, the Sith closed his hand into a fist. Power was beckoned into the room - focusing on the Worgian. [member="Mirvak"] would easily tell from whom this sudden Darkness came.

From whom his sudden Liberation came.

Crick. Crack. The chains buckled and gave way. The lances bent at the tip. The muzzle slipped casually off of the beast's face. "But...I say that slavery is illegal on my planet."

His next words were meant for the Worgian.

"What do you say?"

 

[Mirvak]

Mirvak's intense predatory gaze watched the Darth, feeling the power emanating from him and focusing on himself. It was not unlike what the Worgian felt when he was brought down to his basest levels in his states of rage. But at the same time, it was completely different. It was a more refined, directed, focused energy. Despite its subtleties, Mirvak had the innate sense that this was just a drop in the water. But there was no mistake, the source of this power was from the same pool as Mirvak's own underdeveloped abilities.

But Mirvak is no philosopher. As the chains began to twist and break, and his muzzle loosened around his face, he sighted in on the one prey that had evaded him his whole life.

Freedom.

The slaver stammered at [member="Darth Metus"],"Wh-What do you mean?" He looked quickly between the Sith and the Worgian as the former spoke to the latter. As the chains began the break themselves, the slaver captain reached down for his holstered blaster,"Hey--Hey! HEY!" He pulled the blaster from its leather holster and leveled it at the Darth. Mirvak leaped into action, on his feet in an instant as he swiped his massive claws at the slaver's hand. The blaster clattered to the ground with a pained scream from the captain.

Blood. A human's. Copper.

He gripped his bleeding hand, looking up just in time for Mirvak to snatch him up by the neck with one hand and raise him off his feet like a doll. Mirvak's grip tightened around the man's neck, growling as the captain sputtered out,"Ghhhggh! Kill.. this.. thing!" Mirvak turned his head to see a detachment of three droids with blaster rifles to his right, bringing their blasters to bare on the slave. The Worgian grabbed the slaver's leg with his free hand and raised him over his head, tossing him into the droids and sending them all to the floor.

Revenge.

Mirvak snarled, stomping over towards the slaver to finish the job. A horde of droids descended upon him, all departing from their stations around the slaves to take Mirvak down. What happened next was a flurry of claws, the thrusting of shock lances, and the clubbing of batons. It was truly something to behold, this beast holding his own against a platoon of droids armed with nasty shock weaponry.

Pain.

The Worgian torn the droids limb from limb, drove his claws through their bodies, broke them in two. The droids' simple tactical programming kicked in, deducing that this strategy would not work. Within a few moments, the horde around him jumped onto his back, arms, legs, and pulled him down by the sheer weight of them all. A writhing pile of cheap metal atop a roaring monster. Still weakened by the massive beating from earlier, Mirvak struggled to bring himself up. A chill ran up Mirvak's spine, his senses warning him as he heard the sound of a blaster being charged *Chhzzt. Vweep!* He looked up to see a single droid shouldering a blaster rifle, aiming it directly at Mirvak's head.

DEFEAT. HUMILIATION. FAILURE.

Mirvak's eyes became like that of a dead man, cold and lifeless, his pupils contracting as he roared loudly. The blaster weapon crumpled in the droid's hand, and the Worgian slowly stood up. But it was not him raising the droids on his body up with him, rather they were being lifted by an unseen force. The slave's arms quivered as he raised them to shoulder level, panting heavily as the droids flailed around in the air. Silence hung in the air for a glorious moment. Only the whirring of the many droids' servos permeated the room, like little mechanical whispers, as all the slaves marveled in fear at this sight. The captain, trying to crawl away, stopped to look up in awe.

Mirvak's arms began to quake, as if he was lifting all these droids over his head himself. Like a weight lifter pushing himself to a limit he had never reached before, Mirvak let out a pained, determined growl in his throat punctuated by a sudden roar as he tightened his fists. And just like that, all the droids suspended in the air were shredded, crumpled, crushed, ripped in two, twisted beyond repair. Mirvak released his fists, and the scrap heap that was once several thousand credits worth of security droids crashed to the ground around him.

Panting, Mirvak took a moment to look around him to inspect that all the droids were decommissioned. Then his gaze suddenly met the captain's, who gasped and turned to run, but was only met with a corner of the dank room. The slave made cold, calculated steps to the captain, as the he began to stammer and plead. "H-heyyyy! Nasty, buddy! Remember that time I gave you that bantha rations? Come on, you know I was looking out for you! Listen, all the droids are dead, you're free! You're free, you don't need to bother with this old scumbag! Just let me go, alright?!" Mirvak closed to within arm's reached of him as the captain looked around in a panicked fashion. Prey cornered by the beast, he looked for an exit that wasn't there. "I was just doing my buddy a favor! You can't fault me for that! A man's gotta run his businezhkkGLK!" The Worgian swiped his claws up suddenly, cutting the slaver off. He clung to his neck with both his hands, his eyes bugging out as his fingers could not dam the flood pouring outward from the gashes left by Mirvak.

The cold beast, still in a state of sorts, looked the captain in the eyes as he slumped against the wall and fell to the floor. He quirked his head to the side slowly as he watched the pathetic death of the slaver and growled quietly,"Pitiful worm." He remained there, watching the slaver bleed out, completely dead to the rest of the world. The storm swelling within him was dying down, but it would remain. Perhaps, it would seem to attuned force sensitives like Darth Metus, the storm was always there. Just beneath the surface.

 

[Malok]

Through Victory, my chains are Broken.

As one did the shattered bonds fall. The meager, manmade attempts to keep the Worgian bound were robbed in but an instant. Crushed. Mangled. They clattered upon the floor of the beast's cell. And, in that instant, the whole of the room had become a prison - a room within which they were all trapped with [member="Mirvak"]. And yet, the Sith Lord knew no fear. He could feel the power roiling within the Worgian: a boiling pot of wrath spilling over at the moment of his liberation. And yet, he was not afraid.

He was enthralled.

The beast was cut from a different cloth than what he was accustomed. He was used to the most primal expressions of emotion, yes. He was exposed, on the regular, to the unrefined at the hands of his pupils. But this...this was something extraordinary. All that Darth Metus could do was watch as the Worgian ripped asunder the automatons which stood against him. All he could do was stand before the inferno as - even in an instant of disadvantage - the Worgian would not be denied.

When it was all said and done, the droids were as the bonds within the cell. Crushed. Mangled. And with a single swipe of his monstrous hand did Mirvak cement his liberation. His claws dipped into the flesh of their victim, robbing from him the gift of life. Crimson sprayed and flowed free - another soul was cast into the Manda. And with his demise came silence.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

"A victory, well earned." he began, his tone even. "But...if we tarry here, we will draw undue attention."

The sounds of droid decimation tended not to go unnoticed on Ryloth these days.

"Before you lies a choice. You are Free - no chains bind you to anyone or anything. You can go your way, in peace. Or."

Darth Metus took a bold step forward. The quiet thunder within the Worgian yet rumbled. The Sith was drawn - like a moth to an open flame. "You can follow me. And I will show you that this -" he motioned to the ruined bodies around them. "-is miniscule compared to what you are capable of."

[member="Mirvak"]

 

[Mirvak]

The Worgian instinctively began to snarl and turned his head in an instant to look at [member="Darth Metus"]. But he quieted as he listened to what he had to say. He considered what Metus was offering, but Mirvak was no fool. He knew the exchange of this power would come with a price. He would be doing the bidding of this man, for how long he didn't know. Was he really ready to sell off his life long taste of true freedom, bowing to no man, in exchange for this mysterious power that he could never seem to fully grasp or control?

"If he will exploit me for his own ends, so will I to him." Thought the freed slave. In that quick moment, he decided that he would deign himself to be under the tutelage of this mysterious breaker of chains, if only to meet his own desires for power. Already there hatched a plan to betray when all the secrets had been learned, but for now, the wolf suppressed it. He turned to face the Darth.

"If what you speak is true, I will follow you."

And with that, the beast had acquired yet another master.

 

[Malok]

L A T E R​

For the most part, the next several minutes were spent in relative quiet. This, of course, was due only to the nature of their surroundings. Where the two were located at present - in the midst of a slaver hovel - required that the move quickly and efficiently to avoid detection from the local authorities. And, while it would have been elementary for Darth Metus to flaunt his rank to the local enforcement, he opted to take a different route. To this end did he and the Worgian navigate the shadowed walkways and ducked into narrow alleyways - all culminating with their arrival just outside the city walls.

The Sith stepped over to an adjacent stall, shelling out a few credits to the Twi'lek attendant. This transaction prompted her to indicate a pair of speeders that were parked a few feet behind him. Whether or not they belonged to anyone else was of no consequence at this point, and Darth Metus motioned for Mirvak to claim either of the two. I assume you know how to ride one?" he began. "If not, hop on back." The Sith wasted no time in swinging his leg over his selection and bringing the engine to life. If Mirvak was able to pilot his own, he would lead the way out into the wilderness promptly. If not, then Darth Metus would be extra careful in his attempts not to joustle his newfound apprentice along the way.

Where are we going? Would have been the question that anyone would pose in this situation. Followed swiftly by Who are you? And thus, as they raced through the desolate landscape, the Sith preemptively answered both of these concerns. "I have a fortress not too far from here." he began, briefly craning his head to check on the Worgian. "And my name is Darth Metus. What am I to call you?"

[member="Mirvak"]