Familiar Shackles

[Joza Perl]

In the hall leading to Kossak’s throne room of sorts, a trio of men waited anxiously to see the Hutt. They were petty criminals—spice dealers or perhaps small time smugglers, or even hired muscle. But they were here because they owed the Hutt money. Unfortunately for them, their deadline had passed and they didn’t have nearly enough credits to placate Kossak for another month or so. No, time was running out and they had to do something quick.

The three men tried to come up with a solution the previous night, which amounted to drowning their poor fortune in ale and hoping that the Hutt would prove merciful. On the cusp of accepting their new lives as slaves or servants, one of them spotted a head of red hair from across the bar. Seemingly distracted, they’d somehow managed to drug the Zeltron’s drink without her noticing.

“Kossak the Hutt will see you now.” A male Gammorean lumbered towards them, clearly some sort of guard. He leered at the trio and the young woman they had in tow for a moment before moving out of the way, unblocking the path to their “benevolent” friend. One of the men tugged on the chain connected to a collar around the woman’s neck, and the group set off towards the crime lord.

“My Lord Kossak,” One of the men began, likely the most well-spoken of the three. “Our deepest apologies for being a bit late with your credits. However, I believe our debt can be settled with this gift we’ve brought you…” Tilting his head back, he glared at the other two as if they’d missed their cure. With a hurried motion, one of them pushed the Zeltron forward. Chained at the wrists and neck, she wore naught but a plain white slip of a dress.

“Does she please you, My Lord?”

[member="Kossak the Hutt"]

 

[Kossak the Hutt]

The humble palace that clan Hestilic had erected on Nal Hutta towered above the nearby plains. Kossak had made sure to expand upon it, having another area or two included as well as making sure the interior design was kept up to date. The place was anything but humble. It practically drowned in extravagance, expensive banners, carpets, statues, all over to be found. Anyone who stepped inside would know that here lived a wealthy Hutt, a powerful Hutt.

The Gammorrean guards knew their job and did it well. The beasts were strong and loyal. Their continued loyalty was guaranteed through the generosity of Kossak the Hutt, who made sure to reward them appropriately. Same with anyone in his service. There was no doubt that between doing his bidding and crossing him, one was far more favourable. While generous and charitable in his own mind, he was known for his cruelty. One of the rooms he had expanded the palace with was, after all, a torture chamber.

Speaking of those who had earned Kossak’s disfavour… Three petty criminals entered with the company of a lovely Zeltron woman in chains. The criminals had taken jobs for Kossak. The Hutt in his generosity had permitted them to take payment in advance, take loans. As it often did, things got complicated. While the three were technically free they were enslaved through their debt, a thing that Kossak always seemed to find reasons to expand before giving them time to repay it.

They were behind on payment. The worst kind of credits, the kind the Hutt absolutely hated, was the kind owed but never received. They were dead men walking. Their future was uncertain only because Kossak had not yet decided whether he wanted to enslave them and send them to a life of hard labour in mines or play with them in the torture chamber.

“Wa kaae?!” (a little?) his deep, booming voice resonated through the room. When the Hutt spoke everything else seized to move, all fell silent. The hulk of flesh and fat held all power here.Some might say his brand of justice was arbitrary, but never to his face. “Alay doth alay. Banieie doth banieie.” (Late is late. Dead is dead). The great Hutt was not pleased. But he saw they had brought him a gift, and so allowed them to keep their tongues long enough to speak.

They made their proposal. Their debt settled for the pretty Zeltron. Kossak eyed her with great care and interest, inspecting every part of her. He considered, long. He had a weakness for pretty humanoid things. And this one appeared to be a particularly fine specimen. After the long pause, the large Hutt gave a chuckle. Following shortly thereafter was a loud, booming laughter that probably managed to create just about as much relief as terror in the three smugglers.

Jee baplamka mee sanog. Ua kolka. Naa mo bu wah chee dah heee duba” (I accept your gift. She pleases. Call off the bounty on these three). Relief would spread across their faces but it would not last long. Kossak continued in Huttese, the only tongue he would speak within these halls: “Your debt is not settled. You will still pay me what you owe. Your gift buys you time, and my mercy.” his words were harsh, but fair in his mind. A business transaction had been made, he expected to be paid in full. He was prepared to kill them all now. No excuses would do. The only thing that kept them alive was the gift they brought him.

“And I will keep you” a meaty finger pointed to the smallest of the three “as insurance” after the words had left his mouth, two Gamorrean guards grabbed him and carried him off into the distance, away from his two companions, all the while screaming protests and trying to wrestle free. He was unsuccessful. This was to ensure they didn’t simply try to escape from his wrath. “Your bounty is removed. You have more time. Now go. Make me money” with this the two were dismissed. Kossak’s terms were non-negotiable. He didn't need to make threats about what he would do with their friend if they did not deliver. They knew.

“What is your name, pretty one?” Kossak asked the Zeltron, finally turning his attention to the pink lady in the white dress that was left behind after the three others got dragged out one way or another. A moment later a tall and skinny Quarren said in Basic, translating what his master had said: “The Illustrious and magnanimous Kossak the Hutt asks the slave, what is her name?” The Quarren was acting as Majordomo for Kossak. The aquatic humanoid with its distinct squid-like head and four tentacles hanging down from their face was not a common sight around these parts. The Quarren was of the sub-species that had sharp claws on their fingers instead of suction cups. He wore a robe that was a mix of black and deep purple, the quality of the robe indicating at his status at Kossak's court.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Joza Perl]

Unfortunately, this was not the Zeltron’s first experience with slavery. She’d been purchased previously by a Sith Inquisitor she had a complicated history with, leaving her with both physical and mental scars and leading her down a darker path. After reaching a tipping point, she’d begun to heal and find her way again—and now, she’d found herself in the clutches of a Hutt Lord. Not physically yet—but Joza had a feeling that it would be too soon before she felt the grasp of the slimy creature’s body.

She listened to the conversation intently, not focusing on the words but the inflections and intonation of Kossak’s speech, trying to discern what exactly was happening as she didn’t understand Huttese. Her senses extended outwards briefly, before withdrawing suddenly. The men who had captured her did not know that she was a trained Force sensitive, as evidenced by the lack of Force suppression collar…for now. Hopefully no one in this room would be able to identify her as such, and with that thought she began to camouflage her own sensitivity.

Thank goodness for her own natural empathetic abilities, courtesy of her Zeltron blood.

Green irises followed the smallest of the men as he was dragged off to who knows where, likely a cell or torture chamber of some sort. If there was one thing she’d learned about those who owned slaves, it was that the often delighted in torture. Nothing pleased them more than lording their power of the beaten and repressed, and this thought had only been enforced from the stories of the ex-slaves that had found themselves under her care.

As calm as she was forcing herself to be in the moment, the Knight suppressed a shudder as the large Hutt turned to address her. Thankfully, an interpreter conveyed his message in Basic. Swallowing her pride, she shifted slightly and slowly raised her eyes towards the crime lord. It would do no good to panic right now, if she kept her head perhaps she could find a way out of this later. “Joza, My Lord.” Lowering her gaze in a subservient manner, she offered a light dip of her head.

[member="Kossak the Hutt"]

 

[Kossak the Hutt]

Fortunately for [member="Joza Perl"], her Force sensitivity remained a well kept secret. And those who might have been able to figure it out were now hindered by the fact that she masked her own presence.

A thick tongue licked against the rim of his lipless mouth. She was an obedient one, not one to cause offence or stir up trouble, he thought. This too pleased him. He laughed out his satisfaction. It would seem he wouldn't have to spend time breaking this one. Saved him the effort. Time would show what she could be useful for. Another exotic dancer, most likely. Though if she proved her loyalty and devotion, then perhaps she would be granted further freedoms in return for acting as his agent even outside of his palace. Kossak was not cruel. Though he placed her in chains he would allow her the chance to loosen them.

"Joza" The Hutt repeated slowly, trying her name out. Meanwhile Squid-Face leaned in to whisper something in Kossak's ear. The Hutt replied by waving a dismissive hand before saying "Chana ata uen koumhaptecee" (take her away). The Quarren was familiar with the process. Stepping down from the elevated podium, he snapped his fingers at the new slave and commanded. "With me"

A Gamorrean guard approached her from behind, and would nudge her in the back with the butt of his axe if she did not move of her own accord. He'd serve as her escort. With Quarren leading the party, the trio would walk into a hallway next to the throne room. The hallway moved upwards, like one long, wide, and circular staircase. On the way they'd bump into a few people here and there, some slaves, but mostly armed guards, Weequay and other Gamorreans.

At long last the Quarren stopped in front of a door. He stepped inside, gesturing for the pink slave to follow. The Gamorrean guard waited outside, but well within earshot in case things got loud. "We'll see how good of a slave you can be, Joza." his tone was cold and disconnected. The way he said her name was almost like an insult, as if she was of some lower class unworthy of his respect. Technically, as a slave, this was true. "What are your talents?" he asked without looking at her. He moved over to the other side of the room. It wasn't large, but it was long. On one end there was a desk in front of a mirror. On the other side, the Quarren slid open wooden doors to reveal something like a wardrobe. She couldn't walk around looking like that. The slave would need her uniform.

"Take your pick" he sounded almost annoyed over the fact that she got to select the one she liked herself. But perhaps there was another layer of degradation added to that. He seemed an entirely different person, Mr Squid-Face, than he had been in the throneroom. He was much less concerned with behaving in a proper and formal fashion. "You will perform for Lord Kossak soon enough. I hope you can dance." he was now leaning against the wall, observing her carefully as she made her selection. "You do well to impress him. He is not a patient Hutt. He will not give you time to learn skills you do not have." a hand stroked one of the tentacles hanging from his chin while looking at her with an expression filled with scepticism. He did not seem entirely convinced she would last long. With new people it usually was hit or miss.

"Of course, I could whisper words in your favour into our Lord's ear. You do well to impress me as well" he added, making sure his own importance in this establishment wasn't downplayed. He could make or break her, if he felt so inclined.

 

[Joza Perl]

As much as it had pained her, Joza had figured out how to survive as a slave. Or at the very least, she’d picked up the basics—but this was her first time belonging to a Hutt. Belonging. The notion sent a wave of nausea through her body, though gave no hint of her displeasure on the surface. Telling herself that this was only temporary was helping, at least for now. Different Masters had different ways of breaking their slaves in. If she was lucky, Kossak would leave her be. If she was unlucky, then…perhaps she would not survive this. Sanity intact, at least. You’re stronger than this.

As she was led though the great winding hall, Joza did her best to appear submissive, with hints of anxiety leaking through. It was not entirely a façade—she was nervous, but holding it together for now. And truthfully, she wasn’t sure she could handle Kossak if he decided to stray from his benevolent path. But time would tell.

When prompted by the Quarren who appeared to act as an overseer, Joza shifted behind him, consciously covering up the tremendous need to slam her elbow into his gut and turn him into fresh calamari. “Dancing and pleasure, Sir.” Her voice was soft, and perhaps a bit meek as her eyes raised to appraise the assortment of clothes that were presented to her. Her head tilted in mild surprise at being allowed to choose her own outfit, but she quickly realized that they were all rather revealing. Some women would think them too provocative and degrading, but not a Zeltron. Though perhaps given the situation, she viewed them as such. The entire thing with humiliating, really.

“I will do my best to please Lord Kossak. I only hope that he enjoys my performance.” She offered a shy, yet hopeful smile as if she truly wanted the Hutt to enjoy her dancing. Honestly, she kind of did hope for that. She may be a slave, but she still had her pride as a performer and her Zeltron vanity. That, and she was a little miffed that apparently she wasn’t good enough to settle their debts. Maybe the trio had owed more than she’d expected, or maybe it was the scars. Those certainly could depreciate a female slave’s value, though some Master’s seemed to revel in creating their own marks of pain across the skin of their slaves.

Selecting a bejeweled metallic top and matching flowy, slitted skirt, the Zeltron disrobed without any sign of inhibition. She donned the skimpy outfit just as quickly, moving to adjust the tight fabric and adornments around her. It certainly showed off her figure, what with the lack of clothing—and even managed to cover some of her scars as well by design alone.

[member="Kossak the Hutt"]