Jett Zaldaren
Dancin' in the Dark
Jett was hauling several apostates, including the Zelosian Ygra, to Hattusa, Dosuun's fortress moon controlled by the Dark Wardens. The shuttle, designed so only the pilot could see out, amplified the captives' disorientation. The Force-suppressing corral behind him was tinted so darkly that none of them could make out their surroundings.
The gloomy atmosphere heigtened the lack of light in the corral where the prisoners sat. Their senses mostly deprived, but the one that was able to be of use, only gave them a very clinical sense of their surroundings. Cuffed together with newly created absencite lined cuffs.
Jett navigated the shuttle with ease, occasionally glancing back at the prisoners. "Hey, you're awake," he greeted them, the group he was hauling had all been considered apostates, rogue Force Users of the state. Those who hadn't registered or had failed to comply with Guild regulations.
"And," he let the word punctuate the moment, "it seems the Dark Wardens have use for you lot yet." Jett's lack of interest was evident in his tone; he wanted the apostates dead.
The shuttle jolted, and a murmur of fear spread through the corral. Jett smirked and looked into the side mirror, his reflection staring back. "Just a bunch of meatbags," he muttered as he maneuvered the shuttle onto the landing pad. "Sit tight, don't move. Those corrals are quick to render you dead if you move the wrong way."
As the shuttle landed, Jett's words lingered ominously. The Wardens themselves secured the shuttle, and Jett climbed out of the cockpit. He moved to the back and opened the corral, addressing the group. "Welcome to Hattusa," he announced with a dark grin. "Some of you might have a shot at proving yourselves. The rest of you, well... let's just say, you'll be very useful to'em as bait."
The imposing fortress of the Dark Wardens loomed over them as Jett led the prisoners out, one by one. The heavily fortified and well-hidden headquarters on the fortress moon stood as a stark reminder of the fate awaiting those who dared to defy the Commonwealth and its enforcers. For some, it was a chance at redemption; for others, it was the end of the line.
Ygra
The gloomy atmosphere heigtened the lack of light in the corral where the prisoners sat. Their senses mostly deprived, but the one that was able to be of use, only gave them a very clinical sense of their surroundings. Cuffed together with newly created absencite lined cuffs.
Jett navigated the shuttle with ease, occasionally glancing back at the prisoners. "Hey, you're awake," he greeted them, the group he was hauling had all been considered apostates, rogue Force Users of the state. Those who hadn't registered or had failed to comply with Guild regulations.
"And," he let the word punctuate the moment, "it seems the Dark Wardens have use for you lot yet." Jett's lack of interest was evident in his tone; he wanted the apostates dead.
The shuttle jolted, and a murmur of fear spread through the corral. Jett smirked and looked into the side mirror, his reflection staring back. "Just a bunch of meatbags," he muttered as he maneuvered the shuttle onto the landing pad. "Sit tight, don't move. Those corrals are quick to render you dead if you move the wrong way."
As the shuttle landed, Jett's words lingered ominously. The Wardens themselves secured the shuttle, and Jett climbed out of the cockpit. He moved to the back and opened the corral, addressing the group. "Welcome to Hattusa," he announced with a dark grin. "Some of you might have a shot at proving yourselves. The rest of you, well... let's just say, you'll be very useful to'em as bait."
The imposing fortress of the Dark Wardens loomed over them as Jett led the prisoners out, one by one. The heavily fortified and well-hidden headquarters on the fortress moon stood as a stark reminder of the fate awaiting those who dared to defy the Commonwealth and its enforcers. For some, it was a chance at redemption; for others, it was the end of the line.
