Mother of Pearl
The one thing Joza probably did right during her second enslavement, was hide her Force sensitivity.
Maybe things would have been different had she revealed it from the get-go, but if her previous experiences had taught her anything, it’s that Force suppression collars were a thing. A very uncomfortable thing. Biding her time had also been uncomfortable, but had paid off in the end. Somewhat. She wasn’t sure just yet.
Joza had been bundled with a handful of other slave girls, on their way to some unknown location from Nal Hutta. Had their Master—Kossak the Hutt—grown tired of them? Were they to be auctioned, or presented as a gift to some other crime lord? None of them knew, and that contributed to the heavy layer of fear among the nervous young women. They’d been beaten and molded into obedient servants—either by being born into the trade, or captured in their youth. Slavery was kind to very, very few beings. Usually the ones who were lining their pockets, profiting off of the suffering and submission of others.
Despite the humiliation and degradation, being outside of Kossak’s lair gave her a spark of hope. The crew was rather small, barely outnumbered by the slave girls. And when Joza had taken in all she could about the situation, all it took was a well-aimed stasis field.
…and some gritty hand to hand combat, getting thrown into a wall, and nearly being gored by a Caprine’s horns. If there was one thing that Joza could rely on, it was her naturally deft movement in combat. Fortunately for her, a fellow Twi’lek slave girl had managed to knock the Caprine out with a metal rod. For someone with dainty arms, she sure had one hell of a swing.
Thankfully they’d been approaching TKO territory, and Joza had managed to set course for Kesh in all her minimalistic piloting glory.
Seriously, thank the Force for autopilot.
They’d managed to gain access to one of Kesh’s ports, albeit conditionally. No weapons. Alright, that much could be understood. No doubt that the authorities would be suspicious, so she dropped the one name she knew associated with the planet: Solan Charr. She didn’t know to what degree he was affiliated with Kesh, but hopefully the name would open doors. At least a door that would give them temporary shelter.
Her thoughts began to turn to what to do with the girls now, and how to keep them safe. If deemed important enough—in profit alone—Kossak might send his men out. Joza frowned as she wrapped a blanket around a wide-eyed Cathar. The girl couldn’t have been more than 13 or 14, and looked terribly out of place in her skimpy outfit.
Patting the girl on the cheek, Joza gave her a smile. A troubled smile, though it was meant to be encouraging. Rising back to her full height, the Zeltron adjusted the cloak she’d stolen off of one of the stunned bodies, idly tugging at the slave collar around her neck before hiking the sides of the cloak up further to cover it.
“Stay here with the others, Meru.” She nodded towards the Twi’lek, planning to meet the port authorities herself and explain their situation.
[member="Solan Charr"]
Maybe things would have been different had she revealed it from the get-go, but if her previous experiences had taught her anything, it’s that Force suppression collars were a thing. A very uncomfortable thing. Biding her time had also been uncomfortable, but had paid off in the end. Somewhat. She wasn’t sure just yet.
Joza had been bundled with a handful of other slave girls, on their way to some unknown location from Nal Hutta. Had their Master—Kossak the Hutt—grown tired of them? Were they to be auctioned, or presented as a gift to some other crime lord? None of them knew, and that contributed to the heavy layer of fear among the nervous young women. They’d been beaten and molded into obedient servants—either by being born into the trade, or captured in their youth. Slavery was kind to very, very few beings. Usually the ones who were lining their pockets, profiting off of the suffering and submission of others.
Despite the humiliation and degradation, being outside of Kossak’s lair gave her a spark of hope. The crew was rather small, barely outnumbered by the slave girls. And when Joza had taken in all she could about the situation, all it took was a well-aimed stasis field.
…and some gritty hand to hand combat, getting thrown into a wall, and nearly being gored by a Caprine’s horns. If there was one thing that Joza could rely on, it was her naturally deft movement in combat. Fortunately for her, a fellow Twi’lek slave girl had managed to knock the Caprine out with a metal rod. For someone with dainty arms, she sure had one hell of a swing.
Thankfully they’d been approaching TKO territory, and Joza had managed to set course for Kesh in all her minimalistic piloting glory.
Seriously, thank the Force for autopilot.
They’d managed to gain access to one of Kesh’s ports, albeit conditionally. No weapons. Alright, that much could be understood. No doubt that the authorities would be suspicious, so she dropped the one name she knew associated with the planet: Solan Charr. She didn’t know to what degree he was affiliated with Kesh, but hopefully the name would open doors. At least a door that would give them temporary shelter.
Her thoughts began to turn to what to do with the girls now, and how to keep them safe. If deemed important enough—in profit alone—Kossak might send his men out. Joza frowned as she wrapped a blanket around a wide-eyed Cathar. The girl couldn’t have been more than 13 or 14, and looked terribly out of place in her skimpy outfit.
Patting the girl on the cheek, Joza gave her a smile. A troubled smile, though it was meant to be encouraging. Rising back to her full height, the Zeltron adjusted the cloak she’d stolen off of one of the stunned bodies, idly tugging at the slave collar around her neck before hiking the sides of the cloak up further to cover it.
“Stay here with the others, Meru.” She nodded towards the Twi’lek, planning to meet the port authorities herself and explain their situation.
[member="Solan Charr"]