Deathless
Slave Market
Nal Hutta
"This one will fetch a good price. She is perfect for houses. She also is quite lovely...Could have....many uses."The Trandoshan stroked her lekku, causing the young girl to shiver. Thal's eyes danced over the Trandoshan. Wirey-framed, muscular. Thick, leathery skin and a mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth. Thal could not help but feel enraged. He had to play it cool, wait for his time.
<"How many more do you have?">
"Sold my other girls today...they went with a Rodian. Sad to see them go, they were good stock."
Stock. Not lives. Like trading cargo. Not lives. Not people. How many families had this man ruined in the name of a simple credit chit? How many lives had he ended? Thal saw no forgiveness in his heart. He was only concentrated on the kill.
<"I would like to discuss prices.">
The Trandoshan hissed in response. Prices were apparently non-negotiable. He just had to make him react, make him not touch the blaster hidden beneath the counter. Both hands laid on the counter in anger, in protest. He didn't even have time to formulate response before Thal grabbed him by his collar and stuck the blade in his neck. A simple knife, good enough for throwing, and certainly sufficient enough for stabbing. He dragged it across the Trandoshan's neck.
<"You will not be alone. Hell will be full of you all soon enough.">
He twisted the knife, causing a final, gasp-like motion as he hit all the right nerves in all the right way. He had done it quickly enough that only those in the market in his immediate vicinity saw. He let the Trandoshan drop and vaulted over the counter. He undid the bindings that held the girl in bondage and made a 'go-away' motion with his hands. He walked behind the stall, and began to search for a manifest of some kind. He had to get slaves from somewhere. Bills of sale, records- even a name. Anything that would lead Thal to his ultimate goal of finding out where he came from- and snuffing the life out of who stole his life from him. He turned and ripped the knife from the neck of the dead slaver, with a slight twinge of a smile.
He loved that feeling of victory over a foe.