Satiri Khai
Member
[SIZE=10pt]On a little travelled star lane on the fringes of the known galaxy there is a place that few visits and fewer still choose to. The place of which I speak is on a desolate world of barren rock spotted with resilient flora that looks as if it would blow away like ash if one were to speak above a whisper, and is filled with people whose sole desire is to be anywhere else. This lonely place is called prison facility 27195.446-12, and houses some of the worst criminals and unluckiest fools the galaxy has to offer. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]The prison, despite its nature, provides the galaxy with large quantities of minerals and salts, and it does it on the backs of the unfortunate errant beings that find themselves on the wrong side of the law. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]There are no fences and the cold grey buildings are after the fashion of an empire long since removed but far from forgotten. The prison is run on a cold unforgiving fusion of technological advancement and rudimentary methods to keep the miserable souls of the prison in check, while providing the guards the comforts that are common to their station. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]It is here that we find a man that through misfortune had come to reside has a slave to the law in the prison. Was he perhaps bound unjustly? No, for he was guilty of committing a crime, and though it was a crime nearly any man might commit in the same circumstances, it was no less criminal. So the law that protects the one can condemn the other just as quickly. The Man of whom we here refer was nearing his middle years, and with many years of laboring and straining in chains he was quite thick with muscle. His hands were large and his fingers thick like sausages and attached to these hands were arms that were encased in an equally meaty manner. He had broad shoulders and a wide back that tapered to the narrow waist of a man accustomed to missing meals more often than catching them. He was hairy as one may guess of a prisoner with a thick brown beard but nearly shaved head. The hair of his head was shaved as all the prisoners heads were. He was not a tall man and yet his form was impressive. He rarely spoke except to answer a question and was more often looking at the floor than at the sky. His melancholy manner and tragic history however was all summed up in his hard sad eyes. The fierce look that was projected from those two orbs were like windows into the depths of his person. In his past he had killed another man’s animal to feed his starving siblings. He was poor and hungry but never had he taken a thing that was not gained by the sweat from his brow until there was no work and the wailing of hungry brothers and sisters pushed him to his limit. Instead of being treated with mercy he was sent to prison and his family left to fend for themselves. Twice he tried to escape and return to his duties of providing for his dead parents children and twice he was caught and returned to the prison. The anger, the pain, the misery, and the sorrow were all expressed in the one glance into this man’s eyes. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]He sat, as usual when the day’s work was through, upon a pallet of wood with rags for sheets, slightly newer rags for clothing, and gazed at the ceiling that was now bathed in shadow. He sighed as men with no hope are often driven to do when they are confronted with silence and darkness, but not with sleep. His thoughts were still after these fifteen years turned to the family that he had lost and been torn from. He had longed to save them, and instead condemned them instead. What could he hope for now? He had no reason to live, no reason to care or love. The only flicker of light in his dark trouble mind was that one day he may go and find the siblings still alive. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]The prison, despite its nature, provides the galaxy with large quantities of minerals and salts, and it does it on the backs of the unfortunate errant beings that find themselves on the wrong side of the law. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]There are no fences and the cold grey buildings are after the fashion of an empire long since removed but far from forgotten. The prison is run on a cold unforgiving fusion of technological advancement and rudimentary methods to keep the miserable souls of the prison in check, while providing the guards the comforts that are common to their station. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]It is here that we find a man that through misfortune had come to reside has a slave to the law in the prison. Was he perhaps bound unjustly? No, for he was guilty of committing a crime, and though it was a crime nearly any man might commit in the same circumstances, it was no less criminal. So the law that protects the one can condemn the other just as quickly. The Man of whom we here refer was nearing his middle years, and with many years of laboring and straining in chains he was quite thick with muscle. His hands were large and his fingers thick like sausages and attached to these hands were arms that were encased in an equally meaty manner. He had broad shoulders and a wide back that tapered to the narrow waist of a man accustomed to missing meals more often than catching them. He was hairy as one may guess of a prisoner with a thick brown beard but nearly shaved head. The hair of his head was shaved as all the prisoners heads were. He was not a tall man and yet his form was impressive. He rarely spoke except to answer a question and was more often looking at the floor than at the sky. His melancholy manner and tragic history however was all summed up in his hard sad eyes. The fierce look that was projected from those two orbs were like windows into the depths of his person. In his past he had killed another man’s animal to feed his starving siblings. He was poor and hungry but never had he taken a thing that was not gained by the sweat from his brow until there was no work and the wailing of hungry brothers and sisters pushed him to his limit. Instead of being treated with mercy he was sent to prison and his family left to fend for themselves. Twice he tried to escape and return to his duties of providing for his dead parents children and twice he was caught and returned to the prison. The anger, the pain, the misery, and the sorrow were all expressed in the one glance into this man’s eyes. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=10pt]He sat, as usual when the day’s work was through, upon a pallet of wood with rags for sheets, slightly newer rags for clothing, and gazed at the ceiling that was now bathed in shadow. He sighed as men with no hope are often driven to do when they are confronted with silence and darkness, but not with sleep. His thoughts were still after these fifteen years turned to the family that he had lost and been torn from. He had longed to save them, and instead condemned them instead. What could he hope for now? He had no reason to live, no reason to care or love. The only flicker of light in his dark trouble mind was that one day he may go and find the siblings still alive. [/SIZE]