Within every struggle that a man or woman faces, shouldered and burdened with enough adversity - there is always a breaking point. Without hope, without a glimmer of a chance at change, when the psyche breaks, it fractures and splits often into thousands of confused shards. Even freedom from the oppression that had so beat them under the foot of tyranny could not mend that damaged mind, and torn soul. It was an unfortunate but true to life price of slavery. Unless the resolve was stronger than the oppression, unless there was still a hope of a future from the metaphorical lash, then came the onset of doom, only to be realized when at last the chains were broken. There had been a dim version of that in his own life, and the promise of leaving Ord Mantell, coupled with the fame of the Mandalorian culture had literally saved his life, and his soul. He paid the price of change with his own arm in the process, but he'd carved his life out from the junk dealers that had once had him so tethered. What he saw in Bane however, was the broken man running on pure instinct, and aggression.
An audible sigh left the lips of Azrael, translating into a tinny quality as it exited the buy'ce. His visor alerting him to signals in the area, as well as keeping him updated about the current commotion on other parts of the planet. The remaining Sith had called for the un-dead, using Sith Sorcery to raise these hellish ghouls. Azrael had enough of that dark plague during the events of the Dark Harvest on Elrood. He'd seen horrors he didn't dream possible, and he didn't enjoy the thought of going through that ordeal once more. He tracked Bane as he moved forward, towards the laboratories to encounter a Graug. Azrael had already slain dozens in getting this far, but Bane was charging in with feral animalistic instincts, and ripping the Graug limb from limb, beating him with the chains. The sensible advice from the woman at his side was something he wasn't expecting. She didn't seem as traumatized or nearly as savage as the man he had just set free.
"I've already made an exit. My name is Azrael from the Mandalorians. This planet is being torn apart by the Sith in a civil war." He explained flatly as he kept a close eye on the readouts around him. He knew there would be more, or at least more slaves they needed to free. Bane unfortunately was someone he deemed to hostile to take back with them. Unless his blood-fueled rage died after the first kill, he wasn't about to offer sanctuary within the Mando'ade. He'd get him off planet, but he'd likely have to imprison him for his own safety. He certainly wouldn't be tortured, and he'd be afforded room and board with medical attention and healthy food. The risk though was too great to simply let him wander. "I will not let anything happen to you, but to be safe, take this." Azrael mentioned as his right hand slid a small besk'ed knife from a sheath at the small of his back. The blade pointed towards his armor, the black grip offered to her gently. "This is for defense only." He admonished, letting it sit in her palm before he turned and assessed the direction in which they needed to head.
"This way." He said after a moment's consideration, pointing down another corridor that would snake back up towards the entrance in which he had a location from Jaden on his HUD. His visor turned as he looked back in the direction that Bane had gone. "If there is sense left in you, we're getting off this planet. If there is not, I pray the Manda finds you first." Azrael called out to the Animal, knowing it was probably not as comforting to Bane as it was to a Mandalorian, but either way, he couldn't waste time. He was right behind Anastasia, running at a half clip, his Ripper held in his dominant right hand while they jogged alone.
[member="Bane Rade"] [member="Anastasia Rade"]
