Character
These days, it was hard to throw a stone without finding someone that had seen slaves, been a slave, or had owned slaves. Especially in the outer rim, though the safe places for the practice were starting to fade again. Unlike many Sith, Khamesi didn't mind this. She had a strong personal distaste of slavery, one she justified to any Sith that would question her with cold logic, hiding that last iota of compassion she still had buried inside her. It wasn't the only way it showed itself, but it was by far the most obvious, and the one most of her rivals would pick up on first if they figured it out. This had a little effect on her and her forces, most of their raids that weren't for money, were to take out slaver cabals before they could get rich or take to many people. That was what she was doing here, Utapau wasn't to far from Sith Order territory, but the system had always been one of the more economically active planets in the Outer Rim, and while slavery wasn't visible here, the criminal underworld smuggled plenty of things through Utapau, including sapient cargo. Most of her forces were in another system, waiting for her return. Couldn't have a combat fleet, even one as small as her own, just show up in 'neutral' space and not expect alarm bells. Instead it was just her freighters and some of her shuttles, docked at the starport where they were unloading their ill-gotten gains to make room for whoever they freed from the ring Khamesi had tracked down. She had left her droids and soldiers behind to not attract to much attention, unless they had something like an expert bounty hunter or a good force user of some kind, they wouldn't be much of a threat to her.
She examined the non-descript door in front of her, she could feel the fear, anger, and drunken joy of the people beyond. If she had to judge, there was a fresh shipment here. Less than a hundred people, but even one would have been enough for her. She growled, and fitted her breathing mask, shaped like the skull of a dragon, onto her face, and pulled up the hood of her cloak. No explosives, no saber, not yet anyway. Instead a shroud of green flames formed around her before she channeled more power into her muscles and eyes, she was going to make this fast, and make this violent. With one final deep breath, she lifted her flaming fist, and slammed it into the middle of the door, it looked like flimsy plastoid from a distance, but was much thicker and stronger, durasteel beneath it's veneer. It was no match for her strength, and the shatterpoints she had found in it's construction. The door shattered inward, slamming into the middle of a underground bar, the criminals and bounty hunters gathered turned to see a massive, flaming figure, the remains of their door flickering with flames from where her fist had made contact with it.
Most of the fear and anger came from rows and rows of men and women, mostly Twi'leks but there were others, including a wookie, that were chained in a pit that was visible from next to the bar, a little stage next to it. This wasn't just a place to collect them, this was an auction house. The man closest to the door was perhaps the luckiest, he didn't have time to process what had happened before he was dead, neck broken and face burned from a fist that slammed into it. Three more went down much like this first man before some blaster fire started, shouts of panic and anger at the mysterious figure smashing their little party. Some of them were more finely dressed, probably early arrivals that had come here to buy. The first of them to drop was a woman in a very expensive dress, her throat torn open as Khamesi's claws flashed through the air. Bolts were flying everywhere at this point, but they struggled to find their mark. A few did hit her, but she simply used more force power to negate their damage, they barely singed her fur. She tore through the disorganized, drunken criminals like a rancor through a mud hut.
By the time the two dozen or so people were dead, the fires on the door had finally faded, leaving charred, broken bodies scattered around. She calmed the flames shrouding her as she caught the hand of a terrified server, bomb collar around her neck, who tried desperately to stab what to her seemed like a feral butcher. She twisted the girls hand just enough to make her drop the knife, taking it from the girl. She brought it to the girls neck, a faint flicker of purple energy shrouded it as she ionized the blade, a neat little trick she had learned early in her training. She used it to short the bomb collar, before beginning to cut the thing despite the girls scared cries. She had some compassion for the slaves, but she didn't care if they were scared of her. Once they were free they could work out other details. It was obvious to her that none of them were from Utapau, so she doubted many of them would refuse a lift back home. The collar was made of thicker leather than she had thought, it was taking more time than she wanted to cut through it, she growled and used a bit more force, causing the girl to yelp in pain.
Naivia Ri
She examined the non-descript door in front of her, she could feel the fear, anger, and drunken joy of the people beyond. If she had to judge, there was a fresh shipment here. Less than a hundred people, but even one would have been enough for her. She growled, and fitted her breathing mask, shaped like the skull of a dragon, onto her face, and pulled up the hood of her cloak. No explosives, no saber, not yet anyway. Instead a shroud of green flames formed around her before she channeled more power into her muscles and eyes, she was going to make this fast, and make this violent. With one final deep breath, she lifted her flaming fist, and slammed it into the middle of the door, it looked like flimsy plastoid from a distance, but was much thicker and stronger, durasteel beneath it's veneer. It was no match for her strength, and the shatterpoints she had found in it's construction. The door shattered inward, slamming into the middle of a underground bar, the criminals and bounty hunters gathered turned to see a massive, flaming figure, the remains of their door flickering with flames from where her fist had made contact with it.
Most of the fear and anger came from rows and rows of men and women, mostly Twi'leks but there were others, including a wookie, that were chained in a pit that was visible from next to the bar, a little stage next to it. This wasn't just a place to collect them, this was an auction house. The man closest to the door was perhaps the luckiest, he didn't have time to process what had happened before he was dead, neck broken and face burned from a fist that slammed into it. Three more went down much like this first man before some blaster fire started, shouts of panic and anger at the mysterious figure smashing their little party. Some of them were more finely dressed, probably early arrivals that had come here to buy. The first of them to drop was a woman in a very expensive dress, her throat torn open as Khamesi's claws flashed through the air. Bolts were flying everywhere at this point, but they struggled to find their mark. A few did hit her, but she simply used more force power to negate their damage, they barely singed her fur. She tore through the disorganized, drunken criminals like a rancor through a mud hut.
By the time the two dozen or so people were dead, the fires on the door had finally faded, leaving charred, broken bodies scattered around. She calmed the flames shrouding her as she caught the hand of a terrified server, bomb collar around her neck, who tried desperately to stab what to her seemed like a feral butcher. She twisted the girls hand just enough to make her drop the knife, taking it from the girl. She brought it to the girls neck, a faint flicker of purple energy shrouded it as she ionized the blade, a neat little trick she had learned early in her training. She used it to short the bomb collar, before beginning to cut the thing despite the girls scared cries. She had some compassion for the slaves, but she didn't care if they were scared of her. Once they were free they could work out other details. It was obvious to her that none of them were from Utapau, so she doubted many of them would refuse a lift back home. The collar was made of thicker leather than she had thought, it was taking more time than she wanted to cut through it, she growled and used a bit more force, causing the girl to yelp in pain.
Naivia Ri
