Ask Building Blocks of Blood, Sweat and Toil

Wodan

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As the Imperial Shuttle descended from the heavens, Wodan could see plumes of thick heavy dust rise off the surface of Sevarcos. The dry, dusty planet was home to the most prolific Spice exporters in the sector, millions of slaves worked these dangerous mines day in and day out delivering profit for their Zygerrian slave masters.

Ever since the crackdown on slaving a few years ago, mines like these were becoming harsher and harsher as the Zygerrian’s tried to squeeze every last drop of money out of their slave force before they were forced to close by the Empire, Mandalorians or another entity against their practice. Sevarcos bordered the Southern Sith Territories, a section of space Wodan was in the process of claiming as his own. The newly minted Champion was beginning the process of surrounding himself with like minded individuals he could use to further his goals both here in the south and throughout the entire Empire and Galaxy.

Sol Kenuk was one of these individuals, granted Wodan thought the Kel Dor was a little unhinged and perhaps baying for blood a little too much for the Firrerrian. But he had some understanding of Sol’s desires and it was always handy to have an attack dog if need be.

With a smile Wodan turned to face the Kel Dor who was in the shuttle behind him. “So we are in agreement then. Your support in my coming endeavours and in exchange, you will have complete control over Dagobah and access to the necessary material to conduct your ‘experiments’. Are we in accord?”

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Sol Kenuk

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This world seemed barren, but still in the midst of choking dust, life would stubbornly persist, clinging to every scrap worth of survival. The view from the shuttle is one that appears grim, but the Kel'dor merely peers upon the surface with silence, studying the planet that the two Sith Champions now descended upon. Sol knows little of the planet, other than what he had learned off-world. He knew it was a dry place, unforgiving and cruel, a place of slavery beneath the vicious fist of the Zygerrians. He also knew of the history behind the spice mines here. Sol himself had never bothered to walk upon the surface of the world, but there was a first for everything.

His wintry eyes shift toward Wodan, recalling their last outing together. A slaughter, cruel and bitter upon the tongue. But the Kel'dor had deemed it necessary, and it helped that he cared little for the lives lost. Now, he can't help but wonder what would become of this endeavor. If brutality was necessary for success, then so be it. He shifts his head as Wodan addresses him, wishing to confirm the deal that had been discussed between the two. Sol cared little for control of Sevarcos, the other Sith was welcome to it. He also couldn't deny the usefulness of the slaves on the world, despite the Empire's apparent benevolence toward it's subjects, as of recent years. Slavery might have been illegal, but who was going to tell? Not Sol. Not Wodan.

Regardless, the real prize was Dagobah, a world seeped in history. The connection between the planet and the force was immerse, and it's isolation and unpopulated surface made it ideal for nefarious experimentation. Sol had many goals when it came to the world, and furthering his skills in Sith alchemy was merely one of them. Whether or not the Empress would recognize his activity on Dagobah hardly mattered. For one, he doubted she'd investigate, and two, the academy that he intended to create would benefit the Sith as a whole. In other words, there was little to stop him from claiming the world for not only his experiments, but for his new, arcanist Sith Academy as well.

With any luck, sorcerers far and wide within the Sith would study there. All of them subject to Sol's dark teachings.

"The deal is made." Sol finally speaks, a casual drawl of confirmation. "I would not turn back on you now." It was far too late for that. Sol was going to carve out a piece of the Empire for himself, and Wodan was going to help him do it. In return, the same would be offered to the other Sith. It was a simple enough agreement, for now. "What do you expect from these slavers?" Sol questions. "Are they the greedy type?" Wodan probably knew more than the Kel'dor, considering that this was his idea. But regardless, Sol's connection to Aspiretech meant that he had considerable wealth. Of course, the alternative was probably another slaughter.


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Wodan

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Although Wodan had some idea of what Sol had in store for Dagobah he didn’t truly understand the depths of what the Kel Dor had in mind for the planet, but that was another day’s problem. “Good to hear.” He replied nodding his head in thanks, much had changed in the Firrerrian’s outlook since the pair last met on Mygettoo, that small mission being one of the last breaking points for Wodan’s trust in the current system.

“Greed, cowardice, betrayal. To name a few things, they will probably panic at first. The Sith Empire are seen as natural enemies towards the Zygerrian Slavers. Then they will try to profit from our relaxed nature, perhaps to either get better terms than we are willing, or to try and betray us and stab us in the back.” Wodan replied as the sound of the landing gear’s hydraulics kicking into action could be heard throughout the shuttle. “Or so I guess.”

A moment later and they made contact with the ground, the whole ship shaking as the weight of the airframe transferred from the engines to the landing gear. As the ship powered down the cabin door opened and a small ramp appeared allowing the pair of Sith to depart. Wodan let the Kel Dor go first, he was thoroughly more terrifying than Firrerrian and well fear would help in their ongoing conversations.

As the pair stepped out into the hot dry heat of Sevarcos, Wodan raised his hands to cover his eyes as they adjusted to the bright light. Dust blew up into their faces and Wodan could already feel the grit of sand between his teeth, this was truly a painful world. Ahead of them stood three Zyggerrian’s decked out in their finest ready to meet the pair, around them a dozen guards of various species. “Looks like they are trying to make a statement.”

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Sol Kenuk

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Fear. Like a bunch of worms beneath a falling boot. The only difference, really, was that the Kel'dor had no doubt these slavers would be well armed. It was probably not the best idea to simply walk down the ramp and immediately attack. No, there would be some negotiation first at the very least, and as Wodan said, greed was just one of the routes that Sol could capitalize on. Cowardice was another, and betrayal was something easily managed, too, though hardly through compassionate means. Anyone bold enough to try and stab a Sith in the back deserved nothing but agony, and publicly, at that. The others would need to see the cost of treachery.

The shuttle shakes as they finally make contact with the gritty crust of the world. The Kel'dor, sickly looking and pale, rises from his seat. Behind his goggles, hellish firelight glows within corrupted irises. Sol slips toward the exit as the engines hiss with loss of power, and it seemed that his companion was more than willing to allow the eerie looking alien to exit first. The first thing he notices is the heat of the air, dry and dusty. Unlike Wodan, though, the Kel'dor's anti-ox mask keeps both vapor and debris far from his lungs. Perhaps the other Sith would have better off with a mask of his own.

Tall, slender, and entirely unsettling, the lanky figure strolls down the ramp and onto Dolla's hot soil, his cold vision sweeping across the three Zyggerrians and the assorted guards that stood waiting for them. He could already sense that they were wary.

Sol taps into the force. He doesn't gesture, doesn't pull his saber, doesn't make anything that might be seen as an attack. What he does do, however, is coil the dark side around his figure like a venomous snake, sends it slinking, invisible to the three slavers, toward the trio's brittle minds. The force manipulation is not something that was meant to inspire obedience. This was no attempt at persuasion. Rather, Sol grasps at their unsettled feelings, breathes upon it as if it were a dying flame, and watches as the internal fire roars to life. Pure, primal terror. It wasn't enough to send them scurrying, but they would look upon the Sith and they would know fear. As for the guards, he can only hope that they decide to play nice for now. If the three Zyggerrians were too afraid to order an attack, then there would be no reason for a fight.

Sol steps closer, methodical and slow, his vocals a chilling drawl, "We are here on business. Our own." He soothes. This was not the Empire stepping in to crush the slavers. This was two Sith with personal aspirations, who cared little for what the slavers were doing, so long as everyone fell into line. "I'm sure we can all be civil." Sol was willing to do this the easy way, but life was not always so kind. Should the slavers decide to turn violent despite the cowardice he had so boldly capitalized upon with the force, then so be it. Ultimately, not even the Kel'dor was keen on fighting an army of slavers. Fear would have to be enough to keep that from happening for now, and perhaps Sol could entice their greed as well.


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Wodan

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Wodan felt a rush as the Dark Side of the Force concentrated on his location, the pure ecstasy of its power brought a smile to the Firrerrian’s face before it quickly turned to a frown. What was Sol up to? He knew the Kel Dor was a loose cannon, would he resort to violence that quickly just to get it over with. If so, Wodan would have to think twice about taking the violent Sith on any future missions where tact was needed.

He watched through his mind’s eye as The Force coiled around the three Zyggerrian’s sent to greet them, he purposefully watched their throats to see if Sol would crush them. But instead he tapped into their emotions, bringing fear and panic to the forefront of their mind. Wodan understood then what he was doing, he just hoped the Fear Induced Slavers wouldn’t panic and open fire.

Sol then stepped out ahead of him, his power still gripped around the slavers. Wodan moved quickly after him, placing a hand on the Kel Dor’s shoulder as a sign to let off the power as he spoke. “What my friend here is trying to say is we are not here because of your business model.”

The three men looked at eachother, their pupils were wide even in the light of Dolla’s sun, fear. “It, it, it is a pleasure My Lord’s. Please let us head in away from the sun.” The central one stammered, before stepping to the side to allow the Sith to head through.

It was a short walk until they reached a grey metallic building, Wodan could see efforts to paint signs or something on the walls, all of it to be blasted away by the planets sandstorms.

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Sol Kenuk

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It seemed his choice to capitalize on the so called cowardice of the slavers have been beneficial, in the long run. The sensation of Wodan touching his shoulder is not one that the ruthless Kel'dor bothers to acknowledge, at least not visibly. The dark side does slither away from the minds of those he had influenced though. Had he had enough power, he might have terrified the guards too, but for now, such a thing proved unnecessary. The guards already appeared uneasy by the head Zyggerrian’s stuttering.

Sol steps forth once more as the head of the slaver group makes room, the Kel'dor's features relaxed even as his mind was vigilant. It seemed like Wodan would do the bulk of the friendly negotiating. While Sol himself was no stranger to talks, he was far better at the more underhanded side of things. Regardless, he still intended to appeal to the greed of the locals, if it turned out to be necessary.

The other Sith might worry that Sol will turn violent, but in truth, he had little to fear in that regard. So long as the slavers remained peaceful enough, the Kel'dor knew that they would benefit far more without having to fight through an army of the criminals.

Hot winds blasted sand against his wiry frame, but his clothing and his anti-ox mask protected him from the bulk of it. Unlike Wodan, Sol didn't have to worry about being blinded by the light, nor the debris, and he didn't have to worry about contracting Sand Rot either. That was just something the other Champion would have to manage on his own for now. Eventually, though, they do reach a shining structure, covered in the chipped remains of paint that had long since been stripped from the metal.

The Kel'dor makes his way inside, and the building itself, despite it's fairly unremarkable exterior, was well cooled. It does take him a few moments to get used to the sudden darkness, though. For the time, Sol would remain silent, a looming specter in the background. He'd step in as needed, but for now, Wodan could work his much friendlier magic.


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Wodan

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The doors slid open revealing a rather opulent exterior, an airlock separated the interior of the building from the raging sands outside. The air conditioning was a relief to the Firrerrian who was already working up a sweat just walking from the shuttle to the building.

Refreshments were quickly served, which Wodan was quick to accept even if it was just to wash the taste of sand out of his mouth. As he savoured the sweet taste of the drink, he was shown through a pair of double doors into what appeared to be a meeting room of sorts. It was set for the five of them, the three Zyggerrian’s at one end and Wodan and Sol at the other. A pair of guards stood by the door, heavy weapons in hand.

Taking a seat at the table, Wodan reached to his belt and unclipped his Lightsaber, placing the weapon down on the table for all of them to see. “Shall we forgo the cock measuring?”

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Sol Kenuk

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Sol isn't about to take off his anti-ox mask, but he's still offered a drink. Out of professionalism alone, he takes it, grips the glass lightly within his claws as they're finally ushered into a meeting room. A step behind Wodan, Sol takes a seat next to his Sith companion, crosses one leg over his knee and allows his claws to tap idly at the drink in his hand. The Kel'dor appeared relaxed, but his ghastly and imposing presence was almost paradoxical.

The clank of Wodan's lightsaber pressed against the table seems to draw wary glances from the slavers and their guards alike. Sol could have made a rather dry humored joke about cock measuring there, but for the sake of the mission, he restrains himself with little more than a conniving smirk behind his mask. For now, Sol opts to remain silent, an oppressive figure looming, even where he sat, dark and entirely frigid. His piercing eyes do not move from the faces of the Zyggerrians.


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Wodan

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Nervous eyes shifted from the lightsaber to Wodan then back to the saber. Fear radiated like a sun from the three slavers, Wodan pursed his lips for a second, drawing them before he began. “It is simple, we wish to envelope Dolla into the Empire. However, we…” He stopped looking at himself and Sol before continuing. “Are not ones who look down on your working practices. If anything we endorse them.”

Wodan could see some relief wash over the slavers as they realised their livelihood and lives were not at stake. At least not yet. “The Empire needs workers to continue its march of progress across the Galaxy, workers I understand you are excellent in both acquiring and distributing across multiple worlds.”

Wodan crossed his legs and lent back on the seat, placing his hands upon his knee away from the lightsaber. “So I propose this, Dolla shall become a new territory of the Empire and in return ‘we’ will keep knowledge of your working practices a secret until the laws are changed. We will also look to seek out new opportunities for you to grow your business. Thoughts?”

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Sol Kenuk

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He's cold as his listens, silent and lurking, frigid eyes glowing with intensity behind his mask. The slavers are wary, and their guards twitch with nervousness. The lightsaber on the table is a bold symbol of power, a challenge. The offer that Wodan laid out was beneficial to both sides, a compromise between the Sith and the Zyggerrians.

The Kel'dor leans back in his chair, his drink now resting upon the table as his talons coil against one another thoughtfully. He can still see the uncertain glances between the slavers and the guards, despite how good the deal seemed to be.

"It is a good deal, I think. Your lives here will not change, and in fact, you'd have more opportunities than ever before." Sol adds in encouragement. There really wasn't much else to say. The deal was already quite satisfactory for both sides.

"It does sound good, but what power do the two of you have to keep the Empire out of our business? You say you're both fine with what we do. What happens when someone shows up who isn't?" One of the three Zyggerrian's finally speaks up, and the other two glance at him, nodding that they shared that uncertainty. It was a rather glaring problem, wasn't it? Even the Kel'dor had toyed with the idea of what might happen in that scenario.

In truth, Sol doesn't care either way. All that mattered was getting Dolla into the Empire. What happened after that was Wodan's problem, especially if he intended to lord over the world personally. Slave rebellions, imperial troopers, other Sith. Perhaps Wodan could institute a blockade, of sorts. Or find some means to hide the slaves from the average visitors. They worked in mines, after all. Perhaps the slaves would never need to return to the surface of Dolla. In a way, it would be a criminal underground, nestled within the mines.

A criminal enterprise, endorsed and fueled by an authority figure. Well, there were corrupted governments on every planet, weren't there? Wodan would just have to keep things quiet.


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Wodan

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The slaver’s point was valid and one that had crossed Wodan’s mind a few times since he had set his eyes on Dolla. If he was honest, what he was about to say was all a lie, he currently did not have the true power to deliver what he would promise, but the Zygerrians’ didn’t need to know that. “The Southern Territories have all been abandoned since the departure of Lord Asminys and Lord Veles. We along with our colleagues have been tasked with the governance of the area. As such, we oversee what forces are allocated to each planet. In short, only those we want will visit the planet. So we shouldn’t have any problems.”

If they did have any problems, Wodan, Sol and the others would have to eliminate said problem before it got back to the wrong people. The last thing any of them needed was Raze or Anaris turning up on their front porch with a lightsaber. Wodan tapped into The Force giving the Kel Dor a little tug within the mystic energy as if to signal him to add his own little tid bit to the Firrerrian’s little guarantee.

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Sol Kenuk

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Ah, Wodan really wanted Dolla, didn't he? So much so that he was willing to lie to gain control of the world. It was certainly no skin off Sol's back. He himself was a snake, manipulative and cold. Like his fellow Sith, Sol had a tendency to say whatever needed to be said to insure success. The slavers didn't need to know that both were quite accomplished liars. Then again, such a thing should really be expected from the Sith, given their history.

The sensation of the force tugging at his mind was akin to a clingy partner demanding attention. Sol crosses his talons, his vision callous and wintry as he inclines his head with agreement.

"Our friend speaks true. Your establishment on Dolla will be our little secret. None will know but us. Rest assured, you and your workers will not be bothered by any troublesome do-gooders." Sol adds his lie to the pile, smooth and confident. Of course, he hopes Wodan knows that if the Dark Lord did show up with a bone to pick, Sol would not be standing on Wodan's side of the table for much longer. Neither were powerful enough to challenge Raze, and both knew it.

Until that changed, they'd just have to hope that Dolla remained unknown to the rest of the Empire. After all, any Imperial agents, scouts, and troopers stationed on the world would undoubtedly know the truth of the situation eventually. Wodan couldn't guarantee the safety of the slavers, and Sol is certain that he knows it.

They'd have to talk later. As far as Sol is concerned, the deal was made in the good faith that the slaver's had agreed to cease operations, and give their workers the choice to stay or leave. Wodan would be wise to accept a similar sentiment. Better that the slavers took the fall if everything began to crumble than the two Sith, especially when Sol himself had so little skin in that fight. He didn't care about the Zyggerrians or their slaves, so why would he die for them?

The simple answer was that he wouldn't.


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Wodan

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The slavers shifted in their seats as they tried to decipher if what the two Sith said was true. Would they really be able to go about their business without the intervention of the Sith proper? Would continued to stay quiet, an icy stare just a degree or two warmer than the Kel Dor’s looking down on the pair, switching from one to the other as they began to whisper amongst themselves.

Luckily the Firrerrian’s good hearing could pick up most of what was being said and it seemed promising to say the least. Leaning back on his chair he looked over his shoulder to the guard nearest to him. “You can put that down now. I think we have come to an agreement.” He said to the guard startling him to the point he nearly dropped his weapon.

Settling all four legs of his chair back on the ground, he turned to the three Zygerrian’s as they seemed to come to an agreement. “We agree to your terms. Is there anything else?” Wodan smiled, turning towards the Kel Dor, slapping him on the shoulder as he stood. “How about a little tour before we go?”

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Sol Kenuk

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He doesn't have the hearing of his companion, but nonetheless, the expressions of the slaver's betray their feelings well enough. Whether or not they were plotting betrayal behind that polite mask was another thing altogether, but Sol supposed that they'd just have to deal with it as it happened. For now, Wodan's voice seems to make the decision clear moments before the Zyggerrians. They agreed to hand Dolla off to the empire, and in return, they could keep their little workers a secret. At least for as long as it took the rest of the Sith to figure it out.

Luckily for the slavers, Dolla wasn't exactly a very active world. It didn't have booming tourism or bustling cities. Very few had any real reason to set foot on the wasteland of a world.

The mention of a tour flitters into his ears, and the Kel'dor supposed it would be worth noting the local security, at the very least. He does shoot Wodan a cold look in response to the slap on the shoulder. The other Sith was quite... touchy feely. Sol quite liked his personal space, though. Regardless, he's not the type to make a scene in the middle of a diplomatic mission such as this, so he simply rises from his chair and lets his vision flicker back towards the Zyggerrian's.

While the Kel'dor doesn't speak again, he does nod his agreement with his companion.

"We'd be happy to give you both a tour." One of the three slaver's speaks up as the trio rises from their side of the table. The Kel'dor keeps his gaze upon them, but while the air was still thick with uncertainty, it at least did not appear like the Zyggerrian's were going to attack any time soon. With any luck, things would remain amicable between the two parties. Both Sith are gestured out of the meeting room by the guards, and the slavers followed. Sol just hoped that their well armed escort didn't get any unhealthy ideas.


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Wodan

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“Good, shall we?” Wodan asked as he pushed his chair back from the table once again startling the guard. Turning to face the man he smiled. “I think you need better guards, this one is as likely to shoot you by accident than me.” He commented to the room, before turning and picking up his lightsaber, placing it back on his belt as the slavers scurried up to his side of the room, apologising for the guards behaviour.

As they exited the cool air conditioned bunker, Wodan and the others were smashed full force with the overwhelming heat of Dolla’s surface. The Firrerrian was glad to have taken a pair of goggles from the slavers to help with the dust in his eyes, though it still didn’t help some of it getting in his mouth. The slavers gestured in the direction of the nearest Spice mine, only a few hundred metres from the bunker and the landing pad.

The jumpy guard had been replaced with another, who seemed a little more relaxed about the Sith’s presence. As they neared the pit Wodan was shocked by the size of the thing, it was easily a few hundred metres across and was easily twice as deep. Taking a cheeky peer over the edge he could see hundreds of souls moving below in weird lines like ants out of a mound. “How many work here?” He asked as they neared the elevator down.

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The Kel'dor steps out into the heat, and for a moment, he could almost swear that he was back home, on Dorin. Inhospitable wastelands, gritty winds, and an atmosphere that would kill most. Well, except for the hardy Kel'dor. They were built for worlds such as these, with thick leathery skin and extra sensory organs to detect danger, even above the howling gales. Sol doesn't mind the heat, or the sand, or the wind. His eyes and mouth are protected, and the environment was homely, in a way.

For the softer species, such as poor Wodan, such a world was a struggle to traverse. At least the other Sith had managed to grab some goggles, curtesy of their criminal hosts.

The Kel'dor is silent as they walk, a pale and looming specter, towering over most with a wiry and skeletal build. Only a fool would think him sickly or weak, for Sol thrived off of a power most could not understand, the slaver's included. As the stride atop the crest of a gaping maw in the sandy ground, Sol can hear the sounds of toil, cruel labor in the pit far below. Undoubtedly, most of the slaves died here, unable to find escape from the brutal surface.

To the Zyggerrians, the workers were lower than animals, treated worse than mules. It was a pitiful existence. Did they not know that they only lived to die here? And if they did, what kept them under control? Why did they not just simply fight back? It was the weakness of every slaver. Numbers overwhelmed, and more often than not, there were more slaves than there were guards.

Technology helped, of course. And a fear that was promoted through agony. The slaves were tortured. Their hope had been torn from them as easily as their skin and bone. Whipping them all into a frenzy at once was likely an impossible affair. The leaders of such a rebellion would be caught and cruelly punished. Still, Sol thinks that trying was better than not, even if the stakes were high. You either died a slave, or a fighter.

As unfortunate as their situation was, Sol would not pity them. Such emotion was weakness, and as such, he didn't bother to look into their eyes, didn't bother to see them as sentient people, ripped from their families. He replaced such thoughts with the cold touch of ice, and promptly distanced himself from that bitter reality. Sol would not pity them, not because he enjoyed watching their suffering, but because he could not afford to feel such things.

The Sith did not tolerate weakness. Sol would not tolerate it within himself, either.

His silence was not so unusual, by that point. As the pair move toward the elevators, the Kel'dor can hear the sounds of their conversation. Wodan was curious about the amount of slaves, and one of the Zyggerrian's boasted that the number for this particular mine was in the thousands. Sol wonders how deep it all goes. How far could they dig before exhausting the mines entirely? It was a curious thing to think about.


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Thousands, that would be a start, though Wodan was sure that they would need millions if they were to achieve his lofty goals. He could possibly do it with droids, but slaves were cheaper to aquire and were a lot more common throughout the Outer Rimi. “I assume most of these are from local worlds?” He asked as they stepped inside the elevator which would take them down into the mine proper.

“Yes, because of certain ‘laws’ it is much harder for us to transport amongst our camps.” The lead slaver replied. Once they were all in one of the guards closed the doors of the elevator cage and pulled the lever sending them down. Wodan turned to look out into the mine, the lines of bodies kept their eyes front not wishing to look away from their work, lest they feel the sting of the lash.

“Could you expand the number quickly if more ‘camps’ were permitted?” He asked, Wodan was curious how quickly large numbers could be culled from the local populace and put to the lash. He didn’t need an influx straight away, but if certain avenues didn’t open up correctly he made need them on short notice.

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The Kel'dor steps into the elevator alongside the others, silent as Wodan converses with the criminal slavers. The cage closes around them, a protective barrier as the lift descends into the gaping maw of the pit below. Like ants, the workers scramble, transporting supplies both in and out of the mine as many work without protection from the sand and sweltering heat. A cruel fate. Sol's eyes are cold, but his thoughts are churning.

Wodan mentions expansion, additional camps and, undoubtedly, more captured slaves. And where would he be getting these little workers? Sol doubts the local Imperial planets would be very fond of losing friends and family to the pits, but as sour as the thought was, the Kel'dor supposed that their opinions hardly mattered. Clearly, Wodan had plans, large ambitions that far outweighed the emotions of his subjects. And who was Sol to judge? He was no slaver, but he was a murderer all the same, malicious and all too savage, Sol knew the rush of a kill, the thrill of a hunt. He was no overseer, but he was no saint either.

The slavers seem almost giddy about what was being tossed onto the table, as if Wodan was gifting a dog a new bone. The thought of more camps and more slaves seemed to excite the trio of overseers, because it inevitably meant more money. Of course, most criminals were the greedy type. It made them predictable, and perhaps, more easily controlled. Wodan would get the labor he needed, as well as the loyalty of those who lusted after wealth.


@Braden
 

Wodan

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Sith Order
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Missing in Action

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Braden
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“Depending on how many ‘camps’ I am sure we can accodimdate within a reasonable timeframe. The AMS Virus and the Wars have been ‘good for business’ if you know what I mean.” The Zygerrian replied, its hands clasped in front of him, counting the credits in its head already.

The elevator continued to descend into the pit, Wodan’s eyes looked towards the defences and guard situation around the pit. If he was to expand he would need ample security to protect his interests. “And what of the guard situation. I barely see more than thirty here?” Yes they had blasters, but they could only fire so fast and cut down so quickly.

“Collars are our best deterrent.” He replied, pointing to the spare collar hanging on one of the guards necks. “They prevent the wearer going further than six hundred metres from that pillon. And they can only be removed by the three of us.” He replied pointing to a pilon in the middle of the pit. “The guards are mainly here to keep them working, not keep them in.”

@Nevermourn
 

Sol Kenuk

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Sith Order
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Sith Master

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Nevermourn
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Good for business? Well, for for a slaver's business, perhaps. But Sol can't quite disagree. The AMS subjects had been good for his business, too. Or at the very least, they would be. Sol's eyes roam the pit, and the collared worms that crawled through the dirt within. He didn't peer at their faces, didn't care to see their expressions, wasn't going to allow them to coil around his thoughts. There was a interesting thought, though, one that was akin to a dark and poisoned needle creeping into his mind.

"The collars, I don't suppose you have some you'd be willing to spare?" And the pillons, too. "I would be willing to make a bulk purchase for a price of your choice. Call it, a cherry on top of the deal we've already made." As for why Sol wanted a few hundred collars of his own, well... he doubted Wodan would like his answer very much. The Kel'dor didn't keep slaves, but he did keep experiments, and the added security of the collars would make it a bit easier to insure he could maintain control.

"I think we could work something out, no questions asked of course." It didn't really need to be said, but the sly smirk that tugged upon the Zygerrian's lip was visible to the group. Sol nods stiffly in agreement, his gaze creeping out into the pit beyond the lift once more. He had seen all that he needed to see, heard all that he needed to hear, and now it seemed, he had quite a few new assets to gather for himself.

"I think we've seen enough of your facilities." It's spoken politely, and not with any sort of distaste. Sol simply didn't see the need to remain any longer, not with his newfound idea brewing within his gut. "I will make the purchase for those collars, and we will be on our way. We appreciate your willingness to deal with us, I will insure your pockets are well lined for it." The Kel'dor's vocals are honeyed, and his eyes shift back to Wodan, wondering if he had any opinions to add.

@Braden
 
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