Param stumbled into the warehouse. The thelassian that had shoved her stepped in after, shoving her again. With her hands bound behind her back, Param fell to her knees on the hard duracrete floor, wincing from the pain that shot up her thighs. More thelassians followed the shover, each holding a piece of her weaponry. One had her echani war sword, another her daggers, and a third her Westar-35 blaster pistol. A fifth carried her tan poncho, leaving her in just her long sleeve black shirt and tight brown leather trousers.
Though blood snaked its way down her face from a laceration on her forehead, Param shifted her silver gaze around the warehouse. On the far wall, various people of various species were lined up and chained together, pinned to the wall so that they couldn’t escape. There were two slavers, guarding the line electro staffs. Cages lined another wall, and crates of non-sentient merchandise lined the opposite wall to that. In total, there were twelve slavers in the warehouse, including the five that had entered with Param.
It was just one warehouse in a compound of several on Thelassia. The compound was guarded by a tower with an E-Web heavy repeater. A landing pad sat in the middle of the compound, allowing for the freighters to land, grab their cargo and head off to sell the cargo on the markets. It was the closest Param had come to Zygerria since the day she drenched the auction house in blood and threw the planet into a slave revolt as an Acolyte, but thelassian slavers were a smaller operation. Their entire society wasn’t built off the industry, there was just a large group of them that participated.
Param had been caught, and was now about to be a slave again- and it was calculated. A knowing smirk curled her lips, the wanderer unable to suppressed the small chuckle that escaped her. A swift kick in her back turned the chuckle into a yelp, and then a groan as the thelassian grabbed a reptilian fist full of her brown dyed hair and pulled it back to straighten her out. Her silver eyes met a pair of slitted yellow eyes.
“Defective maybe?” the thelassian in front of her hissed. Param smiled, groaning at being man-handled by the reptile behind her.
“The only defective thing here is your operation,” she spat, making sure spittle and blood sprayed the thelassian’s face. He retaliated with a swift backhand, and followed it up with a punch to her gut.
Wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath between coughs, a small pill-like object coming up and skittering across the floor. When the breath came back, bloody-lipped coughs were strung together by a laugh.
“What was that? Find whatever just flew out of her mouth!” Param turned a satisfied gaze up to the thelassian. It was a tracker, of course, and Param knew it. A tracker that Vee who was with Rancor Squadron was tracking. Param had volunteered to be the bait, being the best equipped to physically handle the slavers while unarmed. The slavers had brought her back to their operations center, not knowing that a battalion of Mandalorians and their supporting ships were just about drop on top of them.
@Darasuum
Though blood snaked its way down her face from a laceration on her forehead, Param shifted her silver gaze around the warehouse. On the far wall, various people of various species were lined up and chained together, pinned to the wall so that they couldn’t escape. There were two slavers, guarding the line electro staffs. Cages lined another wall, and crates of non-sentient merchandise lined the opposite wall to that. In total, there were twelve slavers in the warehouse, including the five that had entered with Param.
It was just one warehouse in a compound of several on Thelassia. The compound was guarded by a tower with an E-Web heavy repeater. A landing pad sat in the middle of the compound, allowing for the freighters to land, grab their cargo and head off to sell the cargo on the markets. It was the closest Param had come to Zygerria since the day she drenched the auction house in blood and threw the planet into a slave revolt as an Acolyte, but thelassian slavers were a smaller operation. Their entire society wasn’t built off the industry, there was just a large group of them that participated.
Param had been caught, and was now about to be a slave again- and it was calculated. A knowing smirk curled her lips, the wanderer unable to suppressed the small chuckle that escaped her. A swift kick in her back turned the chuckle into a yelp, and then a groan as the thelassian grabbed a reptilian fist full of her brown dyed hair and pulled it back to straighten her out. Her silver eyes met a pair of slitted yellow eyes.
“Defective maybe?” the thelassian in front of her hissed. Param smiled, groaning at being man-handled by the reptile behind her.
“The only defective thing here is your operation,” she spat, making sure spittle and blood sprayed the thelassian’s face. He retaliated with a swift backhand, and followed it up with a punch to her gut.
Wind knocked out of her, she gasped for breath between coughs, a small pill-like object coming up and skittering across the floor. When the breath came back, bloody-lipped coughs were strung together by a laugh.
“What was that? Find whatever just flew out of her mouth!” Param turned a satisfied gaze up to the thelassian. It was a tracker, of course, and Param knew it. A tracker that Vee who was with Rancor Squadron was tracking. Param had volunteered to be the bait, being the best equipped to physically handle the slavers while unarmed. The slavers had brought her back to their operations center, not knowing that a battalion of Mandalorians and their supporting ships were just about drop on top of them.
@Darasuum