(I hope you all enjoy :)
Ragu can't help but groan in pain as his vision slowly returns to him. His body screams out in pain as if it had just been brutally beaten, and as far as he knows, it probably has been. The feeling of cold hard steel wrapped around his wrists and ankles quickly jogs his memory.
The floors that he has been forced to kneel on are rough and unkept, causing them to scrape against his skin in an irritating and painful manner. The air is hot and heavy, causing the room to be filled with the stench of sweat.
He had been trying to escape a hunting party of vengeful nightsisters when he had been captured by slavers. They caught him by surprise and managed to knock him unconscious before he could even react.
That is what caused this situation he has fallen into. Quickly raising his head, Ragu opens his eyes to look around, only to find himself kneeling in a line of slaves, all chained together as if they are about to be presented at an auction.
Ragu can't help but smile bitterly while shaking his head. Slavery. The most disgraceful form of servitude a zabrak warrior can be forced into.
'Sorry Chief, I know you warned me, but I had to do it. Even if this is the cost.' He thinks to himself, memories of another young zabrak filling his mind.
'May your soul now rest in peace now Aomu.'
As Ragu bows his head, silently praying for his friend Aomu, who is no longer of this world, one of the prisoners to his left begins moaning in fear.
"Please just kill me. Don't sell me here. Please anywhere but here."
Ragu glances over to see the man speaking. the man is a middle-aged human male with no definitive traits. Why is the man so terrified of here? Ragu thinks to himself nervously.
"Where are we." Ragu asks the man.
The man shakes his head, weeping, snot running down his face, and bruises covering most areas of exposed skin.
"We are at the Sith home world."
Hearing this, Ragu can't help but to stiffen in fear. He had thought that he would be able to escape and quickly get on with his life. However it seems that will not be the case.
"We are on Korriban." The man whispers, barely audible, his voice trembling from fear.
"I see." Ragu replies.
Being a slave on Korriban was like a death sentence. The planet has dangerous weather and is filled with monstrous wildlife. However, that is not even the most dangerous part.
The most dangerous part of being a slave in Korriban, is the slave masters themselves…. The Sith.
Even at the mere thought of the Sith, Ragu's blood runs cold, and despite's the intense heat, he shivers.
Once, a long time ago, he had seen a Sith. It had been back on his home world of Dathomir.
It was only a brief encounter from a distance, but the man overflowed with power. It had blown him away. It was as if the man's danger were a physical pressure pressing down on them.
The man's power had been long carved deep into Ragu's heart. But what also was carved there, was the overwhelming fear he had felt.
The stories say that Sith are like gods of death. As far as Ragu is concerned, that is an understatement.
As he stays kneeling, he can hear the loud thudding of metal on metal approaching.
"Someone's coming." Ragu whispers.
As the sounds draw closer and closer, the room slowly becomes colder and colder. The previously boiling hot room now feels as if it was plunged into a deep ice age.
Wether from fear or cold, all the slaves are visibly shaking, waiting.
The steps grow closer and closer. The cold grows stronger and stronger. The fear grows more intense with every second and every step.
Finally, after what feels like years of waiting, the door swings open.
"Here they are my lord! Please take your pick! For you, it's on the house." The high pitched, raspy, sickly voice of the slaver.
The man sounds like a rat who had it's throat torn up by a rakhound.
However, the slaves didn't utter a single word. More like, most of them couldn't. The unbearable pressure of the Darkside pressing down on them immobilizes them.
Ragu however, manages to look up, despite the overwhelming pressure.
Doing so, he almost regrets it. Looking into the face of the Sith Lord, his heart slams into his chest in fear. His teeth grit together, almost crushing themselves from the pressure.
The Sith Lord was a Pureblood Sith. His blood red skin is flawless, and almost radiates in power. His eyes burn a deep orange glow and his build is terrifying, standing at nearly seven foot with powerful muscles.
The man is covered in thick black Sith armor. The armor is made of a expensive type of black durasteel and is perfectly kept. Perhaps the thing that stands out the most, is a silver and black metallic hilt that is attached to the man's side. A lightsaber…
The Sith, looks down at Ragu, his expression twisting from boredom to curiosity. Then, he speaks. His deep and powerful voice reverberating through the air.
"Hm? Tell me boy, can you move despite the pressure I am currently exuding upon you all?" He asks.
Ragu freezes. Should he pretend to not move? Should he respond? Should he ignore the question and grovel?
No. Even if he is now a slave, he is a proud warrior of Dathomir! He will not grovel.
Steeling his heart, and physically straining against the pressure, Ragu replies, "Yes my lord. Although it' difficult, I can move."
"HAHAHAHA!" The lords laughter booms out, filling the room.
"Interesting! Very interesting!" He roars with an dark expression. Reaching down, the Sith Lord placed his large hand on the smooth head of the zabrak boy, careful to avoid the crown of long horns surrounding his temple.
Then, Ragu spasms in pain as he feels an intense surge of darkside energy pour through him.
The pain…. The power…. His mind slowly falls blank as it surges through him. He feel's a powerful fog falling over his consciousness as he leans back…
"Yes…. This is it…" He mutters quietly.
The Sith smirks. "Hoho! Where did you find this slave Marcel!"
The slaver bows his head with an excited smile on his face.
"We found him on Dathomir! We believe him to be a runaway warrior from one of the Zabrak tribes there." The slaver explains.
"Ah a Dathomirian Zabrak! That makes sense." The Sith says with a smirk.
After a moment, the Dark lord blasts the slaves mind with a flood of darkside energy, knocking him unconscious.
"He will do fine. I want him sent up to my office." The Sith demands.
"Of course…. Darth Galor."