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08.17.2012 , 09:48 PM |
A Sith lord's rise has humble beginnings...
My First featuring my Sith assassin. No spoilers
Xanara had thought many times about the people she had met over the course of time, those that helped her during hard times. It had not been easy living as a slave; friends were a rare commodity in such an environment and when they suddenly disappeared, it was hard. Harder still was to keep on going as if nothing had happened as asking questions would attract the wrong kind of attention. Smuggling cartels were not known for liberal thinking and slaves were bought not to think, but to work and keep quiet. They were supposed to be non-existent and to carry out their jobs as requested.
Sometimes, she had thought that droids had more value in the eyes of her masters that the countless living slaves that, most of the time, were consumed by hunger, disease or just plain exhaustion. Not to mention the beatings: they would happen on almost a regular basis but most had no reason to happen. One slave would be beaten because he dropped something on the floor, another because he dared to open his mouth. Others would be punished just because...
It had been hard.
The only time where she felt safe, was in her room. It was not a normal room, more like a prison cell which she shared with a young Twi'lek girl by the name of Nima. She had light green skin and eyes, a small frame but a cute face and a mischievous smile and, for some time, she had been the closest thing to a friend.
She still remembered the nights spent talking about everything and nothing, the daily work, the dreams and hopes and the family they left behind. That thought made her frown a bit: at least Nima knew she had a family somewhere, a family that, one day, she might have been reunited with. For Xanara, it had been a different story as she had been adopted and, the parents she had known, were now nothing more than a memory, killed by the same cartel she was now a property of.
All of them. Her foster parents, her hopes, her dreams of one day being free from the binding physical and mental chains, her own feelings. Nima's disappearance had been yet another blow to an already battered spirit. Xanara had tried to figure out what had happened, she wanted to understand why the young Twi'lek had been taken away that night, why she had not returned to her cell but she had not dared to ask, always fearing to be the next one on the list, the next unnamed slave to end up in the beast pens as some sort of sacrifice.
A sour smile appeared on her face. To be considered as a sacrifice, one would have to be worth something but to the cartel, slaves were less than nothing. The beast pens were the garbage disposal, were dead slave were thrown to be ripped apart by different species of exotic and hungry predators. Yet, she could not let the thought go. The question still remained. Why had she died? Had she died at all? Or had she been sold to another owner? Maybe, she had actually managed to escape.
The thought lingered for a moment, bringing a glimpse of hope, like the light of a candle in a dark room. But that glimpse did not last for long as the flame was extinguished by the overwhelming darkness surrounding it. Xanara knew, and had known for a long time, that there was no escape. At least, not while alive.
That was the answer. Maybe, that was what Nima had sought. She was now free, no more pain, no more fear, no more tears. And that's what had led Xanara to seek it too, but she could not do it on her own. However, the solution came to her by considering her surroundings: just as her captors were the ones to deny her freedom, her captors would be the ones to set her free.
It all happened so quickly from the moment she assaulted a guard with a rock she had managed to hide in a fold of her tunic, to being overwhelmed. She was no match for trained killers but that did not matter as she had achieved her purpose. And just as she was expecting, she had been punished that same day.
Now, she was laying on the ground, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth but she no longer cared as freedom was within reach. Only a few more moments of a life that had given nothing to her, save for the promise of oblivion, where her chains would no longer bind her. She almost did not feel being picked up by her jailer. Was he finally going to end it all? She found herself standing, barely, against the wall. She did not have the strength to raise her head and so, she focused her eyes on the floor. Why was it taking so long?
The man standing in front of her was saying something she did not care to understand. For her it was nothing more than words. Why was he talking at all? Was he asserting his dominance? Something about having his way? Of course, it was to be expected from this type of men. They do not have the strength to dominate their peers and so, they take out their frustration on those that are not in a position to defend themselves. She would be yet another nameless slave to fall to the depravity of such men. Just like Nima.
The name struck, crystal clear through the haze of her mind.
She raised her head to meet her captor's gaze and the sight shook her. Something deep within her swelled and burst, something never felt before, but it all came rushing out throughout her being in a tidal wave.
It was spiralling out of control and the more it filled her, the better she felt. Death was the solution, but before she died, she wanted to close her hands on the man's throat. She raised her arms, almost lunging for her target but her legs did not move. Her hate now filling every pore of her skin, she screamed, her voice filling the room as raw energy flowed from her fingers tips, enveloping the man in front of her.
When the screams stopped, Xanara was standing in front of a burned corpse. She was breathing hard but she no longer felt weak. She had never felt something so strong, so...invigorating. Like a drug, she felt the urge to taste more of its power and the more she craved it, the more her anger would surface.
Angry for having lived years in captivity. Angry for being afraid. Angry for letting such creatures control her life. Angry at herself for spending such a long time chained in a prison built by her own unwillingness to free herself.
Seething, she realised that more guards would be on the way, to see what had happened and she welcomed the thought. They will all suffer, their pain will fuel her resolve. Death was, indeed, the solution. Not hers but of those who dared restrain her, for she would no longer wear chains.
Her hate had set her free.
Another of my characters who had to go through a name change after the server merge. Xanara is not the original name, unfortunately but...oh, well...
@elliotcat - OMG, you used THAT word. I hated it so much when people used THAT word with my agent. Anyway, good story