Episode X Dark Hunter

The Dark Hunter Arrives (Pt1)

The eleven-year-old alley thief we had been introduced to earlier now comes back into our story. Since we last saw the boy, he had been brought by the cloaked men to Felga and exchanged in payment for the dead Harch. Thus, Cam H'darr had now been in the Hutt's service as a slave for almost two weeks. Fortunately for him, he was allowed to keep the outfit he had stolen. Unfortunately, he was not allowed to keep the boots, one of Felga's hired goons needing a new pair.

Service to Felga involved cleaning the waste strewn about by Felga's sham-proprietors, entertainers, and other lowlifes. No rations were provided for any of the slaves, and Cam's only means of sustenance was to eat whatever he found on the ground to clean up. Surprisingly, the hundreds of sweaty and greedy creatures that frequented Felga's atrium would dispose of most of the food provided to them, simply casting it on the floor. For Cam, this was a feast compared to life in the alleyway. He would swipe up the scraps into the many pockets on his vest and ate the bounty later. If caught eating on the job, his slave warden was sure to beat him until he threw the food back up. Then he was responsible for cleaning that up as well.

The real problem for the slaves was fresh water. Like the food, none was provided for him. At first, he tried to lap up water from any puddles in his sleeping cell. The slave quarters were beneath the main dwelling, and any mix of spilled drinks, mop water, or other fluids would sometimes find its way through cracks in the stucco ceiling and pool in the shallow depressions of the cell floor. The floor of Felga's entertaining hall was almost always wet with that amber cocktail. It was barely enough to sustain life, and Cam detested it.

However, Cam was raised by the streets, and what he wanted he would steal. There was no difference here. After a few short days, Cam had already managed to swipe a few things off of various goons, petitioners, and patrons. It was nothing grandiose, just a few decorative pins, some empty money pouches, a few miniature power cells, a tooth, a laser stylus, and one unspent blaster cartridge. Most of these things were useless, but the leather money pouches were water-resistant, so he used them to hold drink. Shortly after he had pickpocketed the pouches, he slipped silently, being barefoot you remember, into the wine storage. Every day he could manage to fill the pouches two or three times after of course, he filled his stomach. The wine was not strong most of the time, luckily; but it did affect him, dampening his stealthy expertise.

That was the reason he was now thrust by his draconian slave ward onto the ground in front of Felga's glistening body pedicle. Cam fell on his face before the large slug-like crime-lady. She lounged on her padded sofa, her large head resting on her fist as she leaned to her right side. Felga was a green Hutt, with purple annular stripes starting at her midriff and extending down her tail. She smoked carababba tabac from a thin long stem holder to keep the smoke from her eyes. On her head sat a shimmering head cap that changed color depending on the light, and around her neck rested a purple feathered boa. She yawned and waved her right hand at the slave warden giving him permission to speak.

"Your Lady," the slave warden said as he bowed before her. He was a blue Twi'lek. One blue head tentacle wrapped over his chest and the second hung behind him. "I would not have bothered you. But, as you have requested, I am approaching you before I kill this slave of yours. You having the right and power over him. I humbly submit to your decision." He bowed lower, his front tentacle falling and touching the floor. Felga yawned again, then took another puff of her tabac. She remained silent and looked disinterested as she slowly moved her black dilated gaze toward and then away from both armed Weequays that stood guard at each side of her.

Felga's throne room was moderately sized and pillared. White, stone pillars rose and supported the roof, which was decorated with a sprawling painted fresco. It revealed the repeated image of Felga performing heroic feats and earning bountiful rewards. Painted worshiping masses came to bow before her throned image. In one painting she sat above the circle of the universe holding scales in one hand and a sword in the other.

Here she sat like a Thala-siren sunning herself on a rock. She wiped her mouth from some drool that had escaped her mouth and puffed another breath of tabac. A tired young Trandoshan female fanned her with a dragonbird wing.

In the throne room, her guards stood by her side and a half dozen armed men hugged the wall. They waited for the sedated female to reply. The unnatural pause was not unusual, and only Cam felt unsure what to do in the silence. He studied the room trying to figure out what he should do. She finally looked at Cam, almost piercing through him as if not able to see him directly. She pushed herself upright; a Naboo whale trying to move after beaching on land.

Felga's raspy voice coughed a statement. "The boot thief of the third quarter."

The slave warden did not raise his head but spoke to the floor as he bowed even lower. "Yes, Your Lady. He was found in the winery, stealing your most sacred drink. The punishment is death."

Felga belched and shook her head as if the sound of her own eructation bothered her. She raised her hand and snapped. "Wine." The carnal soul of this creature, at the mere mention of wine, moved her without a seemingly rational will to request the drink. It is the primitive impulse, the uncontrolled desire of the flesh, I suppose.

Another young slave, a Togruta female, ran in from a side room with a yellow goblet and delivered it trembling as she did so. Felga's limp hands received it and the contents quickly disappeared into her gullet. The red Togruta disappeared just as swiftly.

"That's better," she commented as she wiped her mouth. Then with a wave of her hand, and a nonchalant comment directed into the air she spoke, "Dispose of the boot-thief."

The sentence was expected and Cam had played with death every day of his known life. He did not cower or plead for his life. No, his hands and feet did what they always did in situations like this. The slave warden, before he knew it, found the sharp point of Cam's stolen pin deeply embedded in his eye, and a blue humanoid leapfrogging over his bent form.

Felga, now sat up as straight as she could, her mouth gaped.

The guards on the walls sprinted toward the door to the receiving room as Cam raced to exit. Their weapons were drawn and raised to fire. However, when the boy reached the door, he hit the firm torso of a pale Bodach'i, standing like a wall in the door. The creature's reptilian tongue flashed, tasting the air. Cam fell back, and blasters were lined on him.

The blue Twi'lek grabbed the scruff of Cam and lifted him up like a freshly caught scalefish. The other hand covered his eye.

"You just earned a painful death, slave," the slave warden growled.

He went to walk around the Bodach'i that had entered, but the white lizard stumbled and tried to steady himself by gripping the slave warden's shoulder. The warden looked at the Bodach'i with disgust and shook the grip off. The lizard crumbled to the floor like a sack of Kessel potatoes and the warden stepped back almost dropping the boy.  

"What in the--" the warden stammered. "He's drunk!"

At that moment the warden felt the sting of a midge bite on the nape of his neck. He swatted at it, but it was too late. The injected sedative took effect within seconds. Cam dropped to the ground as the warden's hand became weak, and the Twi'lek collapsed. One bite was not enough to completely anesthetize him, but he would be weakened for a few minutes. Felga and the Weequay guards looked confused, but just for a moment, for in the doorway stood a dark figure: the black-clad Videsse. Her midge droids returned to her left gauntlet and in her hand, she held one of her thermal grenades.