Thruk had been having a bad day.
He worked as a slave deep within the hutt cartel, he walked along the dusty ,sand swept alleys of his masters workshop bringing piles of scrap to Norjil, his master. He had collected the scrap from a racing pod that had flown of course and crashed in the desert, Thruk had to scrape what was left of the pilot off of the precious engine parts before the metal could rust. He Felt the sun bead down on him, his eyes ached and his feet hurt from the long walk on the sunbaked sand.
Thruk thought momentarily about running for it, to once agin to be free of the shackles of his master and join his fellow gamoreans, maybe even join the palace guards. He quickly dispatched these ideas as the palace guard would never accept a run away slave and that was if he made it. even from where he was the howls and war cries of the tusken raiders echoed down from the cliffs to the desert below and he could make out large groups of tattered figuers slinking along the hill sides above.
He was almost relived when he got back to town. He moved swiftl, his large bag of scrap jangling behind him as he scampered through the alley way amongst the beggers, lowlifes, and fellow slaves, that dotted around. Then he heard it a hacking cough came form around the corner. This (though it startled him) was not unassual the slave's of the hutt cartle were the lowest of the low and even amongst the common citizens of the hutt cartel personal hygeniwas consiered a high luxery indeed, so diesease was not uncommon. Thruk turned the corner to a human slave lying on the ground leaning into the wall as though his legs would simply fall off.
The human was male with patches of brown hair on his head through with scabs and lesions could be seen upon his scalp, what ever colour the mans eyes once were he could not tell for they were now a discoloured milky white and dry crust had formed around his eyes. His skin had horrid open wounds which leaked drops of a foul pale liquid which even over the refuse and garbage of the back alleys smelled retched. His lips were were cracked and skabs and hints of spit and foam had bunched up just at the corners of his mouth. on his neck their was a trio of pale blisters and their were skin marks and bleeding were previous blisters had burst and from which a mixture of blood and that same pale fluid runned. Thruk was glad that the man was clothed for he would hate to see what lied benath them. But of all this scared thruk the most was the mans smile. Where it not for the bleeding gums and crooked lips it might have been nice but know it was horrifying. But thruk saw so much pain in his eyes the horrid suffering he must be enduring. But then the lips parted and a choaking gurgle emerged. Then with a gargled voice as though the man was drowning, he croaked out, have you come to find the freedom of the grandfather?