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Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

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Telperiën Ar-Pharazon last won the day on August 21 2021

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About Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

  • Birthday 12/26/1991

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  1. An impossibility. He moved with such speed and strength that his huge form was a blur before her eyes. She had not even a moment to fully process what would then befall her. The last Dathomiri priestess. The last of her bloodline, cursed to die and live again until the Dark Lord freed her of her bondage. A dark lord that had long since left her far behind. What was she in the end? Another young mind corrupted by the addiction of power, lusting for its promises while the promise stayed ever a finger length out of reach? How was that her fate since she had been born? A flash of incomprehensible rage passed through her mind in a flash as she felt the lightsaber burn its way through her arms. It was unfair. It was an outrage. How could she loose to this? How could the heir of the great Ar-Pharazon and Qaela the Darkmother, loose to a wookiee apprentice fresh off the teat of its master? How with all she had sacrificed on the alter of power could she be left bereft of it when she needed it the most? As superheated plasma cut through bone and sinew she screamed in her anger. A roar of guttural rage. A roar that became a wail of despair as she fell to the ground at the feet of the Jedi Apprentice. Her eyes leaking forbidden tears as she confused in the desiccated grass. In the end they all had abandoned her. Her masters, her mother, her power. Gone like the tears that leaked down her dirty face into the dirt she had made barren as her heart.
  2. Loyalty… She blinked, pausing for a moment as the audacity of his words crashed over her. The naivety, and utter delusion of them almost made her laugh had she not felt the pent up rage of the last decade show its face. Her thoughts dashing from wound to wound, finding the source of her pain and her anger. Stoking them into a rage. How many times had she proven herself loyal to various great Lords of the Sith? How many had she killed or possessed for the Spider? How many throats had she slit from ear to ear in the time of their grand crusade? But like everyone else in her life he too had turned to leave without a goodbye. When had loyalty ever paid off? All it had ever gotten her was a swift kick in the ribs. The Jedi would find that out soon enough. But her anger bubbled inside like a bile. Her voice was like gravel as she spoke, her hands which held the knife twitching with her rage. “They always betray you.” And without loyalty, she needed power to keep them in line. If she was powerful enough, then they would have never left. She would have stopped them. She would have held them close until all desire to leave had left them. And why would they want to leave her? There would be no reason. And she needed the power of the two Jedi. She needed to drink it from their blood. Only then could she be happy. With a yell she lept towards the Jedi Apprentice, her knife held before her like a spear. Her darkness would cover his light. It would consume it, it would corrupt it and she would finally have the power she so craved.
  3. What happened when dread met one unafraid of the darkness? The resoluteness of the wookiee’s defence was so unexpected that the daughter of Ar-Pharazon nearly stumbled in her advance. A single drop of doubt began to trickle down from the nape of her neck, a worry that a sure prey was not the defenceless apprentice she had thought him to be. Other apprentices had fallen to bow and stone knife, but those had been in fear and crying as the jaws clamped onto their necks. How delicious the tears, how warm the blood. It still stained her hands, trembling fingers covered with mottled dried blood which now strayed to the cord around her neck. Grasping the totem that hung there, its crystalline form a blood red itself. Reflecting in the pale light of the lightsaber as she took another step forward. Her voice was the guttural growl of a beast. The predatory form of the nightsisters echoing in the tones of her rotting vocal chords. Blood too was there, leaking at the edges of her pretty mouth. Though dark and discoloured as the rotting flora at their feet. “You dare stand while your master falls? For what purpose?” Oh if only he would run. He must escape. The fear of the sprint, she would let him get a head start, it would make the blood all the more delicious when finally drank from his quivering corpse. The stone knife in her other hand quivered as she took another step forward, her spirit beginning to feed on the pain. The horrible pain of wound and poison. Of the death of the life all around them. That pain, that death, feeding the shadows that stretched out all around her. Approaching the light of Kerriwarr’s foolish stand. For what was bravery in the face of death?
  4. Mother would be proud. She had no doubt of that. How could there be any doubt? She let the shattered bow drop from her numb hands. Letting the numb fingers work to bring life back to them. As for the bow, it had served for the years required. Much like this current body which had begun to succumb to the ancient curse. The curse that was now infecting the Jedi master and the very ground they all walked upon. She stepped out from the dying trees and walked slowly towards the speeder, a grin spreading across her face as she saw the womans struggles. There would be no running for either of them and she wanted that body. It still kept its youth, its lovely form. And what better face to wear than that of a Jedi Master?
  5. Fingers, long callused by the whipping of hempen string, touched a long stalk of grain. The fingers reached down, running down until they caressed the bud of the root. From that root a dark stain appeared. A withering stain of black blood that began to creep from root to root. Stretching like some infected vessel until it spread from the patch of low trees towards the distant mono-cultural horizon. A curse, a gift, a revenge.
  6. The large muscle groups on her back bunched painfully as she drew the longbow again, pulling the heavy black ash shaft up alongside her cheek and feeling the whisper of the feathers beside her ear. Aiming was more in the instinct built by long practice since childhood. And when she loosed the hemp cord, the ash shaft slapped into the throat of another refugee, carrying the two razor sharp blades of the broadhead up and through his neck and burying itself in the sidewall of the Nubian starship behind him. He pitched lazily forwards, his spinal column severed and bright red blood gushing into the fertile ground. She could almost taste the copper bite of the blood as it fountained into the grass. Telperien savored the hopeless fear in the blood as the ground of Kashyyyk greedily drank from her victim. Alas for that, but there would be more, and not all would be wasted upon the soil. The cord beneath her fingers sang again and another arrow cut the life from a refugee as the twin sabercats tore his wife in half mere feet from him. Perhaps their eyes met and whispered a message of love. But likely not, as their screams of agony gave little love at all beyond sobs of mercy. The remaining refugees tried to flee of course, but the mighty beast made himself known with a roar that shook the clearing and with a swipe of a claw crushed the last adult of the group into the loamy soil of kashyyyk. Now there were only the younger humans to hunt. And their fear tasted delicious on the wind.
  7. She was deep in the forest now, letting the hunting instinct guide her as it had guided her people for generations. Slowly, the scent had begun to develop. Starting first as a brush of the force against her own presence. What strange and haunting specters played across her mind. A glimpse of strange innocence, a clearing and a campfire, fresh rations being added to boiling water. Laughing and joy. A ship being unloaded with camping and survival supplies. A final joy after being so long on the move. A delicious chance at an innocent prey. And a prey with certain material possessions that would work in Telperiën’s advantage. For a brief moment she thought of her Iridonian friend, and what she might have thought at such a pursuit. But the very thought made a prickle of anger crawl up her spine. A wave of spite and anger that gave her limbs a sudden lightness and doubled her speed as she followed the scent. Outpacing her two feline companions as she slipped the leather satchel off of her shoulder. The muddy ground made little sound as she ran through the deep woods, pausing to crouch at the edge of the natural clearing made by a decade old turbolaser blast. She took another breath, letting the scent filter across her tongue. Foreign smells. A faint perfume lingering with boiled noodles. Colonists perhaps? A look around the base of a giant wroshyr tree showed their sleek Nubian designed shuttle which reflected the shallow greens of the recovering forest from its mirror-like hull. Six human adults. Refugees from their various states of dress. Two teenagers and one child. They sat around their duraplast camp table, feasting on meager rations with not a care for the world around them. Whatever world or collections of worlds they had come from had not prepared them for what could be lurking in the growing shadows. There was a feast here for the taking, an easy meal for creatures so inclined. She let the idea in the force linger in the air as she sought an easy outlet for her anger and rage. Her two sabrecats beckoned to her call, their mouths growing frothy with anticipation. But something else on the edge of the forest also answered. Something ancient and whose soul had long ago been fully consumed by the needs of bloody predation. From her satchel she withdrew the long wooden staff of a longbow, placing one horn plated end against the bulk of a tree root and using the leverage to bend it far enough to string. Slipping the hempen cord over the rancor bone notch, before stooping to pull a wicked black feathered arrow from the bag. A broadhead of darksteel. Forged from the wreckage of the Galactic Alliance cruiser Tiberious, which had fallen to earth during the battle of Onderon. Tempered by Krath metallurgists into weapons for the servants of the Dark Lord himself. Imbued with the same hatred and malice that had forged the Sith Empire not a half a decade past. All in ruins now. And the very thought of such a failure made bile churn in her stomach. She took a calming breath and notched the wicked arrow, thinking for a moment of all those friends and masters that had died on their crusade for power. Those great Sith had failed, had died and were banished into eternal darkness, while these weak beings had survived to find a new life. What better prey to hunt than those that deserved it? The black feathered arrow flew free, embedding itself in the skull of one of the men in the clearing, right as he reached to take from the communal dish. Spilling bright red blood in a gush that covered half the table. How freeing the sight was as she surrendered herself to the bitter hunt. Her two sabercats rushing forth from their hiding places. Their cackling screams joining Telperiën’s own. But above it all, even the din of sudden battle and pumping blood, came the dark roar of an ancient malice.
  8. Red eyes narrowed as blood dripped from churning jaws. The two great cats noisily fed on their prey as their mistress wiped the blood from her narrow set chin. It was strange to be alone again, even as such a friendship had blossomed it was already gone. Or at the very least put away in the cupboard, something to be looked at, to be admired, but not used. Standing in stasis as the galaxy spun itself into darkness. She reached into the carcass and placed a blood stained hand onto the no longer beating heart. She squeezed, letting her fingernails rip into aortic tissue and bright red blood spill forth. She pulled the quivering heart from the beast and looked into the cavities her fingers had left. Reading the twitching tissue like a R2 unit would read a starmap. But this was no good omen. And it read of despair and loathing, a churning galaxy and the death of heroes and villains. Of Friends and Enemies. She grimaced at the sign and let the heart fall away.
  9. The nightsister’s gaze searched the heavy brush as she ran, her eyes seaking the fleeting form of the Jedi Knight. Telperien’s mind was racing as she sprinted through the close clinging mires, letting the force guide every step. Her speed fueled by a mix of sudden rage and delight. But why the sudden peak of imperius rage? Was it the burned remains of a civilization that they ran through? Was it the realization that everything her mother and father had striven for now lay in ruins? Was it rage at the Jedi knight for trying to teach her a lesson that she herself knew nothing about? Yes, that was the source of the sudden fire that pushed her steps. How did the jedi expect someone like her to control herself? How could she control herself if she had never once been told or shown how? What a privileged life Kadi must have lived. Did she not know that the only joy that had ever stirred the soul of the nightsister had been in the thrill of a hunt? There was a purpose. The hunt itself, the pleasure from it, the fellign of an innocent prey, the feral desire of the blood spilling upon the ground. Telperien could almost taste the fear in the air and it made her mouth water spectacularly. Oh to taste that blood!
  10. The nightsister ran easily through the underbrush, her bare feet making little sound as she sprinted after the two sabercats and the Zabrak Jedi Knight. The flow of the force was so easy to tap into on the wookiee homeworld. The dark overhanging trees reminded her of Dathomir before it had been laid to ruin. And though it was slightly different, the undercurrent in the force of primal predators searching for their prey was delicious to tap into. No wonder the great furry humanoids loved their homeworld so, she could get lost in the darkness here. Revel in it, bathe and drink of it until it covered her from head to toe in its shadows. The swift and generous power offered by the nature of Kashyyyk enthralled her. So much so she nearly missed the directions Kadi yelled at her, so Telperien was forced to jump after her. Running up the side of a burned out wyshor tree, landing at the heels of the Zabrak jedi, and letting that energy flow through her and into her two sabercats. Driving their hunting instincts and hers into a frenzy.
  11. With a wave of her hand the Nightsister pulled the naturally made shadows around her, deadening her form as she deadened the sound of her footfalls. Her bare feet making no noise as she sprinted after the Jedi Knight. She did not draw on the force to speed herself however, that would cheapen the hunt, the thrill that came from the long run and a sharp point of a spear. She could feel the thrill of it pulsing with her heartbeat. It was adrenaline in its purest form. A nightsister becoming the predator she had always believed herself to be. She ranged behind the Minstyngar as her sabrecats kept at its heels. Snapping with each attempt to bring the beast down. But the cats had long avoided their predatory nature, living in the slums of Naboo, eating what their master fed them. So, a push was needed. Her mind connected with them, and she urged them onwards, stirring their beastial emotions. Their desire to maim and kill. To eat and devour. And the sabercats obeyed, a froth forming at their lips as they prepared for the fatal strike…
  12. Telperien lay back and likewise let her eyes follow the twisting and burnt branches, tracing them in their vain attempt to reach the most sunlight possible. Unconscious to the fact that their greed could smother the undergrowth a hundred meters below them. Was it natural that the young grass that tickled the back of her neck could only survive when the wroshyr trees above them were burned and carbonized by turbolaser fire? Was it natural when the Katarn hunters killed and ate a Kinrath? Were the short and brutal lives of predator and prey something that a Jedi Naturalist considered a good thing? A source for their power? So many questions, but the young grass felt good against the nape of her neck, and she let her mind wander. “We do not need to talk at all. I am no philosopher and no great debater.” The ears of the two sabercats perked up, and a low growl whispered deep in their throats. “Ah but it looks like we may have a hunt on our hands, Jedi. Will you come with us?” Telperien scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to the Jedi knight as the two cats looked at their master. Longing. She nodded and the two cats exploded into action. Bounding in great leaps after whatever prey they had caught the scent of. A very scared Minstyngar who was runnign as fast as its paws could carry it. The Hunt was on.
  13. Telperien likewise sat, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. She lifted a hand and pointed to the creatures in turn. Her thin finger pointed to one of the saber cats, who bore a thin white stripe from the muzzle to the tip of its long tail. Then to the one with a matching black stripe. “This is Hono, and Kai.” She waved the finger again and released the two cats from the subtle control she kept on them. They reacted instantly to the Jedi’s use of the force. Bounding up to the woman to give her gentle but persistent head butts until she petted them. They were animals originally bred for war in the ancient pre human era of Naboo. But they also deeply desired the loving contact of others. They were a little too human in that way. “I followed the force, hoping that it would lead me back to you.” The Jedi woman was an enigma, it was undoubted that Telperien was attracted to her, but she also found herself just desiring someone like Kadi to talk to. To ponder the meaning of this brutal and short life.
  14. The two saber cats bared their stark white fangs, stepping in front of their mistress in a defensive crouch, the fur behind their ears furrowing and standing tall in some primordial gesture of menace. Nothing much to scar an Acklay and a full Jedi knight, but they were ready for the fight if it offered itself. Telperien waved her hand at the two felines and they calmed instantly, sitting and wrapping their spiked tails around their front paws, their stark yellow-grey eyes watching their mistress with fascination. “They belonged to this former body, they serve their purpose.” She ran her long finders through the fur at the base of Kai’s skull, causing him to pur, and the long pointed ears to twitch in pleasure. Telperien smiled softly and looked back up to Kadi. It was good to see her again, she was a beautiful specimen of a modern Iridonian Zabrak, horns that curved wonderfully up from the light tattooing around her forehead. It was an intriguing feeling to look at someone like her, a sworn enemy, and feel only the loneliness in her own heart. Not hate. Even the strange desire she had felt in their last combat did not stir itself in the pit of her belly. Only a stark and bleak loneliness. Telperien held out a hand towards the two saber cats, holding a scrap of meat that she had packed from their last stop. “It is good to see you... I trust you are well?”
  15. But what was this light? This pure heart that beat so steadily in the face of total darkness? That calming rhythm that flickered at the edges of her consciousness? Her heartbeat was almost musical, every contraction of the aorta pushing blood through living tissues. Was it the heartbeat that brought her to this dismal world? A pretty face? Perhaps a promised end to a curse that had hounded her from death to death. The Heir of Ar-Pharazon did not know. Perhaps it was all of those things. She slowly stood as the shuttle settled into one of the burned out landing pads nestled in the husk of a great tree. The two sabre cats that had so faithfully served this bodies’ owner crowded around her feet, looking up with eager and fearful eyes. For they did not like this change, where one there had been laughter, only a brooding silence remained. It unsettled them. Her face was still there, but the light behind her eyes had changed. “Hono, Kai.” She whispered, reaching down to scratch behind the ears of the foremost cat. “All will be alright.” They did not believe her, but followed anyway. That was their duty. And perhaps if she found what she wanted on this strange grassless land, her smile would return.
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