Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

So the Jedi had faced the terror. It was impressive really, she had seen much in her short life, and to be so strong it brought a smile to Telperiën’s face as she moved the last meter. This was the final moment, and with the woman’s spear up and ready there was only one way forward. Straight in, cutting the opponents in half as within close range with its master, the Acklay could not hope to provide anything but nominal support. And when the main threat was dealt with, the lesser would flee. With a bust of speed, the assassin trained nightsister dashed forward. She kept her body low, moving out of the billowing smoke, and shouting another word of power into the stern wind. She flung out her wounded arm, spraying the area with droplets of misted blood. The blood came with her, morphing and joining into an illusion of the daughter of Ar-Pharazon. To the Jedi, the Nightsister would emerge from the smoke as a trio of dark sisters. One going for each flank, while the true sister came along the point of the Jedi’s blade. Fluid like and lithe as a gymnast. To duck up under the long spear. And when the blade was right, to ignite the pale red saber into the Jedi’s chest. The Jedi was strong. But she was still prey. And in the wilds, the predator always won. ((3)) Actions: Dodged out of the acrid smoke, forming new illusions as she did so. Coming in fast to go under the spear. Where she would ignite the saber and end the fight.

Death. As the arrow found its mark Telperiën could feel it bite into the womans arm, tearing through flesh and mixing blood with blood. The woman was marked in her mind, trackable now, even as the woman bounded towards her behind her beast. Telperiën watched as the great Acklay came bounding towards her, and she lifted the yew bow even as she lept aside from the first of the creatures blows. A sacrifice for an escape. The yew bow fractured under the onslaught of the great beast, snapping in two as the spear like appendage crushed it into the dirt. The bag of arrows spilling into the bloody dirt. But the Nightsister was moving already, ducking between the spider like legs and running a bloody hand along its thick under-carapace. The lightsaber came next, the uniquely jedi weapon. This time in the form of a hussar’s lance, a long slender pole of durasteel with a short and effective blade of light. And for a sister of Dathomir it was perfect. She had trained with and against spears, they were a familiar thing of her childhood. Her old lightsaber appeared in her hand, still unlit, its edges carrying the weathered patena of Korriban. The golden house of her father. She lowered a shoulder and let the lightsaber burn into the light leather armour of her shoulder. Then she ducked away again, keeping herself light on the feet as moved around both the naturalist and her pet. Exodus had taught her how to fight the Jedi Knight's. The girl had fought her mother at Felucia. So she had seen the terror of the Sith. A word of power The darkside moved, for the very world was impregnated by it. The star forge had been born and died here. Its ruins infested this place. And the Jedi had chosen to live in its shadow. There was no conversation to be had. Terror The sunny clearing became a ruin of a village. The dead piled in heaps where they had fallen. Children still clinging to blood soaked skirts. As the intentionally lit fires turned small hands to twisted claws of black carbon. This was the terror of the darkside. This was the terror of the blood. And in that terror the nightsister moved. Hunting her prey. ((2)) Actions: Lost the bow to the Acklay attack. Armour Burned. Marked the acklay with blood, then wove an illusion.

With a shrug of her strong shoulders Telperiën dismissed the concerts of the Jedi Knight. There was little reason to debate, for the time would soon come that her sisters would reach the temple and the assault would begin. The sky would arc with lightning, the mountains would move, and caln Myrkengodi would show themselves to the galaxy once more. For good or ill, the nightsisters had attached themselves to this Sith Empire. And perhaps they had come too late, when the noontide had begun to fade into a bitter fall. If need be they would abandon the Sith to save their own. It was not cowardice. It was the way of the predator. It was the way of the jungle. You did not march into death with eyes up and willing. Not unless there was a greater purpose, to defend the tribe. “You do not trust me and my people. I do not discredit you for this. I may assure you I am not my mother, but what would I say to prove it? That I am my father’s daughter? Nay, for he was the Trickster. Ar-Pharazon the boundless. Ar-Pharazon the Golden.” She shrugged again, her right hand plucking one of the ash arrows from the open bag. It was long, made for the warbows of her people. White feathered, and its long arrowhead jutted from the tapered shaft. Three inches of case hardened durasteel. Designed to puncture the thick hide of a raging Rancor. Or the plastoid of a stormtrooper. “I am the lesser daughter of greater sires. And yes, I would be in your shoes and willing to die for my tribe. We are at an impasse. I am truly sorry. For we are all kriffing liars in the end.” She ran the sharpened bodkin down her forearm, opening the flesh and coating the head in dark red blood. The pain was delicious. She knocked the arrow and grinned, her face contorting into one of pure joy of the hunt. The dust around her stirred. “I swear I will not kill your pet.” The force moved with the sudden speed of the hunter, the bow was bent and the great bodkin arrow sang as it launched towards the Jedi Knight. The very air cracking from the shot. ((1)) ((Actions. Took a shot with her warbow after marking the arrow with her blood. Allowing her to project and speed the shot in the force))

Telperiën let out a laugh that was a mix of derision and fatigue. Of course the woman had met her mother. Of course her mind was already turned against her. She shook her head, the hard cut gems that were braided into her hair catching the light and making her hair into a multicoloured halo. “Of course you have met my Mother. You must have been one of the two that defeated her. For that I must congratulate you. Not many have seen the wroth of Qaela Darksong and lived. Even my father did not live long enough to see his spawn.” She narrowed her amethyst coloured eyes and looked the jedi in the eyes. “I do not intend you harm, in fact I would much rather you all leave this place and allow the Sith to take your place. A peaceful transition of power. But I doubt you will do that. Especially in light of the atrocities that my mother inflicted on your villages at Felucia.” She extended her hand and let the bag of arrows fall from her back, while the dark yew bow flipped back into her grip. “But I tell you I would much rather talk then kill you. But before you answer, let me say how lovely your horns and style are. If we were not opponents on the field of battle I would ask you to dinner and to learn more of your naturalism. But perhaps it is this body’s base desires.” She laughed at her own compliment, and bent the bow reflexively. Testing the tightness of the hemp cord. “So tell me, should I recant for my mothers actions and see you off as a friend. Or shall I fight you and your beast and hope that we leave with respect for one another?” Respect had to be earned, but her master had taught her well. And the Acklay was a magnificent creature, she would hate to harm it.

“Captain, set us down here.” The shuttle settled into the dense underbrush with the fine crackle of snapping branches. And when the ramp dropped down, Telperien led her sisters and apprentice into the deep cover of the overgrown planet. Finding a position of shelter near the rusting remains of a light cruiser from a thousand years before, the Nightsiser laid out their plan. “We will encircle the jedi temple from the north, then slowly tighten our noose.” She glanced to her apprentice and then at the three nightsisters that had accompanied him on Felucia. “Sisters, keep him in your midst, if we encounter heavy resistance, fade back to here. We are here to support our Sith Allies not die for them.” She looked her apprentice in the eyes. “Take that as my first lesson, the lesson of the hunter. Do not venture into suicide for no reason. Your life and the pack comes first. Do not let my sisters die. Do you understand this?” She placed a strong hand on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow the three nightsisters. She would not sacrifice her people for the Sith’s lust for power. For what did the sith care for the daughters of Dathomir? They were tools to be used and disposed of. And Telperien would not see her planet be annihilated again. The Sisters spread out through the underbrush until they could not see each other, relying instead on the power of the force to guide them. Telperien let the force move through her, letting it expand her senses, her hearing and her smell. But what was that? A predators mind. But controlled through love. She followed the tendrils of feeling from the predators mind and changed her course. Who was this that could so subdue a predator? A jedi surely, but a special one. She dropped low as she came to the edge of a clearing and saw the brief flash of red hair. Telperien let a smile creep across her face, this one was a worthy prey . She unstrung the longbow from her back and let it drop to the ground as she stepped into full view as she grinned widely. The woman was beautiful in the traditional beauty of the galactic core. Her Acklay was equally beautiful as only a dangerous predator could be. Which made Telperien wish for her own rancor which was still on Dathomir. “Hail Jedi.” Her voice was low but welcoming. She let her mind be open in a gesture of respect to the Jedi Knight, showing herself to be one of the Nightsisters of Dathomir. As if her tomboyish looks and leather armours did not say it already. Through the flow of the hunt she informed her sisters to stay away. This was her fight should the Jedi wish to engage.

“Mother, what of the Jedi apprentices they likely have there?” Telperien spoke plainly as she took the rank cylinder and slipped it into one of the hardened leather pouches at her side. “Surely they need not be killed?”

Telperien bowed low, her braids touching the ships decking in front of her before she straightened. Her three dozen young women following suit. “No dissension shall you hear from us my Lady. We will serve and Lehon will fall.” She glanced to her assigned apprentice. “Bow to the Dark Lady, then we will taste the blood of the Jedi Knights.”

She let her feral grin settle into a placid smile. “My Mother’s servant tells the truth, be honest always. For tricksters earn nothing but what they deserve. Power and control are her bylaws, she is a calculating woman, and far prettier than I. Come, we should not keep her waiting. We have much to do.” She shouldered her bow and together the group went to where her mother awaited them.

Pale amethyst eyes found the sulphuric yellow of Lord Blackmornes and the young daughter of Ar-Pharazon and Darksong inclined her head in greeting. The harsh hanger lights reflected off the collection of crystal shards that decorated her braided hair, which gave her an almost beautiful appearance. But her people were never considered beautiful by galactic standards, so the Nightsister had not much tried to improve her odds. Instead keeping with the traditional garb of her people, the unflattering scale armour mixed with hides and rough spun fibre. Still it suited her, as it suited her people. They were of the jungle. Of the dirt and mire, of beast and famine. Their lack was their great virtue. She grinned a feral smirk at the Sith Lord, returning his salute with a fist across her chest. A warrior's salute. “We march on regardless of losses. We strike the Jedi again, and perhaps we can learn a lesson from our recent failures. Or….” She smiled again, white teeth showing from behind pale lips. “We will die again.” She gestured for him to follow. “But come, my Mother is awaiting me, and I know she is in charge of this next great assault.”

Come on boy, we have much to do. Much to prepare for Her voice came crawling up her apprentice’s neck, more propelled by the force than any movement of her mouth. Their shuttle had made the transit from Felucia to the bastion planet of Onderon not two hours before, and the craft was on slow approach to the Herlov. A Kyber class star destroyer that predated the formation of the Sith Empire by only about a year. It had seen much combat since, and was still technically on drydock, but it was a livable ship. Even though it had taken hideous damage at Fondor. Fondor. Another disaster for this Empire. Tel found it hard to think about what had just happened at Felucia. They had been soundly defeated, and the Wild Hunt had gone unfed. She reached again with her mind to find Him. But the Spider was gone, a wraith in the force .He had come and established the greatest empire the Sith had known for a century, then he had disappeared without a trace. Almost like he had known.... ….They were doomed. The daughter of Ar-Pharazon shook her head as she looked at the hulking star destroyer in front of the shuttle. There was still much to do, but this development spoke of the end that they all had feared. Even though Nyrys had stepped seamlessly into the throne, she did not have the vigor that Exodus had possessed. But time would tell, and there was much to prepare for. Gather yourself. We will form you into a vessel for the Empire to grow. She spoke again to her apprentice as their shuttle touched down in the expansive fighterbay.

“Boy.” She said the word with such a level of disdain that the three nightsisters beside the young Sith Apprentice shrank back in fear. “We are leaving.” The Sith drop shuttle hovered low to allow them all to board. “Another defeat. Heads will roll and we must assure ours are not on the block.”

Telperien gestured towards the distant forest and its even more distant farming agriculture. “Take and partake. They are in rebellion, put down any that resist, enjoy in the feast of brutality but spare the children for they can yet be saved.” She motioned to three of her Sisters to accompany the young Sith Apprentice. Her voice was soft as she spoke a word in their ears. “Guard him well, and if the Jedi show themselves in force, fade into the trees. Do not enter a fight you cannot win.”

The old model cargo freighter slipped out of hyperspace slightly behind the transports of Qaela’s. The large cargo containers, much like the darkside itself, carried a ruthless cargo behind a nice and cheery exterior. Painted in the white of the galactic medical standard, the starship Calliope joined the dozens of other medical frigates and supply convoys towards the spread out villages that surrounded the Jedi Complex. With a burst of well piloted engines and repulsors, the freighter settled down at one of the abandoned villages a few miles distant from the edge of the Temple’s shield. Telperien the Golden, heir to the line of Ar-Pharazon and the Coven of Nightsisters knelt at her Master's feet. Her voice was soft as the ranks of dark cloaked sisters prostrated themselves behind her. “My Lord, your victory awaits.”

Like apparitions in deep mist, the nightsisters formed ranks around Telperiën and Shiro. An honour guard of sorts, if honour guards carried bows and spears and wore patched leather armour. But the Sisters were strong, even as a lowly apprentice, Telperiën had helped the Dark Lord defeat the White Wolf of Onderon and his Jedi Mistress. The Sisters were survivors of the great purge of their planet, and now they were here to serve the master of all. The Emperor of the Stars. When they reached his room, Telperiën looked sideways to Shiro and indicated that he should prostrate himself before the Dark Lord. She simply took a knee and bared her neck by lifting her chin. A sign of utter dedication to the Spider. “We stand ready for your war my Lord.”

Her eyes narrowed in a mocking expression. “Did dear Awenyyd take that much from you that you are not sure of your sex? A pity. But Eunuchs have their uses.” She flicked a knife from her waist across the tip of her finger, causing a single drop of blood to well up in the slight slash. Her mouth moved in a murmur and the crystals around her ears began to shimmer like they were in starlight. Then, with a deft movement, she brushed the drop of blood across his left temple, leaving a dark smudge that seemed to attach itself to his skin. More like a birthmark than a drop of blood. “Now we must pay our respects to the Spider. For war stirs again.” She looked to her mother and inclined her head.

Tel nodded her head, the small crystals interwoven in her hair almost changing colour as her eyes were drawn away from her mother’s face to something in the distance. She grimaced, her eyes narrowing as she pushed herself back from the lunch counter. SHe spared another glance to her mother and nodded again. “I will join you for whatever comes, though my place will always be with our people. Not the Sith Lords, our masters.” She gestured to the shambling man who was rapidly approaching their table. He spoke and knelt and she pushed her chair back before planting her knee firmly and with a great amount of force into his eyesocket. Following it with a direct slap to the side of his face, intending to throw him onto his back. “So did Haley throw you from her service and you come crawling to me?” She laughed then, a pure laugh, then extended her hand to the man. “You are welcome of course. If you wish to learn the way of my people, you are most welcome. Even if you are a man.”

“I have always longed for legacy, we both have seen how short a command over galactic events Father had.” She spoke of Ar-Pharazon, once Sith Master and domestic terrorist. “No one even speaks his name though his exploits are but a decade past. As if everything he did were but grains of sand on Tatooine. Lost forever.” She shook her head, the small crystals interwoven with her braids glimmering in the harsh light of the eatery. “So how does one achieve Legacy? Am I his legacy? Though he never did a thing to raise me, so in that regard you have achieved far more than he ever did. In this harsh galaxy I do not think pure terror or power hold much weight.” She shook her head again considering her own stated questions. ‘I have not lusted for power, or for influence, though their addiction interlaces everything around the Dark Lord. What is the goal? What is there once the galaxy is subdued? Another fight for power among his vassals? Do we eat ourselves like every generation of Sith past?” She sighed and placed both of her strong hands around the warm mug of alcoholic cider. “So we must each focus on what we want in the end I guess. I want a legacy and I want our people to thrive again. What are your goals mother?”

Seeing her mother brought more joy to her heart than Telperien had thought possible. It had been a long time sure, but they had never had the typical holonet mother daughter relationship. It had been a contest of power, since her conception. Or at least that is what Telperien had thought. Now it felt different. There was love there, even if she had not been able to perceive it before. But Telperien had been through a lot, and many bodies indeed since she had last seen Qaela, and this was one that she had learned from some past occupant. “I hope you are well, mother.” She managed that brief sentence before slipping into a smile and giving her mother a firm hug. “I have missed you. But I hear we may be venturing together with the Spider to finally end this rebellion, is this true?” And now fate was sending them on a mission together with the Dark Lord. What joy.

Mother was here? Telperiën let her presence tentatively touch that great presence, eclipsed by the Dark Lords since his was so close. Its dark and silky embrace was so overpowering. But hers was intoxicating. Strong, as she had always been, leaving almost a wine like taste on her tongue. No wonder Ar-Pharazon wanted her so badly. She stood and began to search for her mother. It had been far too long since they had talked.

The long worn Sith landing craft spun towards the beacon transmitting slightly dated but familiar codes. The Spiders Apprentice had returned, and brought with her another long lost Sith Apprentice, the Cathar Camik. It was time for him to receive his Lordship, and to join the long ranks of the Sith Empire. Telperien turned to the Cathar, her voice soft. “Kneel.” She had no great name to bestow upon him, no great title. A simple gesture, and one that he had long deserved. “Rise a Lord of the Sith Empire.” The shuttle docked, and the nightsisters all bowed low to the Cathar. “Now go and find your place. Seek the Spider and serve him until your death.”

"Then let us depart in peace. We go and seek the Spider." Telperiën Ar-Pharazon turned and led their company, including Rancors to the Sith landing craft, and together they made for Onderon. The planet of the Emperor

“Why Camik I was your mentor. And to me you have passed my tests.” She shrugged her thin shoulders instinctively. “I will never claim to be a good mentor, but I think you are strong enough to take the next steps.” She flicked her hand towards the fire and its coals began to glow white hot as they consumed their own carbon supply. The flames began to show a dark world with a close set moon. A singular city standing like a monolith in the midst of the jungle, and a Super Star Destroyer in a lazy orbit. Then it dissolved into sparks and they were plunged into darkness. Telperiën stood and placed her hand on the top of his head. Almost gingerly, almost caring. “Then I will teach you what I know of the Sisters. And then we will see the Spider at Onderon. First I must ask you to bring me your prize.” (Describe your NPC in detail, give her a background, and bring her to Telperien)

“Was it truly fun dear Camik?” Telperien wondered aloud as she stood from her position near the fire. “You have gained a servant, a slave, and tools to bring you into the wider world of the Sith. What more can I teach you? Or should I hurl you into battle against the Rebel Alliance and their Jedi without a second care? What do you wish dear Camik?” The question was an honest one, and she leaned forward to hear his answer.

The threads of the Terror moved beneath Telperiën’s fingers as she called upon the force. Each thread connected to a tired and scared mind. Each pluck like on a harp brought a scream of fright. There was so much power there, so much potential. But it required so much power, and it was exhausting, even with the pain from her arm to sustain her bodies desire. The power, of course, was addicting and Telperiën bathed in that addiction. Wallowed in it. Covered herself in their pain, in their Terror. She supped on it, feeding like an Anzati on brain matter. The power coursed through her veins like a self consuming fire. Delicious as it was painful. Controlling even willing minds had its own cost of course. But this was another lesson to give to the offworlders and her apprentice. Two separate lessons in one. The price of power and its allure. A throbbing pain struck at where she had cut her arm and a single glance told her that it was time to stop. For the next Curse had awakened. And Telperiën fell back from her circle of blood, exhausted. ________ And so Kaila was released from the terror. Her eyes unfocusing for a moment before she burst into tears and embarrassedly stopped her retreat. She whispered an apology and followed the Duros. Tears trickling through the dust on her face. ________ Saeth was the first to return, her small form barely stumbling into the shade of the transport, she was grasping an offworlder’s canteen in her tired hands. Trembling from the aftereffects of terror and exhaustion. Telperiën greeted her with a kindly smile and a motherly embrace. And whispered for her to take a place at the fire, which she gladly did. It was a long time from that point until the older offworlder appeared, somehow looking even more old and tired than he had when he had left to pursue Saeth. Telperiën looked up from where she knelt and sprang to her feet, Saeth joining her as they brought him a plate of food and his own canteen. Telperiën sat down next to him wiping at the blood that was still seeping from the deep cut in her arm, the surrounding flesh somehow having already gone black with dead flesh. “Failure is never an option, Svata.” She looked to the tired Ryn and grinned a toothy grin. Teeth which were surrounded by gums that showed an unhealthy hue of red. “But you found one of my sisters and rescued her, so you did not fail.” She coughed and sat back.

Telperiën pursued her own quarry at a walk, letting the force work its own magik. She flicked the knife up again and pressed it deeply into the long scar on her arm before casting the knife into the dirt. Tendons screeched their protest, muscle tore, and blood was let free to seeth in rivulets down her arm, which she collected gladly with her free hand. She flung the blood into a circle around her and knelt, licking the remaining blood from her fingers. Now the force of Dathomir could really show itself. Terror Its threads were as thick as old cobwebs over the world. Stretched from almost every being to every other being. Her mouth moved in a ritualistic chant as she began to pull on those threads of terror. She traced them to the girls running, and amplified the terror until it was overwhelming. ________ The girls made their runs as fast as they could, but none could meet the power of the Jenssarai or the speed of the Sith Apprentice. But they had the burning pain of the blood magic spurring them on, and the prospects of a punishment so they did their utmost to escape. Their terror could be tasted like a thick film on the force, bubbling out of them as they ran. Terror embodied the spirit of Dathomir, and they ran from the force users as fast as their feet could take them. For they did not know what fate would await them. Kaila, the youngest in her middle teen years ran until the blood from her bare feet and rough ground was as visible as her terror in the force. When at last she could not go any further in the rough ground she turned on Sarlacc with a cry of pain and terror. The force moving through her as she threw whatever she could reach at the Duros knight. Sobbing tears that ran trails through the ash and dirt that streaked her face. Kirain, a young woman in the later years of her teens turned ferociously upon Camik as he tracked her down. Her face was a mask of horror as she flung everything from rocks to tree branched as the young man in an attempt to get away. The fastest runner among the girls, Saeth, lasted the longest before the terror overcame her too. Instead of fighting like the others she collapsed into a begging sobbing mess at Savata’s feet.