Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

Telperiën could feel her body’s revulsion to the site of the Dark Lord cleaving the child in two. Her stomach heaved as she fought her body's natural tendency to throw up at the site. But Telperiën could not feel more alive. Through her connection with the force and her kinetic hold on the boy she could feel every bit of his pain. The sealing pain the ripped through his stomach and belly, followed by the ice cold dread that clung to the back of his mind as he struggled to live. She planted a polished boot and fell back into a defensive stance as the Dark Lord began to play his tune in the force. There was so much to learn from this child’s mind and as it flooded her she was nearly overwhelmed by it. She could feel his anger, his fear, his memories all washing over her in waves that crashed as life fled his body. Snuffed out like a candle in a winter gale. Ataru was something that she had never seen used before and she rejoiced in its bare aggression. It was impulsive, and it sunk into her with every second that ticked by. Her hands moved close together on the pommel as she concentrated on the fleeting memories of the dead apprentice. There had been a sabre kata that the poor boy had memorized, hours a day practising, she could feel his frustration and his sweat from those days of practise. She pulled the frustration and the memory into herself, absorbing it and solidifying it into herself. I can feel it master. She did not have the spare thought to speak the words out loud, but since the dark lord was already fully in her mind, she figured he would get the message. The orcish thug crashed through her revelry with angry abandon, and Telperiën met it with her own growing rage. She fell fully into the force, throwing herself into the lightsaber form and its recklessness. She jumped forward to meet the onslaught, spinning through the air in a blazing pirouette of yellow-red light. Don’t use the sabre as a weapon, use your body you oaf. Came the scowling form of the child she had seen butchered before her only moments prior. That’s what Lord Kailfni says Telperiën spun the pirouette in another angle, whipping out her leg as well as the sabre as she crossed paths with the mighty beast. The crack and instant pain that shot up her thigh told her that there was at least one lesson to be learned from that move. She landed limping and brought the sabre up again. Kriff

When Telperiën moved it felt like she did at a glacial speed. Though she commanded the force to move her beautiful new body in the dance of death it was slow and even resistant to her desires. As soon as she made the dash at the dark lord, she knew it would miss, having started a half second too late. The dark lord took her move in stride, uninterested in anything she could put forth and with nearly a flick of his fingers she could feel the force bow to his will and crush her chest in like a hammer. She cartwheeled through the air, twisting her slow body into a roll to absorb the kinetic strike. Though the blow had hurt, and had broken two sets of ribs, the words that followed were far more painful. That bastard. Her fingers and knuckles wrapped around the sabre hilt grew white with strain as she battled the rush of anger as it curled up her spine. The taunts had a familiar style to them, the same that her mother used to often hurt Ca’Aran when they had all been together. If only mom could see her now, fighting and losing to the dark lord. Shiak She picked herself up from the roll and began to slowly approach the Dark Lord, fighting her body to regain its control. Anger rolled her presence like magma. Then what is my purpose? To Learn? She guessed that for now it would be, to learn and grow powerful, powerful enough to leave a legacy. She charged in again with a feint then a counterstroke. While pulling a slaveboy with the force like a human missile at the back of Exodus

Apathy is death and to exist in stagnation was to surrender to its degrading entropy. Telperiën lowered her head, her silver eyes slipping to look to the feet of the dark lord. As was his will, so she would be. Her hand twitched and the blade Cocytus flipped to her hand from her belt. Its tarnished silver and gold plating felt warm to her hand as she drew it forth, yellow-red the blade blazed forth from the old emitter. Given to her by the spirits of Korriban in the depths of the valley of the Dark Lords, it hummed and tremoured in her hand as it sang its rueful song of lament. She was no child any longer, her spirit was fierce and her power even more so. It was unlikely that she would find any victory here, but there was no other option before her. Her lips moved and the force stirred heavily in the throneroom, banners lofting in the air drawn taught by the beginnings of a storm of sabres. The spider would see the power of his apprentice, and she would get to know him in the way of her people. Fighting was the way of the Dathomiri, it was how they found mates, how they showed their skills, and how they survived against all the horrors of that desolate planet. Every moment of her existence had been war, first from her birth she had been pursued by the Jedi Council, hidden away by Ca’Aran, abused in the clans and forced to defend her brothers. Only to see them senselessly snatched away by the force. This Dark Lord knew nothing of war, what had he done since Gala but wait for the actions of others. If her father had been in charge they would have already taken Coruscant twice over. Anger blossomed and she embraced it without fear. Her new muscles, yet untested in battle tensed as she answered the Dark Lord. Her voice rumbling through the building wind. “Then show me why I should know you.” She struck, the sabre in its pale yellow red light striking for his heart as the force stirred around her in a mighty gale. For though she was young, she would answer him in turn.

Skinchanger… An apt name, Telperiën believed, as that was literally what she had just done, though even this body was not likely long for the galaxy. It would be a blessing and a curse, forever trapped in the between, feet in the grave while holding onto life with all her strength and tearing it from everyone she met. But that was her heritage and that was her future. When the Spider asked his next question she could feel doubt crawling up her spine faster than the arachnid creature that the Spider himself had built. Was this a test? If it was, she saw little point to it and decided to answer truthfully. “Master you are known as the Spider and were the Sith Assassin member of the great Galan Trinity, there you fought the Jedi and led the charge to their slaughter. Though your greatness proceeds you, I know not much other than what the spirits have whispered in my ears and what my adoptive father spoke in hushed tones before I met you on Korriban. I was raised with the Dathomiri and carry their curse of isolation from the galaxy.” His eyes frightened her, but she kept control of the fear, ebbing it into the force to feed her strength.

The form of the last of the Ar-Pharazons walked through the vast hordes of the demons of the Sith Lords. Under the banner of the Spider she walked, batting aside the course blood stained fabrics of one of the low hanging banners with a white hand. Telperiën Ar-Pharazon was still not adjusted to the new body, one that she had seized from such a lonely spirit of an Acolyte named Tierih from the planet Anaxes. And though that girl’s memories flooded her with every new breath and every new smell, Telperiën continued to walk in it. The body was impressive, strong and beautiful with feelings and urges the young Ar-Pharazon had never thought to think or feel before. She was no longer a young girl, but was a beautiful emissary of the Sith, for whom the only blemish were the long red swirls of the blood tattoos that marked her as the Apprentice of the spider. For now at least, Telperiën had cheated the death curse that had been placed upon her by her mother’s people, and the curse of the force that had been given to her by her father. Both still haunted her, but the latter was more defined in this form and she had to use less energy to put off the decay of death that still clung to her. This body was also dying, though at a dramatically less rate than her real body had been. But still the huge aura of the force that she carried with her would burn though this one in time. Finally she knelt before the throne of the Spider, casting back her hood and revealing her new face to her master. Her voice carried the deep gravel tones of Telperiën though mixed with the lovely grace of a core worlds accent. The girl from which she had claimed this body had been of noble birth and had carried herself as such. She smiled with full lips and a full heart. “My Lord, I am ready to serve.”

Terror flickered in her heart, threatening to ignite into a blaze with every halting breath Telperiën drew through her tightly clenched teeth. The hissing of her breath was overloud in her own ears and she worried that she was a disappointment to the dark lord as she knelt, black blood dripping slowly from her mouth to pool on the floor at her knees. She could taste her death and the bitter copper taste of blood as it dripped through her lips from her decaying gums. It was so close, only hours away at her estimation. The magic of the Dathomir and the abuse of the force had et away her bones, her flesh, and her life itself. Where once dense clusters of nerves and marrow had been, now was only rot. Rot that pumped through her veins and turned her sclera yellow red. The room itself smelled of death, the dank cold of decay, putrid in its taste, it permeated everything. Smothering her with its cold, clinging like a lover to her clothes. She wanted to run, to sprint from the dark lord’s presence, and wail in a corner away from all this. But she forced her heart to slow with application of the force. Her left arm screamed in pain from the application, but she did not care, his words and commands were more important than her flesh. For flesh, according to the demons in her head, was replaceable. Disgusting quivering exoskeletons accompanied the Dark Lord as he strode up towards her, carrying the weight of darkness upon his robes. As the shadow touched her she could feel its dreadful strength, and at his almost encouraging words, she forced her eyes up to look at him fully. She could feel a sense of pride flow up her spine as she was given an order by him and she accepted both his teaching and his mission with a smile that exposed her bleeding gums. Her heart finally beating in rhythm of pride instead of fear. “I will do so master.” She bowed and kept her head low until the Dark Lord had departed. Only then did she stop the constriction of her muscles with the force and could feel the icy ruch of fresh blood enter her head and limbs. She slowly pulled herself to her feet, shaking now like a leaf in a storm. She stumbled from the hall until she was walking the hallways of the Sith complex, leaving a trail of black blood, searching for something, listening to the voices in her head. Louder now, more demanding. You must find one worthy of you Something older Something pretty Came the chorus of voices in cascade. Then they stopped when her darkening vision fell upon an older teenage acolyte. Seventeen or Eighteen perhaps, lithe, beautiful, strong, with skin like alabaster. Take her The voice echoed in her head. As if on queue the woman looked up and saw the heir of Ar-Pharazon shambling towards her. At first she was taken aback, but upon analysis Telperiën appeared of little threat and was most likely an abused slave girl trying to escape a master’s clutch. She let out a vicious laugh and took a menacing step towards the younger girl in what would be the biggest, and last, mistake of her life. With a massive exertion of the force, Telperiën launched herself onto the older girl, her small hand covering the woman’s beautiful mouth and forcing her to the ground. She bound the woman there with tendrils of the force, feeding off the woman’s pain and terror. Hearing the commotion, three slaves bounded around the corner and skidded to a halt. Telperiën, grateful for their company, extended a hand to them and summoning the force ripped the life from the trio, pulling the energy from their fleeing force presence to sustain her for the final plunge. Valkis threntiss She gurgled, blood spewing from her mouth in a black and crimson waterfall that cascaded over the face of the acolyte, bathing her in the warm fluid, staining the hair, the face, and the tiled floor behind it with the darkside. The woman’s eyes opened wide in terror as Telperiën’s hand descended to rest upon her forehead, the fingers skittering in intricate patterns, tracing the blood like a brush upon canvas. Then Telperiën leaned forward and chanted a final spell. Valkis threntiss fissan theras almanore The last word seemed to take forever to speak and Telperiën let a smile dash across her lips as she finished the whispered curse and then with a final application of the force, ripped the soul from the woman’s body and pushed her own in its place.

A tinge of fear ran up Telperiën’s spine as the Sith assault ship emerged from hyperspace over the dark planet of Umbara. The distant star that fed the planet and system life seemed only a bright speck against the automatic light dampening of the assault ships’ forward viewport. She let her presence reach out into the system, touching the force for the first time since leaving the valley of the dark lords. Her breath almost caught in her throat when she sensed the immense dark that scurried throughout the system. Valkis threntiss The unknown voices thundered in her mind with a dark chant in ancient languages dead to the galaxy for millenia. She immediately withdrew her presence from the planet and concentrated instead on herself. The pain that wracked her body since Dathomir had seemed to have gotten worse and her gums were bleeding again. No matter how much she flossed or brushed they still bled, filling her mouth with the taste of sour copper. She winced as a hollow cough ushered through her lungs, misting the blood in her mouth over the viewscreen and she turned embarrassed to wait at the landing bay where there were less Sith Officers to stare at the young girl. She sat down in the dark of the cargo hold and again attempted to meditate but it was not long until she could feel the darkside stirring dangerously beside her again. “Leave me alone. Please. I just want to rest.” Her voice was soft and with every syllable a drip of blood flowed down her chin to drop unseen onto the metal decking below her feet. She was starting to get scared and she hated that. She knew her body was disintegrating, even now she could feel the necrosis in her fingers and arms eating away at nerves like powdered glass in her veins. She could keep it at bay with constant use of the force, pouring the hate, lust, and sorrow of the galaxy into herself to forbade her death but it wouldn’t last very long. You can always join us sister She shook her head wildly and stood. Not now. She was going to be seeing the Dark lord in a few minutes. Hearing and feeling the ship touch down she strode to the forward ramp and jumped down it as soon as it had opened. Leaving her pain and past in the cargohold where it belonged. She filled her body with the force, willing it to move and shunted the pain aside. She strode alongside the royal guard and knelt before Him. Swallowing a mouthful of bitter blood she spoke. “My lord you have summoned me?”

The shuttle made landfall with the grace of a Jannnisari Gildr, the flair of the pilot was not, however appreciated by the sleeping girl in the cargohold. Wrapped up in a blanket and crash webbing and dead asleep. Dead to the goings on around her, embraced by the dreams of the force; She only awoke when the shuttle driver yelled back at her to move or enjoy the trip to Umbara. Making fast, she sprinted down the cargo ramp, into the bright sun of Korriban. She squinted against the brightness but still sneezed anyway. She rolled her eyes after the sneezing fit was finished and grabbing her bag, made her way into the valley of the Dark Lords. Slowly walking the long way to the academy, passing by the ancient tombs of the Sith.

The shuttle departed towards Korriban, carrying the last heir of Ar-Pharazon and the nightsister Qaela. The young girl sat, snuggled into her crash webbing, one finger absentmindedly twirling her locks of hair, while the other hand wrote up a short report to her master. With the message dispatched, the shuttle disappeared into hyperspace.

She held out her hand towards the fearsome Lizard, curling her hand inwards like a claw until little jets of electrostatic discharge jumped between her stubbed, bitten nails. The jets turned into an eddy of blue flame as they traced her palm, circling and winding into a beautiful tattoo in the air above her small palm. Her yellow eyes concentrated as she chanted with each outburst of air. Her lips tearse and pale, her upper jaw lightly biting onto her lower lip but with every word the pressure increased. Feldrom Ishthum Nandoom Cananthradrüm Blood dripped in a steady flow down her chin. She reached out and grabbed his scaley wrist and planted the tattoo upon it as gentle as a kiss. It would only burn a little bit. It melded and flowed like molten iron around his wrist, a symbol of power and reward in a nightsister society. “There’s your contract, kill a Jedi and earn my master’s favour.” Her pink tongue flicked at the bloody mess that was her chin and she grinned. “See? Isn’t that fun! I love the force, you can do so much cool stuff with it!” But it was so tiring to use, especially like that. And when she turned back to the Sith commander, her shoulders slumped slightly. “And to kill as many Jedi as possible you must immediately begin the construction of a planetary Turbolaser (complete: 4/23/2018) and boost our garrisons. Thank you. You are dismissed.” Now she was really wiped out, she stumbled back to the shuttle and fell onto the crash webbing with a whuff. Then she was asleep almost instantly.

Telperiën’s mouth did not move as she spoke through the force to the Massassi warrior. Her disapproval shone like a beacon through the force, glittering like the glass shiv he had affixed to his belt. If there was one thing the Sith had never learned in their history it was basic troop command. Hell she only knew it because of watching Ca’Aran. So she decided to bestow a morsel of higher learning on the Massassi that he may have not heard before. Her speech was laced in tired sarcasm, though it was meant more in love than disrespect. Ah yes great idea, let's scare our men into submission. No wonder the Sith haven’t gotten far in conquest. Loyalty is more valuable than fear on a battlefield in my opinion, take your short term gains from scaring the enemy, inspire that loyalty, don’t demand it. The last bit had been from a speech she had heard while on Dathomir. Of course the one that had given it had ended up a chunk of molten carbon at the hands of her parents, but such was life. Telperiën looked over the group of troopers and smiled, she beckoned to the hesitant commander, ‘Bolten Jarrix’ according to his name badge, and reluctantly he strode forward to salute before the massive Massassi. While the two of them talked, she looked back at Borosk, her canines showing sharp in her grin. “Do you have experience fighting Jedi?”

Telperiën licked her lips as she watched the Hellespont begin its first mine laying run, dropping little packages of death along all approach vectors save one of the gem of the Sith and Black Sun Alliance. The only approach possible for capitals was through the interlacing fire of the Golans. Withering, sweeping, and blistering fire of the Ion and Turbolaser cannons. Then chuck missiles into the fray and there would be quite a few dead Imperials or Rebels should they attempt the pass without going single file. Her purple/yellow eyes bored into the holographic image of the insane Hutt. She clapped her hands together once and looked to her Massassi friend. “Yeah lets go see them, lead the way Karys Narat iv-Adas if you will. I still can’t get a speeder license yet, so you are going to have to drive.” This whole thing was very draining for the girl, always being at the edge of her knowledge base, and relying on the force and lesser beings was very trying. She glanced at the comm on her wrist and smiled widely. “Oh Ca’Aran sent one of his friends to help!” She activated her comm and sent it off to the Mandalorian Crusader. Her voice sickly sweet and sounding like it was dragged through a gravel yard. “Borsk Zero-House, I bid you welcome to the capital of the Sith Empire. My father trusts you enough to send you, so please join us on the surface for the troop inspection. I look forward to hearing your advice.”

Not death you fool for that is easily conquered by medical sciences and a willing spirit. I am speaking of indissoluble, resolute, eternal death. The type where your spirit is dissolved into the force and your being is left for the galaxy and historians to brush over in dry old textbooks. There was nothing she feared more than that. If she couldn’t leave a legacy why was she even here? Why was she alone saved from the ruins of the Darksongs. She had to make an impact. She scoffed at his rebuttal of her simple manipulation but shrugged. “You can always try to harm me Karys, you might even win you know.” She laughed softly through her teeth. “Then let us be friends Karys Narat iv-Adas. For the Jedi are desperate I am sure. It seems their greatest and most effective warrior since the fall of Faust was a little girl like me.” She felt the force stir and she spun towards the holo console as a feeling of hunger rose in her stomach. It was a horrifying thing to see, a grown man cower, to tremble like a leaf on a dessicant bough, counting the seconds until the fall. It was a delicious feeling, filling the force with a mix of fear and anger. Wroth came next, the wroth that only a slave could hold for its master. Cowering in fear while secret hate ate at his heart, turning his insides to water and his heart to cold hothian steel. She strode to her friend’s side and stood next to him, shielding him slightly from the gaze of the great hutt. Though fear bloomed in her heart, she stared into those horrible eyes of the Mad Hutt and placed her small hand on the shoulder of Karys Narat iv-Adas, son of Glory. Last of his people. Like her mother would have had she not abandoned her on a backwater world filled with vile witches. Anger blossomed madly and she focused her strength and fed Karys’ Wrath with her energy, gifting him her will. Her voice filtered through the Wrath to whisper behind his ears the words her tribe had given her many times. Show not your weakness, rise and show that you are bold.

Telperiën hesitated a moment before responding. Gathering her thoughts into a clear pattern before she spoke. She smiled widely, showing a row of pearl white teeth in a smile that was very unnatural for someone her age. “Sheog the Mad is a valuable Sith Master and many in the Sith academy would murder many to train under him.” She drew upon her knowledge of the ancient Sith before continuing. And deciding on a path that she had seen many Nightsister use. Friendly manipulation. SHe needed him, and he needed to redeem himself. “Do you worry Karys Narat iv-Adas, that he will be displeased about your performance on Nal Hutta? Though I commend you friend for returning safely, it cannot be seen as anything but a failure, especially in the eyes of a Mad Hutt.” Her purple-gold eyes narrowed slightly, “So as a friend I can suggest you a course of action, to save your Massassi hide, for I have heard that his lightsabre and staff are made from the spinal columns of past apprentices.” Her voice carried a careful note of concern, though it was manipulating him to do something that would help her in tandem. “I suggest that you assist in the upcoming defense of this planet, pour yourself into its defense. Prove your worth beyond the failure against a Jedi Girl and you will not be stumbled in your path to greatness.” She tossed him a datachip containing the current defense plan of Onderon, its needs and gaps. “Also compile an extensive report of your battle against the Jedi Knight Sarna. What powers she expressed, her weaknesses, her strengths, and anything that seemed unnatural about her abilities. What you did, and what you failed at and what your would do to counter her in the future. If we are to fight Jedi again, which we no doubt will over this planet, I need your experience. This will please to Dark Lord.” She grinned at him. “Also there is a great amount of food and provisions here that can sate your thirst and replace the foul taste of rebel prisons. Come eat with me.” She jumped down from the command chair and stood. Together they walked out of the command centre to where a large table was set up with food in the briefing room. She looked up to the hulking beast of a man and smiled. She pulled a glass shaped parang from her belt and held it up to him. “An offering of friendship Karys Narat iv-Adas, if you will take it.”

As the pair of Golan IIIs slowly orbited over the planet of Onderon, inside the Sith aligned station Telperiën paced slowly around the command bridge. She was watching the Canto Bight Fiasco and the Totenkopf, with their fighter escorts slowly dropping sensor buoys to map out the projected defensive minefield. Laid out in large circular orbits reaching out dozens of kilometers with a singular, winding path to the pair of golans. Should the Remnant try an attack on the planet, they would either have to slowly follow the path and face the withering guns of the Defense platforms, or should the minefields go unnoticed stray a little and enter destruction itself. Currently, the field was under construction and the path was laid out for the civilian traffic to use, lighted up like a landing strip with sensor buoys, which should an enemy fleet arrive, would turn off, blending into the background static of the minefield. Telperiën was no tactical genius, but she was learning, and closely following the sage advice left behind by her master. Upon hearing of Karys Narat iv-Adas’ imminent arrival, Telperiën took the few moments left of respite to calm her nerves. She plopped herself down in the command chair of the station and pulling her legs underneath her, meditated. She reached out with her senses, feeling the life below her, the primal nature of the population tugged at her, though it was heavily disguised through societal pressures, the men and women of Onderon carried out their lives. Palace guards kept watch, mothers caressed babies, father’s went to work. Though the administration had changed, there was little different in their daily lives other than they all had ID cards issued by the Sith Or Black Sun governments. She let her consciousness play across the surface of the CIty of Iziz, seeking fear and despair, finding it in the slums or prisons and then drinking of it. It bolstered and sharpened her mind into a fine point, and it was there that the Guards escorted the great Massassi Warrior Karys Narat iv-Adas into. She rose from her chair and bowed low, her diminutive frame completely dwarfed by the massive man. She stalked forward like a hunter and extended her hand to him. She followed the protocol that she had studied the night before. Though she was refreshed from using the force, it did not conceal the dark bags beneath her tattooed eyelids. She was still a child afterall. “I am Telperiën Ar-Pharazon, apprentice of the Dark Lord, daughter of the Golden God and his Dathomiri Queen Qaela. I greet you Karys Narat iv-Adas. Tell me of your captivity among the Rebel Alliance.” She used the old term for the pack of democratic imbeciles. It was only fitting to put them in their place, a rebellion to be crushed beneath the heel. Her heart stirred at the thought.

Lambda Shuttle Karlsruhe emerged from hyperspace near the Duel Golan III’s. It immediately hailed the Sith Golan, and upon receiving docking clearance, landed in the expansive docking bay. Colonel Alexandre Muloch, of the Sith aligned Onderon Defense force, and commander of the Golan waited with an honour guard for the young Sith Apprentice. He was enough of a Sith ally that the sight of the small Sith descending the ramp with all the haughty anger of a Sith Lord did not fill him with laughter, but instead intense veiled dread. The Commander of the Black Sun Guard, Liam Kaisong stood beside him, silent, his heart also filling with dread. He had served beside Delta on Dathomir the first time, and to see this child as a Sith broke his heart. But he was smart enough to not express such a thing. The both bowed low to the Sith Apprentice and Telperiën gestured them to rise. Her voice was taught and low, her eyes a mix of yellow and purple. He stretched out her sense to encompass the golan and the capital city of Iziz below it. Though she did not recognize the force presences below her, she made no effort to hide her own presence from them. If the two Jedi below were looking in the force, they would sense a strangely powerful presence above them. She cocked her head to the side and fixed them both with a look of mild concern. “We must prepare a defense of this world, assemble the armies, order your ships to begin training and mine the approaches. Our spies in the remnant tell us that their fleets may soon be on their way…” She fixed Muloch with all of her attention. “And send a shuttle for Karys Narat iv-Adas to meet us here. I have need of him.” Seveal minutes later, a messenger from the Sith Garrison approached the Massassi bidding him to make his way to the orbiting Golan as soon as possible.

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as the Chiss made a hasty retreat. She had known fear for all of her life, fear of her mother, the Nightsisters, Kirlocca, the Dark Lord, but this was the first time that she had detected fear in the force from reputation and past actions. She had understood the trooper’s fear when she had butchered their prisoner, but the fear of her after the fact was rewarding to itself. She drew on his fear as he hastily closed the door behind him, adding it to her meditation, cultivating it, enhancing it behind those dull red eyes of his. She release her hold as he continued to walk away with a pang of guilt. He was an ally afterall, and there was nothing to be gained from distilling fear in an allies heart. Her black gloved hand reached out and grabbed the small device, she knew what it was, a headset and when she pushed the device into her ear she heard a long sentence, descriptions, and a mission. She nodded to no one and spoke a few words in return. Her voice solemn and hard. “Yes my master.” She stood and dusted off her knees from where she had been kneeling and walked to the comm station discarding the headset to clip in on her belt. She typed in a comm number with practised efficiency and bowed before the shimmering image of her adopted father. “Blood Prince..." He voice carried the disdain many Sith held for the Warlord though she did not know why. For the moment she saw his fatherly look, his mass produced face, his love, she hated him. "...you are requested to stand by at the following coordinates, tell no one your plans and prepare for immediate action stations.” She cut the comm off before he could respond, indicating that it was an order, not a daughterly request. The pain she saw in his blue eyes brought a boiling kettle of emotions to overflow in her stomach and she retched for a moment before focusing the disappointment and guilt into rage, a most helpful emotion, and one that was driving.He had no right to be angry or disappointed in her, he was a criminal, a failure of a father, and a pawn to be used and thrown away. Her mother had known it, and so did her Master. How dare he. She punched her fist through the screen several times before the rage had passed. Bloodening her knuckles and wrist and completely destroying several thousand credits worth of machinery in the fit. But when the rage had dissipated into hate and she was able to control her breathing, she walked silently from the room to the shuttlebay, where she boarded the Lambada Karlsruhe and departed for the Axis held world of Onderon.

Like crashing waves on a black sand beach, the revulsion and disgust roiled forth from the pair of Sith troopers. Though for their credit they kept their disgust to their thoughts alone. She fixed the closest with a ghoulish stare into his blank visor and slowly smiled. All teeth and wicked blood stained canines. The Dark Lord’s hand surprised her as it grabbed her chin and pulled her towards him. His fingers were surprisingly soft, if deathly cold as they traced long curling lines from her forehead to her eyes to her chin. She let her ghoulish grin turn into a sweet smile and licked her lips. Tasting the last bit of her victim before she was dismissed. The Chiss was even more disgusted by her than the Troopers had been, the shock and disgust etched visibly on his face and in his aura. Telperiën stood silent, back ramrod straight, at attention like Ca’Aran had taught her as she waited for her Master to continue his lesson. She wished she could read over his shoulder, or perhaps read the mind of the Chiss, but she did not. If her master wished to tell her something he would. So she stood in a puddle of blood and considered her actions. Her biological father would be proud she knew, even her mother would be, and she now had an unlimited tap into the knowledge of the darkside without having to sleep her way there. Yet. Telperiën’s hand trembled slightly as the adrenaline and force high began to wear itself out and the fire began to sap at her own will and strength. Why did it have to be so fleeting? Exodus had finished with the Chiss and the trio of non force users made their way out the door. Telperiën looked up expectantly and nodded at his instructions. She gathered her equipment into her arms and walked slowly towards the east wing. Trying her best to not let the trembling show. A task! She finally let the giant smile stretch over her face as she climbed into the refresher’s shower unit. She hit the hot water switch and stepped into the brutally hot stream. Then a strange thought popped up when she saw a message pop up on her comm link that was at the edge of the shower. Her birthday? She was ten. Ten. How strange. She shrugged and let the comm go to voicemail as she let the last bits of her victim wash down the drain. She climbed out and looked in the mirror, she raised a small shaking hand and traced the blood red tattoos on her face. They looked stunning, and brutal. She grinned from ear to ear as she slipped on her repaired armour and pulled on her utility belt. She took a few deep breaths until her nerves were stilled and then walked back into her quarters. There she knelt and began to meditate until her master or his servants would find her.

Revenge. That was a word that she had seen embodied in the Ca’Aran’s wroth towards Dathomir, in her own first death at the hands of the nightsisters, it was a word that drove the galaxy into utter chaos. Chaos that could be exploited for power. The claws of the beast were still stained a dark burgundy from Telperiën’s lifeblood. The site of the creature trapped there before her caused a terrible hunger to rend itself in her stomach. The dark lord had spoken truthfully, she did long for it, and when the time was there to strike she took it. If there was such potential in her to gain power, then she would take it. She would use it. So she took the opportunity handed her with both hands. She strode forward on bare feet, leaving a trail of small bacta footprints until she was next the to the restrained wookiee that had been her bane. The wild hunger pulsed with every heartbeat as she stood next to him. She was a small girl, so that even as restrained as he was and kneeling, his face was on the same level as hers. His growl was hoarse and resentful. She knew it carried some meaning in his language but she did not much care. He was a beast and he would act like it. He would know his place. She reached out a small hand and placed it on the dome of his head, rubbing almost gingerly against the black fur. “Good Boy…” She patted away as a manic’s smile replaced her childish features. Her pretty purple eyes replaced with yellow orbs of the sith as she let her spirit fall fully into the arms of the force. The wookiee’s fear permeated the room as she petted his head, she sought it in the force, latching onto it with her mind and tracing it to its source. The trio of primeval fear: servitude, pain, and death. Telperiën leaned ever closer as she began to feed that fear, growing it to overtake everything in the beast, she drank deeply of the fear, letting it through her to feed the darkness in her. Before she knew it, the large wookiee, pride of his clan, was a shivering, begging mess. “Good Boy.” Her voice was sickly sweet, mocking in its childish tones. She drank her fill of fear and decided to feed upon the other elements, driven on by that insatiable hunger of power of the darkside. The muscles on her arms bunched up in taught clusters as she yanked his head up by the scalp, eliciting a pained yelp from the beast. Any doubts in her mind were cleansed by the power she could feel pulsing and pounding through her muscles. And the potential of power, coursing through the wookiee’s veins as well. There was so much power in the force trapped in a single being, ready to be tapped. She lunged forward and bit onto the wookiee’s vulnerable neck, the first bite was tough, she tore through a layer of fur and skin and spat it onto the floor. A move that caused the Sith Troopers to start in alarm, releasing their grip on the beast for long enough for him to attempt an escape. The force kept him in place, he was locked by the power of her mind, a beast to be fed upon. The next bite found his lifeblood and though human teeth were not particularly sharp, the jaw muscles when driven by the force were strong enough to rend any flesh. Blood gushed noisily down her chin, spilling down her neck to coat the white tunic in an ever expanding puddle of blood. The fear and pain that emanated from the wookiee peaked and filled the room like an electric field. Though a quick meal, Telperiën drank her fill of the coppery tasting blood an stepped back. She was coated from head to toe in blood and her body was filled with the force, healing little defects and driving her into euphoria. It was a high that she knew that she would be chasing for the rest of her life. “Good Boy.” her voice was distorted somewhat as she patted the now dead wookiee a last time before kicking the corpse aside. It collapsed in a pile of dead flesh. She turned back to the Dark Lord of the Sith and knelt in the expansive pool of the blood of her victim. “I want more…” But somewhere in the back of her mind the spirits had fled, she was free of her father, of his demons. She was her own being.

The Dark Lord’s taunt brought up a flash of anger and indignation. Her hands twitched on the edge of the bacta tank, clamping down with anger aided by the force and caused a rivulet or cracks to spread across the expensive tank. Almost instantly she relaxed and let her breathing calm. Ca’Aran had taught her that, and getting angry at people who could easily twitch their finger and blow her heart up in her chest like a grenade was not the key to survival. But she did let the anger course through her enough to clear her soggy mind. Breath in through your nose then breath out through your mouth. Came the strangely soft voice of the clone commando in her mind. Without responding to the taunt she jumped down from the tank to land of the dark floor, she took a towel from a rack, but was surprised when the tunic wrapped itself around her instead. A gift from the Dark Lord it would seem. It was a little big, and meant for a young man but it did its purpose and clothed her nakedness. She picked up her utility belt from where it had been discarded by medical personnel and cinched it tight across her hips. She walked a few short steps until she was a few feet away from Exodus and knelt before the feet of the Dark Lord and answered his query when he had finished it. “I was birthed a child of two strong bloodlines that have both failed utterly in both their service to the dark side and in acquisition of power. My mother is on Korriban and my biological father lies in the halls of the Helvault. ” It was a harsh thing to admit, but truthfulness would do more here than puffed up pride and lies. “The bloodline will perish with me, discarded and lost to the ash heap of history, unless I can redeem it. That is why I am here my lord, to prove myself. And though I failed on Kashyyyk, I believe that I can serve and redeem myself.”

King of Kings! Shouted the spirits, singing songs of brilliance and contrasting shadow in the mind of the young daughter of Ar-Pharazon. The dark serpentine presence of the Dark Lord harried at the edges of her unconscious mind, she pushed against the darkness, attempting to wake against the medically induced coma. The veil was torn away as she finally touched the force and seized upon it like a rope. When she finally did awake, her lids lifted heavily to show the pair of yellow orbs that stared into the emerald slits of the Dark Lord. Bacta and Sith sorcery had worked its magic and had healed her major wounds, regrowing skin and veins, voicebox and trachea. She groaned and struggled to fully awake. Then her eyes focused and returned to their natural purple colour. She coughed and thrashed for a moment before falling silent, looking into the Dark Lord’s eyes. She spoke into the bacta tanks voice system, her voice sounding gravel course as she swam desperately to the surface of the tank. “I am awake master.” She pulled herself bodily from the tank and perched on the top, her bare feet dangling, dripping bacta onto the black flooring. “T-t-thank you for my life, it is yours to command.”

She tried to dodge aside from the wookiee’s wrath but was caught in its storm. She had only two options, dive off the platform or stand and fight. She was Telperiën Ar-Pharazon, the daughter of Qaela and Lord Ar-Pharazon the Golden and she would not bow to any beast of the wild. Instead she swallowed her fear and struck when the moment was right. Though razor sharp and durasteel strong, the knife that Qaela Darksong had bequeathed upon her daughter did little stop the raging madclaw. Her first strike was true, driving deep into his abdomen up to the hilts, the soft underfur tickling at her wrist and the deep crimson of his lifeblood spewed forth like a gurgling brook to splash and babble down her arms. Though the blow was fatal, it was not immediately so, which bode a doomful tide for the young daughter of once great Sith Lords. Panic struck her heart when the long arm of the Wookiee picked her up with ease by her bloody wrist and his other long appendage grabbed at her throat. She fell into the force, letting the panic and pain feed her. She began to chant as her eyes turned a bright yellow. “Azagrath ens-” Wookiee claws were sharper than she realized, tearing through her neck with little effort. Time seemed to slow as she could feel the sharp knife like claws cut through first her skin and then to the veins and arteries, voice box, and trachea below it. Cutting off the words of her chant and leaving her life hanging in the balance. She tried to speak but only felt a bubble of blood and air bleed out the gash in her neck, to pop uselessly under her chin. A gush of bile and blood followed it, spilling across her black armoured chest. Her eyes blinked several times as a red void began to enter her vision from the sides. The wookiee, believing her dead, tossed her from the platform to land twenty meters below in the white sand of the beach.

Telperiën held onto one of the flight handles on the side of the shuttle as ground fire rocked the ship like a leaf in a stiff wind. The murder of their fellow soldier all but forgotten by the men as the ship shook and whined as it dove through superheated atmosphere. It was not long at all until they had made a very rough groundfall. The ship ground itself to a stop in the thick sand of a Kashyyykian beach and the troops boiled out with war cries flying like arrows from their throats. It was a beautiful thing to watch as one by one they were gunned down by a weapon emplacement somewhere up in the trees. Red and green blaster bolt tore through human and alien flesh like a brilliant fireworks display. In the underbrush she saw a ronto tearing wildly through the trees, panicked and all out of its element. When the ship was all but empty of soldiers, Telperiën sprinted in serpentine, dodging left to right, her bare feet making little impression on the white sand and carrying her as fast as she could muster to a low hedge of vegetation. Danger sense pricked up and she dove into the bushes, narrowly avoiding a bolt from a wookiee powered crossbow. The red fire hot bolt curved around her back and left a furrow of smoking tunic and seared flesh. Telperiën kept the scream of pain internal and she burrowed into the underbrush, she couldn’t very well take on an entire force of dug in wookiees.The brutes. She crawled slowly in the underbrush, pulling herself forward with her arms, silent as she had been on hunting parties back on Dathomir. Except this prey wasn’t rabbits, it was very strong and very pissed off beasts. Meter by meter she pulled herself forward, the brown dirt streaking itself across her tunic and armour, concealing the blacks and reds of her armour in a dirty but camouflaged brown and black. Soon after minutes of crawling she was underneath the gun emplacement. She stretched out with her senses as her mother had taught her and felt three of them. Or perhaps a nest of them, with their big guns right above her, twenty or so arm lengths in a tree platform. Telperiën lay quietly in the bushes at the tree roots, and kept quiet until she was sure that no one was looking for her or had sensed her, then she slowly pulled out the force strengthened wooden knife that her mother had given her and clenched the blade between her teeth to keep it handy for the climb. The wood tasted bitter and damp in her mouth, slightly like blood, probably from one of the many kills her mother Qaela had gotten with it. Looking up and down the tree she finally found a route in its thick, scaled bark and followed it. She had been taught on Dathomir how to freeclimb efficiently, placing her hands in the many cracks that scattered the bark of the mighty tree and slowly scaled the trunk. One handhold at a time. Until she was at the edge of the platform. She pulled herself up to her elbows and rested her chin on the edge, looking at her targets. Her purple eyes scanning the platform ahead of her. Three large furry beasts, eight feet tall, and stronger than any man she had ever encountered. Their fur a mix of browns and dark blacks. All of them had their backs to her and they were distracted picking off soldiers from the armies of Black Sun and the Sith. Telperiën took a deep breath and let her mind focus onto the force, she could sense the strong presences of the Trinity and even Raia not very far away but she was not looking for them though she did take the moment to pass Raia some reassurance. You come to me again child? The voice was her father’s, wicked and dark in its tones that washed through her mind. Yes, I need your advice on how to deal with these creatures. The laugh that echoed in return quick and biting. Censuring her weakness. Reach into his mind and carve out his soul. Release his inner beast and you will break him and them. Telperiën reached out with her mind to touch the largest wookiee’s mind. He was concentrating and rejoicing in the fight, bathing in every victory, celebrating each human kill as a sacred act of revenge against the invaders. She dove through the unfamiliar mind, searching for the shield, the block that kept him from breaking, and finally found the siphon that he put every action through. Nallani His mate, his love, his life. She grabbed that memory with the force and brutally tore it away. The reaction was immediate, the claws on the tips of his fingers emerged and he began churning through rounds, blasting everything that moved with the E-Web he commanded. One of his partners put her hand on his back to steady him and he reacted with a slash of his claws. Then the fight was on. The E-web silenced as the bloody brawl began between former friends and ended with both smaller wookiee’s laying at the bottom of the platform, broken and bloody. Telperiën pulled herself to her feet and let out a laugh of victory that instantly died in her throat as the beast she created turned on her. Fear spiked like bile into her throat as she pulled the knife from her clenched teeth and held it in one shaking hand. Kriff

Commander Beltradrion of the Korriban garrison, he was not particularly force sensitive himself, but had been a long time member of the Sith Armed Forces since growing up in the shadows of the Sith Academy in the little spaceport of Dreshdae. His sharp grey eyes like pricks of polar ice watched each acolyte debark from the transport, he scanned each ID until he got to Camik’s. He looked at him inquisitively, “What brings you to the Valley of the Dark Lords young acolyte? Power? Cookies? Greed?” ((Just a NPC post to get you into the academy where your master should post soon.))

The Black Sun crew of the drop shuttle Zioness Valtoro laughed as she was finally revealed kicking and punching by one of the Sunners who had seen her climb aboard. They were big men and women, all at least two heads taller than herself and brawny. But there was one thing they did not know. She hated being laughed at. Good, use that, lust for it, consume it as it consumes you. The voice of the old warhammer of the sith whispered in her ear. She clenched her fist as their laughter continued, her eyes darkening as one of the men grabbed his canteen of liquor and took a long gulp. His eyes turned on her and she glowered at him. Before he could make a biting comment she held up her hand, palm towards him and slowly mimicked making a fist. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke the words of a curse that she had seen only several times before. But had used on her enough to know its power and intricacy. Azagrath ensfare asfelt ezgarth His laughter died in his throat and his eyes bulged. His breath came out a wheeze of air, the veins on his neck and face growing dark as the space that surrounded the dropshuttle. The other passengers stood silently, realizing their fate would be similar if they continued their laughter. Their fear was palpable in the air, tasting of bitterness and sweat. Azagrath ensfare asfelt ezgarth She whispered the words again, pulling the force in a string that surrounded the man, leaching off his body, his muscles were eaten by their self made acids and his very blood turned to poison in his veins. Such was the power of the Nightsisters of Dathomir. Seldom seen and seldom used. Save on their own people. The same curse that had taken her brothers. Her body shook with the effort, her face dark and eyes a wicked yellow. The man finally collapsed in a pool of blood that had spilled from his eyes and ears in dark crimson waterfalls. Leaving her with all eyes in the dropship on her small diminutive form. The tension in the shuttle was finally cut by the voice of the shuttle pilot who was blissfully unaware of the sudden despicable violence that a nine year old girl had just committed upon a relatively innocent man. “ETA two minutes to drop, ground fire flashing towards us, buckle up gents.”