Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

Telperiën watched as the last explosion tore a ship asunder. She watched as distant bodies thrashed in the cold vacuum of space and slowly stilled, frozen and decompressed.A prick of fear caught in her heart as she watched a body float by the viewport. They were in a giant metal can with only an inch of materiel between her and such a fate. She shivered, and brought her knees up to her chest and locked them there by hugging them. She didn’t look away from the sight of carnage though and slowly expanded her presence in the force, like mama had taught her. Fear, terror, panic, and pure gluttonous hunger rocked the force with its purity. She could feel her adopted father’s fear for her life, her mother's cool apathy, and Sheog’s hunger. Slowly, she siphoned through it, to listen for what the force had in store for her in this battle, until she felt it. A call, dark in its measure, beckoning her to the surface from the Dark Lord. She looked up to her companion, Raia, and smiled drearily as the ship came to rest in its berth on the Kyber. Telperiën unbuckled her crash webbing and crawled out of it and gave the older girl a long hug. Then she gave the droidy one too. For luck. As they walked down the ramp together, she could see Ca’Aran leaning against his starfighter spaceship and his eyes were close as if he was resting. But the amount of sweat that soaked his hair told her that he had only just gotten out of his ship and pulled off his helmet. She waved and then ducked away to follow the call. She shot a smirk at Raia as she ran towards a troop shuttle and jumped through the landing hatch as the ship took off for the Wookiee homeworld.

Tel shook her head violently, causing the black braids to bounce about her shoulders. “I don’t much like the idea of getting that slimy hutt’s presence in me, and Dad doesn’t want me to either.” She looked curiously at the older Dathomiri, “What’s a Crath? I don’t know what kind of Sith factions there are, but I like the sneaky stuff mom does.” Something stirred deep in her chest and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The voices wove their words about her, beckoning her to join the call of the mind meld.

Tel laughed hoarsely which ended in a coughing fit as the Ravenhammer exited hyperspace. She covered her mouth with her arm as the coughing fit continued until she was teary eyed and retching. Embarrassed, she swallowed the blood that had come with the cough instead of spitting it out. Crestfallen, she followed the older girl into the cockpit and was amazed at the lightshow. The duel daggers of the two Victories dished amazing sheets of Green fire towards a distant enemy as the two girls strapped themselves into the crash webbing. Since she didn’t like the feeling of her feet dangling over the floor, Telperiën sat cross legged in the giant chair instead. A heavy presence almost overwhelmed her as a slimy sensation crawled up her spine. A hunger, calling, begging, desiring them. The Lord of the Krath called and Telperiën was hesitant to answer. She shivered and tapped the side of her head when she caught Raia’s eye. Dangerous I think. But something we can learn from?

The Ravenhammer was a beautiful ship, it's sleek curves dully reflected distant starlight that Telperiën could see through the docking terminal, the long tunnel that connected the large ship to the Bleeding Kyber as the latter was loaded with munitions as the Sith capital vessel was prepared for war. Telperiën carried her small satchel over her shoulder as she boarded alongside the older girl. She had always wanted to understand the Sith language, and the prospect of learning it was daunting but likely very fulfilling. The distant voices that whispered unknown chants into the force around her were very likely speaking the language themselves. And perhaps she could finally interpret what had become a constant background noise. The paracusia or auditory hallucinations that she was experiencing consistently had began to disturb her sleep. She spoke, mostly to fill the silence between the two girls and also to silence the voices. “Do you think if I learn it I can tell the voices to go away? They keep me up.” She spoke almost matter of factly, but she knew that she was different than other little girls and she was becoming keenly aware that that fact was no advantage. It was an embarrassing mark on a girl that just wanted to fit in.

Telperiën relaxed her shoulders and crouched down next to the older girl she wiped a bead of blood from the side of her mouth with her sleeve and scooped up one of the pieces of flimsi that Raia had laid out for her. She smiled admiringly up at her and selected a piece of wrapped drawing charcoal. The dark carbonized lines it would leave on the paper were harsh compared to the delicate drawings of Raia but after many long sleepless nights drawing on a piece of leather with coal from an extinguished fire, Telperiën was no unskilled herself. Slowly she etched out Raia’s face, smearing the carbon with a finger to give shading and wiping it away with a dirty sleeve to pronounce the highlights. While she was concentrating she didn’t put for the effort to actually speak but reverted to her natural speaking through impressions and images through the force. Thank you for saying that Raia, I am quite ashamed of it. Though he still is in me somewhere, waiting. So i'm gunna be more careful. I'm here with mama so I think we are training but I’m more looking forward to seeing Ca’Aran. She projected the smiling form of the clone trooper through the force until she felt a dark gaze upon the back of her beck. She looked up and let out a gasp. She jumped to her feet to stand between her friend and the ghoulish creature. A small and diminutive shield, but it was her fault her friend had been hurt last time, and she wouldn't let it happen again. She would fight any demon that threatened Raia this time. Her wooden knife was clasped firmly in one hand and the other hand summoned the force into a crackling ball of red energy. With great effort she stood her ground against the foul creature. Though her heart beat rapidly and she was scared so much her knees trembled.

The decking of the Bleeding Kyber was cold on her bare feet, the metal alloys sending irritating pulses of cold up her legs into her core with every step. She had been on small ships before and large ones like the Marie, but this was a whole other level. A ship over a kilometer long? It frightened her ever so slightly until together, her and her mother entered the briefing room. The harsh tones of Ca’Aran discussing something called jamming beld through the doors as Qaela motioned her to stay outside. Telperiën was confused as to what a topping on toast had to do with battle but she knew that she was probably not welcome in the briefing room so she wandered as her mother took part. She wandered down the long hallway surrounding the briefing room until she came across a familiar figure sketching. Telperiën held back for a few moments watching her from a distance, considering herr next approach. Last time she had interacted with the older girl it had ended quite badly for the two of them. She swallowed her nerves and walked on silent feet until she was within striking distance and then she coughed. Keeping her hands at her side she bowed low. “Hello Raia, I am sorry for what happened last time…can I join you in drawing?” Her voice was low, slow, and rasping, sounding like it was taking a lot of effort to even speak.

Hyperspace was something that she hadn’t really gotten used to yet. To be moving past lightspeed around the galaxy in the blink of an eye navigating using charts like explorers on terrestrial seas, she loved the feeling. The timid reaction that kindled in her mind when she placed a hand on the warm inner hull of the Lambda shuttle as stars whipped by. She loved space travel. Compared to walking it was awesome. She practised her kicks and strikes for a while in the large but currently empty troop bay with all its slung up jumpseats and eventually went to sleep beside her mother. Those strong arm the only embrace that she could sleep in. Curled up in a ball underneath the sheets beside Qaela. The soft beeping from the hyperdrive counter woke her up. The decking was brutally cold to her bare feet as she trotted over to the control panel and pressed the blinking red button that she had seen Qaela press several times in the microjumps that had gotten them out of the Korriban system. She looked at the scrolling text on the display and regretted her inability to read before she keyed the vocal transmission unit. It cut in mid scrol, the AI’s voice booming over the speakers to likely awaken Qaela as well. “-ector four three zero on the Randon Run, preliminary scannings tell us that there are a mass of readings around a ship classified as the Demented Madness which is ID’d as friendly by the IFF systems. You should know mistress Tel that it is registered to your friend Sheog the Mad. As per preflight patterns I am broadcasting our itinerary and passenger lists to the Sith Fleet. It that allright mistress Tel?” It Is “Is that all right Mistress Tel?” Telperiën shook her head, the droid couldn’t read the force, how could she be so dumb. Hopefully mama wasn’t watching. Telperiën coughed and opened her mouth to speak, and with great effort, her soft voice could be heard audibly in the cockpit. “I-it is. I am okay with that.” She licked a little blood off her lips with her sleeve and rubbed her hand on her neck. It hurt so much, like someone was running sandpaper down her throat with every syllable. But the pain was refreshing, it focused her mind. She looked back at Qaela, her purple eyes reflecting from the control panel. “Morning mama.”

As her small hands moved in deft, well practised maneuvers with both the garrote and knife that she had learned over the months of training, Telperiën watched her mother’s face. When she had returned from the kitchen, her appearance had darkened and her aura was filled with apprehension. Telperiën knew before her mother spoke that it was time for them to find the action she had been lusting for. The Dark lord had a need, and they were to fill it. Silently she packed her small rucksack and after clipping the garrote into the small of her back and the knife to her belt she walked beside her mother through the long storied halls of the Sith. She made almost no noise as they walked, her bare feet making no sound in the practiced footsteps of an assassin. I have learned my lesson mama, I will listen, I will obey and I will make you proud She grinned to herself as she adjusted the straps on her leather armour as they walked. She could feel the bloodlust inch into her mind, exhilarating. This was an exciting development and one that she was sure was dangerous. Thinking of something she let out a growl of happiness that came from the back of her throat. Do you think Delta will be there?

She took the knife and held it close to her chest, she placed the wooden knife down on her bed and quickly stepped into the refresher. Shutting the door she let the sterilized water run across her body, mixing with the soap to end in rivulets of bubbles and washed off grime. She leaned down and gathered a few of the long hairs that had caught in the drain from her scalp and brought them out to her mother. What about a garrote of force hardened hair? She held up the ten long hairs to the light and looked to her mother. If imbued with the force they could be strong and sharp enough to sever throats, veins, muscle, and even bone. They could be easily strung between two rings and used to murder and mayhem.

Telperiën grabbed one of the steak knives from the table and held it next to her thigh, to be concealed in the crimson flow of the long loin cloth she was wearing. She watched her mother verbally spar with the Sith lord, come to her defence and force the Sith Lord to back down. It was awe inspiring and she felt like she learned quite a bit from the back and forth. When he had finally left, whimpering away like a dog, her mother redressed her with some very appropriate advice. As they walked to their chambers to shower and change Telperiën asked a question that had had been on her mind for a while. She grabbed the door frame and began to shrug off the slave clothing, That is great advice mama. Do you think I can make a lightsaber someday? Her eyes sparkled slightly in the dim light of the refresher. Her desire for such a weapon very strong.

The weeks crawled by like ants on a mile long journey, as Telperiën trained under her mother with the watchful eyes of the spirits hinting and guiding where they would. Telperiën found it easier to blend into the slave caste within the Sith temple and she used the force to help, slowly at first, manipulate the minds of her fellow slaves to accept her and finally to have the other sith treat her like one. She served, she snuck about, she mind tricked, she relied on her stealth and her small stature to move almost completely unseen throughout the temple. After several weeks, she walked unseen through the kitchens, her bare feet making little noise on the flagstones.She was dressed in the slave outfit of the Sith, though one suiting her age and began to help serve the Sith at eating. She reached out with the force and closed down her presence, only lifting the veil for a moment to obscure her face with her long locks of red brown hair. She slowly dropped off plates and cups to the gathered Sith lords and apprentices. Those that became suspicious of their dinners she reached out and cast a cloud about their minds. Or distracted them by making a servant across the hall drop a stack of dishes with a nudge of the force. Or with the especially weak minded she bent them to her will. Eat and Drink. I shall make a silent spring FInally approached her mother, while still in the garb of the slave caste and handed her dinner to her. The food was filled with intoxicants that would knock her mother out if she drank it, as was the food of everyone in the hall. She tapped her mother on the shoulder and sat down beside her as the dining hall began to collapse around them. Perhaps her mother would be proud of her work, her demonstration, though subtle had not worked on everyone and several Lords were looking about fervently for the offender.

Well I am glad the weakness that was Darth Bane is gone from this order, are there still some that wish his will done? And if so why are they not quickly dispatched as traitors? She knew the concept behind tribes that molded and formed around each other and to apply such virtues to the Sith seemed adequate. She nodded slowly as she finished her breakfast and looked up to her mama. So what is the next training that you have for me?

Telperiën thanks the serving girl who was not much older than herself with a bow when she was handed the platter of freshly prepared Antooin sausage and nerf milk biscuits. She noticed the girls skimpy attire and slave collar and wondered what the girl’s life had been like up until now. The girl was only about twelve and had a beautifully carved face with alabaster skin, a beauty if she was older. Telperiën sat down across from her mother at a low and secluded table and sipping on a glass of blue milk pondered what the training for today would be. Perhaps lightsaber building? Murder and mayhem? More force abilities? The possibilities were endless. She itched her healed arm under the leather jerkin she wore and looked up to her mother. What do we have today mama?

Telperiën let out a cough and brought herself to her feet from where she fell from being released and let the pain in her back roll by. She shook her head and ran to the starting line again. She felt the bedrock under her feet, feeling its strength, its age, its corruption. The sound of the buzzer going off sent her into a sprint and she projected her presence around her, in an effort to anticipate the likely incoming blaster shots. A burning sensation from her left arm caused her to yank it out of the way and a blaster bolt shot by where the arm had been a second before. Oh this is how it feels to be precognitive? Ohhhh She filled her muscles with the strength of the force and sped through the obstacle course, dodging and weaving as she went, letting the blaster bolts whip by with millimeters to spare in an effort to exert the least amount of concentration and force power as possible keeping her reserves for the final stretch. As she ran, she grabbed a flagstone with the force and threw it upwards, where it intercepted a half dozen blasts before exploding into dust and shards of melted magma like stone. Several of those shards embedded themselves in her flank but she kept running, ignoring where they set small clumps of her clothes on fire. She summoned her last reserves and jumped to the button hitting it with her palm as the last two bolts churned through the air around her arm. She collapsed into a pile of burning clothes, sweat, and tired muscles shakes. She did happen to put out the fires before the took all her clothing though. Before collapsing onto her back again and breathing heavily. Was that better mama?

Telperiën felt a flash of anger rip up her spine at her mother’s condemnation. She would much rather have a slap to the face or a punch to the stomach than the weird passive expression her mother wore at that moment. But at least she had been tossed against a wall, it was just like home on Dathomir. She grinned widely as her skull cracked against the stone outcropping and stars flashed in front of her eyes for a moment before she blinked them away. As her vision cleared, the face of her mother stared with blank and unremorseful eyes. Telperiën looked down at the ground a meter below her kicking feet and gulped down a breath of air. A flash of fear spiked into the back of Telperiën’s head before she calmed the emotion. She sneered at her mother, taking her biological father’s approach to confrontation. If Delta saw you do that he would kill you mama. If the black clad clone saw any of the training it would be dangerous to them all. Especially if he wanted to take them to the Jedi... She shook her head and cleared away the sneer and smiled apologetically. I'm sorry I can't remember what you told me to do She mimicked placing a gun against her head with her finger and pulling the trigger.

Telperiën let out a hiss of pain at the antiseptic but didn’t dare shrink away from the pain. She stayed still, her back rigid watching and feeling the antiseptic bubbling away and peeling away the dead skin on her wounds. The pain focused her mind, waking her up clearly and defogging her mind from the night's sleep. She rubbed at the wounds with her hands until the pain subsided and then took her position back on the starting line, her bare feet just touching the yellow line. The dust from the ancient excavation that had uncovered the full tunnel system clung to her clothes, feet, and arms, giving the hair on her arms a shiny white look. She looked over to her mother and nodded. The buzzer went off and she summoned the force by channeling the pain in her body. The force flowed through her like a fire, and she stretched out her hand letting out a grunt of exhilaration she seized one of the mirrored ramps with the force. She found the object stark and uninteresting in the force, manufactured without love and care, but willing to be bent to the wills of the force. Manipulated with an exertion of power and malice. She pulled the ramp from its position in the rock and tossed it like a brick into the blue button on the wall. The ramp tumbled in a precision movement that smacked the button with the fine edge of the ramp before Telperiën brought it back under control and prevented it from smashing the button to bits. The muscles in Telperiën’s arms bulged and her chest heaved with the exertion and she sighed softly as the ramp returned to its position on the floor with a ‘clunk’ of metal on rock. She took three deep breaths and wiped the sweat off her brow before it could fill her eyes. She surveyed her work and made not that she had been hit with no blaster bolts and had destroyed no property she could be beaten for. She looked up to her mama and smiled. Better?

The loose nerf cotton shirt hung oversized from her shoulders, a size or two too big that provided little comfort from the biting frigid Korribani morning. Though they were deep underground the caves had cooled significantly during the night and her breath left little clouds of suspended visible vapour in front of her mouth. Her breathing was slow so it did not obscure her vision too much or the large stone room, full of traps and danger planted by the Sith or her mother, she couldn’t tell. The sense of danger emanated from everything in the room, bringing the hairs on the back of her neck to a full stand, and a grimace a delight spread across her face. A challenge at last A colder voice echoed through the force bringing with it the malice of a centuries dead Sith lord. To succeed you must sprout wings child Telperiën stood still for a moment observing the course, planning routes, weaving several paths from obstacle to obstacle then she looked to her mother. Her eyes blinked once and she was off. Sprinting into the arena, the too large shirt billowing out behind her back like a half cloak until she reached the first half wall. As she leapt towards it to clear it the danger sense burned bright and she tucked her body into a roll instead of the scaling jump so that instead of both of her feet landing directly on the half wall only her shin grazed it. Instantly her right shin burned white hot but she completed the roll and came up on wobbly legs as a blaster bolt clipped through the warrior braids that dangled alongside her face, burning away a few strands and filling her face with the noxious smoke of burned hair. She resisted the urge to wave her hand in front of her face to clear it away because the danger sense was burning even hotter than the blaster bolts likely coming to cut her to ribbons on the edge of the area. Use it fool The voice was her father's and it stirred her into action. She reached out with the force and time seemed to slow. She could feel the biting dust digging into her bare feet and the strength of the stone below the dust. The burning warnings about to excise where her neck would be, she let herself drop back onto her back, smacking her shoulders into the stone as two laser beams collided above her where her neck had been. Rotating her hips, she used their momentum to spring her back onto her feet and into another run. Wings child The pain in her shoulders cascaded down her back as she ran. Feeding on that pain she grabbed onto the force and used it to amplify her muscles and she lept into the air towards the blue button. She wove her hands in a pattern and let the whispers of her ancestors take over. They called for a spell that she had seen before, long ago in the mountains. Hethfan The force lifted her into the air towards the prize like she had wings on her back. Though a temporary power, and one developed to help ascend from the mountainous terrain of Dathomir, it was just as effective to leap from one section of a room to another. Careful lest you become an Icarus This did however bring her closer to the turrets and one of their bolts nailed her already hurt shoulder, dropping her like a stone on the ground in front of the prize. The laughter echoed in the hall of stone as the spirit delighted in her fall. Too late She growled deeply and fought against the air that refused to refill her lungs and struggled to her feet. Another bolt caught her in the back and burned another hole in the shirt and Telperiën’s back. This one didn’t hurt as much and she continued her journey beginning to anticipate the directions of the fire and bobbing back and forth until she completed the meter spring to slap the blue button on the wall. I should focus more on dodging instead of flying I think She shook her head and looked back to her mother. Shunting away the pain in her body and bringing her back straight. Again?

You are a perversion within the force For you are consumed by me I know! She shouted into the force at the presence of her father. Letting her small hands ball into fists. She stayed silent, her gold flecked purple eyes watching her mother in silence as she explained the ways of the Sith and the nightsisters. How weak the spell casters seemed to be, no halls of carved stone, living huts of filth cooking by campfires and screaming at the stars in fear. How better it was to be on Korriban, far away from that destructive culture that had killed everything she loved. But it was her past, and spellcasting was something she could do, she had seen it before, and mimicked it in the dark. Remembering, she wove her hands in an intricate pattern and spoke into the force the words of a basic spell she had seen practiced a hundred times. Rahzah Kilibri The voice that spoke was not hers, and the voice did not follow her moving lips but reverberated in a deep baritone of her biological father. The words when spoken summoned a blaze of white hot fire to leap from the cobblestones at her feet and settle into a blazing pyre before them. Though it was summoned by the force, the fire had little to feed upon in the cold and damp of the Korriban underground and quickly sputtered into darkness again. She looked up to her mother and the force ghost and grinned widely. It was certainly easier to channel the force through the familiar motions of her ancestors. I will keep it close for all time mother, it is easier to channel this way I think. Her heart suddenly yearned for something else and she looked up to her mother’s fierce face. Can we use the force to bring them back? She meant the twins in their triplets. The missing chunks in her heart. The knuckles on her clenched fists turned white then relaxed as she knew that answer before it was spoken. It was a useless request and one that spoke of weakness. For they were gone. Forever. She shook her head. And looked to the Ghost and her mother, her head downturned, but her shoulders squared defiantly. So teach me, hurt me, I accept the price. Turn me into the weapon that can change the stars. And so they did.

Telperien jumped off the statue and let in a gasp of hot Korribani air before looking the spirit in the eyes. Her eyebrows arched for a moment in thought, reflecting the style of her dear father before she tossed the shoto aside with a grunt of disgust. It deactivated after carving out the legs of a statue of the Lord Draken. She let out a gutteral giggle before a booming voice echoed through the force in the hall Weakness is unbecoming in a daughter of mine Follow this spirit to the end of the galaxy You will learn a footing in the force From there you can become the crucible for its destruction She nodded, letting her braids tumble across her brow, where she scooped them back into a ponytail before re-fixing her gaze on the force spirit. Her purple eyes mixed with flecks of Ar-Pharazon gold gazing into the plain of the force, an unnatural consuming fire burning behind them. Her gaze was focused and her mouth twisted into a fierce grin, all pearl white teeth, the gums flecked with blood from her earlier coughing fit. I refuse to be weak, teach me to be strong, so I may bring glory to the Father

As they walked, Telperiën looked at the plaques of the great men and women of the Sith, some she recognized, most she didn’t. Their deeds already fallen into obscurity or eclipsed by the passage of time in a galaxy rife with destruction and conflict. With every new breed of Sith came a different tragedy on the galaxy, the destruction of Cloud city and Theed, or the holocausts of the great bug invasion. It seemed very hard to keep up a legacy in the face of such things. Perhas moving through the shadows like her mother was the best option… No it isnt She rolled her eyes and looked up at her mother, she took her hand and pulled her to a stop. Am I a perversion of nature mama? She pointed to the center statue, a statue of the great wyrm, Sheog. Is that what he does? Devour everything? I will control it, I will try at least. She laughed, a deep and ugly laugh, she shook her head to chide herself. The warrior braids bouncing off her shoulders. No I will control it.

Telperiën shrugged, perfectly satisfied with the tattered old robes and leather she wore from Dathomir, but followed her mother into the great hallway of uniforms and was quite impressed. The various plastoids fascinated her, though they were light and sturdy she thought that like the bulky Mandalorian armours she saw Ca’Aran wear, they would get in the way of her movements. She picked up a light camo chest piece of plastoid and weighed it with her hand. It was made for a boy of nine according to the description but it would easily fit her slender form. She chose a brown two piece set of close fitting elastic like armorweave. Allowing for maximum flexibility. Over the brown armorweave she selected a ironfibre kamain the same dark camo of the chestpiece and finished it all off with a set of simple leather boots. She shrugged out of her robes and assembled the uniform, and with the help of her mother, put it on. She slipped on the armorweave gloves and the utility belt, flexing with a high kick to a mannequin’s face, she grinned up to her mother. She gestured to the light chestpiece and kama, This reminds me of Ca’Aran and the rest of you She pointed to her temple Though they say I should pick something of gold

You were not my first choice But you are my legacy Telperiën relaxed her shoulders first, slowing her breathing like she had been taught while bow hunting. Slowing her breathing brought her racing heart slowly, beat by beat back into a steady rhythm. Her breathing lost its jagged edge and she breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled in sharp bursts from her mouth. Her eyes slowly lost their pale yellow sheen and the trembling in her arms and legs slowly stopped. She relaxed her hold on the force, letting its bile slide back down her throat, leaving a burning in her esophagus and lungs that would not go away easily. Pace yourself for you are young You have the time that I did not The voice sounded sad, lonely in its ether, the despairing thought of a spirit trapped by the force, watching its legacy slowly slip away. Telperiën knew that unless she did something grand with her life eventually the name of Ar-Pharazon the Golden would slowly disappear. Only muttered by dusty old scholars and with little reverence that it was owed. Even the mighty Lord Ar-Pharazon could not without help, stand up to the crush of time. Control your hatred For like a fire It was the soft voice of Geki, gone was the peeling laughter of insanity. Gone was Gantoris, gone was power, gone was life. A slow burn is all the more thorough in its destruction Plodding ever onwards in the face of detraction I will. She pulled herself out of her revery and focused back on her mother. With another wipe of her sleeve, the black blood was gone from her chin and she looked like a normal, if tired young girl. I will control it mama, I wont let it eat me She threw her arms around her mother’s torso in a childs embrace. For the moment silencing the disembodied voices of the Sith that haunted this place.

Hate brings you Desires which bring you Domination The witch is right, you are too weak for this now The cruel voice whispered in her ears that wretched word. Weakness. She hated that word, it had been hurled like a weapon at her and her brothers at every turn on dathomir. She had taken their beatings for them, volunteering in their stead to protect them whenever they failed a task. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the saber handle as the memories of those beatings flooded her brain. They had been weak, she had protected them….and they died anyway. Those horrible people had killed them for no reason at all. She hated them. She growled deep in her throat and she backed herself away from her mother, wiping her mouth with her spare hand and was startled to see how much warm blood had come away on her hand. She coughed again and shook her head, letting little droplets of blood curl their way down the corners of her mouth. Momma im trying but they killed them Stop this nonesense Get ahold of yourself They killed them for no reason! She tossed the lightsaber into one of the statues where it crackled and deactivated after severing the stone foot of Ajunta Pall. Telperiën stood slowly from where she had landed from her rebound, her back ramrod straight, her fingers curled into fists, forced to her sides. Very much like how she had stood when the whip was lashed across her back, the twins watching and crying from the tent. Her lips did not move but her voice sobbed in the back of her mother’s head wretched and rasping against emotions. And I could do nothing to stop it She blinked and her purple eyes met her mother’s. The iris's flaked with the yellow of her father's. I’m sorry I couldn’t mama.

Telperiën grinned widely, showing a gap in her white teeth where a week before a deciduous incisor had fallen out, the gum was red below the gap, showing where a permanent tooth was starting to erupt through the surface. In the weeks since her near death, Telperiën had lost a great many of her deciduous teeth, and the replacements were coming in much more rapidly than in a normal 7 year old girl. With a nod towards her mother’s instruction, Telperiën brought the short red blade to reflect again off the force shield her mother had formed with a spell. Telperiën loved seeing her mother in action, it really showed the profound weakness Clan Darksong and other nightsisters lived in. With a little additional training from the Sith, they could conquer the galaxy. Could have more like Since they paid for their ignorance of the galaxy with their miserable lives Now child, let her come to you Telperiën jumped back away from her mother and drew upon the river of the force that flowed around the two of them. Her graceful leap guided by the whispers of the spirits around her. She landed on the crook of a statue's arm and then rebounded back into the fight. She rolled away from her mother as soon as she landed, counting on the warning of danger that echoed in her head. It was ignorance that had killed all of her old friends and enemies on the nightsister homeworld. She laughed a hollow and rasping laugh before her cold voice echoed in her mother’s ears. Attack me so that I can learn to dodge your blows Bring the force into your muscles, strengthen them Fill them with its power She drew on the force like she had been taught but the power fled from her like a rancor pup from its master. Use that hate, use them She thought of her brothers and the fire began to burn brightly in her chest, then suddenly, the force was there. Bending and yielding to her like grass before a storm. Her eyes blinked from purple to yellow, and that burning anger filled her throat. She coughed loudly and looked back at her mother. Is that right momma? Use the hate like they are saying? She coughed again, a bit of black blood spattering her lips.

Telperiën shrugged aggressively, like a crouching corpanther before springing onto a back of a straying bantha. She set down her plate on the ground and together they retreated back into the sancuary of the monument room. She analysed a large statue of her biological father and she looked to her mother. “I guess as long as they can justify it with their con-consc-” She scrunched her face up, trying to remeber what Ca’Aran had told her to follow those few days before. “Conscience. That’s it. Ca’Aran said to never forget to listen to it. Though I think he neglected to tell me more about it or to say that you could justify genocide with it.” She giggled lightly and sat down on the foot of the statue . With a huff of expelled air from her lungs, she extended a hand to the training racks and a black pommel flew to her hand. It was a lightsaber, real enough as the Sith did not use training sabers, and these racks of real sabers were placed all over the place to assist in split second duels and honour killings that were so popular in the old Sith Order. She waggled her eyebrows at her mother when she was done typing out her message to the dark lord and extended her hand, mimicking any number of fighters from holodramas and beckoned her mother to come at her. Hold it like you would a dagger sweet thing. This is a Shoto blade and only as long as your arm. Go for her slender neck. She thumbed the activation switch and the pale red blade extended like a Kawazoolian Lizard’s tongue. She held the saber in a reverse grip and jumped at her mother, swinging the blade in front of her like she had so many times before on Dathomir to decapitate lizards or weak nerfs. She was confident her mother would teach her the art of saber dueling.