Tatooine

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

 

The starship emerged from hyperspace over the lonely sandy planet of Tatooine, and with little effort from its pilot or crew, succeeded in acquiring docking clearance at Mos Eisley spaceport. Perhaps the ease came from the loud declaration that this was a ship belonging to one of the illusive Sith Lords, or perhaps it was because of the promise of such a ship bringing some much needed credits to the lonely casinos and bars of a mostly deserted planet. 

 

Either way, the once apprentice to the Dark Lord, Telperien Ar-Pharazon in all her stature came most willingly to the barren world. 

 

The force had willed such a thing, and so Telperien would answer. Some of the local spies had told of a sith apprentice left abandoned, and the Dark Lord in all his grace, had dispatched the nightsisters. Nightsisters, who through no fault of their own but blood, could not access the force but through talismans and chalk summoning circles. The people of the weak blood, the Myrkengodi, the priestesses of the Sith Lords. And Telperien was their leader. And on the desert world of Tatooine, the Nightsisters of Coven Myrkengodi stood out like a Corusca gem in a coal pit. 

 

Their heavily tattooed skin, dark leather, and pale skin set them willingly apart, and in their company came the tall Telperien. She carried little save her yew bow and a quiver of arrows that was slung at her belt. The yew boy remained in its soft leather cover on a strap that crossed her muscled shoulders. 

 

She ducked to enter the Cantina and as her eyes adjusted they narrowed against the smoke of deathsticks. 

 

“I am looking for the one called Camik Rhonik.” 

 

Her voice was soft but it carried throughout the entire cantina, carried by the will of the force, which cut through the music of the band like a knife. 

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

A grin pecked at the side of Telperien’s face until she finally let it spread across her pale face. She reached back and let bot the Bow and bag of arrows at her belt fall to the sand encrusted floor. One of the pale girls behind her faithfully catching the leather wrapped bow before it could fall completely. Telperien took a pace towards the cloaked and cowled man and flicked her hand towards the band which had faithfully kept their tune. 

 

The electronic harpist cartwheeled into the wall behind his instrument and the drummer followed suit. Hurled as if lifted by an invisible hand. The charm at her wrist glowed a faint turquoise, the yellowed diamond emitting off a scant green light that disappeared as quickly as the music did. Her voice now carried like a silver wind, booming thorugh the establishment like a thunder stroke.  

 

“The King of the Stars, he who sits on a throne of blood and bone. The Dark Lord in his high hall. The unnamed bane of the Jedi Order and Galactic Alliance. Fret not for the Sith Lords of Korriban bid Camik to return to their service.” 

 

She maintained the grin as a few of the bar patrons reached for hidden weapons.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

“You have been called. So you will come.” 

 

Telperien let her eyes travel from one patron to the next assessing the room full of muscled men and women like a predator would a flock of nerfs. They were strong, full bodied, men and women of the dirt. And it would be so easy. She licked her lips. Letting saliva fill the broken cracks on her lips from the lack of humidity. She did not answer the man’s question, instead she reached out her left hand the talisman on her wrist glowing a bright red.

 

One of the patrons jumped at her with a fist flying for her high boned face. 

 

She shouted a dark word of command and the force fell to her will. Billowing in its triumph through her talisman where it began its terrible work. Her hand twitched up, catching the man under the jaw, and as her hand grasped his throat his blood began to boil. 

 

Viens opened with an explosion of red steam and the man collapsed in a welter of gore. 

 

And so the fight was on.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperien shrugged as the man turned and left the Cantina at a slow even pace. She reached to her waist and pulled the ancient lightsaber that was hanging from a loose corde of bound leather from her waist. Its red hue overpowering the soft lights of the dim cantina. A few patrons were knocked out of their bloodlust from the very sight of a lightsabre, but not many, and in a cacophony of ‘snap-hisses’ the hue of the bar turned a bright, stunning, red. 

 

This was too short a range for the bows of the sisters, so they would make due with the weapons of the Sith Lords in their stead. Her first blow, carried by the quick struck fury in her heart dashed a rodian across the bartop, and her sisters made the work of the rest of them as quick, and as bloody. In the space of just several seconds over a dozen deaths occurred, satiating the bloodlust of the Dathomir Witches, and bringing a fierce grin to the face of their leader. 

 

She strode through the still twitching bodies and walked easily to catch up with the erstwhile apprentice. 

 

“Camik, your ship awaits you. Though if you would prefer another demonstration of useless killing, I am sure we would be more than happy to oblige.” 

 

She indicated the Sith warship with a sweep of her arm, and smirked as she walked towards the starship at a brisk pace.

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperien scowled as the rest of the nightsisters came aboard after her. 

 

“This is neither of our starship, it belongs to the Sith Empire. Perhaps if you live out the next couple months you can have one just like it.”

 

The decking rocked underfoot as the ship began to journey from the atmosphere of the sand planet. She gestured to the dining table as one of the very young Dathomiri laid a small plate of hors d’oeuvres on the table. It was some meat and cheese faire, not overly delicious, but it wet the appetite. 

 

“Tell me of your journeys since we last met Camik.”

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

Telperien shrugged as she took a bite of food.

 

“The Sith Lords rule an empire that has yet to reach its final expanse. Our master has begun an assault on the planet of Corellia and Mon calamari, in an effort to shut down the pitiful rebel alliance once and for all.” She took another bite. “Cut them off from their centres of industry, of production, and the resistance will fall apart.” 

 

She pondered another bite, but placed the food back onto the plate in front of her. 

 

“There is plenty of opportunity for glory should you desire it.” She glanced up. “Do you desire it Camik?”

[Telperiën Ar-Pharazon]

“We go to the planet of my ancestors, and from there we can finish your journey into Lordship.”

 

Telperien clapped her hands and one of the sisters jumped to attention, making a firm bow and then ran to the cockpit. Telperien’s eyes flashed as she looked back to the Apprentice. 

 

“Of course, the gaudy representation we see in the holos of the Sith Lords, like Ar-Pharazon the Golden, or even the majesty of the Old Sith, hurt the eyes. They do not carry with them the Gravity of our struggle, they only carry with them pride. And a pride for what? What did they accomplish?”

 

She took a long drink from her cup. Letting the wine flow across her tastebuds. “They accomplished nothing. They were a failure that only brought an untold suffering to the galaxy for no gain.” She shook her head so that her plait of hair bounced from should to shoulder. “We must move beyond that infantile approach.” She caught hold of her seat with one strong hand as the sudden acceleration pushed against her as they disappeared into hyperspace. 

 

“Now we go to the jungle.”