Post by Dire Wolf on Jun 14, 2010 0:47:36 GMT -5
Name: Adara
Race: Epicanthix
Age: 42
Birthplace: Metellos
Allegiance: Sith Order
Status: Dark Lady of the Sith
Rank: Master - Marauder
Appearance:
Evil’s corruption has only barely begun to set in around the Epicanthix woman’s features as she begins to embrace the Dark Side even further; her skin is only beginning to lose it’s healthy tone in favor of a paler one. This pallor isn’t serious enough to take away from the ageless beauty that years of expressionless stoicism has granted her, but her appearance only degrades as time marches on. Few men would guess that she hails from one of the many squalorous districts of Metellos.
Vesperia’s blue eyes yet retain their icy hue, but even that light shade has begun to dim into a sickly type of yellow. Despite her slow descent from a true gray alignment into something much darker the most striking feature about the woman is her nordic height when compared to most human men. Her athletic frame stands at just over six feet tall, which only adds to her regal aura.
Blue satin forms a wrap around her body and shields one leg from view down to the shin. Beneath this blue silk robe a black armor-weave serves to minimize damage while maximizing mobility, but is good for little more than a bladed weapon or a glancing blaster. The black enameled plastoid plates that cover her right arm and both legs sport very angular features that add to her already imposing figure.
Personality:
Calm, cool, and collected aren’t three words that would come to mind when one is pressed to describe a Sith, yet those are three perfect descriptors for Darth Vesperia. Over the years the burning heat of her mercurial passions have simmered down into cold calculation. She has found that a logical approach to any situation will more often yield successful results, and as such has managed to internalize her emotions to the degree of rarely even registering their existence. This leads her to be abusive towards her peers and subordinates more often than not, but despite this her past experiences and ideas often bring an unexpected angle to the Imperial strategy.
Beneath all of the layers of narcissism and pomp is a woman that takes simple, almost euphoric pleasure in any victory; no matter how small. Success is only a harbinger to Freedom if the Sith code is to be believed, and to be unfettered from the laws and world of man is her ultimate goal. Vesperia’s very reason for joining the Sith Empire was to gain the strength to transcend all who could oppose her, though her recent indiscretions with another member of the Sith Order have muddled the original plan. Now she finds herself believing in the Sith Empire, and yearning for a Sith victory so that she can rule the galaxy with Darth Hervor at her side.
Ships/Vehicles: N/A
Equipment:
Lightsaber: Lightsaber Pike
Color: Yellow
Lightsaber: Dual Phase
Color: Red
Stats:
Strength - Below Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma – Below Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic- Apprentice
Telepathic- Novice
Body- Adept
Sense- Adept
Protection- Untrained
Healing:– Untrained
Destruction– Expert
Combat Training:
Quarter Staff Combat: Master
Dirty Brawling: Adept
Force Training:
Force Concealment: Adept
Combustion: Apprentice
Other Training:
Piloting: Adept
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho- Master
Ataru- Master
Juyo- Expert
Lightsaber Pike Combat - Specialist
Biography:
Hitomi and Masao Osaka where a pair of mineral miners on Panatha. Hitomi loaded the massive crates of Panathan minerals into the ships while Masao actually worked in the mine proper. As one could imagine, barely any pay and terrible working conditions was hardly enough to satisfy a young husband and wife... so barely a few years after they were married, they hatched a plan to "escape."
It wasn't much of a plan, really. It only had a few points, mostly involving things like "sneak" and "into the ship". Security was tight, but Hitomi knew all of the patrols... and the video cameras weren't reviewed until after the pair were well off of the planet and onto their new life somewhere not Panatha.
Metellos. As it turned out, it wasn't much better... but it was better. The crew was... less than kind... to Hitori and Masao when they were discovered. Fortunately they weren't blown out of the airlock, but the few things that they brought with them certainly were.
Not wanting to experience the consequences of stowing away again, they settled for the world. A few years later they had a baby girl.
Love. It is an integral part to every single family. Without it, a child isn't nurtured enough to grow into a normal human being. With too much the child becomes spoiled and slothful. Unlike most Dark Jedi, the tiny epicanthix girl named Meisa was born to a family who understood this principle. Not only that, but she was born into poverty. Her mommy and daddy were away most of the day, earning money while her older brothers and sisters watched over the little infant girl. None of them could've known that she was given a great gift, one that had the potential to lift her out of the slums of Metellos and into the Jedi Order.
Meisa was stumbling around and giggling the very second that she could walk, and playing following her older siblings around not long after that. Like most people her earliest years were by far the best and she cared for little despite the conditions she'd been given. Every member of the small community was like a member of her extended family, and she treated them as such.
Little Meisa was a golden hearted girl in every way. Every doll she had was shared with her friends, and all they had to do was ask. Though there were times that people made her angry. Mostly the boys that made fun of her just because she was a girl. It didn't take long for the otherwise good natured girl to walk up and smack the little boy who was making fun of her with a powerful fist. She almost instantly felt bad for hitting him, as his eyes welled up with tears and he ran away crying.
Meisa didn't truly feel bad until her daddy heard about her display of anger and swatted her behind until it was bright pink. From then on, each time she felt the sweltering heat within her chest, she tamped it down. Suppressed it. Kept it under a tight rein so that no one ever knew it was there. After awhile, with a considerable amount of practice, this technique became second nature to the small girl. Her anger was nonexistent by the time she was almost five, and she found herself simply shrugging off insults and walking away as those stupid boys giggled at her and her friends.
Life was happy up until the day after her fifth birthday. She had just woken up from a happy sleep to learn that she was being sold as a slave, despite the fact that she wasn't one. A local crime lord had decided that the tiny community of slummers that no-one seemed to care about had the potential to be worth quite a bit of money. After contacting some slaves and alerting them to the presence of the tiny community of vagrants. In the confusion, her parents managed to hide her inside of a pile of rags. They told her that they'd be right back.
That was the last time she saw them.
A shistavanen sniffed the girl out, and found her whimpering underneath that very pile of rags. She put up resistance at first, but quickly found that her tiny frame was nothing compared to the power that the canine creature had within his muscles. Meisa gave up, and was promptly loaded onto the slaver's vessel.
The slaver ship was barely out of the gravity well before it was attacked, crippled, and boarded by a pirate vessel. The shouts of the bad men hurt Meisa’s ears and made her want to do nothing more than cry the experience away, though she didn't. She had to be brave. It wasn't long until all of the slavers were dead, and new (but worse looking) men approached her cage. They yanked her and her friends from their pens, and for a brief moment she hoped that they'd take her back to her parents.
Then she got to the ship, and all of her hopes were dashed.
Abraxas Orin was a pirate, and a feared one. Captain of the infamous Adrasteia, one of the most effective pirate vessels in Republic space. Most people, even a few of his crew, believed that he was just another man. An effective and brutally efficient one, but a man all the same. In reality, the shistavanen pirate was a middle aged Dark Jedi Knight who utilized his command of the dark side to disregard females and acquire currency. So, when he sensed what could be a Force sensitive on the ship that his boys captured, he instantly went down to the holding cells to search. It wasn't particularly long until he managed to narrow the search down to the little girl in the corner of her cell. She wasn't cowering, but she certainly wasn't making herself obvious. He was most pleased.
Despite the fact that he was a Dark Jedi, he decided that it was best if the little girl didn't learn things through the usual way of hatred and pain. That would only produce one thing: a mindless killer who was good for little more than insane babblings and grotesque atrocities. So, rather than taking the usual path of a harsh teacher who punished their student for every little mistake in form and function, he became something of a mentor to the child.
This technique worked for the first few years. Training was easy enough, though that wasn't to say that she took to anything like breathing. It could best be described as riding a bicycle. Little Meisa generally failed the first few tries, but certainly accomplished the task in time... and always above his expectations. Four years of Force training slowly transitioned into a focus on lightsaber combat. To simpy hand Meisa lightsaber and hope for the best would have been a massive waste in his investment, so rather than committing what was probably the dumbest act one could think of, he managed to modify his lightsaber so that it had something of a training setting. A brutal one whose blade gave worse burns than usual, but a training blade nonetheless.
Abraxas began to teach the little girl comprehension of his mother tongue along with a few others that he knew. Namely Corellian, Morellian, and Huttese. He would spread the teaching out so that her little mind wasn't overwhelmed by the learning to use the Force, a lightsaber, and a new language all at once. That would be most unwise, and hurt her mental development.
She excelled at learning lightsaber forms. Meisa adored going through the katas of Shii-cho, mastering each one as quickly as she could. Despite this, Abraxas began to even out her training when he introduced destruction at the age of eleven. She was troubled with it. It seemed that the little girl had next to no aptitude for the more destructive side of the Force, which was most troubling... her purpose in life was to do his bidding, after all. Yet... it wasn't until he brought a man before her, handed her the lightsaber, and told her to kill him that he fully realized his error.
She refused.
He was furious. Abraxas struck her for the first time during her tutelage under him that very day. After killing the man, he let his anger take hold... and punished that little girl for her disobedience. The stern but fair mentor died in that moment. In that moment, he turned into what he really was; a Dark Jedi, and he began to teach her as such. To signify this change, he changed her name to "Aphra" and created her surname "Caen." Aphra meant ashes or dust in one of the many languages he knew, and seemed to be fitting for the little girl's situation. Humorous, even. Though all of the humor was lost to the little Epicanthix girl.
At first, at least, the little girl was resistant to the change. Her training slowed to a grinding halt as every tiny imperfection in her lightsaber forms were harshly rectified, and her shortcomings in destruction were answered with a belt. Abraxas conditioned her with exercise extremely harshly for failures, and sometimes for success. Sometimes for the hell of it. At the end of each day the little girl would would cry herself to sleep, either because the man she'd come to see as something of a father turned out to be a monster or because her body hurt all over. Generally both.
Each time she was beaten she could feel that tiny flicker of rage within her heart. Each time she tamped it back down. The flare of rage became harder and harder to tamp down over time, especially since her tormentor seemed to be able to sense it... and only punish her more for tamping down her anger. For keeping it within its cage. Four long years passed before she snapped. Her anger refused to be contained for another punch. Aphra’s anger flared out of her as his fist rose to strike her one more time. It shrouded that hand, rushing within it, as she imagined that terrible man's hand detonating. Focused on it. Like it was the only logical thing that could happen after he rose it against her.
To her surprise, and his, it did just that.
Fear set in over both of the people involved, and without showing an ounce of weakness he issued a quick slap with his other hand and sent her into unconsciousness with telepathy. Only then did he allow himself to cradle the hand that was no more, and seek healing. Needless to say, the intensity of the beatings promptly slowed. Though the "damage" had already been dealt. In the instant that her unconscious mind, her anger, reached out to detonate his hand... the little compassionate girl and one of malevolence switched places. She was different. Instead of barely being able to wield the power of destruction, she had the potential to wield a terrifying command of it. Force Lightning, choke, kinetite, drain, or anything even related to harming other people.
Against his better judgement, he helped her control the power of Force Combustion though hardly refine it. That was something that she'd have to do herself and besides; he'd be damned if he gave her a power that would let her make his head explode with a thought. Especially when a girl like her was wielding that power. Her prowess for the lightsaber increased exponentially as well, especially ataru.
Force Concealment was a necessary skill for their lifestyle. Abraxas had the ability to cross a Jedi's path, even talk to one, without the "protector" having any knowledge of what he was. It had even happened once or twice in his life. The fifteen year old girl knew that this was a necessary skill to learn, and threw her all into learning it. Obviously she didn't master it right away, or even fast, but she certainly grasped the fundamentals quickly.
At the age of fifteen her master allowed her to go on raids with the rest of the crew. Aphra loved it. The heat of combat. Watching lightning dance, her enemies choke, and the life drain from their eyes at her will. Anger was a great ally, one that amplified her power in the Dark Side when she tapped into it. Though she was hardly ruled by this dark emotion, it was certainly an aid in battle. Men were left alive on multiple occasions.
Abraxas took these opportunities to teach the little girl how to break men and women. How to break their will. How to break their sanity. She may have been considered to be a Dark Jedi, but that hardly meant she took a special kind of joy from hurting people. At first. Years of doing something tended to dull one's senses towards it... and in Aphra's case, she grew to like it.
Unlike most Dark Jedi, Aphra wasn't driven by insanity, anger, or cruelty but rather the instincts of a predator seeking prey to devour. While it was no doubt that she had a sadistic streak within her and felt no shame in bringing it out, she was hardly an addict. During the torture sessions with various people, she learned how to read the tells of people that were being pushed too hard.
Two years passed before Abraxas finally allowed his apprentice to craft a lightsaber. Her icy blue eyes seemed to twinkle as her Dark Master handed the necessary parts over to her, and she instantly bowed and rushed off to go create her own tool of destruction. One would've thought that Aphra was working on her beloved child as she carefully constructed the weapon of death and destruction; not a single minute detail escaped her icy gaze. It took her a solid week to construct the weapon, and a full month until she was fully satisfied with the amount of her power that had been poured into the crystal.
Never before had the girl felt as if something so exotic was an extension to her body. Its electric blue hue lit up the previously dark room, and it gently thrummed in her hand. From that moment on, Aphra practiced her forms with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Even Abraxas seemed to have something akin to pride in his heart, though he refused to show it.
Less than a year later Aphra and the crew of the Adrasteia raided yet another ship, only this one was heavily guarded. The merchant vessel hired out a merc who also happened to be one of the few that the followers of palawa trained. Suffice to say, he was a master of Teras Kasi... and extremely efficient with a shock staff. The man tore through the boarding party like a hurricane through a sheet of paper. Until he met up with Aphra. Abraxas had made it a point to more or less ignore the martial artist and simply observe during that raid. If she couldn't eliminate someone who had no command over the Force, then his apprentice wasn't worth the position he'd given her.
The fight was harrowing, to say the least. The man nearly overpowered her numerous times, but the girl didn't give up. Not once. Half an hour into the intense duel both parties were exhausted, but fortunately Aphra had the Dark Side behind her. It gave her a second wind and finally allowed her to impale the man on her electric blue lightsaber. Her only regret was that she didn't get the chance to see how long that one took to break, but survival was far more important than amusement.
After looting the phrik-plated shock staff from the carrion's body she and the rest of her party picked the ship clean of everything valuable before pulling away and turning the ship into slag with the Adrasteia's guns. Aphra had an idea: that staff was deadly, and was plated in a material that could stop a lightsaber. Surely it couldn't be so complex to take out the electrical components of the staff and reconstruct it into something of a lightsaber spear.
Hours passed before the girl managed to crack the top of the staff open, but after that the cannibalization was quick. She kept the power capacitors of the shock staff for added stability to her pike and slipped in a rubber protected rod that allowed the staff to be something of a Force Lightning projector. After these tasks were complete, she slipped a solid durasteel alloy rod into the staff (that was molded to support the lightsaber and power components) for added bludgeoning power.
Four years later, Aphra was sent out on a pirate raid by herself. For a normal person this would be suicide, but it should've turned out to be a walk in the park for someone who could command the Dark Side of the Force. Unfortunately, the ship that was there also happened to be filled with nothing but Republican Marines. After informing Abraxas of this via the Force, Aphra barely managed to hold her own against the Republic troops until reinforcements arrived.
Which was about when Abraxas seemed to take on a bit more than he could chew. Half of a platoon of men surrounded him shortly before opening up with blaster fire and grenades. By the time that he was through, most of the men lie dead or dieing... though he was grievously wounded. Aphra happened across her wounded master, who weezed for her to help him back to the ship before the Republic ships arrived. After looking at his mechanical hand, the one that was there because of her, and remembering the beatings that he used to (and still occasionally) gave her... she crushed his wind pipe with the blunt end of her staff and took his dual phased lightsaber for her own. Why would she ever give him what he never gave her?
After learning of Aphra's "treachery", and her ambitions to captain the vessel, Abraxas' navigator tried to kill her with a blaster pistol. He quickly regretted that, as she simply dodged the bolt and threw the pistol out of his hand. His death was quick. Despite the fact that she loved torture, she wasn't about to torture the man that she grew up knowing, even if she didn't consider him much more than a distant friend.
Aphra commanded the Adrasteia for a few years, deftly evading Republic ambushes and patrols by using intellect, her keen ear to the Force, and by placing money in the right pockets. Those three things alone couldn't protect her and her crew from the long arm of the law forever, however. Eventually the leaks were plugged, the corruption washed away, and a sound strategy in place. It was really only a matter of time until the twenty five year old captain was caught, and she knew it.
Though it escaped her why the Republic would be after her so intently. She targetted slave ships for the most part. She took particularly enjoyed torturing the operators, considering her past as a slave. That memory of her past wasn't vivid or powerful enough to compell her to give up the possible coin from selling the slaves herself, however. Perhaps that was why they were after her so intently. They would've found her considerably faster... but she held a strict "no witness" policy. For her protection as well as that of her crew's.
At any rate, three years of capturing and raiding vessels of all sorts eventually lead the government to send a full carrier group after them. It was a stupid notion to have that group attack them outright, however, so instead of that they simply set up a sting like most others do... only once the Adrasteia ran the "merchant vessel" down and forced a dock, that carrier group jumped into the system.
They weren't shy about survivors. The only thing that Aphra had grown to love in her life, the only true home she ever felt like she had, was turned to slag by the combined laser fire of a carrier, two cruisers, four destroyers, and just under a hundred strike craft. She was one of the few who managed to make it to the escape pod on time... though it was picked up later by the same people who obliterated her home.
Fortunately, due to the "no witness" policy during her captaining and the fact that she scuttled what was left of the derelict vessels that she raided... the Republic had no idea that she was a Dark Jedi. As such, she simply waited until they were transporting her down to the brig to attack. After sweeping through the halls like a storm she recovered her personal effects and proceeded to disable the carrier's tractor beams and communications.
Aphra escaped on an interstellar shuttle shortly thereafter, and simply dropped off of the grid.
It took nearly a year for the heat to die down, it eventually did. The woman knew that it would be unwise to continue using the alias that was given to her by her late master. Most unwise. Few people went by the name of a rather negative noun in the Morellian language. So, rather than walk around with a target on her head... she gave herself yet another alias: Adara. Morellian for noble. The name fit perfectly for the line of work she was looking to get into: body guard.
There could've been nothing better for the woman than look like one of the good guys. That way the attention would be less on how much she looked like that wanted pirate from awhile ago to more on the brigands who were a blight on the galaxy right then. Just because she was planning to make herself look good didn't mean that she turned over a new leaf, however. Quite the opposite. The plan was to keep her nose clean for a short while and lay low until the heat died down further.
Luen Sundar. The man owned a considerable amount of land on one of the backwater core worlds, and was looking for a body guard. He'd grown somewhat paranoid towards the latter end of his years, and the fact that his wife died in giving birth to his two twins didn't help that either. What was worse, was that he gave both of the twins to the Jedi Order... not wanting to see the little creatures that killed his wife. That stung him the most, perhaps.
Not that Adara particularly cared about the man's heartaches. She was just in it to get paid and bide her time. Fortunately, she had what the other body guards didn't to go along with her remarkably (ly well forged) resume: beauty. What does every slightly-passed-middle-aged man want in their lives? A beautiful young woman. Especially one that is competant and can do her job.
Adara spent seven years working for that man, mastering Ataru during that time. Seven long years. The only true thing of value that she picked up was the accent. Even that had to be forced. The core worlds' accent (english accent) did always seem to have a special kind of sound to it. Which was quite possibly the only redeemable attribute of them, in her humble opinion. It seemed that the wounded old man had taken a liking to the little Epicanthix body guard over that span of time, and actually found himself loving her. The sentiments were not returned. Though it didn't hurt her any to play along. Added pay was always nice, along with those expensive gifts that would be sold after she left his employ.
Then he proposed to her. She realized just what folly she made. Make no mistake, Adara wouldn't keep marrying a man for the money out of the question, but she was a free spirit. She hadn't planned on staying under his employ for much longer, and to be frank the only reason she did it for that long was because she had received a corusca gem or two. So, after the proposal she tried to leave his emply... and he tried to stop her. Which was a terrible mistake. Luen watched as the woman he loved raised her hand up and make a cup out of her hand, then squeeze. He felt the pressure. He choked to death shortly thereafter.
She left promptly after that, not caring to explain how the she was hired to protect was choked to death. She took the ring, though. Even sold it at a pawn shop off world.
Adara seemed to promptly fall to her predatorial instincts after she slew the man from Corulag. Assassination work. Bounty hunting. She hastily accepted any job that involved hunting and killing. Adara seemed to gain a certain kind of reputation within the criminal underbelly within a relatively short span of time due to her skill and effectiveness.
Less than six months after the Epicanthix woman began her payed hunting, she ran into a particularly odd woman. One who was obviously a fellow Dark Jedi, by the prickling of her senses and the way that the woman seemed to carry herself. Fortunately though, the Miralukan woman didn't seem to want her dead... but rather teach Adara to refine those powers she held even further. The fact that her senses could pick her up on Adara's power was unsettling, though what surprised her the most was that the elder woman wanted to help her at all. For what reason? Adara didn't know... nor did she question. Power was power, right? In truth, the woman wanted little more than a pawn to play in the game of her larger ambitions.
Freedom may have been paramount on Adara's list, but power was as well. So, reluctantly, Adara allowed herself to fall underneath the Dark Jedi's wing For power's sake, of course. The blind woman's name was Aliah, and she was a powerful Dark Jedi Marauder... one who's skill with a saber was second to none that she knew of. Including the battlemaster at the time.
Aliah took her new apprentice deep into the wilds of Haruun Kal, where one had to be powerful in skill and will power to survive. It was in these wilds that Aliah began teaching the powerful and aggressive Juyo form. Unlike Abraxas' teachings, her new master’s teaching style was more about efficiency rather than cruelty. If she failed at a task, she was punished. If she failed to do a form right the first time however, she was sternly corrected. In this manner was the way that Adara learned to control her powers in the Force, learn the moves of Juyo, and refine her odd aptitude for obliterating things through nothing more than her will power.
Seven years passed before the apprentice seemed to lose her will to serve under anyone's banner yet again. The woman tried to simply walk away from the powerful Miralukan marauder, an act that the elder woman didn't appreciate in the least. Inevitably, a fight ensued... one that left Adara with a few small but incapacitating cuts on her legs. As Aliah stood over her, one of her sabers held to her throat, the woman simply glared up at the weapon. While she did so, she could feel a volatile mixture of her will and her anger project into the lightsaber. So intently did she focus on the weapon that her master's words fell on deaf ears.
The lightsaber detonated in her hand mid-sentence.
Using the new wave of pain and surprise in her former master to her advantage, Adara called dancing arcs of lightning into the woman. She kept called her lightsaber pike into her hand, and used its small mechanism to project her lightning into the master until she was cooked through and through. Only then did she get up, take the woman's yellow shoto as something of a trophy and a reminder, and limp off as if nothing happened.
Not long after she left Haruun Kal, she heard whispers of a Dark Jedi Order starting up on Korriban. Again, in what she would later decide was a move of insanity considering her reasons for killing Aliah, she journeyed to the carriage of the Dark Side to join them. While she would ever refuse to be a puppet of anyone, and relinquish her freedom to no man, she would fight for them. To gain nothing more than power, amongst other things.
Roleplay Sample:
An interesting turn of events indeed. Blue eyes darted about the cargo bay to view the six men that had been scattered throughout the cargo bay, each one armed with a shot blaster that faced a favorable direction. A seventh man stepped around the corner with drab brown robes swirling at his feet; his smug smile made Sith Lady Vesperia’s blood boil, even if her outward expression could have been carved from stone. No doubt they had the clandestine privateering vessel surrounded by nothing shy of an armada.
The silence between the two parties quickly became deafening. Vesperia’s hands had been raised above her head in a sign of faux supplication, but the Jedi knew that any man he sent to detain her would be little more than a human shield once he entered arm’s reach. Two men, as was standard operating procedure, would only meet the same fate. Both knew that the Jedi would have to detain the Sith, and it was the latter that broke the silence, “I daresay that ‘tis a good thing that you Jedi do not kill their prisoners. For me, at least. You, on the other hand: it seems that you cornered a Rancor. ‘Tis your move, my smug friend.”
“You are no rancor, and we are not friends,” the Jedi moved towards the Sith Lady with a cautious gait to his stride. His blue lightsaber’s point was held towards the ferocious woman with the intent to skewer her should she so much as twitch. A rare smile graced her lips as he moved within arm’s reach. The Jedi’s last thoughts were of how pretty the smile had been.
Two minutes later
Hollow pops cracked out from the Sith woman’s joints as she moved her arms about in a sort of arrogant, post exercise stretch. It wasn’t until a loud series of cracks popped out from her neck that she stopped her movement, which happened to be just shy of the escape pod door. Corpses had been left littered in her wake the same way a child would walk off without her toys.
Some men were left in bloodless pieces, their wounds cauterized by the immeasurably swift strokes of her blade. Others had fallen to the dancing arcs of lightning that she had cast from her fingertips. Others still had no apparent cause of death other than the mere fact that they were dead. All in a day’s work. That smile from before had all but faded into the chiseled stoicism that she was known for, and her spacer’s attire had more than its share of scorch marks.
Two more minutes and the Republic would discover that their ambush hadn’t been strong enough. Graceful fingers moved about the holographic keyboard with the grace of a bumbling fool as she punched in commands to the escape pod. The brilliant fools had locked the escape pods before the ambush. An angry sigh pushed out of her lips as she inefficiently pecked at the keys until the pod’s light turned green, and she entered. For all of her martial prowess, she typed with the same amount of skill as an idiot child.
Half a heartbeat passed before her weight was thrown against the safety harness, and the escape pod began to scream towards Corellia’s surface. As with everything, Vesperia had contacts everywhere. Even Coruscant. One such contact made through the Sith was brought to the front of her mind as she fell towards the surface of an otherwise hostile world.
Race: Epicanthix
Age: 42
Birthplace: Metellos
Allegiance: Sith Order
Status: Dark Lady of the Sith
Rank: Master - Marauder
Appearance:
Evil’s corruption has only barely begun to set in around the Epicanthix woman’s features as she begins to embrace the Dark Side even further; her skin is only beginning to lose it’s healthy tone in favor of a paler one. This pallor isn’t serious enough to take away from the ageless beauty that years of expressionless stoicism has granted her, but her appearance only degrades as time marches on. Few men would guess that she hails from one of the many squalorous districts of Metellos.
Vesperia’s blue eyes yet retain their icy hue, but even that light shade has begun to dim into a sickly type of yellow. Despite her slow descent from a true gray alignment into something much darker the most striking feature about the woman is her nordic height when compared to most human men. Her athletic frame stands at just over six feet tall, which only adds to her regal aura.
Blue satin forms a wrap around her body and shields one leg from view down to the shin. Beneath this blue silk robe a black armor-weave serves to minimize damage while maximizing mobility, but is good for little more than a bladed weapon or a glancing blaster. The black enameled plastoid plates that cover her right arm and both legs sport very angular features that add to her already imposing figure.
Personality:
Calm, cool, and collected aren’t three words that would come to mind when one is pressed to describe a Sith, yet those are three perfect descriptors for Darth Vesperia. Over the years the burning heat of her mercurial passions have simmered down into cold calculation. She has found that a logical approach to any situation will more often yield successful results, and as such has managed to internalize her emotions to the degree of rarely even registering their existence. This leads her to be abusive towards her peers and subordinates more often than not, but despite this her past experiences and ideas often bring an unexpected angle to the Imperial strategy.
Beneath all of the layers of narcissism and pomp is a woman that takes simple, almost euphoric pleasure in any victory; no matter how small. Success is only a harbinger to Freedom if the Sith code is to be believed, and to be unfettered from the laws and world of man is her ultimate goal. Vesperia’s very reason for joining the Sith Empire was to gain the strength to transcend all who could oppose her, though her recent indiscretions with another member of the Sith Order have muddled the original plan. Now she finds herself believing in the Sith Empire, and yearning for a Sith victory so that she can rule the galaxy with Darth Hervor at her side.
Ships/Vehicles: N/A
Equipment:
Lightsaber: Lightsaber Pike
Color: Yellow
Lightsaber: Dual Phase
Color: Red
Stats:
Strength - Below Average
Agility - Superior
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma – Below Average
Force Stats:
Telekinetic- Apprentice
Telepathic- Novice
Body- Adept
Sense- Adept
Protection- Untrained
Healing:– Untrained
Destruction– Expert
Combat Training:
Quarter Staff Combat: Master
Dirty Brawling: Adept
Force Training:
Force Concealment: Adept
Combustion: Apprentice
Other Training:
Piloting: Adept
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho- Master
Ataru- Master
Juyo- Expert
Lightsaber Pike Combat - Specialist
Biography:
Prologue
Hitomi and Masao Osaka where a pair of mineral miners on Panatha. Hitomi loaded the massive crates of Panathan minerals into the ships while Masao actually worked in the mine proper. As one could imagine, barely any pay and terrible working conditions was hardly enough to satisfy a young husband and wife... so barely a few years after they were married, they hatched a plan to "escape."
It wasn't much of a plan, really. It only had a few points, mostly involving things like "sneak" and "into the ship". Security was tight, but Hitomi knew all of the patrols... and the video cameras weren't reviewed until after the pair were well off of the planet and onto their new life somewhere not Panatha.
Metellos. As it turned out, it wasn't much better... but it was better. The crew was... less than kind... to Hitori and Masao when they were discovered. Fortunately they weren't blown out of the airlock, but the few things that they brought with them certainly were.
Not wanting to experience the consequences of stowing away again, they settled for the world. A few years later they had a baby girl.
I. When life gives you lemons
Love. It is an integral part to every single family. Without it, a child isn't nurtured enough to grow into a normal human being. With too much the child becomes spoiled and slothful. Unlike most Dark Jedi, the tiny epicanthix girl named Meisa was born to a family who understood this principle. Not only that, but she was born into poverty. Her mommy and daddy were away most of the day, earning money while her older brothers and sisters watched over the little infant girl. None of them could've known that she was given a great gift, one that had the potential to lift her out of the slums of Metellos and into the Jedi Order.
Meisa was stumbling around and giggling the very second that she could walk, and playing following her older siblings around not long after that. Like most people her earliest years were by far the best and she cared for little despite the conditions she'd been given. Every member of the small community was like a member of her extended family, and she treated them as such.
Little Meisa was a golden hearted girl in every way. Every doll she had was shared with her friends, and all they had to do was ask. Though there were times that people made her angry. Mostly the boys that made fun of her just because she was a girl. It didn't take long for the otherwise good natured girl to walk up and smack the little boy who was making fun of her with a powerful fist. She almost instantly felt bad for hitting him, as his eyes welled up with tears and he ran away crying.
Meisa didn't truly feel bad until her daddy heard about her display of anger and swatted her behind until it was bright pink. From then on, each time she felt the sweltering heat within her chest, she tamped it down. Suppressed it. Kept it under a tight rein so that no one ever knew it was there. After awhile, with a considerable amount of practice, this technique became second nature to the small girl. Her anger was nonexistent by the time she was almost five, and she found herself simply shrugging off insults and walking away as those stupid boys giggled at her and her friends.
Life was happy up until the day after her fifth birthday. She had just woken up from a happy sleep to learn that she was being sold as a slave, despite the fact that she wasn't one. A local crime lord had decided that the tiny community of slummers that no-one seemed to care about had the potential to be worth quite a bit of money. After contacting some slaves and alerting them to the presence of the tiny community of vagrants. In the confusion, her parents managed to hide her inside of a pile of rags. They told her that they'd be right back.
That was the last time she saw them.
A shistavanen sniffed the girl out, and found her whimpering underneath that very pile of rags. She put up resistance at first, but quickly found that her tiny frame was nothing compared to the power that the canine creature had within his muscles. Meisa gave up, and was promptly loaded onto the slaver's vessel.
The slaver ship was barely out of the gravity well before it was attacked, crippled, and boarded by a pirate vessel. The shouts of the bad men hurt Meisa’s ears and made her want to do nothing more than cry the experience away, though she didn't. She had to be brave. It wasn't long until all of the slavers were dead, and new (but worse looking) men approached her cage. They yanked her and her friends from their pens, and for a brief moment she hoped that they'd take her back to her parents.
Then she got to the ship, and all of her hopes were dashed.
Abraxas Orin was a pirate, and a feared one. Captain of the infamous Adrasteia, one of the most effective pirate vessels in Republic space. Most people, even a few of his crew, believed that he was just another man. An effective and brutally efficient one, but a man all the same. In reality, the shistavanen pirate was a middle aged Dark Jedi Knight who utilized his command of the dark side to disregard females and acquire currency. So, when he sensed what could be a Force sensitive on the ship that his boys captured, he instantly went down to the holding cells to search. It wasn't particularly long until he managed to narrow the search down to the little girl in the corner of her cell. She wasn't cowering, but she certainly wasn't making herself obvious. He was most pleased.
II. Rebirth
Despite the fact that he was a Dark Jedi, he decided that it was best if the little girl didn't learn things through the usual way of hatred and pain. That would only produce one thing: a mindless killer who was good for little more than insane babblings and grotesque atrocities. So, rather than taking the usual path of a harsh teacher who punished their student for every little mistake in form and function, he became something of a mentor to the child.
This technique worked for the first few years. Training was easy enough, though that wasn't to say that she took to anything like breathing. It could best be described as riding a bicycle. Little Meisa generally failed the first few tries, but certainly accomplished the task in time... and always above his expectations. Four years of Force training slowly transitioned into a focus on lightsaber combat. To simpy hand Meisa lightsaber and hope for the best would have been a massive waste in his investment, so rather than committing what was probably the dumbest act one could think of, he managed to modify his lightsaber so that it had something of a training setting. A brutal one whose blade gave worse burns than usual, but a training blade nonetheless.
Abraxas began to teach the little girl comprehension of his mother tongue along with a few others that he knew. Namely Corellian, Morellian, and Huttese. He would spread the teaching out so that her little mind wasn't overwhelmed by the learning to use the Force, a lightsaber, and a new language all at once. That would be most unwise, and hurt her mental development.
She excelled at learning lightsaber forms. Meisa adored going through the katas of Shii-cho, mastering each one as quickly as she could. Despite this, Abraxas began to even out her training when he introduced destruction at the age of eleven. She was troubled with it. It seemed that the little girl had next to no aptitude for the more destructive side of the Force, which was most troubling... her purpose in life was to do his bidding, after all. Yet... it wasn't until he brought a man before her, handed her the lightsaber, and told her to kill him that he fully realized his error.
She refused.
He was furious. Abraxas struck her for the first time during her tutelage under him that very day. After killing the man, he let his anger take hold... and punished that little girl for her disobedience. The stern but fair mentor died in that moment. In that moment, he turned into what he really was; a Dark Jedi, and he began to teach her as such. To signify this change, he changed her name to "Aphra" and created her surname "Caen." Aphra meant ashes or dust in one of the many languages he knew, and seemed to be fitting for the little girl's situation. Humorous, even. Though all of the humor was lost to the little Epicanthix girl.
At first, at least, the little girl was resistant to the change. Her training slowed to a grinding halt as every tiny imperfection in her lightsaber forms were harshly rectified, and her shortcomings in destruction were answered with a belt. Abraxas conditioned her with exercise extremely harshly for failures, and sometimes for success. Sometimes for the hell of it. At the end of each day the little girl would would cry herself to sleep, either because the man she'd come to see as something of a father turned out to be a monster or because her body hurt all over. Generally both.
Each time she was beaten she could feel that tiny flicker of rage within her heart. Each time she tamped it back down. The flare of rage became harder and harder to tamp down over time, especially since her tormentor seemed to be able to sense it... and only punish her more for tamping down her anger. For keeping it within its cage. Four long years passed before she snapped. Her anger refused to be contained for another punch. Aphra’s anger flared out of her as his fist rose to strike her one more time. It shrouded that hand, rushing within it, as she imagined that terrible man's hand detonating. Focused on it. Like it was the only logical thing that could happen after he rose it against her.
To her surprise, and his, it did just that.
Fear set in over both of the people involved, and without showing an ounce of weakness he issued a quick slap with his other hand and sent her into unconsciousness with telepathy. Only then did he allow himself to cradle the hand that was no more, and seek healing. Needless to say, the intensity of the beatings promptly slowed. Though the "damage" had already been dealt. In the instant that her unconscious mind, her anger, reached out to detonate his hand... the little compassionate girl and one of malevolence switched places. She was different. Instead of barely being able to wield the power of destruction, she had the potential to wield a terrifying command of it. Force Lightning, choke, kinetite, drain, or anything even related to harming other people.
Against his better judgement, he helped her control the power of Force Combustion though hardly refine it. That was something that she'd have to do herself and besides; he'd be damned if he gave her a power that would let her make his head explode with a thought. Especially when a girl like her was wielding that power. Her prowess for the lightsaber increased exponentially as well, especially ataru.
Force Concealment was a necessary skill for their lifestyle. Abraxas had the ability to cross a Jedi's path, even talk to one, without the "protector" having any knowledge of what he was. It had even happened once or twice in his life. The fifteen year old girl knew that this was a necessary skill to learn, and threw her all into learning it. Obviously she didn't master it right away, or even fast, but she certainly grasped the fundamentals quickly.
III. Outlaws to the End
At the age of fifteen her master allowed her to go on raids with the rest of the crew. Aphra loved it. The heat of combat. Watching lightning dance, her enemies choke, and the life drain from their eyes at her will. Anger was a great ally, one that amplified her power in the Dark Side when she tapped into it. Though she was hardly ruled by this dark emotion, it was certainly an aid in battle. Men were left alive on multiple occasions.
Abraxas took these opportunities to teach the little girl how to break men and women. How to break their will. How to break their sanity. She may have been considered to be a Dark Jedi, but that hardly meant she took a special kind of joy from hurting people. At first. Years of doing something tended to dull one's senses towards it... and in Aphra's case, she grew to like it.
Unlike most Dark Jedi, Aphra wasn't driven by insanity, anger, or cruelty but rather the instincts of a predator seeking prey to devour. While it was no doubt that she had a sadistic streak within her and felt no shame in bringing it out, she was hardly an addict. During the torture sessions with various people, she learned how to read the tells of people that were being pushed too hard.
Two years passed before Abraxas finally allowed his apprentice to craft a lightsaber. Her icy blue eyes seemed to twinkle as her Dark Master handed the necessary parts over to her, and she instantly bowed and rushed off to go create her own tool of destruction. One would've thought that Aphra was working on her beloved child as she carefully constructed the weapon of death and destruction; not a single minute detail escaped her icy gaze. It took her a solid week to construct the weapon, and a full month until she was fully satisfied with the amount of her power that had been poured into the crystal.
Never before had the girl felt as if something so exotic was an extension to her body. Its electric blue hue lit up the previously dark room, and it gently thrummed in her hand. From that moment on, Aphra practiced her forms with a sense of pride and accomplishment. Even Abraxas seemed to have something akin to pride in his heart, though he refused to show it.
Less than a year later Aphra and the crew of the Adrasteia raided yet another ship, only this one was heavily guarded. The merchant vessel hired out a merc who also happened to be one of the few that the followers of palawa trained. Suffice to say, he was a master of Teras Kasi... and extremely efficient with a shock staff. The man tore through the boarding party like a hurricane through a sheet of paper. Until he met up with Aphra. Abraxas had made it a point to more or less ignore the martial artist and simply observe during that raid. If she couldn't eliminate someone who had no command over the Force, then his apprentice wasn't worth the position he'd given her.
The fight was harrowing, to say the least. The man nearly overpowered her numerous times, but the girl didn't give up. Not once. Half an hour into the intense duel both parties were exhausted, but fortunately Aphra had the Dark Side behind her. It gave her a second wind and finally allowed her to impale the man on her electric blue lightsaber. Her only regret was that she didn't get the chance to see how long that one took to break, but survival was far more important than amusement.
After looting the phrik-plated shock staff from the carrion's body she and the rest of her party picked the ship clean of everything valuable before pulling away and turning the ship into slag with the Adrasteia's guns. Aphra had an idea: that staff was deadly, and was plated in a material that could stop a lightsaber. Surely it couldn't be so complex to take out the electrical components of the staff and reconstruct it into something of a lightsaber spear.
Hours passed before the girl managed to crack the top of the staff open, but after that the cannibalization was quick. She kept the power capacitors of the shock staff for added stability to her pike and slipped in a rubber protected rod that allowed the staff to be something of a Force Lightning projector. After these tasks were complete, she slipped a solid durasteel alloy rod into the staff (that was molded to support the lightsaber and power components) for added bludgeoning power.
Four years later, Aphra was sent out on a pirate raid by herself. For a normal person this would be suicide, but it should've turned out to be a walk in the park for someone who could command the Dark Side of the Force. Unfortunately, the ship that was there also happened to be filled with nothing but Republican Marines. After informing Abraxas of this via the Force, Aphra barely managed to hold her own against the Republic troops until reinforcements arrived.
Which was about when Abraxas seemed to take on a bit more than he could chew. Half of a platoon of men surrounded him shortly before opening up with blaster fire and grenades. By the time that he was through, most of the men lie dead or dieing... though he was grievously wounded. Aphra happened across her wounded master, who weezed for her to help him back to the ship before the Republic ships arrived. After looking at his mechanical hand, the one that was there because of her, and remembering the beatings that he used to (and still occasionally) gave her... she crushed his wind pipe with the blunt end of her staff and took his dual phased lightsaber for her own. Why would she ever give him what he never gave her?
After learning of Aphra's "treachery", and her ambitions to captain the vessel, Abraxas' navigator tried to kill her with a blaster pistol. He quickly regretted that, as she simply dodged the bolt and threw the pistol out of his hand. His death was quick. Despite the fact that she loved torture, she wasn't about to torture the man that she grew up knowing, even if she didn't consider him much more than a distant friend.
IV. Untamed Noble
Aphra commanded the Adrasteia for a few years, deftly evading Republic ambushes and patrols by using intellect, her keen ear to the Force, and by placing money in the right pockets. Those three things alone couldn't protect her and her crew from the long arm of the law forever, however. Eventually the leaks were plugged, the corruption washed away, and a sound strategy in place. It was really only a matter of time until the twenty five year old captain was caught, and she knew it.
Though it escaped her why the Republic would be after her so intently. She targetted slave ships for the most part. She took particularly enjoyed torturing the operators, considering her past as a slave. That memory of her past wasn't vivid or powerful enough to compell her to give up the possible coin from selling the slaves herself, however. Perhaps that was why they were after her so intently. They would've found her considerably faster... but she held a strict "no witness" policy. For her protection as well as that of her crew's.
At any rate, three years of capturing and raiding vessels of all sorts eventually lead the government to send a full carrier group after them. It was a stupid notion to have that group attack them outright, however, so instead of that they simply set up a sting like most others do... only once the Adrasteia ran the "merchant vessel" down and forced a dock, that carrier group jumped into the system.
They weren't shy about survivors. The only thing that Aphra had grown to love in her life, the only true home she ever felt like she had, was turned to slag by the combined laser fire of a carrier, two cruisers, four destroyers, and just under a hundred strike craft. She was one of the few who managed to make it to the escape pod on time... though it was picked up later by the same people who obliterated her home.
Fortunately, due to the "no witness" policy during her captaining and the fact that she scuttled what was left of the derelict vessels that she raided... the Republic had no idea that she was a Dark Jedi. As such, she simply waited until they were transporting her down to the brig to attack. After sweeping through the halls like a storm she recovered her personal effects and proceeded to disable the carrier's tractor beams and communications.
Aphra escaped on an interstellar shuttle shortly thereafter, and simply dropped off of the grid.
It took nearly a year for the heat to die down, it eventually did. The woman knew that it would be unwise to continue using the alias that was given to her by her late master. Most unwise. Few people went by the name of a rather negative noun in the Morellian language. So, rather than walk around with a target on her head... she gave herself yet another alias: Adara. Morellian for noble. The name fit perfectly for the line of work she was looking to get into: body guard.
There could've been nothing better for the woman than look like one of the good guys. That way the attention would be less on how much she looked like that wanted pirate from awhile ago to more on the brigands who were a blight on the galaxy right then. Just because she was planning to make herself look good didn't mean that she turned over a new leaf, however. Quite the opposite. The plan was to keep her nose clean for a short while and lay low until the heat died down further.
Luen Sundar. The man owned a considerable amount of land on one of the backwater core worlds, and was looking for a body guard. He'd grown somewhat paranoid towards the latter end of his years, and the fact that his wife died in giving birth to his two twins didn't help that either. What was worse, was that he gave both of the twins to the Jedi Order... not wanting to see the little creatures that killed his wife. That stung him the most, perhaps.
Not that Adara particularly cared about the man's heartaches. She was just in it to get paid and bide her time. Fortunately, she had what the other body guards didn't to go along with her remarkably (ly well forged) resume: beauty. What does every slightly-passed-middle-aged man want in their lives? A beautiful young woman. Especially one that is competant and can do her job.
Adara spent seven years working for that man, mastering Ataru during that time. Seven long years. The only true thing of value that she picked up was the accent. Even that had to be forced. The core worlds' accent (english accent) did always seem to have a special kind of sound to it. Which was quite possibly the only redeemable attribute of them, in her humble opinion. It seemed that the wounded old man had taken a liking to the little Epicanthix body guard over that span of time, and actually found himself loving her. The sentiments were not returned. Though it didn't hurt her any to play along. Added pay was always nice, along with those expensive gifts that would be sold after she left his employ.
Then he proposed to her. She realized just what folly she made. Make no mistake, Adara wouldn't keep marrying a man for the money out of the question, but she was a free spirit. She hadn't planned on staying under his employ for much longer, and to be frank the only reason she did it for that long was because she had received a corusca gem or two. So, after the proposal she tried to leave his emply... and he tried to stop her. Which was a terrible mistake. Luen watched as the woman he loved raised her hand up and make a cup out of her hand, then squeeze. He felt the pressure. He choked to death shortly thereafter.
She left promptly after that, not caring to explain how the she was hired to protect was choked to death. She took the ring, though. Even sold it at a pawn shop off world.
V. Marauder
Adara seemed to promptly fall to her predatorial instincts after she slew the man from Corulag. Assassination work. Bounty hunting. She hastily accepted any job that involved hunting and killing. Adara seemed to gain a certain kind of reputation within the criminal underbelly within a relatively short span of time due to her skill and effectiveness.
Less than six months after the Epicanthix woman began her payed hunting, she ran into a particularly odd woman. One who was obviously a fellow Dark Jedi, by the prickling of her senses and the way that the woman seemed to carry herself. Fortunately though, the Miralukan woman didn't seem to want her dead... but rather teach Adara to refine those powers she held even further. The fact that her senses could pick her up on Adara's power was unsettling, though what surprised her the most was that the elder woman wanted to help her at all. For what reason? Adara didn't know... nor did she question. Power was power, right? In truth, the woman wanted little more than a pawn to play in the game of her larger ambitions.
Freedom may have been paramount on Adara's list, but power was as well. So, reluctantly, Adara allowed herself to fall underneath the Dark Jedi's wing For power's sake, of course. The blind woman's name was Aliah, and she was a powerful Dark Jedi Marauder... one who's skill with a saber was second to none that she knew of. Including the battlemaster at the time.
Aliah took her new apprentice deep into the wilds of Haruun Kal, where one had to be powerful in skill and will power to survive. It was in these wilds that Aliah began teaching the powerful and aggressive Juyo form. Unlike Abraxas' teachings, her new master’s teaching style was more about efficiency rather than cruelty. If she failed at a task, she was punished. If she failed to do a form right the first time however, she was sternly corrected. In this manner was the way that Adara learned to control her powers in the Force, learn the moves of Juyo, and refine her odd aptitude for obliterating things through nothing more than her will power.
Seven years passed before the apprentice seemed to lose her will to serve under anyone's banner yet again. The woman tried to simply walk away from the powerful Miralukan marauder, an act that the elder woman didn't appreciate in the least. Inevitably, a fight ensued... one that left Adara with a few small but incapacitating cuts on her legs. As Aliah stood over her, one of her sabers held to her throat, the woman simply glared up at the weapon. While she did so, she could feel a volatile mixture of her will and her anger project into the lightsaber. So intently did she focus on the weapon that her master's words fell on deaf ears.
The lightsaber detonated in her hand mid-sentence.
Using the new wave of pain and surprise in her former master to her advantage, Adara called dancing arcs of lightning into the woman. She kept called her lightsaber pike into her hand, and used its small mechanism to project her lightning into the master until she was cooked through and through. Only then did she get up, take the woman's yellow shoto as something of a trophy and a reminder, and limp off as if nothing happened.
Not long after she left Haruun Kal, she heard whispers of a Dark Jedi Order starting up on Korriban. Again, in what she would later decide was a move of insanity considering her reasons for killing Aliah, she journeyed to the carriage of the Dark Side to join them. While she would ever refuse to be a puppet of anyone, and relinquish her freedom to no man, she would fight for them. To gain nothing more than power, amongst other things.
Roleplay Sample:
An interesting turn of events indeed. Blue eyes darted about the cargo bay to view the six men that had been scattered throughout the cargo bay, each one armed with a shot blaster that faced a favorable direction. A seventh man stepped around the corner with drab brown robes swirling at his feet; his smug smile made Sith Lady Vesperia’s blood boil, even if her outward expression could have been carved from stone. No doubt they had the clandestine privateering vessel surrounded by nothing shy of an armada.
The silence between the two parties quickly became deafening. Vesperia’s hands had been raised above her head in a sign of faux supplication, but the Jedi knew that any man he sent to detain her would be little more than a human shield once he entered arm’s reach. Two men, as was standard operating procedure, would only meet the same fate. Both knew that the Jedi would have to detain the Sith, and it was the latter that broke the silence, “I daresay that ‘tis a good thing that you Jedi do not kill their prisoners. For me, at least. You, on the other hand: it seems that you cornered a Rancor. ‘Tis your move, my smug friend.”
“You are no rancor, and we are not friends,” the Jedi moved towards the Sith Lady with a cautious gait to his stride. His blue lightsaber’s point was held towards the ferocious woman with the intent to skewer her should she so much as twitch. A rare smile graced her lips as he moved within arm’s reach. The Jedi’s last thoughts were of how pretty the smile had been.
Two minutes later
Hollow pops cracked out from the Sith woman’s joints as she moved her arms about in a sort of arrogant, post exercise stretch. It wasn’t until a loud series of cracks popped out from her neck that she stopped her movement, which happened to be just shy of the escape pod door. Corpses had been left littered in her wake the same way a child would walk off without her toys.
Some men were left in bloodless pieces, their wounds cauterized by the immeasurably swift strokes of her blade. Others had fallen to the dancing arcs of lightning that she had cast from her fingertips. Others still had no apparent cause of death other than the mere fact that they were dead. All in a day’s work. That smile from before had all but faded into the chiseled stoicism that she was known for, and her spacer’s attire had more than its share of scorch marks.
Two more minutes and the Republic would discover that their ambush hadn’t been strong enough. Graceful fingers moved about the holographic keyboard with the grace of a bumbling fool as she punched in commands to the escape pod. The brilliant fools had locked the escape pods before the ambush. An angry sigh pushed out of her lips as she inefficiently pecked at the keys until the pod’s light turned green, and she entered. For all of her martial prowess, she typed with the same amount of skill as an idiot child.
Half a heartbeat passed before her weight was thrown against the safety harness, and the escape pod began to scream towards Corellia’s surface. As with everything, Vesperia had contacts everywhere. Even Coruscant. One such contact made through the Sith was brought to the front of her mind as she fell towards the surface of an otherwise hostile world.
