Eternal Father
The shuttle streaked across the nameless void, the refracted light from a world covered in crystalline lattices sparkling off it's sleek black hull. It traversed through uninhabited space, passing worlds blackened by long forgotten wars, and the abandoned wreckages of ancient battleships; their bodies twisted and torn like wet flimsiplast. Whatever conflagration had passed through here had transpired many centuries ago, the names of the fighters and their deeds forever lost. All that remained were these grim monuments, slowly being torn apart by the powerful cosmic force of inevitable entropy.
But these edifices to ancient conflict was not why the black shuttle slipped between them, beyond navigating the wrecks they paid them no mind. It was the large battlecruiser, modern and strong, that idled beyond the killing field that the shuttle sought. Amidst all this death was life, and the shuttle gravitated towards it like a moth to flame. It slipped inside one of the cruiser's many hangar bays, lowering itself down to the deck on spindly legs of black metal. Pressurized air hissed out like a viper's whisper as the boarding ramp lowered to the floor, darkness churning just beyond the margins of the bay's light.
From within emerged a towering warrior, a beast clad in the skin of man. A cloak of shimmering white samite swirled around His body, all which radiated the darkened promise of boundless power. He walked with impeachable authority, striding across the metal deck and deeper into the ship. None dared interfere, for they knew that to do so courted unimaginable agony; a deathless torment. For the Dark Lord of the Sith was not to be trifled with, and those of lesser existence learned quickly to avoid His gaze, to stay far afield of His presence, and to whisper solemn prayers of His divinity.
But they were far beyond the scope of His attention, little more than errant insects that briefly grazed the periphery of His awareness. He had been called here, a set of coordinates His only guiding compass, for the reason was not given. It was considered brazen, anathema even, to presume to summon the Dark Lord, but there were few who could. The woman He was set to meet was unlike any other creature in the galaxy, for she had been remade by His hand alone into something superior; strength beyond flesh.
His apprentice, Darth Pellax, awaited Him.
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