A P E X
NAR SHADDAA
Hutt Space
The stench was unique.
As the Sith Lord descended upon the downtown establishment, the "aroma" of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly invaded his nostrils. It was that spicy cocktail of smoke, urine, and rotting trash that made the Hutt Moon such a tourist destination. At once, Darth Metus' nose wrinkled at the presence of the unwelcome characteristic of the moon, but that did nothing to deter his focus. Typically speaking, the Sith would make a habit of avoiding places that he considered cesspools. And as such, there was a damn good reason that the Sith Lord had abandoned the comforts of Brotherhood space in favor of the slums. And that justification was personal ascension.
According to ancient Lore, the mark of a true Sith was in the weapon he wielded. His Lightsaber. Now, any man could stand before a generator and synthetically craft a crimson core. However. The most powerful of weapons were not given, nor created...but Taken.
In the current state of the Galaxy, there were Jedi aplenty to pilfer a saber from. In fact, Darth Metus could have easily ventured over to a fringe Outpost and cracked open the skull of the resident mentor as opposed to wading through filth. But. In his mind, coming here had greater significance. He would not just devastate the life of a random Jedi, no...he would clash with the mother of his eldest, one last time. For she, long ago, walked the Jedi Path. For she, even still, clung to a remnant of that identity that had been caked with Nar Shaddaa filth. Her Light was dim...but with the right motivation, he could cause it to erupt.
And from their clash, perfection would be born.
Metus came to a halt before a rather unremarkable doorway. Above was a sign...with two letters out. It would have spelt Peabody's in Aurebesh, but that was no longer the case. This was the place: the establishment that [member="Vesphira So'Kil"] called home. The Sith Lord had no doubt in his mind that she knew of his coming. She, like any Sensitive would feel his might from a long ways off. And...as there was no communications beforehand, one would assume she would be on her guard. This was no pleasure visit. This was no attempt at bridging the gap or deviating from the laws of marriage. No. This...
Was. War.
A single step bore the Sith inside the dimly lit bar...and straightway did he announce his presence. With no saber at his disposal, Darth Metus relied upon his ultimate weapon: the Force. Telekinetics played at his fingertips. Power surged within his hands. He raised them...outstretched them...and summoned chaos within the establishment. Tables and chairs were telekinetically hoisted into a frenzy about the Sith, spinning in whipping in every direction. Patrons who drew too close were also caught in the spontaneous vortex, quickly finding themselves hurled across the room. Before blasters could be drawn, before a response could be uttered, the Sith Lord asserted his dominance.
All the while, he bellowed her name.
V E S P H I R A ! ! !
Hutt Space
The stench was unique.
As the Sith Lord descended upon the downtown establishment, the "aroma" of Nar Shaddaa's underbelly invaded his nostrils. It was that spicy cocktail of smoke, urine, and rotting trash that made the Hutt Moon such a tourist destination. At once, Darth Metus' nose wrinkled at the presence of the unwelcome characteristic of the moon, but that did nothing to deter his focus. Typically speaking, the Sith would make a habit of avoiding places that he considered cesspools. And as such, there was a damn good reason that the Sith Lord had abandoned the comforts of Brotherhood space in favor of the slums. And that justification was personal ascension.
According to ancient Lore, the mark of a true Sith was in the weapon he wielded. His Lightsaber. Now, any man could stand before a generator and synthetically craft a crimson core. However. The most powerful of weapons were not given, nor created...but Taken.
In the current state of the Galaxy, there were Jedi aplenty to pilfer a saber from. In fact, Darth Metus could have easily ventured over to a fringe Outpost and cracked open the skull of the resident mentor as opposed to wading through filth. But. In his mind, coming here had greater significance. He would not just devastate the life of a random Jedi, no...he would clash with the mother of his eldest, one last time. For she, long ago, walked the Jedi Path. For she, even still, clung to a remnant of that identity that had been caked with Nar Shaddaa filth. Her Light was dim...but with the right motivation, he could cause it to erupt.
And from their clash, perfection would be born.
Metus came to a halt before a rather unremarkable doorway. Above was a sign...with two letters out. It would have spelt Peabody's in Aurebesh, but that was no longer the case. This was the place: the establishment that [member="Vesphira So'Kil"] called home. The Sith Lord had no doubt in his mind that she knew of his coming. She, like any Sensitive would feel his might from a long ways off. And...as there was no communications beforehand, one would assume she would be on her guard. This was no pleasure visit. This was no attempt at bridging the gap or deviating from the laws of marriage. No. This...
Was. War.
A single step bore the Sith inside the dimly lit bar...and straightway did he announce his presence. With no saber at his disposal, Darth Metus relied upon his ultimate weapon: the Force. Telekinetics played at his fingertips. Power surged within his hands. He raised them...outstretched them...and summoned chaos within the establishment. Tables and chairs were telekinetically hoisted into a frenzy about the Sith, spinning in whipping in every direction. Patrons who drew too close were also caught in the spontaneous vortex, quickly finding themselves hurled across the room. Before blasters could be drawn, before a response could be uttered, the Sith Lord asserted his dominance.
All the while, he bellowed her name.
V E S P H I R A ! ! !
