Private Master and Apprentice

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Dathomir
After the events of the Nightsister Purge​

Soot and ash covered the Nightsister village, the covens burned out by the wrathful New Imperials.The Brotherhood too had been here before, looking to claim those who were willing to abandon the weak ways of the Sith-Imperial before the coming purge. It was only by chance that Letifer had come then, hunting remnants of the old Sith Order who had fled like cowards to their hidden academy here. There was no refuge for the weak, they too had tasted his blade as he carved through their flesh like butter.

Only the Strong could survive. Only the New Sith Order.

He had come back to this world, following a lead on survivors harassing New Imperial patrols over the barren world. The now Sith Lord could not afford to make his presence known here so far from MAW Space, yet the possibility of survivors had drawn his curiosity. If any had survived on this planet after such a brutal cleansing, surely they were worthy of his attention. Perhaps even worthy of his tutelage.

Arriving by Ommin-class transport, stealth entry. He scanned the planet for life signs and stalked the narrow crags looking for any signs of what he sought. Word came. he followed the lead and saw first hand the savagery of the attack against an Imperial convoy. Without a clear view of the individual responsible he followed, waiting in the darkness for a chance to reveal himself...

..and test them for himself.

Spindle

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer

It had been decades, centuries, since the last Wild Hunt. Whispers suggested that perhaps the Fanged God had forsaken them. But not Spindle. Whether it was genuine belief or the lie she used to justify her cruelty to others, she still prepared as if it were days away. There weren't many to justify her actions to anymore. Spindle herself wasn't a Nightsister, not technically. She'd come to Dathomir for academic purposes but finding herself enraptured by their practice, had remained on the world in hopes of joining them. That dream was dashed with the New Imperial's purge.

Those same imperials had become the subject of Spindle's study. They had taken everything from her, it was only fair that she make something of them. Who knew? Perhaps her actions would bring about the favor of another. The Fanged God, Vahl, another, unnamed entity.

This unspoken prayer for deliverence was furthered by her quest for discovery, for creation. She poured over the gear of a captured scouting party, ignoring their confused pleas when they roused from a forced slumber. And when their words turned cruel, she'd taken a needle to their lips before continuing her study. It was then that her curiosity had shifted from lifeless gear to living flesh. One of the scouts, the quieter, nicer one, had their arm crushed by the tree that'd been a part of her initial trap. And the loud one was just so roudy - he didn't really need those limbs, did he?

Physically connecting the pieces had been a simple matter. It was the other bits - the nerves, the blood loss - that proved more difficult. The pale woman's brow furrowed, half in contemplation over her work, half over the external presence that creeped upon her senses. Not Imperial, no, but not of Dathomir, either.

"If you're here as a rescue party, I'm afraid these two won't be returning to their duties."

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Spindle ​

The Sith assassin-turned Lord stumbled upon the scene of the missing scouting party as their aggressor sorted through their contents. Stepping out from the shadow, he was unsurprised to see that the individual had sensed him. She seemed to be set to her work, a gifted shaper if he’d ever seen one. A weaver of sinew and molder of bone, it would of made the old metamorphosist Darth Solipsis proud.

What a mess.

His veiled gaze lifted as he continued his stride forward, stained eyes fixated his terrible glare from behind the mask onto her person. He could sense her, he could feel her connection but how far did that go?

“You aren’t Dathomiri.”

His vocabulator echoed. His stride began to encircle the stranger from afar, dissecting her like a cadaver as he studied her stance, her facial expressions, and very aura.

“Are you Sith-Imperial?”

His right hand steadied in anticipation as it fell by the wayside. With a slight of hand it could all be over.

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer

The furrow in her brow deepened as the figure made himself known. Tall, shrouded in dark and mechanics, no flesh to be seen, so difficult to get a read on. All of these soldiers and others hiding away behind masks and armor - it told her nothing about them. That they themselves were nothing to those that would remain hidden. Though, she had a feeling this one remained hidden by his own design.

"And you're no scout." She responded in kind, voice keeping even while her muscles tensed under the scrutiny. "Not one of theirs, anyway." Stained, elongated fingers moved to pat the arm she'd been working on, drawing closer to her tools in the process. Far from wielding any substantial physical prowess, her best defense relied on being unseen. Shears and needle, sharp as they were, would make for poor weapons though they'd do in a pinch if it came to it.

Her head tilted to the side with careful consideration. "If I said no, would you intend to kill me?" She had a feeling she knew that answer already. Nevertheless, she could always hope to be miraculously wrong. "And just who - and what - are you?"

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Spindle ​

He continued his stride unabated.

Shrouded in dark robes, a haunting visor peering forth with a voice tampered with mechanical interference. Letifer closed in on the stranger with an aura of dark grimace and unwavering resolve. The Sith Lord halted but mere feet away from his quarry, his feet planting into the rough soil covering the dense red rock of Dathomir, he stood tall casting a overarching shadow over her.

She did not flinch, she did not falter.

"I. Am. Sith."

The veiled gaze of the Lord of the SIth fell upon her in deep study, his hand at the ready at a moment's notice.

"The New Sith."

The saber sprung to life into his grasp, igniting in a sudden wave of crackling power as the bright crimson light leapt out to meet the stranger. Letifer arced his blade, striking quickly. Be quick, or be dead. Could this be the one he sought?

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer

With the space between herself and the newcomer dwindling, Spindle's grip on her tools tightened a fraction. She wasn't one to give ground, more one to propel herself by the power of 'yes and'. But previous patterns aside, she also didn't have a death wish.

If there was a projected warning of the jab to come, her eyes hadn't caught it. The sense that had her jumping back just hairs from being cleaved in two was more than a lucky break. As this newcomer's blade completed its arc, she slid to the other side of the stone slab that'd served as a crude operating table, keeping the stone between herself and the Sith. A handful of sewing needles was launched as she made the quick retreat, half aimed with hopes of finding purchase where armor ended and fabric began, half just to serve as a distraction.

She kept a grip on the shears, treating them like one would a dagger, her feet continuing their retreat. "New Sith, Old Sith, they're all the same." The words came out in a hiss. The Sith were in no small part responsible for the carnage the Imperials had brought with them. "There is nothing here for you, unless you seek to join those on the slab."

 

[Lord Letifer]

Lord Letifer | New Sith Order
Spindle ​

The stranger leapt back just as the blade passed by a hair’s width away from making purchase. He made no attempt to hold back on his swing, the accuracy of the blow was on point. The Force was her ally, that much was certain as she slid to cover against the stone slab.

Within a flash he was bombarded in the retreat, a cluster of sewing needles launching from the errant grasp of his prey with intent upon piercing his flesh. The Lord of the Sith raised his offhand and flicked it out, casually throwing up a barrier that broke the projectiles course just before it could find it’s mark. Impressive.

<“The Old Sith are dead and dying. Your information is.. outdated.”>

The mechanized voice casually scorned,

<“So easily killed. So easily replaced.”>

He continued his advance as she held her shears at the ready. The brilliant light of his crimson blade burning brightly against the darkness.

<“Begone.”>

The Sith Lord tossed his saber, guided by the empyrean as his hand stretched out.

 

[Spindle]

TAG: Lord Letifer

The needles clattered to the ground, their landing muffled by foliage. The Sith's advance continued unopposed as Spindle's own feet continued to back away.

"Then the cycle repeats itself until the new becomes the old." The read strings of fate that pulled Spindle along would do the same for the Sith of any age, she was certain, just as those strings (no doubt aided by the lumbering Sith's advance) pulled her elsewhere. She loathed the idea of leaving her work behind, even more so the tools she'd so dutifully collected and the notes she'd scribbled on test subjects.

Dark eyes darted between the red light of a saber and her things haphazardly spread out along the slab. Some tools could be replaced, some notes rediscovered. Others were nigh irreplaceable.

"You wouldn't mind if I grab my things, no?" The not-quite-a-question was cut off by an alarmed squeak as the lightsaber left the Sith's hand. Spindle's own hand jerked as she ducked away once more, the body she'd been working on lurching up from its resting place in a clumsy move to intercept the Sith's blade. The thin woman had only a modicum of control over moving objects, primarily out of reflex more so than a conscious decision.

With a scramble, a near skeletal hand reached for the most important of her things, particularly a vellum journal left open, ink still drying.