Character
Shall We Begin?
The time had come.
They had promised her a Master. Someone to guide her training and development in the Force, someone who'd show her the true power that the Dark Side could bring her. Ever since she'd been discovered on that cold, dead world and brought into the fold of the New Sith Order, she'd been waiting impatiently. Her enemies wouldn't be wasting time, waiting around. The jackals in the Core Worlds wouldn't be sitting around, waiting. They were out there, growing stronger and stronger, spreading like a cancer from world to world, laughing at her all the while.
They had told her that hate would make her powerful. She had plenty of that to spare.
The message had arrived, passed on to her through another apprentice. She would have the opportunity to meet one of the Lords, to try and prove herself before them. They had told her that this Lord was powerful. That this Lord was strong. That this Lord was steeped in the Dark Side beyond what Astrea could ever imagine.
Darth Maestus.
Apprehension clashed with hunger in Astrea's body as she approached her that fateful day. Today would either be the start of her ascension, the beginning parts of a saga filled with power and rage, or it would be the day she was cast aside. Astrea heard rumours of what happened to acolytes who were found wanting, or lacking. Cast aside was a sanitised way of speaking about them. Astrea walked carefully towards her, almost silent save the soft pad of her boots on the surface of the hall. She was dressed plainly in dark robes, her hair tied back. Her face pale, lips thin, eyes haunted. Before the Dark Lord, she knelt down.
"Darth Maestus. I was sent to you, my Lord," she said in that quiet, soft tone.
Maestus
