It was a dark secret that she kept. Most of her childhood was unknown by those who knew her, the man who had known of her prior to her exile from Sorrus had been slain five years prior in order to cut off the remaining loose end of her heritage. Thirty years ago the planet of Sorrus was well within the realm of the Mando'ade, and she raised by a couple not quite older than she was now. They were not her birth parents, not related by blood, but they had taken her in as an infant, perhaps even a newborn - there were no records of her birth or origin, it was simply to be that she was to be raised as one of their own. But she wasn't. From the beginning she was different, ominous. Her hair was as red as the blood that ran through her veins, and her eyes as cold as they were silver. The tone of her skin was hardly colored, and often she was left to her own devices - children believing her to be someone who simply did not belong. She didn't. The names she was given ranged from Sharal to Ga'yusr, often assumed to be a child that did little work because of the pallor of her skin. Her own 'father' beat her regularly, often stressed due to his position collecting bounties, or frustrated that he would need to work just a bit harder to afford a third mouth to feed - she the youngest of three, neither of the two other children looking anything like her. They never referred to her as vod, simply as some stranger living in their home - like some lout that seemed to leech off of their lives. Her mother, unlike her father, did not quite physically abuse her - rather she made it perfectly clear that any innocent child that looked as unhealthy as she had would have been taken in, as the Mando'ad looked after each other as one large family.
It was made clear that while she was raised one, she would never be a Mandalorian. No matter how hard she tried, she was pushed out. So when the darkness came, when the lecherous voices of insanity whispered words of ill will towards her 'family', when its hand reached into her head, she fell and was consumed by it. No older than twelve - a mere two years after her elder 'brothers', vod, left home - her parents were discovered mutilated and dead in their own home. Her mother was unrecognizable, a crushed corpse in a pool of caked blood on a large stained bed, and her father shot in the base of his throat at the foot of the door. As if to confirm the xenophobic Sorrusian population of their suspicions, she was exiled by an elder from the planet and expelled into free space on a shuttle out. It did not take long for her to put her past behind her completely and to join the ranks of the One Sith years later, only to return and kill the man who set her on her path of darkness while creating a puppet-ted company known to the general public as Laravan.
Her name, now that she no longer remained on Sorrus? Silara.
Who she was before her exile, what she was called, where she lived, few - if any - would ever know. But she was Dar'manda ever since that day at the ripe age of twelve.
So as she sat in a relative darkness - blind as she was - the voice of a man calling for the mando'ade only served to sour her mood, but a strange feeling of longing came over her. To put a reason for the change in mood, it was likely that Alric had changed her over the several months, even if he was incapable of simply buying her flowers from time to time. Strangely enough the man probably hated the Mandalorians, nearly as much as the Mandalorians had an unprecedented amount of hate for the Sith in general - One Sith or otherwise. It was strange, to her, that while she heard him speak she recalled the readings of the famous Mando'ad, the Mandalorians of the past that often times sided with the Sith Lords prior to the pacification of the Mandalorian clans, and here spoke a man over the holonet who leaded the same populace in hate and disgust with the Sith. She smirked as she contemplated answering, the thought of returning as a blind ghost of the past, perhaps to be imprisoned and killed as a Dar'manda, as a Sith Lord. She could never denounce her religion as a Sith, they would need to accept her as she is now, or realize that they created her as she was with how they treated her in the past. They could live with it, or they could simply not care. Almost on a whim she gestured to a servant, a Twi'lek, to return the call.
Silara of clan Jendri would heed their call.
[member="Strider Garon"]
