The Coruscant Shuffle

[Nyla Crow]

The Crow's Beak landed with its usual groaning, creaky landing upon the surface of Coruscant, causing the dust, dirt, and other assorted variations of filth one would expect to find in a large city to scatter. Out of the cargo bay doors stepped Nyla Crow, a tall, thin, pale looking young girl of about 23. She wore a grin on her face, along with a small black mark upon her cheek. To the uninformed, it might simply look like a tattoo. But to anyone knowledgeable of the Force, it was obvious what it was - a burst blood vessel, a telltale sign of Dark Side corruption. She checked her datapad, to make sure she was correct, before she continued any further with her plan - and she was correct indeed. This was One Sith territory. Being assured of her relative security, she let out a telepathic message - a simple greeting, not formed of words, but of emotions. Hate, Rage, Pride, and Ambition. Hello, here I am, said the Sith hopeful, in all but words, to anyone who might hear her.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Lukewarm breath escaped over her lips as she exhaled. Under darkened eyelids, her eyes twitched occasionally, but remained with an uncanny stillness. Her hands rested, right on left, in the lap of her crossed legs. Within her mind, she was immersed in an endless sea of dark nothingness. The sensation pressed upon her as though she was far under water, yet she could breathe the crisp, cold air. Around her, she heard the thundering presence of the great serpent. Its words echoed through the dark sea of her mind in tongues she could not yet decipher. Yet, with every moment of meditation, she came closer to understanding its will.

In her meditation, Darth Ophida felt a ripple. Grasping it, she could sense the projected emotions. It left a trail, as though by a scent, that filled her with curiosity. No doubt others would feel it too. Could she take the risk that it would be the right Sith that found the source? No, she could not. Trust was not a trait she nurtured, but one she shunned. She would have to go herself.

As she opened her eyes, she felt the physical world come back to her. She felt the ache of her legs after her long hours of stillness, the scent and warmth of candles set all around her room. Defying the ache, the Rattataki stood and stretched. Her body released several popping sounds as motion returned to her. Ophidia's hands gripped her hood and pulled it over her head, and as she took the first step to exit her premises, the candles extinguished themselves.

Ophidia sent a signal in return, not so much an emotion of her own, nor a word, but a sensation of watchfulness and of expectation.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

The young Acolyte stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing as the familiar sense of being watched washed over her. A mere month or so ago, she mused as she began walking once more, she may have brushed it off as paranoia, or a reaction to being surrounded by people after days spent alone aboard a ship. And in any other scenario, it may well have been those things.

But she knew what it was. She had gotten a response.

That simple fact caused her face to split into a wide grin, and put a renewed liveliness into her step. She got someone's attention; the first step was complete. Now to impress them. But how? A blatant display of her Force powers would simply attract authorities, and that was about the last thing she wanted, considering the large number of illegal goods she had stored on-board her ship. Something more subtle, then.

Her grin quickly turned into a grimace. Subtlety wasn't exactly her strong suit.

Still, nothing to do but try, right? With that in mind, she stopped. She was somewhere in the slums, at a busy intersection. Far, far too busy for her liking, and so she wormed her way through the crowd of desolate and desperate individuals, finding a nice, shadowy, quiet corner from which to work. That work was quite simple; first, feel out the crowd. Looking for a suitable target was essential; pick someone too weak-willed, and she appeared overly-cautious, even cowardly. Pick someone too strong, and she might fail to influence them.

It took her a moment, but the Acolyte found her target; a short, thin woman, looking nervously about the crowd. Covered in grime and dirt, Nyla's target was obviously a lower-class worker, perhaps even homeless. Perfect. She wouldn't be missed, if anything went wrong.

Step two, part one. A small, weak telepathic suggestion; impart a feeling of comfort and security. Not something Nyla was too proficient with, but she was able to get the job done, with a bit of effort. The target's form relaxed, her gaze ceased darting to and fro. Nyla breathed a sigh of relief, but kept her focus up. All she had to do now was wait for her watcher to find her, and then show them what she could do.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Ophidia's descent into the bowels of the city was rather quick. As a Sith Lord she had certain privileges that expedited the journey, and as a master of assassins, she had knowledge of a few other restricted short-cuts where most Sith did not bother to venture. Then again, the underbelly of the Empire was her playground; it was where she found her most vital information. While she longed for the open, empty seas of sand, she had reluctantly found something of a home in the bustling cityscape of Coruscant.

Tracing the emotions that had pulled her out of mediation, she soon found herself at the former epicentre of the message. Her orange irises glided over her surroundings, taking in everything. Meanwhile, she reached out with the Force, prodding and testing, searching for the one who called out to her. It was almost rude, she thought, to proclaim such ambition and then hide from the one who came to investigate. Then again, she would do the very same thing.

Was she to be tested? Most likely. The force user would have to be somewhere, watching and waiting.

Normally, Darth Ophidia would be masking her presence, subduing it so she could slip into the shadows, and she had on her path here. Now that she stood in the open, the Rattataki let it grow and flourish. It brought silence where there had been speech and called the shadows to play in every corner. Soon, a portion of the intersection was avoided, as though she brought a blight of death upon it.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Ophidia's prodding would easily locate the young hopeful, who made no effort to hide her presence - she wasn't aware that she could, for one thing.

In turn, Nyla would suddenly feel the presence of a much, much stronger power than her own; even if she were not a Force Sensitive, the sudden wave of dread would've given it away. Despite the feeling of unease that permeated her locale, she couldn't help but grin. It felt right, somehow. Besides, it meant that her watcher had decided to make their presence known.

And so, to demonstrate. First, she directed a simple thought, an acknowledgement, towards the source of the Dark Side Energy that had suddenly built up. Following that, she took a deep breath, taking a moment to count every injustice ever committed against her; her friends and allies killed a month ago, the trackers and killswitches that that wretch of a slicer had installed on her ship, under the guise of upgrading it. Her fists clenched, her blood boiled, and she focused her mind on thoughts of vengenace. The true targets of her rage were nowhere to be found, but this woman would certainly do, for the time being.

A sudden surge of Dark Side Energy, and one unlucky victim shaken to the bone. Nyla wasn't quite sure what they saw, if anything at all, when she did that, but she assumed it to be rather horrid, if their reactions were anything to go by.

The Acolyte observed the shaking woman from across the street, and examined her work. She was scared, but still standing, and still obviously sane. Sloppy. She could do better. She had done better, the first time she'd ever used the Force. She just needed more control, more power, to replicate what she had done.

The black hood and pale skin made Ophidia rather easy to identify, it turned out.

If nothing else could be said for Nyla, it could be said that she was brave. Or stupid. She walked up to Ophidia, bowed her head, and spoke two words under her breath. "My Lord."


[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

There she was, standing in the corner. In her mind, Darth Ophidia found evoked an image of a bird in dark feathers, cawing and flapping its wings. A carrion bird, feasting on the scraps that fell from the high tables of the One Sith, holding an eye in its black beak. Corvines were often the cleverest of birds, crafty and adaptable by nature. These were desirable qualities in a Sith as well.

A sudden eruption of fear, not in herself, but in someone of close proximity, drew Darth Ophidia's attention. She peered at the shaking homeless woman, staring out into nothingness, horror-stricken, but sane. It did not take long for the Rattataki to draw a line of reasoning between the black-haired girl and the frightened bum. Mind-tricks from an untrained, not unseen, but certainly crafty.

Stupid or brave; all the young woman's actions pointed to these dual qualities. To call out for the Sith was to many considered suicide unless one had something very valuable to give them. From appearances so far, the only thing this girl had to give was herself. To the Sith, that was the most valuable gift of all. As [member="Nyla Crow"] came closer, bowed her head and spoke those words, a smile pulled on the corners of the Sith Lord's mouth. There was no kindness or warmth in the smile, but a wicked curiosity and appreciation of the bow.

"I believe you can do better; Break her."

Ophidia gestured to the frightened woman. It was Nyla's second chance to impress, possibly her only chance.

 

[Nyla Crow]

Break Her. Nyla smirked at the command. She did love it when she got to enjoy her work.

After a nod of acknowledgement and a reverent bow, Nyla turned on her heels so as to face her handiwork once more. Another short blast of dread wouldn't do the job she was looking to do, and she knew that. What she needed was something more sustained; weaker in power, yes, but consistent. Something that would destroy her victim slowly, but surely.

And so the young Sith meditated. Not to clear her mind of anger, but to focus it, shape it into something useful. As a focal point, she drew her lightfoil, and released the Blackwing Crystal within from its confines. Holding it in her hand, she focused on it's color; not the crimson of violent, explosive anger, but the black of a cool, collected hate. That was what she needed. She opened her eyes once more, and leveled her gaze at her chosen victim. The woman was worthless, insignificant. A reminder of what life was reduced to when one was stripped of ambition, power, and strength.

Disgust welled inside of her, and, with another smirk, directed it at the homeless woman across the street. Nothing much happened, at first. She began shaking again, looking around nervously.

And then it started.

A pathetic, mewling whimper escaped the homeless woman, followed quickly by resuming her earlier shaking. This was not a simple burst of Dark Side power, but rather a steady, slow stream, meant to chip away at her victim's already weakened mental defenses. And it seemed to be doing rather well; the shaking was soon replaced with a rocking motion, as the woman fell to her knees, gripping her head in her hands. Nyla felt no need to stop; rather, she continued until she was sure the woman wasn't going to be getting up for a long, long time.

She took a deep breath as she severed the connection between her and her victim, and turned to face Ophidia once again. Although she swayed ever so slightly from fatigue as she turned, her expression was one of quiet confidence.

"Satisfactory, my Lord?"

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Ophidia watched the hopeful at her work, the way she smiled at the command and then trickled a steady stream of madness into the homeless woman's mind. And most importantly, how she enjoyed it. The weapon tickled the Rattataki's curiosity, it was not every day she saw an urchin with a lightfoil. There was even something contradictory to the ownership; lightfoils were usually the toys of the immensely rich, powerful, and very pompous. This girl did not appear to be any. Then again, if the girl so desired to be a Sith as to straight out call for one, then she might just have stolen it to mimic their weaponry.

Ophidia's eyes then turned to the victim as she shrunk together and begun rocking back and forth. Even with psychiatric treatment, this level of fright would take years to recover from. For homeless scum in the bowels of Coruscant? Recovery would never come for her.

In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the symbol Nyla wore on her back. Ancient Sith marking of perfection, and fittingly also meaning sith. This only strengthened the idea that this girl was really, really keen on being trained as Sith. Almost so much it could be a weakness.

As Nyla turned to her and asked for her verdict on the mental punishment she had given the homeless lady, Ophidia was snatched out of her thoughts. She threw a glance at the whimpering body and assessed the use. It was not bad, not bad at all. However, it certainly needed refinement, and the woman was not completely broken yet. Shattered, perhaps, but not broken. She would probably not live long with the mental scarring.

"You need training, guidance. That is what you seek, is it not?"

Ophidia noticed the swaying, and the confident expression. Yes, it was probably a weakness. This bird was still raw iron, she needed to be tempered, hardened, refined before she could be called anything even remotely connected to the Sith.

"Come with me."

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Nyla dropped her lightfoil back into its belt loop - it was not, technically, a stolen weapon, unless you count looting an enemy's corpse as grave robbing - as she followed the Sith Lord, trailing slightly behind her - although staying within visual range. She was familiar with the trappings of healthy paranoia, and she didn't want to do anything that might set off someone as immensely powerful as her current guide through the city. As she followed Ophidia, a surge of joy swelled up inside of the acolyte, which she very quickly repressed. In public, when she was just potentially accepted as an apprentice to a Sith, was not the time to act like a foolish schoolgirl.

Little could be done, however, to suppress the exceptional curiosity she felt upon meeting, and following, Ophidia. Knowledge was power, and Nyla was, to a fault, always hungry for more of both. The young hopeful did not, however, voice any of her many, many questions - not least because she was more than aware that Ophidia could and likely would revoke her implied offer if Nyla annoyed her. Such revocations, she suspected, tended to be painful in nature.

And so, in possibly the wisest, if not the cleverest, decision she had made all day, she remained silent as she weaved her way through the streets of Coruscant.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Darth Ophidia could sense many emotions running through the new hopeful. First and foremost the subdued excitement. She could remember it well from her own days as an Acolyte; the bliss of recognition and promise of power that followed. Secondly, it was the nerves, the suspicion, the caution not to invoke her wrath.

Among the Sith, Ophidia was far from the most hot-headed. She had a reputation for being a harsh teacher. Students had perished in her care, and those who lived told stories of the dangers her lessons put them through. One student, especially, had received so many beatings, Ophidia was sure she had knocked something loose in his head. But, she did not punish curiosity nor enthusiasm.

Hubris and failure, however, was a different story all together.

She lead Nyla to an elevator, and from there, to the surface. On this side, the sun was about to set upon the horizon. The sky was a vibrant spectacle of yellow, orange and red, fading into purple as night crept in. All around them, the dark spires of the city was lit up from within. Everywhere there stood buildings clustered and lanes of speeders glided through the skies like thousands of insects over a river. Ophidia lead Nyla to the entrance of the Temple of The Sith. As her feet touched the base of the stairs, she turned and looked at the young woman once more.

"Set your foot on these stairs, and you will never be the same again. Your old self dies here, tonight. Your weakness dies with it. If you turn around now, you may never come back. If you step forward, you may never return."

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

For some inexplicable reason, Nyla hadn't expected the transition to be so karking dramatic.

Dying, and being reborn. Nyla had never been very spiritual until she discovered her connection to the Force, and she had often scoffed at people who described themselves as having been "born again" or as "a new person" after something changed in their lives. She had called them overly dramatic, needlessly romantic.

Standing there at the steps of the Temple of the Sith, on loud, busy, noisy Coruscant, Nyla Crow finally understood what they meant. This was big. No, this was massive. This was the most important decision she'd likely ever make. She needed to think about this, but she understood that she needed to do so quickly.

What did she stand to gain?

She almost laughed to herself, as she thought that phrase. Everything. Power. Prestige. Recognition. Connections. Slaves. Freedom.

As for what she had to lose...

Her Friends? Her friends were dead, for the most part. She didn't really mind that, though; calling them friends was a stretch. Besides, one less thing tying her down. Besides that, with her talent for...persuasion, she could make plenty of new "friends." She supposed there was the risk undoubtedly involved with training to be Sith. But life was staid and boring without danger, and the great rewards often came with great risks in their acquisition. Her morals? Considering where she had ended up, what she was looking for, it was fair to say she didn't have many of those to begin with.

Her choice, then, was easy. She ripped off the crude necklace which bore the insignia of her old gang, and advanced forwards a single step. Standing before Darth Ophidia, she looked her in the eyes. Her gaze was confident; not arrogant, not cocky, but simply the look of someone who had committed themselves fully. And then, she knelt before her.

"I wish to be reborn, my Lord."

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

The thought, the moment of doubt, and the inevitable sacrifice of some trinket. It was beautiful to behold the process at work as Nyla took step after step. Indeed, there was much to gain within the Sith Order. Power, influence, wealth, and much more. Ophidia had, herself, left behind a mercenary band, one she nearly called family, when she joined the Sith. The day she set her foot on those steps, she had transcended every bond she ever made. The old self had died, the Sith was born.

She could see now, in the eyes of this raven-haired woman, the same determination she had worn when she accepted her fate.

"Then come. Acolyte of The One Sith."

She moved back, so fluent in her step that it would look as though she simply floated. The stairs had fourteen steps then came to a flat. At the top of the stairs stood a stone slab, written on it was the Code of the Sith so that all who passed it should reflect upon its words before entering. Ophidia turned, maintaining her flowing step as she recited the code. Each line was said with every second step; each ascent was timed perfectly with the recitation of the line.

"Peace is a lie; there is only passion."
"Through passion, I gain strength."
"Through strength, I gain power."
"Through power, I gain victory."
"Through victory, my chains are broken."
"The Force shall set me free."

She stopped in front of the slab and half-turned to Nyla. From the corner of her eye, she gauged for a reaction. Darth Ophidia had a certain flare for dramatics when the mood caught her.

"These are the words, by which you should live your life. I suggest you commit them to memory."

Another few steps above, The Temple of the Sith towered like a vast, dark pyramid, lit with ever-burning fires. Figures passed through the doors, in and out. There were life-forms of many species', and most wore similar dark cloaks. Some added metal masks of various designs, others had shed the cloaks and dressed in tight, revealing leathers and bits of metal. Ophidia had never quite understood the fashion. Her dress was of the more subdued and traditional type, for practical reasons.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Nyla repeated the code to herself, taking the words of her Master with utmost seriousness; she would memorize it, dissect it, understand it, and live by it.

The Acolyte sincerely doubted that the code was as easy to understand as it appeared at first glance; that each verse was to be taken at face value. It probably said something about the girl that she so willingly cast off her old life, and immediately assumed that the new code by which she would live was trying to deceive her.

She was probably right, but that's beside the point.

And so as she walked into the Temple of the Sith, boots clicking against the floor beneath her, armorweave jacket hanging loose on her shoulders, that Nyla began her meditations.

The first line of the Code was, while not an easy thing to understand, a sentiment that Nyla could embrace.

"Peace is a lie; there is only Passion." Repeated the young Sith, under her breath, and thought.

Lust. Anger. Fear. Greed. Pride. Ambition. Those were the only truths in life; they drove people more than anything else in the galaxy, they encouraged war, arguments, and conflict. And those things, in turn, inspired people to become more than they were; to be stronger, faster, smarter, cleverer than the enemy. Conflict destroyed or subjugated the weak, leaving the strong in their rightful place. To encourage peace was to encourage stagnation, even decay. It was not only detrimental to the individual, but to the galaxy as a whole.

Nyla smiled. She had made the right decision.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

Picking up on Nyla's muttered repetition of the code, Ophidia felt a slight twitch in her abdomen. Some would call it a chuckle. She always had a good sense of hearing. To her, the Sith Code worked at face value, but also abstracted to face more complex mental issues.

"It works in layers. Peace in self and peace in the galaxy are both lies."

Grand doors opened before them, revealing the central hall in the Temple of the Sith. If it was busy outside, it was bustling inside. Even at this time, Lords, Knights, and Acolytes moved here and there. Some were in deep conversation, others immersed in reading. Some appeared to be flaunting their stuff.

"The sooner one sheds the illusion of peace, the sooner one can strive for perfection."

Ophidia's boots, one would think they would click. However, her steps were nearly soundless as the soft soles absorbed her weight. The only sound she made was the swish of silk and the rasped tone of her voice.

"To Strive, that is key. Struggle refines us, it chips away our weaknesses and makes us stronger. We are cleansed in fire."

Passing between two fires, a new set of tall doors opened before them. She knew there was not too much of a point to the tour, but it was always a delight to show off the splendour of the temple. It had been destroyed and rebuilt numerous times, even within the years it had been held by the One Sith. In every corner, she could see phantom corpses. Death permeated the stone and lingered, ever watchful.

"Equally, peace between master and apprentice is to be discouraged. I will never coddle you, and one day you will try to kill me."

The Sith Lord stopped.

"It is our nature."

A master without an apprentice is a master of nothing.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Although showing no outward signs - Nyla, even if she was impulsive, had learned to mask her emotions fairly well -, she was nonetheless extremely shocked at that; it seemed...wrong, for lack of a better word, to kill someone you respected so much. That, of course, didn't mean she wasn't going to, eventually. She might respect her Master, she might even grow fond of her, but it would be foolish to allow sentimentality to get in the way of her enlightenment.

A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as she observed the temple; it was, indeed, resplendent, although Nyla's attention was focused more on the bookish students and Masters littered about the temple. She'd have to find the library, soon. And the armory, for that matter. She'd seen OS Troopers, and their armor was quite appealing, especially to a relative lightweight like herself. There was, in fact, a lot that the Young Acolyte would need to uncover.

"A small place to meditate, lessons on the Sith language, and the name of whoever I might go to to inquire about procuring a set of our empire's Infantry armor. Beyond that, I need little to settle myself in. Am I to ask you for instruction, or will you instruct me whenever you see fit to do so?" Her tone was respectful, almost reverential, when she spoke, but it held little fear or meekness. The young Acolyte intended to ring every advantage, every bit of knowledge, lore, and training that she could, out of Ophidia and the rest of the Sith, and made no attempts to hide that fact.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

This was, in fact, the first time she had ever been asked about the location or access to the Armoury. Of course, she knew where it was and how to sign out whatever she would require, but none had ever asked. This one sure did have a thirst for knowledge and, it would seem, for equipment. Darth Ophidia took note of the things she wished to know and allowed herself a few seconds to mull her answer over. She could say so much, but only some of it would truly be beneficial. Too much, and the girl would be prone to forgetting or too distracted to be trained.

"I will summon you for lessons and missions. Meanwhile, there are a number of public lessons if you wish to attend them. There, you may learn whatever you desire to know, such as the language of the Sith."

She would probably test her, but there were teachers dedicated to deciphering the Sith language who would do a far greater job of teaching Nyla than herself. There were also offered lessons in all the living languages of the Galaxy and the Empire, history, natural sciences, mathematics, law, military strategy, and much, much more. Not all of it was taught in the temple, but as a member of the Sith, she would have access to the best education available.

"You will be given quarters to rest and meditate in until you gain all the necessary clearance. Not to mention food, and should you feel you need it, spare clothes."

Given the constant threat of rebellion, clearances were vital in order to prevent, or at least slow down, illicit spread of the order's weaponry. However, once clear, she could get the armour sent to her if she wished, perhaps even customised to her preference. Ophidia had her own tailor made armour of Mandalorian Iron when she was a Knight, it still served her faithfully on the battlefield.

"As for the armoury. I'll send someone to show you."

As they walked and spoke. Ophidia led Nyla towards the dormitories offered to the Sith. Many did not reside there permanently, having procured more lucrative abodes, and so there were countless rooms open for use. All she needed to do was to claim one. Preferably an unoccupied one as fights often lead to considerable material damage on the temple.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Nyla had no doubt that most of the Force Users that came through here were more than confident in their ability to survive without armor, at least at first. Growing up on Nar Shaddaa, and believing herself to lack any powers in the Force until recently, had instilled in Nyla a healthy appreciation for armor-plast and -weave. She had more than one armorweave jacket, although her current was her favorite.

"I will be sure to make myself available, in case you require my presence. If I am not, which will be a rare case indeed, assume I am either taking advantage of opportunities presented to me, or that I am dead. If the latter, I probably deserved it." She chuckled softly as the pair approached the dormitories, small little quarters that reminded Nyla of her housing back on her home planet. A brief wave of Nostalgia washed over the young Sith as she thought about her home, which she quickly quashed. She would, she was quite certain, get over it rather quickly once she immersed herself in her studies.

"I assume I am allowed to personalize as I like? Not including any alteration to the building itself, of course. I have a Tuk'ata skull and a few stones from the Sith Academy on Korriban that I recently acquired." The words were spoken with an innocent curiosity as Nyla approached an unclaimed dormitory, peeking inside. Small, cool, and minimalist. Perfect.

"Oh..." Began the young Sith, another thought having crossed her mind, upon reflections of earlier events. "Am I permitted to practice my methods of controlling others, here? Not on the other Sith, of course. Unless they give me reason to."

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

 

[Darth Ophidia]

"You may bring whatever trinkets you like to the room. As long as it can be restored without too much trouble, you may do with the room as you please."

She produced a card from a hidden pocket on her person, ran it through a slit at the side of the door and pressed a four-digit code which would allow the card to function as a key for this dormitory specifically. She held it out towards Nyla and then let go. The card would hover until plucked from the air.

"As for testing your abilities on others. You are free to do so as you see fit, but you will deal with the consequences yourself. You may request targets for daily practice."

Taking a step back, Ophidia observed her apprentice adjusting to her new situation. It was strange, alien to her. She rarely sought the comforts of the planet, having lived so long bunking on a hard bed between the silent void and the gentle hum of her ship's electronics. The planet, she found, was too full of life. It kept her awake. She longed for silence and the sounds of her surroundings. Such as the hum of desert dunes on N'zoth, or the ocean crashing into sheer rocks on Glee Anselm.

"I shall send someone to arrange the details of your accommodation and access in the morning. Until then, rest up. You will need your strength for the training ahead of you."

[member="Nyla Crow"]

 

[Nyla Crow]

Suitably impressed by her Master's display of Telekinesis, Nyla plucked the card from the air and pocketed it. That, she mused, was going to be something else to add to the ever growing list of things she needed to learn immediately. She'd also have to look into that thing about requesting targets for practice, now that she thought about it. She really didn't actually know that many people. Although there was that wretched slicer from Dantooine, who would make a lovely target dummy. Sadly, it was for that exact reason that the Slicer was avoiding Nyla.

So random civilians would have to do, at least for the time being. Lovely.

But those things could come later; for now, Nyla had succeeded at her borderline-suicidal mission, and she could rest on her laurels for one night. And so it came to pass that the young Sith Acolyte bowed to her Master, stepped inside her dorm - and promptly passed right the kark out.

[member="Darth Ophidia"]

Spoiler

OOC: I think this is a good place to complete this thread, seeing as separate encounters, missions, and training sessions. are going to be in separate threads anyway.

Spoiler

It helps to have this finished so I can chronologically place it somewhere, as well. XD
But if you need to continue this thread, that's cool, too.
Also, sorry for the small post, but it's bloody 2:28am here. ;-;

 

[Darth Ophidia]

As Nyla plucked the card, obviously thought about something, and pocketed it, Ophidia let her hands clasp behind her back. When Nyla bowed, the Sith Lord turned on her heel and seemingly vanished. Her presence in the Force became naut and her physical form was swallowed up in shadow, which merged with the dark material of the wall. Before closing the door, Nyla would find herself standing entirely alone in a strange hallway in the Temple of The Sith on Coruscant. Ophidia herself strode away under the cover of her cloak of shadow, removing her from all sound and sight.

She returned to her meditation chambers, the only place where she could relax while on this planet. Tapping fingers on a datapad, she sent out a few requests and notifications necessary for accommodating a new apprentice. Then, once more, the Pale Assassin immersed herself in the Force.

[member="Nyla Crow"]

Spoiler

OOC: It's never the length of the post that counts, but the quality of its contents. Anyhow, I agree, this is a suitable time to end the thread. I just wanted to throw in a little vanishing act on the end. I will PM you for what we do next.