Success or Death.
It was not often a rumour spurred Darth Ophidia herself to investigate a scene. But this? Well, this she simply had to see.
On the trade-rich planet of Ventruun, a planet she had taken under her protection, a massacre was happening. None of her agents could pin down who or why it had occurred. In fact, when she first heard, it was still happening. Was it some ploy from her rivals? Or was this perhaps a new potential warlord staking a claim on her turf?
Whichever it was, her attention was warranted.
She ordered her agents, her assassins, spies and warriors to pull back. They were to watch and report only if anyone fled the scene. So far, no one had set a foot outside. The street fell still when the Dark Lady stepped off her transport. Only the sound of sand crushed beneath her boots cut the silence, and at the same time accentuated it. The loud haggling and bargaining of Ventruun's markets was drowed out by oppressive quiet, and the beating sun hid, bleak and shy. The warm summer breeze turned to biting chill. And she watched with unblinking eyes, like rings of molten iron.
Curious.
Seemingly unarmed, clad only in a black, silken robe, the Rattataki lord of the Sith stepped up to the scene of the massacre.