Private The Shadow Calls

[Darth Nemris]

Nal Hutta was a world that Nemris knew much about, but had never been granted the annoyance of having to visit himself. It was a dark world, a corrupted world, but where the likes of Dromund Kaas and Ziost brought a sense of comfort and familiarity to Nemris, Nal Hutta was quite the opposite. The endless streams of filth that filled the streets of this world, the smell that lingered upon the nose at its very existence. And then there was the sewage. The world of criminals, pirates and other scum disgusted Nemris, and yet he had come here for a specific reason, one that he could not turn his back on.

Stepping through the open doors of the Hestilic Kajidic Palace, Nemris blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted from the green gloom from the world outside, and the brightly lit interior of the Palace. Vibrant colors cluttered on the walls, and servants and courtiers in costumes equally as disgusting to Nemris lingered everywhere his eyes traveled. Few people could meet the Sith's gaze; the malevolent energy seeming to radiate of Nemris a bane to even glance at. Two guards stepped towards him, intent to take the weapons of his kind, his lightsabers, from where they hung at his hip. Nemris turned his gaze upon them, never uttering a single word. The guards froze in place, the color draining from their faces. Nemris turned away and began to march through the Palace once more.

He had not been granted formal audience with the leader of the Kajidic, but he was not here for them. Nemris had nothing against slavers personally, but he thought it a pointless enterprise. To capture a foe in battle and bend them to your will was one of the greatest pleasures in the universe. To skip that and simply buy an individual already broken was wasteful to Nemris. You lost out on the experience and lessons, and lost credits. He did not hold much stock in currency, but he understood its value to some. No, he was here for another reason. Another person.

Turning his gaze down one corridor in the Palace, Nemris began to march towards the presence he had sensed, the individual his spy network had told him of, and the person who could draw him clear across the galaxy. He marched towards the one he intended to empower and teach, to raise them up as a tool and disciple. The one who would carry the legacy of Darth Nemris's teachings and power.

He had come seeking an apprentice.

Miya Ashera

 

[Miya Ashera]

Rising out of mundane bog, the Emerald Palace was something to behold. The pollution of Nal Hutta made beholding it a challenge however, draping it in tones of dark green fog. Inside, however, the palace embodied the lavish and extravagant lifestyle of Kossak the Hutt and his court.

In the palace of many towers, Nemris needed only concern himself with one. The Third Tower held the living quarters, where staff, courtiers and guests alike found their residence. Big slime himself resided within the main structure, along with those most important to his operation. Miya Ashera was not important. How the Hestilic Kajidic might come to regret that fact in the future, if Darth Nemris had his way.

The doors parted ways into her private quarters. Miya wasn't a permanent resident on Nal Hutta, most her time was spent on a ship, flying about the galaxy doing odd jobs. Usually smuggling spice. That meant that personal customization in the room was low. The opulent style was clearly reserved more for the throne room and main halls, though it had everything one needed. A bed in the corner next to a private locker, a door to what presumably would be a bathroom, and some manner of couch and table.

Miya was lying flat on the couch, scanning through holograms of bounties in the system. Smoke rose from a lit spice stick on the table beside her, scenting the room with a sweet smell. It wasn't the processed hard drug variant of spice, rather the calming, numbing sort. Her skin was light pink, and her long hair a mixture of red and purple. She was a Zeltron alright, wearing her Zeltron uniform… Which was not much at all. Her sleeveless crop top reached halfway down her ribcage, with a deep v-neck cut, and thin threads crisscrossing over her stomach, tied behind her back. Her pants were about as form fitting as they came. Both sets coloured with a matching deep blue base, with a splatter of neon pink and purple patterns on top.

When Nemris first laid his eyes upon her, he might get the sense that he already knew her from somewhere. A side-effect of the natural pheromones of the Zeltron species, breeding a sense of warm familiarity, and over time, attraction.

As soon as he came in, she sat up. «What do you want?» she spoke in Huttese at first. Miya was naturally attuned to the emotions of others, but with this figure she only felt cold, layered atop a dark, radiating malevolence. She didn't like it.

Going off a hunch, she switched over to Basic. «You're not one of Kossak's toys, are you?» Miya got to her feet. She seemed casual, playful, though a darting glance to the blaster pistol and hilt of a lightwhip on the table betrayed her waryness. «You sure you're in the right place, spacer?»

Darth Nemris