The Sky Above, Is Blue As Your Blood

[Armand Temi]

Spaceport, Glee Anselm​

​

Two figures walked through the Glee Anselm Spaceport - one short, a Bothan and male, and the other was a slightly taller female of a mixed alien race. They had just de-boarded a shuttle, passage paid by [member="Kuryr"], The Blood Gorger a fearsome Taung pirate and slave trader. The reason for their visit?

Transport of Bellatrix, the blue-skinned half-Balosaur/Half-Chiss slave who was going to be trained to be a Dark Jedi by Sith Knight [member="Darth Pyrrhus"].

The former dancer always knew she was Force-sensitive, but it wasn’t anything she had the time, resources or inclination to cultivate. At a young age she was sold off by her spice-dealer father to Club Tranquility on Balosar and recently sold to the pirate, Kuryr. Neither master nor slave had any idea how powerful her skills were until after a particularly nasty argument with Chukka, her Cathar minder. On their pirate ship, Chukka had gone into Bellatrix’s quarters to wake her – too early as usual – and after the Cathar’s usual slurs and insults, the dancer, using a sharp blast of Telekinesis, had slammed her up against the wall and broken Chukka’s wrist.

When the Cathar finally dragged her out of bed by her long, dark hair and threw her at Kuryr’s feet, she cringed expecting a slap or lash with the neuronic whip. Instead the Taung was merely amused and said: “You’re going off to train.”

Of course, nothing was free and the Bothan, Yersk, was brought along to make sure payment was delivered and a contract signed by the Sith Knight. They waited under a covered transport shelter so neither would get wet from the prevalent Glee Anselm rain as they waited for him to arrive. “I wonder if he is coming to meet you himself or bringing an emissary,” Yersk said, idly making conversation. He sniffed and then pulled out a pile of loub-paper and held them close to his chest so they wouldn’t get wet. Bella gave a sideways glance to the Bothan.

“What is that?”

“It’s a contract. Your contract,” he said with a shark-like grin. “You don’t think Kuryr would just release you out into the wild without protecting his assets, do you?”

“I suppose not,” she thought, lighting a death stick while they waited.

“Put that out!” he chastised, plucking it from her mouth. “You are not showing up to your first training session karked out of your pretty head, like the dirty Balosar junkie you are.”

Bellatrix glared at Yersk but said nothing. But part of her wanted to fling him against the wall like she did with Chukka. Right now she wanted a death stick so bad she didn’t care if she was being sold to Darth Scabrous himself. Nothing could be worse right now than the craving for her favorite spice.

Yersk next took out a unique looking pen type instrument, something she had never seen before and also kept his fuzzy hand on it. He checked his chrono and said in a condescending voice, “Not too long now and Darth Pyrrhus will arrive. I trust you will be on your best behavior for him.”

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

He made them wait, but he didn't make them wait long. Soon, the Knight, who now styled himself a Darth, would grace them with his presence. He would arrive in a speeder. It was piloted by a Nautolan. Pyrrhus could of course have sent a speeder for her, but he wanted to personally examine her before any contract was signed off. Besides, this would become his first apprentice. Naturally, he was a little excited, though he made an effort to not let it show. Anticipation filled him. He had other ulterior motives as well. If this went smoothly, he had established relations with the slaver, Kuryr. The Togruta was seeking to establish himself within the slave trade, something the Taung could aid with.

His schedule was a busy one, the responsibilities that came with his rank demanded his attention. Rarely did he find a spare moment that was truly his own. His time as Knight had been devoted to conquest in the name of the Dark Lord. Csilla, Fresia, N'zoth, Belgaroth, all had fallen. But the slaver-pirate had caught him at a good time. He was currently in one of his longer periods on Glee Anselm. Most time he could spare was devoted to his precious Glee. Wheels were turning, and the otherwise uninteresting swamp and ocean world was being transformed into a highly productive panet, benefitting the One Sith cause. The Nautolan council was being carefully manipulated and undermined, painting a smooth transition to more direct Sith control.

Before he could even see the slave girl, a premonition hit him. He felt her presence, he felt it align towards his. Like the stories of crystals Jedi and Sith used in their lightsaber, who selected their master, not the other way around, it was as if her presence was calling out to him. Somehow he knew, she was the one. She had potential for greatness. Though as with all visions of the future, they may never come to pass. Everything depended on her. Would she survive his training, as he had survived his own master's?

The roofed speeder would arrive, stopping in front of the duo. Out stepped the proud Togruta Knight. Ever the traditionalist, Pyrrhus wore the dark robes of the Sith, along with the dark tunics and undertunics that were to be expected. They fit his muscular form excellently. His body had been refined since coming into the 'care' of Darth Vornskr. His training left little room for slacking off. You either succeeded, or you ceased to exist. To fall behind meant to perish. This was something his potentially soon-to-be apprentice would grow to learn. For this meeting, he had left all armour behind. Naturally, he was armed with the Force, and the lightsaber hilt that dangled from his belt. He was Sith, after all. Getting caught off guard did not fit the job description.

He stood there for a moment, not speaking, as he let his eyes wander all over the half-Chiss. She appeared pleasing. Even the chains she wore was such that they made her look enticing. For someone like her, he imagined the slaver would demand quite a bit of credits. He had no problems imagining that she had made him quite a bit already. Yet, the Togruta had recently come into some money. Supervising Sith activities on Glee also had its perks.

His eyes dug deep into her handler, staring with an intensity that threatened to freeze him to ice right then and there. He acted as if that was greeting enough, and he offered no further words. Perhaps it was to make the slaver uneasy, forcing him to say the first words. In a sense, it was a test. These Sith, always so serious, always so brooding.

[member=Bellatrix Celvina]

 

[Armand Temi]

The speeder that approached appeared to be a little more official in both size and make than if couple of lackeys were here to pick up the new apprentice.

“It looks like Darth Pyrrhus came himself,” Fersk said, straightening his papers in an effort to look dignified. Bellatrix watched as the Togruta emerged from the speeder, and the first emotion she felt was pure relief. She wasn’t sure what she actually expected, having little contact with the Sith. But she assumed he would be a misshapen creature, perhaps disfigured. A figure who had been more physically and visually warped by darkside magic.

But Darth Pyrrhus was not. He resembled a lean warrior, his large montrals making him appear quite majestic and unique among the everyday Nautolans on Glee Anselm. Upon first glance, he was a refreshing vision from the lizard-monkey as she occasionally called her master Kuryr, sometimes to his face if she felt especially feisty.

Like the sycophant he was, Fersk stepped up to the Sith Knight and gave him a deep bow. “My Lord,” he said. “I have your new apprentice here, but there is this small matter of a contract.” With a flourish he procured the instrument that Bellatrix had been curious about earlier.

The Bothan roughly grabbed her blue-skinned wrist and squeezed it tightly until she squeaked in pain and opened her palm. Using a blood stylus, he not-so-gently pricked the half-Chiss slave in her palm but enough to draw blood. He held the pen out to Darth Pyrrhus, Bellatrix’s red blood dripping from the tip.

“The terms of the contract, written by Kuryr, states that you are allowed to train this slave however you wish, but if harm comes to her, you provide her with healing, whether medicinal or by other means. She is also not to lose a limb or her skin to be burned or disfigured. In terms of her mental capacity, anything is fair game except she is not to return… brain dead.” He looked over the contract as though afraid to forget something.

“That’s about it, My Lord. Just your signature is required. Payment has already been wired to you,” finished Fresk, pointing to the area where the Sith Knight was to sign.

Bellatrix watched this exchange in silence. She smoothed her long, flowing dress down with her chained hands and then focused her attention on the Togruta. With her antennapalps she tried to assess her new master, reading if he had any surges of emotion, or if in fact, he was as cold of a predator inside as he appeared on the outside. In a way, she was eager to train, to hone and finesse these Force powers which had caused such havoc to Chukka and had instilled such pride in the Taung, but her face merely remained impassive and emotionless as though all she understood was that this transaction was a business deal versus an opportunity to rise above her station.

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Stepping out of the speeder, he felt the eyes of the half-Chiss on him. She was examining him, judging him. She did not appear to find him wanting. It was natural, of course. As a slave, she was being handed over to a new master. How that master was meant everything, the way her new life became depended on him. Was he a cruel master? She would learn his nature soon enough.

Tanek said nothing still, merely acknowledging the man's deep bow but handing him nothing in return. While he was not a Sith Lord, many of the 'commoners' referred to their Sith as lords. He thought it fitting. Were they not their betters, a higher being deserving of their awe and respect? The Togruta watched as the Bothan drew blood from his soon-to-be apprentice. He seemed to have no emotional response to it. The Sith showed no compassion for her pain.

The further the Bothan went on, the colder Darth Pyrrhus' eyes grew. Had he had more sense, he would've stopped talking. By the time he was finished, the Sith Knight was furious. Though Pyrrhus' fury was like the calm before the storm, or the eye of a tornado. He seemed calm, and he was not commanded by his emotions to scream at him in anger, or make other rash movements. Instead, his dark presence extended beyond him, a manifestation of his displeasure. The air around them grew cold. It was as if the very oxygen got sucked out from their surroundings, making it difficult to breathe. His dark presence was everywhere, and it was a cold and choking thing. The only heat now was burning in the Togruta's eyes.

"You dare put restriction on Sith training? You dare dictate how I train my apprentice?" his words were like ice, daggers into the slaver's soul. "I will train her however I wish. Harm will come to her." with each sentence he took one slow step towards the Bothan. Soon he was right up in his face. The Togruta was very much offended. If they wanted her trained by a Sith, they may want to consider exactly what that meant. They would accept those terms or none at all. With the blood-ink pen, he crossed out the parts that mentioned no harm could befall her. Then he signed.

Pyrrhus was an illusionist, trained in the arts by Sage Bane. And now he imprinted an image upon the Bothan. It would appear real, and it was not far from realism. He was recreating an image from his past, back when he had been a fresh acolyte. Back then he had shown less control, and he had lost himself to bloodlust and become a pet of the Dark Side. He had since been cultivated and refined by it. The Togruta showed teeth, while he growled at the Bothan in front of him. Then in a sudden move, he bit into the man in front of him. The Togruta had sharp, predatory teeth. They ripped into his flesh with ease, severing tendons and opening up his face. Of course, this was all happening in the Bothan's mind. Bellatrix would likely be unaware that her travel companion was currently going through the experience of having thick chunks ripped off his face. All she'd see would be the sudden terror on the Bothan's face, the screams, before he fell down to the ground. Pyrrhus broke the illusion off, and let the man slump down on the ground. He looked as if he had stared into the eyes of death itself.

"If there's any damage... I will pay for it" Pyrrhus said, looking down at the slaver beneath him. He would not guarantee her safety. If so, she would not make a very good Sith. "Slave" he turned his cold eyes to Bella. "Let us see if you can earn the title apprentice. With me." With that he withdrew back to the speeder. He expected her to do the same. When she did, the speeder would set off back to the direction he had come from. She belonged to him now.

[member=Bellatrix Celvina]

 

[Armand Temi]

A dark enmity flowed freely from Darth Pyrrhus, and suddenly Bellatrix found herself doubled over, gasping for air. As she tried to catch her breath, she could feel his rage mounting and eventually the scowl on his face could no longer hide his displeasure. Still bent at the waist, clutching at her chest, she turned her head slightly to watch the exchange, finding it impossible to avert her eyes.

It was clear that the Togruta was insulted by the concept of a binding contract.

"I will train her however I wish. Harm will come to her."

Bellatrix was used to various types of abuse, but this particular threat made her blood run cold.

The Sith Knight disgustedly ripped the papers out of the Bothan’s hands and scribbled all over it with Bellatrix’s blood, finally signing. The whole time Fresk cringed and cowered with fear.

No sooner than the Togutra passed the flimsiplasts back into the Bothan’s willing hands did the slaver suddenly begin to scream, a spine-chilling, canine howl. His furry hands clutched at his face, batting away an invisible assailant. He flung himself to the ground and began to wail in pain in misery. Finally, he slumped over and was still.

“Is he... dead?” Bellatrix asked. Her voice was almost startling in its softness in comparison to the Bothan's groaning and wheezing, but the Sith Knight didn’t answer and only issued another challenge to her.

"Let us see if you can earn the title apprentice. With me.”

As terrifying a prospect as this was, Bellatrix knew that there was a dark kind of passion inside her that tended to hemorrhage at exactly the wrong time. Oh feth, kind of like the cut on her arm from the blood stylus was hemorrhaging now.

She clasped at the minor wound, so that it wouldn’t bleed in his tidy, utilitarian speeder, and as they settled in the seats, Bellatrix asked, “Do you have a bandage or a towel, Lord Pyrrhus? My wrist is bleeding.”

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

The slaver wasn't dead. He had simply passed out from the trauma he had experienced. He would come too, eventually. Though what was left? Would his mind recover, or had Pyrrhus left the man but a shell of who he once was? Both outcomes were equally possible, and in the end, it all depended on the slaver's willpower. In any case, it was no longer Pyrrhus' concern. The slave had seen how he had treated those who offended him. It was as much a warning to her, as it was revealing how Sith protected their interests. Unbent, unbroken.

While she was a slave, and technically on-loan to him, he had not forced her into the vehicle. Whether it was a search for power and answers, or rather a sense of duty, she had walked those steps to the speeder on her own. As soon as she was within, the speeder drove off.

For now, there had been silence. His gaze moved over to her, as she asked if he had anything for her wound. He had thought the wound minor, and made no effort to disguise his frown. Did he have a bandage or a towel? "I have the Force" he replied, semi-cryptically. Perhaps he meant that the Force was his shield, ensuring that he avoided such situations altogether, or perhaps he meant that he did not require any material tools, as the Force surpassed them all. The possibilities were many, and unless asked a direct question, he'd let the girl wonder. "Do not seek to numb your pain. Embrace it. Draw strength from it. You will have to suffer worse" That became her first lesson.

He didn't mind getting blood on the speeder. Such a detail was trivial to him, and there were ways to fix it. He offered her no aid, though of course, should she have some condition that left her bleeding, or the injury be more serious than he first had anticipated, then he would step in. Most likely. Perhaps he'd simply let her bleed out. He had no time for the weak.

Before long, the speeder would stop. They were in the middle of nowhere, on some abandoned beach, out in the cold rain of Glee Anselm. The Togruta Knight would step outside, and as would Bella. Then, the speeder simply left them. His purple eyes scanned her, before once again meeting her eyes. "Why do you think you are here? What do you know of the Sith?" - and by extension, he sought to find out what she thought it meant to be a Sith.

[member=Bellatrix Celvina]

 

[Armand Temi]

Her awareness of the Sith, the training, the code, their rituals, was so minimal that when Pyrrhus suggested she "embrace the pain," she was not able to compute the statement. The half-Chiss dancer was used to numbing any type of pain from her spice habit - physical or emotional - that could barely tolerate it, much less embrace it like a child or a lover. And thinking of spice, it wouldn't be long before Bellatrix would experience withdrawal symptoms. She only hoped her new Master would be tolerant when she began to sweat and shake as she was cut off from a regular intake of death sticks. But if Darth Pyrrhus wouldn't tend to her wound, she would on her own. Bellatrix reached down to the hem of her dress, her orange eyes not leaving his gaze, and ripped off a piece of fabric, winding that around her arm and tying it in a knot with her hand and teeth. She tied it tightly, so he would see that she was willing to suffer a tight binding. But it probably wasn't the suffering he had in mind.

And now they were deposited on the beach, in the rain. Her skin would glow a little more blue now with the increased oxygen in the air. Most of her tattoos were all related to her time on Balosar, and he was perhaps unlikely to figure out the symbols. Some of the tattoos were just crude homemade drawings, the kind that a slave/dancer in a seedy nightclub on her homeplanet would have. The drizzle pelted down on her raven hair and her pale dress, the fabric now clinging to her shapely form. Darth Pyrrhus himself didn't seem to mind getting a little wet, but Bellatrix began to shiver with the sudden dampness.

It was time for Q & A, it seemed.

"I know nothing of the Sith," she answered honestly. "But I suspect I was sent to you by Kuryr so that I could be trained to kill. If that means learning the ways of the Sith, than I humbly submit to that education."

This was Bellatrix's third master, and she was smart enough to not oppose him yet. But she would certainly begin to study him as he did her, to identify any of his weaknesses. If anything the half-Chiss slave was good at getting her way, mostly through supplication given her circumstances, but she wasn't above exploitation of fault or flaw. This is what she sought to find in the Togruta, maybe not now but through patience and careful examination.

[member="Darth Pyrrhus"]

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

Dark eyes observed as she ripped a piece off her own dress, and applied it as a makeshift bandage. It was hard not to smile approvingly, and he did. She didn't seem like the girl afraid to get dirty, or get her dress ruined. Then again, she was a slave, and her enticing dress was likely not one of her own choosing. "The Dark Side of the Force is strong, but similarly, it demands strength from those who seek to wield it. Never depend on anything or anyone to accomplish your goals. Seek the strength to see it done yourself." This would be his second lesson. Yet, he had a feeling his words would only start to make sense once they got further into the training. Despite the title slave, she seemed resourceful. He would make a Sith out of her yet.

Though he didn't recognize the meaning of the tattoos, he did not mind them. He had none of his own, but he instead had the natural markings of any Togruta. That Humans sought to mimic such things, came as no surprise. Their self-made markings was something he had always found fascinating. The subtle change in her skin was not lost on him. It was a surprising and mesmerizing quality, one he had not observed before. It appeared the Force had been so inclined as to provide him with an apprentice that went easy on the eyes. The way her dress worked together with the rain proved a potent distraction he had to focus to overcome.

"You will learn." he replied coldly, to her lack of knowledge about the Sith. He would show her everything of what it meant. She would embrace it, or perish. Of course, there were many interpretations, and he was not free from bias. She might form her own opinion, which was fine. Ultimately, he was a firm believer of the way of the One Sith.

From the depths of the water, a transport emerged. The timing was impeccable. From a round hatch at the front, it opened. In it stood a girl. The Togruta clapped his hands together. "Well, slave. I have not been completely honest with you." he paused for effect. As always, he enjoyed making a mental impact, and would greatly enjoy observing her reaction. "I already have an apprentice. Your connection to the Force is unfortunate, as it makes you a liability and a threat to your master. I am not your master. I am your executioner. You have been sent here to die." his body-language, his tone, it was all stripped of any emotion. It was just business as usual. Perhaps, with her antennapalps, she would sense the morbid sense of enjoyment he got from watching the scene unfolding.

The girl stepped onto the beach. In her right hand, she held a lightsaber. She was a Human girl, a dark-haired brunette, with light skin, approximately 5'3" tall. She wore the outfit he had always wished to see her in; the dark robes of the Sith. She was beautiful, immensely so in the eyes of the Togruta. A crimson blade ignited in Setzi's hand, and she walked towards Bella. In her eyes, the half-Chiss would see nothing but an intent to kill.

[member=Bellatrix Celvina]

 

[Armand Temi]

The half-Chiss acolyte listened carefully to Pyrrhus’s stern lecture. Bellatrix knew there was strength inside of her, but it always seemed to be compromised by something – her status as a slave or even her own spice use. To see the day where she was free of both was something she only thought about occasionally, when she could grasp the reality that it would not happen for a while. Because obviously, she thirsted for freedom sooner.

Bellatrix noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, and a transport appeared on the horizon. She assumed it to be more guards or attendants of [member="Darth Pyrrhus"], but oddly enough, the figure was that of a young human girl. Unmoving, her eyes flicked back and forth from the Togruta to the human.

It appeared she was to be executed.

Her body froze, her heart thumping in her chest, and she longed to run away, either down the Glee Anselm beach or even into the water. The Togruta still hadn’t even removed the chains from her wrist and collar from her neck. How was she expected to fight being bound in this manner?!?

Finally her rage took over. If this was his first test, what a cruel one it was. For both Bellatrix and the pretty, milk-fed girl she was about to slay. For there was no doubt that as long as she was able, she would kill this opponent. She had not come this far and experienced such hardship to be struck down on a wet, rainy beach for a wicked Sith Knight’s sordid pleasure.

“Ch'ah cart'ar Kuryr sir vah tin'ohn, ran'katehah vah vez vim ipah veo csohn ran'katehah veah ch'a csit'elat!”* she spat at Darth Pyrrhus angrily. It was quite a mouthful which would tell him how furious she was. In fact, if he were closer in proximity to her, she would have tried to strike him, but instead, she turned her attention to his “apprentice.”

She had killed her first master, and that would be revealed to Darth Pyrrhus in due time, but for now, she merely attempted to harm the figure of Setzi as she had done to Chukka, her Blood Pact Cathar minder. The chains rattling on her blue-skinned arms, she thrust her hands out and shot a burst of Telekinesis towards the dark robed human to try and knock her back off of her feet. If this was successful, she planned to pounce on her as a predator would and drown his beloved apprentice in the water.

*I hope Kuryr hunts you down, skins you alive and uses your red skin as a rug!

 

[Darth Pyrrhus]

He felt her fear, tasted the desperation resonating from her body. How would she respond? Would she break, accept her fate, or fight? As if to answer, then came her rage... What great fury she possessed, how the Force was drawn to her. She would not admit defeat. She would strike against any threat to herself, with lethal intent. It was hard not to smirk at his feisty apprentice. She called out to him in a language that he neither understood nor recognized. He didn't feel like he needed to understand her words. It was a long phrase, into which she seemed to pour all her frustration and hatred. Now, he wasn't holding it back anymore. He let his smirk show.

Pyrrhus would teach her fear. She would know her place, know the images he was capable of unleashing upon her mind. She would learn to fight in darkness, and how to use her emotions as fuel to the furnace that was the Dark Side. What a glorious flame she would become.

The Telekinesis burst seemed to have caught Setzi off guard. She had been prepared to strike at her with her lightsaber, close-quarters. Bella sought to take her down before the girl came close enough to do that. What happened, however, was probably slightly different from how it had gone when she did the same against her Chukka. Slightly.

The blast caught Setzi. Her feet lost touch with the ground, and her body got carried into the air. Strangely enough, as she was defying gravity, she seemed to move forwards, towards Bella, rather than away. Her body twisted in what must've been a very uncomfortable angle, as Setzi got forced into a backflip. The telekinetic energy tore at her like claws, grabbing a hold of her clothing, her skin, and tearing it off. The outer layer disappeared first. Then, her skin exposed to the telekinetic energy, she was flayed alive. When she landed, she no longer looked like a pretty Human girl. In fact, she didn't look Human at all. Only a few messed up strands of hair remained on her head. All her skin was gone, what was left was a red, bloody mess. Everything, from veins and muscle tendons were put on display. Setzi landed on all four, and with a agonized shriek that sounded like it came straight from the Netherworld itself, she crawled towards Bella at a supernatural speed.

[member=Bellatrix Celvina]