The Unassailable & the Unfathomable

[Aristomache Mothma]

The Spire, Zakuul
Unknown Regions, Western Galactic End

After days of teaching and badgering the human locals, Mach had grown weary of karking with the planet's superstitious lot and decided to drift away from where once the mighty Emperor Valkorion's throne stood. Some of the populations were impressed, but most, as was typical of people who generally encountered Mach Mothma, were offended and dismayed by her lack of convention and unorthodox approach to life, and its trials and tribulations in the otherwise cold galaxy. She'd spent the last few days poking fun at the locals' attempts to conjure up superstition to justify their bleak existence on this world, while preaching that living life on only the bare necessities was the way to go.

The young, blonde-haired vagrant wandered the fringes of the Endless Swamp, just by the outskirting bogs a good half hour's walk away from the Spire. With utterly nothing on her person, save her filthy, rough cloak that she wore, her staff and her small bag, she traversed the rough undergrowth of the harsh planet - barefoot. Appearance-wise, she was truly repulsive. She was a beautiful human being, but her hair was unkempt, most of her revealed skin was covered in scum - a loathsome mix of sweat, accumulated dirt and swamp grime. Her feet were covered in much from walking the bogs, and she smelled like hell - a putrid combination of odors; very poor hygiene - even Gamorreans and Mandalorians would be revolted. She strove to be the epitome of everything she preached in practice - denunciation of all the pretensions of civilization. When one of the Zakuul wisemen said that he took pride in descending from the earth and already living hardily, Mach replied that the same was true of mynocks, nerfs and banthas.

Mach kept walking, silently contemplating and occasionally making jokes and taking to herself until she finally found a nice, quiet spot in the shade against the pale moonlight to sit down and rest. As she lowered her staff and her knapsack, she sat against the gruff tree's rough bark and took a deep sigh - enjoying herself where most others would be most unease - in the middle of a festering swamp on a backwater world.

[member="The Collective"]

 

[Other Space Kaiden]

[member="Aristomache Mothma"]

(Sorry for the super late response, it's been a bit hectic IRL)


The thick fog rolled over the surface of the swamp, shattering the moonlight and shrouding the vile things that lay in the shadows. This world was rotting from the inside and it was not corruption or political scandal that hastened along this process. No, something much more sickening was afoot on Zakuul. A slimey hand in the shadows that reached out across the bubbling water and through the thick trees. Claws digging deep into the flesh of this ancient and scarred world, sinking dark thoughts deep into its bones and cutting away the light piece by piece until all that remained was a husk of its former self.

A husk that knew only the hunger of a ravenous swarm of vile creatures that buzzed and skittered through the veins of worlds across the Uknown Regions. Creatures like the one who stood in the veil of oily shadows. The Creature that's glowing eyes pierced through the dark, leering over the young, naive woman who had stumbled her way through the ignorance of unassimilated life to this distant swamp. It felt no lust as it observed her every movement. It felt no love. It felt no mercy. It felt no compassion.

It felt only hunger.

Slowly the creature crept though the oozing swamp water, it's lankey seven-foot frame obscurred by the thick mist that rose as the moon grew higher in the sky. It moved from the shadows, saying nothing as it approached.