This is the beginning of a story I'm writing about my sith character, Nykana and her master, Darth Melfeckt
I may continue this, I'm not too too certain yet though. Feedback would be great, as I know I'm not a very talented writer... ^^;;
Characters (meaning Nykana and Master Melfeckt) Belong to me, and the amazing Matthew Moore. Don't use 'em if you're not me or him, kay? ;D
Star Wars, the galaxies therein and all the creatures and names belong to George Lucas, Lucasfilm or whomever they belong to now. Not mine. Just to clarify so I don't get in trouble
***************************************************************************************************************************************
A mournful tune lilts through a seedy tavern someplace in the mesas of Dantooine, falling on deaf ears to all but one. A strange woman sits in a dark corner, her face shadowed in the darkness. She pulls down her hood to reveal pale, almost white skin, deep crimson tattoos marking the left side of her face. Her firey, orange-red eyes glance across the bar, visciously eyeing the approching barmaid.
She quickly downs the remainder of her wine and pulls her hood back up, pouring another glass of wine from a caraf on her table. She sighs a deep sigh as thunder crashes outside and a barmaid bustles towards her table. She smiles a terribly fake smile and begins to stutter at the cloaked woman.
"A-a-anything else f-for you m-marm?" The barmaid wrings her towel nervously as the woman pulls back her hood to reveal her blood red lips, curled in a strange smirk.
"No, girl. Begone." she snarls at the barmaid, glaring at her, dripping venom from her words. The barmaid's courage fails her and she retreats back to her duties behind the bar. The woman's smirk grows into a half smile, warping the markings on her face. The smile reveals what seem to be fangs, something not often seen in these parts of Dantooine. She stands, brushing something from her black cloak and dress. Raising her hood back over her head, she slams some coin on her table, knocking her caraf and wine glass to the floor, spilling it's contents all over the table and floor, as well as a nearby customer.
The large man jumps from his seat and makes to attack the woman. Thunder crashes and the rain begins to fall harder as she swiftly moves her hand straight out in front of her, pale white, her fingernails crimson red and filed to points. The man stops in his tracks as the woman raises her hand to him and smirks as she lowers her hood and with the other hand. She looks up at him, her firey eyes dancing. He steps back, unsure of his decision. Her hand flashes from view for a split second into her cloak, emerging with a strange looking metal object. The man laughs heartily, obviously unawares of his impending doom.
With a flick of a single finger, the metal object transforms into death itself, a beam of red light emerging from either end. Thunder claps as lightning strikes a nearby building, sending the room into darkness. The power flickers back on as the man's eyes grow wide and the woman twirls the blade around a few times, She smirks at him, flashing the saber for a split second in his direction. The man falls to the ground, clutching his neck for a moment before going limp, his hands falling from his throat, revealing a hole straight through his neck.
She smiles coldly as the occupants of the bar scatter out of her wake. She seems to glide across the floor towards the door, putting her hand out in front of her, casually flicking her wrist and sending things flying out of her path. As she reaches the door, she flicks the switch on her saber, attaching it to her belt. The rain ebbs as she walks out the door as a dry hiss reaches her ears from a figure resting on the wall near the doorway. "Apprentice, you know that is not how you handle matters"
The woman turns sharply and bows deeply at the man, hand at her chest. "Master Melfeckt...."
She inhales sharply as the man turns to her, the chains on his pants rustle underneith the fabric of his coat. The sound of metal on metal echoes about her as the loop on the studded collar about his neck sways with his movement. She pulls her hood over her head and quickly turns her attention to a nearby steed, taking it's reins in her hands. Unsure of her master's mood towards her actions, she quickly jumps onto the beast's back and sets her feet in the stirrups.
"Nykana...." her master's voice is now levelled, almost calm. Her head turns slightly towards her master. In doing so, she spots a man aiming a beam gun at her, from behind the corner of the bar. In one swift and deathly silent movement, she leaps from the back of her mount and has her lightsaber at the ready, dashing towards the would-be assailant. There is a sharp flurry of movement from behind her as her master follows suit, both reaching the man at the same moment, both attempting to rid him of his shooting hand at the same time.
The sound of their lightsabers clashing echoes about the small town's buildings as the man they had attacked writhes in pain in the mud, clutching the stump where his hand had been a moment before. A full scale downpour starts as Nykana closes the distance between herself the man, kneeling on his un-wounded arm with a forearm held tightly across his neck, pushing his head downward into the mud and water. The man sputters as she lowers her hood, staring him eye to eye, her eyes ablaze with murderous intent.
"Who sent you?" She hisses, moving her face closer to her captive, her lips less than an inch from his. She sighs softly, hissing slightly in her distaste for the situation. Her breath dances across the man's features, her sharp fangs exposed momentarily. The man sputters and gasps a series of terrified, unintelligable sounds, unable to form words. Loosening her arm from the man's throat, Nykana's lips come closer to the man's as she speaks, her tone convaying the obvious fact that she means buisness. "I'll ask you one more time, bounty hunter scum, who sent you? It would be wise to answer quickly, my patience wears very..." she moves her mouth to the man's ear, hissing the last few words directly into his ear "very.... very thin."
The man sputters a few more times and begins to speak. "A... dantari. N-named Kyrran.. he-he..."
The woman had had enough. She ran him through with her lightsaber and stood, shaking the mud out of her cloak. "Murder is always such a messy buisness...."