Beginnings – 3664.140 BY

She ran, staggering and desperately pushing her way through the crowded streets of Nar Shaddaa. Shoving people and many different species of humanoid aliens out of her way. Shouts and yells followed her, insults thrown in both basic and huttese after her rapidly retreating form. Gasping for breath she cast a glance behind her, the houk and the trio of gamorreans were still gaining on her, equally barrelling civilians out of their path. Looking forward again she instinctively ducked, narrowly avoiding a low flying swoop bike. The street was lined with stalls and market stands, selling every variant of fruit, beverage and stim known to the galaxy. Customers of all races were browsing and bartering, trading and talking, shopping and swapping.

None of this Zanleya noticed or cared about; all the young red headed girl needed to do was put as much distance between herself and the minions of Bragga the Hutt. So she ran, her golden orange dress flapping behind her, sandals beating out a rapid tattoo on the concrete. Bright neon lights shone down on her pale skin and the air stank of exotic spices and the exhaust fumes of the industrial sector. Almost everybody looking in her direction simply watched the chase with interest, nobody tried to intervene; it was hardly a rare sight in the underbelly of the Smuggler's Moon. Her lungs were burning, breaths coming in gasps. She flung herself down a side street, knocking a surprised devaronian over in the process.

He started to shout angrily, before being thrown aside again as the houk came storming after her.

The street broadened out into another shopping alley where overhead lights shone on a golden statue in honour of some hutt or other. Zanleya glanced over her shoulder again, green eyes wide with fear, they were not far behind her. She did not want to imagine what they would do if they caught her, when they caught her she corrected herself. Technically Bragga would want her back, but houks were known for their love of violence and lack of intelligence, not a healthy combination. Being caught would result in agony at best.

Then the inevitable happened, she tripped on her dress, stumbling forward and pitching face first onto the ground with a cry of surprise and pain. Desperately she rolled over and tried to scrabble to her feet. The houk and gamorreans were now practically on top of her.

"Help!" She screamed in a high pitched voice, a desperate cry of primal terror. But if anybody paid any attention, they knew better than to interfere. Sheer panic gripped her; she was in for it now.

"Got yoar now pirddy hooman!" The houk jeered, his brutish face leering at her as he brandished an oversized knife. The gamorreans grunted their eager pig like squeals and ground to a halt behind the towering houk.

She did not know why, but a survival instinct made her thrust both her hands out toward the four brown clad thugs. Behind the involuntary action was all of her terror, her fear, her desperation. The four figures were flung backwards, wrenched off their feet by an unseen power. Zanleya gasped in surprise, staring in disbelief as the houk crashed into a spice stall and the gamorreans struck either pedestrians or a wall. Had she, had she just used the force? She wondered in amazement. Now however was not the time to question what had just happened. Pulling herself to her feet, she turned and ran, knowing they would not stay stopped for long. Perhaps she could lose them in the crowd, she thought in desperation, painfully aware that she could not outrun them.

"Dats it!" The houk shouted in anger. There was the unmistakeable clicking sound of a blaster coming off safety. She realised with horror that he was going to shoot her! There was a sharp sound of a blaster firing and almost simultaneously another noise. She threw herself sideways, trying to dodge the shot. Nothing hit her. She fell upon the unforgiving ground again, winding herself in the process.

There was a scream of pain from behind her and she looked round in surprise. The houk was clutching his chest, staggering backward. The three gamorreans had drawn their axes. Standing just a metre from her was black hooded figure, clasped in his right hand was … a red lightsaber.

The three gamorreans charged forward having clambered to their feet. The figure held their armoured left arm out, hand shaped as if it was clasped around somebodies neck. The gamorrean on the left was lifted into the air, hands scrabbling at its throat, making a gurgling sound that was almost pleasing to her. The figure relaxed the hand the alien fell to the floor and lay still. The first of the other two reached the figure, axe raised. From its build she was pretty sure the figure was male, but she was yet to see its face.

So fast she barely saw it the figure sidestepped the blow and swung his lightsaber round ramming it through the gamorrean's chest piece, the humming blade bursting out of its back. The figure pulled the weapon free, letting the shocked gamorrean fall forward, carried on by its own momentum. The figure then flung the lightsaber at the one remaining assailant, who was only a few metres away. The spinning red sabre literally bisected the gamorrean, cutting it in two from left shoulder to right hip, the two pieces of cauterised body falling to the ground with a thump. The figure reached out his right hand and the lightsaber flew back to his grip.

The figure strode over to the houk, who was rolling on the floor still clutching his chest. In a simple, almost lazy, move he decapitated the hapless alien, then turned his lightsaber off and clipped it to a belt. He turned round to face her; she was still lying sprawled and stunned on the ground.

The figure was clad in full black armour, the imperial insignia printed in red upon his left breast plate. His face was shrouded by the black hood, but it was unmistakeably that of a Sith pureblood. His skin was deep red and his eyes blazing orange, small fleshy tendrils hung from his chin and cheeks. There were thin bony ridges above his nose and his eyebrows were almost spine like. His mouth was set into a grim line. Being in his presence was intimidating, being under his gaze was petrifying. She could feel the power emanating from him; he radiated a sense of strength and self-confidence. She cowered away, almost shivering as his heavy boots brought him closer.

"Th…th…thank… yo…you," she stammered, her voice betraying her. She barely knew what to say, Sith were as fearsome as they were legendary, for there was no mistaking what he was.

"It is no coincidence that you ended up here, the force has brought you to me," he stated in a deep voice. She did not, and in fact could not, reply. "I am Darth Kharvak and you are coming with me."