New Companion

The Nar Shaddaa sky, a swirling canvas of neon and smoke, cast a lurid glow on Darth Krayt's face. He had shed his Sith robes and armor, opting for a more casual, if still intimidating, look: a simple black tunic, grey pants, and knee-guards. His crimson eyes, however, remained a stark contrast to the vibrant cityscape, betraying his true nature.

He had just finished a mission on Tatooine, a quick, efficient extermination of a Jedi outpost. The thrill of the kill, the power of the Force flowing through him, was still fresh. Yet, a different kind of desire gnawed at him now, a yearning for something less…violent.

He wanted to indulge, to lose himself in the sensory overload of Nar Shaddaa's bustling markets. He wanted to forget the cold, calculating persona of a Sith Lord and be…something else.

He strolled through the crowded streets, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed him like a persistent shadow. The cacophony of voices, music, and the constant hum of droids was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the silence of the desert planet he'd just left.

His attention was drawn to a group of Twi'lek women, their vibrant head-tails adorned with intricately woven ribbons. They were huddled around a street vendor, their laughter echoing through the crowded marketplace. Their eyes, a mesmerizing shade of lavender, held a spark of mischief.

Krayt, his heart already pounding with uncharacteristic excitement, found himself drawn to one in particular. Her name was Ryla, and her gaze, a mix of curiosity and defiance, held him captive.

"They say the Sith are all about power, darkness, and destruction," Ryla was saying, her melodic voice rising above the din. "But isn't there more to it? Isn't there a beauty in the dark side, a power that can be used for good?"

Krayt's lips twitched into a smirk. "Good?" He chuckled softly, the sound like wind whistling through a graveyard. "The Sith don't believe in good, little one. We embrace the darkness, the raw power that flows within us. It's a path of strength, of dominance, of absolute control."

Ryla's eyes widened, momentarily forgetting her companions. She stepped closer to Krayt, her lavender eyes studying him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You're a Sith," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "But…but you don't look like the stories. You don't seem…evil."

Krayt raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his crimson gaze. 'Evil is a subjective term, little one. It all depends on who's judging. Some might call me evil, others might call me powerful.'

He reached into his tunic, the familiar weight of his double-bladed lightsaber bringing a smile to his lips. 'But there's only one way to truly know,' he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, 'and that's by experiencing the power of the dark side firsthand.'

He extended his hand, revealing the glowing crimson blade. It hummed with raw energy, a tangible manifestation of the darkness that pulsed within him.

Ryla's eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and fascination, stared at the lightsaber. Her gaze, however, quickly shifted to Krayt's face, as though seeking a deeper understanding.

"Do you think…do you think I could be like you?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Krayt, surprised by the intensity of her request, felt a surge of excitement. He had only intended to play, to enjoy a moment of indulgence, but this young woman, with her fire and her unyielding spirit, was a tempting proposition.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice rough with suppressed desire. "It all depends on your thirst for power, your willingness to embrace the darkness."

'I'm willing,' Ryla said with conviction, her gaze unwavering.

Krayt felt a primal thrill course through him. He could see it in her eyes, the raw hunger, the desire for something more than the mundane life she had known.

"Follow me," he said, his voice laced with a seductive authority.

He led her through the bustling marketplace, his hand brushing against hers, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. The crowded streets seemed to melt away as he guided her towards his ship, a sleek, black Phantom that stood out like a shadow amongst the brightly colored vessels.

He opened the cockpit, revealing the sleek, black interior. He motioned for Ryla to enter, his eyes burning with an intensity that was both unsettling and intoxicating.

"I can teach you the ways of the Sith," he said, his voice a low, hypnotic purr. "I can show you the true power, the limitless potential, of the dark side."

He leaned in close, his breath warming her skin. "But," he whispered, "it's not a path for the faint of heart. Are you sure you're prepared for what awaits you in the darkness?"

Ryla, her heart pounding against her ribs, met his gaze. "I'm not afraid," she whispered back, her voice trembling with excitement. 'I want to know the truth, the real power, not just the stories.'

Krayt felt a sensation deep within his core, a primal urge that was strangely familiar yet undeniably intoxicating. This wasn't just about power, this was about something more, something primal, something…hungry.

He pulled her towards him, his lips brushing against her ear. "Then let the darkness consume you," he whispered, his voice a seductive mix of power and desire.

As his lips met hers, the scent of her lavender skin filling his senses, Krayt knew that this was just the beginning. This was not just a mission, not just an indulgence. This was a journey into the deepest, darkest corners of his being, a journey that would consume them both.Krayt started up his ship on a course back to Korriban which wouldn't take too long.

The stars streaked past the viewport of Krayt's ship, a blur of light and color against the deep black of space. He adjusted the controls subtly, humming a tuneless melody under his breath. Beside him, Ryla leaned forward, her vibrant lavender eyes wide with wonder as she gazed at the spectacle.

'It's...incredible,' she breathed, her voice a mix of awe and apprehension.

He glanced at her, a flicker of something akin to amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. Ryla was a strange creature, a Twi'lek with a mischievous glint in her eyes and a vivacious spirit that contrasted sharply with his own grim visage. 

'It's not much,' he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the ship. 'But it gets me where I need to go.'

His communication panel flickered to life, a holographic image of Darth Jadus, his obsidian armor glinting ominously in the light. Krayt's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his double-bladed lightsaber, a knot of tension forming in his gut.

'Jadus,' he acknowledged tersely, his voice devoid of warmth.

'Krayt,' Jadus replied, his voice a metallic rasp, 'Elera brought me the lightsabers back. They're...intact.' He paused, a sliver of something akin to amusement flitting across his mask. 'The little one seems to have a knack for finding things.'

Ryla, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, turned towards the hologram, her head tilted in curiosity. 'Who is that?' she asked, her voice filled with a naive innocence that Krayt found jarringly out of place.

'Don't speak,' he commanded, his gaze hardening. 'This concerns only us.'

He turned back to the hologram, his expression impassive. 'What is it you want, Jadus?'

'A meeting, Krayt,' Jadus replied. 'A surprise awaits you on Korriban. You must come.'

Krayt's brow furrowed. Korriban, the Sith world, was a place he'd long avoided. It held too many painful memories, too many reminders of a past he desperately wished to forget. 'What kind of surprise?'

Jadus's red eyes glowed brighter. 'A surprise that will change your destiny, Krayt. A surprise that will make you a true Sith.'

The hologram flickered and vanished, leaving Krayt alone with his thoughts. He turned to Ryla, who was now staring at him with a mixture of worry and confusion.

'Are you alright?' she asked, her voice soft.

He didn't answer. He was lost in his own thoughts, haunted by the promise of a destiny he didn't know he craved.

'You seem troubled,' she said softly, her voice laced with concern. 'You barely even looked at me.'

Krayt sighed, a deep, heavy sound. He was about to dismiss her concern, to push her away as he always did, but something in her gaze stopped him. He felt a strange, prickling sensation, something akin to…curiosity? For the first time, he was genuinely interested in knowing more about the Twi'lek beside him.

The obsidian black Sith Phantom hummed with a low, resonant thrum, its sleek lines cutting through the star-dusted expanse of the Outer Rim. Inside, Darth Krayt, a towering figure of pure Sith energy, sat in the pilot's seat, his crimson eyes glittering with a restless intensity. He was a whirlwind of contradictions: a brutal, power-hungry Sith fueled by the dark side, yet strangely drawn to the vulnerability of the Twi'lek girl beside him. Ryla, with her bright lavender eyes and head tails adorned with colorful ribbons, was the very antithesis of everything he understood. But there was something about her spirit, a resilience that shone through her playful facade, that captivated him.

'Tell me about yourself,' he said, his voice rough but surprisingly gentle.

Ryla's eyes widened. 'Me?'

He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. 'Well,' she said, a nervous smile playing on her lips, 'where should I start?'

Krayt leaned back in his seat, watching her. He noticed the way her fingers nervously picked at the strap of her slingshot bikini, the intricate tattoo on her right cheek and left neck a testament to her tumultuous past. She was a kaleidoscope of contradictions, a warrior draped in a playful facade, a pirate with a heart of gold, a slave who had found freedom in rebellion.

'From the beginning,' he urged, his voice a low rumble in the cavernous cockpit.

Ryla took a deep breath, the flickering starlight casting a silvery sheen on her skin. She began to recount her story, a tapestry woven with threads of hardship and hope. She spoke of her enslavement on Ryloth, the brutality she endured, the spark of rebellion that had ignited within her, leading her to escape and join the ranks of the Resistance. She described her travels through the galaxy, her encounters with criminals and smugglers, her experiences with the Force, a power she was only beginning to understand.

'It was on Ryloth that I learned about the Force,' she said, her voice softening, 'not from a Jedi, but from a smuggler who used it to cheat at cards.' She chuckled, her smile a radiant splash of light in the dark cockpit. 'He called it 'the trick,' but I knew it was something more.'

Krayt listened intently, his gaze fixed on her as she spoke, his mind slowly unraveling the layers of his own hardened heart. He had spent years shrouded in the darkness of the Sith, his emotions a storm of rage and ambition, but Ryla's story resonated with a part of him he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge. He saw echoes of his own yearning for freedom in her escape from slavery, a spark of his own lost innocence in her unyielding optimism.

'I was just a girl,' she continued, her voice tinged with a wistful sadness, 'but I knew I couldn't just sit back and let others suffer. I had to do something.'

She spoke of her first acts of defiance, the small victories that fueled her courage, the friends she made along the way. Krayt saw the fire in her eyes, the unyielding determination that had carried her through a galaxy steeped in darkness. He had always dismissed the Rebellion as a pathetic, misguided struggle, but in Ryla, he saw the very embodiment of their ideals, a testament to the power of hope in a world teetering on the brink of despair.

'I was never a Jedi,' Ryla said, as if reading his thoughts, 'but the Force called to me. I don't know how, but I felt it, like a guiding hand in the storm. It gave me strength, helped me to survive.'

She paused, her gaze searching the vast expanse of the hyperspace window, the light of distant stars reflecting in her lavender eyes. 'It's a strange thing, the Force,' she whispered, 'a power both beautiful and terrifying.'

Krayt, who had always seen the Force as a tool of domination, a weapon to be wielded with ruthless efficiency, found himself intrigued by her perspective. He realized that he didn't understand the Force, not truly. He had only embraced its dark side, the side that promised power and control, but what of the light? Could there be a balance, a harmony within the very essence of his being?

'What do you want?' he asked, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the cockpit.

Ryla turned to him, her eyes wide with surprise, then a flicker of understanding dawned on her face. 'I want to help,' she said, her voice resolute. 'I want to fight for a better world, a world where no one is a slave, where everyone has a chance to be free.'

Her words struck a chord deep within Krayt. He had always sought power for himself, but her vision of a world where everyone was free resonated with something within him, something he had long suppressed.

'You are brave,' he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, the echo of her own spirit stirring something within him. This young Twi'lek, with her laughter and her spirit of rebellion, had awakened a dormant part of him. He, the Sith, the embodiment of darkness, felt a glimmer of hope.

'Maybe,' he said, his voice a soft whisper in the silence of the cockpit, 'maybe you can teach me something.'

'You know,' Ryla said, her voice a melody that danced through the silent cockpit, 'It's quite a... change of scenery compared to Ryloth.'

Krayt grunted, his gaze focused on the navigation console. 'It's hardly a paradise, this part of space.'

'Oh, it's much more exciting,' she countered, her head tilted slightly to one side. 'And the air is cooler, at least.' Her fingers brushed against the black leather of his gauntlet.

Krayt glanced at her, his gaze lingering on the intricate tattoos that spiraled down her neck and cheek. The design, a testament to her past, both fascinated and disturbed him. This delicate creature, so vibrant and full of life, was a stark contrast to the darkness that permeated his existence.

'You haven't answered my question,' Krayt said, his voice deep and rumbling, 'Why the... attire?'

He gestured towards her body, draped in a skimpy slingshot bikini. It was a strange choice, even for a Twi'lek, he thought. It was made of a soft, grey fabric, interwoven with threads of black and purple, and a simple cropped jacket covered her shoulders. Her legs were clad in knee guards with boots, and laser-equipped gauntlets covered her hands. But the bikini itself, the way it barely covered her slim frame, the way it clung to her curves, it was a sight that both intrigued and frustrated him.

Ryla chuckled, a soft, musical sound that echoed through the cockpit. 'Oh, this? This is just my usual wear.'

'Usual wear?' Krayt scoffed. 'For a... warrior?'

She shrugged, her head tails swaying as she leaned back in her seat. 'I was a slave on Ryloth, you see. The sun is pretty intense down there. We wore what we could to keep cool. And… well, we were meant to be seen.'

A wave of heat flushed through Krayt's face. The thought of Ryla, her body exposed and vulnerable, was both arousing and unbearable. He was a Sith Lord, a dark lord of the galaxy and yet, he found himself strangely captivated by this Twi'lek. Her words, however, struck a chord within him. He had a distinct awareness of her past, knew the suffering she had endured.