Darth Trepidus & the Last Inquisition - Episode I

[Crim]

There exists a phenomenon in neurology in which an amputee will continue to feel sensation in a lost limb. This phantom pain can subtle, like wind brushing an absent hand; overwhelming, like the feeling of losing the limb all over again; or maddening, like a scratch that can never be itched...

What happens when, rather than a limb, the patient loses their mind?​

The harsh suns bore down on the volcanic water-world of Daucina. Heat rippled off the scorching black sands of Daucina's beaches, the sky reflecting off rolling, ebony dunes. Crystal blue waves crashed along the shoreline. The salty sea air carried with it a smokey scent. In the distance, white steam rolled from a volcanic island. The sounds of the ocean mixed with a vibrant array of wildlife mating calls. Crustaceans scuttled across the dark beach, foraging for food, while a dense, green forest of palm trees stood farther away from the tidal zone. On these shores, a lone figure sat.

Sand and salt clumped in her tangled, rust-colored hair. Her once-luxurious silk robes clung to her body in tatters, the wind blowing frayed edges and torn pieces of the clothing. Her skin had a greenish hue to it, each cell greedily soaking up the solar energy from the double suns of Daucina, which cast two long shadows of the woman stretching across the beach in opposite sides. Greenish-yellow eyes stared blankly at nothing in particular. Her parched, cracked lips uttered silent words. Long nails extended from each finger, fraying and cracking at their edges. Her right hand was wrapped around a pyramidal obsidian talisman. Scattered, sun-bleached, mangled bones surrounded the woman. In front of her was a rusting lightsaber hilt, resting on a large seashell.

A native of Daucina approached, carrying a large bowl. He was young - perhaps still a teenager - and trembled as he approached the woman. His modest clothes bore the distinction of tribal and religious symbols. The bowl quaked in his uneasy hands as he drew closer to her. He bowed once as he came near her, then bowed again when he was right next to her. "Hail, Darth Trepidus the Lady of all things seen and unseen, divine incarnate, the unyielding tempest, the unmoving mountain, she who walks on the stars themselves. Glory be to you and peace be unto your servants, almighty dreamweaver. We humbly offer you this sacrifice, for we are imperfect beings. Have mercy on us, so that we may continue our covenant with You, O Grand Inquisitor, and strive for everlasting peace," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. If he got a single word wrong, even a syllable, she would make him suffer, as she'd made others before him suffer.

He set the bowl in front of her, on a flat rock. Thick blood filled it to the brim, the suns glimmering in the crimson contents of the bowl. It contained the blood of villagers elected to become sacrifices to Darth Trepidus. They had offered this unholy tribute to her since she came to the planet. Her demands only grew greater as time passed. As the native set the sacrificial bowl down, a chill ran down his spine. Despite the fact that he was on a sweltering beach, he was very cold. Goosebumps raised along his skin as he bowed once more and then turned to leave. As he rose, he locked eyes with her for but a moment before walking away.

"The imperfect are not to meet my gaze," she said with a telepathic message. It was almost deafening in his own psyche. The native turned. "Please, my lady, show mercy. It was an accident," he said with terror in his voice. He didn't dare turn to look at Darth Trepidus and repeat his mistake. Already, he could feel her gripping him with the Force. "I am your humble servant, imperfect and unclean. The world is yours to make as you see fit, Lady Trepidus," he begged. She began to grip every part of his body - every bone, muscle, and blood vessel - and contort them. He screamed as he fell on the beach in agony.

"This world is to be perfect. The imperfect return to the world from which they spawned," she replied in his mind. Using the Force, she tore him apart, rending his flesh as she gazed ahead blindly. Blood stained the incoming tide red and his screams went silent. What remained of him would join the other sun-bleached bones on the beach. The obsidian talisman in her hand seemed to bask in such death, as did the woman holding it. To the people of Daucina, she was a god incarnate. To the galaxy, she was the lost Grand Inquisitor of the Sith Empire, losing more of her mind with each passing day on that beach.

And it had been quite some time since she had arrived on the shores of Daucina...