.
It had been ages since Darth Tempest had last been to Tattooine. Years ago, when the planet was still under the administration of the Consortium - and she was still a fledgling Acolyte of the Sith, clueless and naive to where life would ultimately guide her. Despite the years that had passed, the streets of Mos Espa maintained their familiar allure - filled with the smell of exotic spice and bustling with activity. In truth, the half-Annfyn couldn’t help but believe that the planet would always prosper under the Hutts - its worst and criminal elements allowed to naturally flourish in the open.
She strolled her way towards the Belching Frog Saloon - though no one in proximity would recognize the Sith that walked amongst them. Instead, the features of the Dark Lord were shrouded behind a bodysuit and Ubbese mask - her voice mechanized like all those of the species. A simple blaster was strapped to her hip, while an assistant droid walked alongside her. In its arms, it carried a large chest - sealed but clearly relevant.
Though she wasn’t easily identifiable to the public, it was beneficial to Tempest’s purposes to take on an entirely new persona to operate under. Her identity as ‘Niash’ - exiled from her homeworld of Uba IV - left little to scrutinize in the event that someone cared enough to go looking.
As she slipped into the saloon, Niash made her way over to the bar - ordering herself something to drink. A straw was requested to fit with her mask. “I am here to discuss business,” She said towards the bartender before making her way towards a booth.
She strolled her way towards the Belching Frog Saloon - though no one in proximity would recognize the Sith that walked amongst them. Instead, the features of the Dark Lord were shrouded behind a bodysuit and Ubbese mask - her voice mechanized like all those of the species. A simple blaster was strapped to her hip, while an assistant droid walked alongside her. In its arms, it carried a large chest - sealed but clearly relevant.
Though she wasn’t easily identifiable to the public, it was beneficial to Tempest’s purposes to take on an entirely new persona to operate under. Her identity as ‘Niash’ - exiled from her homeworld of Uba IV - left little to scrutinize in the event that someone cared enough to go looking.
As she slipped into the saloon, Niash made her way over to the bar - ordering herself something to drink. A straw was requested to fit with her mask. “I am here to discuss business,” She said towards the bartender before making her way towards a booth.