- Joined
- Jul 22, 2007
- Messages
- 16,063
- Reaction score
- 133
The dark corridors echo as boots clomp slowly on the polished floors of the academy. A lone figure, dressed in dark crimson robes made of silk, and a hood lined with gold-trim covering her blank eyes. She pulls on her black gloves, tightening their grip upon her hands. The acolyte stops as she approaches the heavy stone doors of one of the many chambers of the academy. “Ninde Nelhyvel, desiring admittance.”
Her voice, although the sound is beautiful, has a dark ring to it – courtesy of years of involuntary servitude to a Hutt. An experience that she would never allow again, especially with the power of the Sith.
Her voice, although the sound is beautiful, has a dark ring to it – courtesy of years of involuntary servitude to a Hutt. An experience that she would never allow again, especially with the power of the Sith.