The years following were hard, with the continued loss of patrols the population was losing hope wanting answers, demanding to know the fate of their children.
A cloaked figure slinked through a sad dying market. Dremorians starving and sick huddled in dark alleys, desert sand whipping through the air. This back water desert Town was located and one of the far out planets of the home system. With every step of the cloaked stranger muffled jingles of metal could be heard.
As they stop at a sad almost empty produce stall a thin hand deceptive in its delicate nature holds out a bag of clicking silver to the merchant, another points to one of the least rotten fruit, a red bumped surface with a shape resembling that of a squash. Wrapped around the pale wrist is a golden bracer etched with a forgotten script.
As the cloaked person grabs their purchase a piercing wail flood through the market square. A glance brings in the sight of an older woman wrinkled defined her aged face as she cried and screamed at the feet of a group of armed soldiers.
"How could this happen! how can you stand there and tell us what to do when you cant even protect yourselves, you won't even tell me what happened to my little girl!"
The cloaked figure gives a feminine chuff before wipping around away from the scene, angered by its familiarity.
Her father will pay...he can't hide behind his walls and denials forever.
A pair of citrine amber eyes glowed from within the confines of the dark hood as they leave the town behind, constantly searching for her destination and truths.