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The Demented Madness slipped out of the embrace of the swirling lights of hyperspace above the planet Onderon, alongside the main fleet complimentary force. The massive Hutt could see the full array of the Sith Forces creating a defensive perimeter preparing for any form of interference. The Hutt’s crimson eyes scanned the blanket of stars that surrounded them, and watched the shadow of The Marie pass before him. The Corvette had been Delta’s flagship for longer than the Hutt had known him, but he had heard the stories of how it had gotten its name. His favourite told of a flirtatious barmaid named Kayla Marie who had flirted with Delta for years after the Clone Wars and had played him against other contenders for her hand, before finally marrying a rich diplomat that Delta had promptly tossed out an airlock. Why he named his ship after her The Hutt never could quite figure out, human emotions were a troublesome thing.

 

He relayed his transponder to Kain, a slightly modified copy of the transponder from Dahar’s Jedi Ace which had been hacked upon its surrender. It would allow for more discretionary action should any GA or Empire forces show themselves, at least buy him enough time to spring a trap. The Hutt let the systems of The Demented Madness fade behind the dampners he had installed and preset the sublight engines for maximum. The Luxury Assault Ship slipped silently off most sensor arrays as it made its way to the right flank of the Sith Forces, behind the starfighter screen and corvette. Sheog relaxed into his own meditation, allowing his sphere of meditation to grow with each of his blubbery breaths

 

<>

 

He could feel the sharp taste of the sparkingly strong flavour of Kain’s mechanical influence over the fleet, a neural network to draw all computer programs together. Upon this network, the Hutt began to sew threads of deepset hunger and greed, each mind beginning to unite in a common taste for warfare. Each mind would compliment the other, like the swarming hivemind of Piranha Beetles, to identify a target and devour it. Every pilot began to hunger for warfare, to thirst for the kill, for the adrenaline high of the fight. From his own oily fingertips, Sheog could feel the grip of hundreds of hands upon control yokes and firing arrays. A Sith Battlemind was formed.

 

His own insatiable hunger began to grow, and he began to allow threads of his ravenousness to reach towards the stars, and even to the nearby moon. He could feel a familiar presence, amongst the assembled fleet that was assembled before the. He had not felt the signature in the Force since his interactions alongside Furion on Spite Station. He had helped the man attack the Kiffar Sith, Lucifer many years in the past. The news of his turning to the Jedi had made him particularly irate.

 

Tobias Vos

 

The massive Hutt reached through the force with his grasping hunger, and felt the man alongside the open mind of a young girl. Sheog immediately sent the alert through the Battlemind. He traced their presence to align with the sensorbanks readout of a HWK-290. He lit up the transport in the Battlemind, and to Kain’s AI, illuminating it for all pilots and Sith.

 

...These are the Jedi… Prepare for engagement…

 

If the Jedi enemy were to come, he would feast upon their will, to sap their strength and drain their resolution to fight. He would ensure their disjointedness, a brainfog of unyielding hunger. He could feel the mind of the girl far across the system, (Sandy), and pressed his hunger and avarice towards her vulnerabilities. She felt off, as if unstable in the Force. He touched each of the Sith minds about him, his troops below, their Tuk’ata, Kain, Delta, to Faust far below, and finally that of Ailbasí Zirtani, allowing them to assist in his efforts.

 

<>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The taste of fear roiled from the surface of Onderon, casting its reflection into the cosmic winds, into the gravitational well of Dxun itself. The Lord of the Krath sat upon his dias, within the meditation sphere upon The Demented Madness, and he feasted. Fear was a beautiful thing, easily twisted in the dark. Like a child’s fright brought upon by the setting of the sun, fears abounding upon themselves in the dark, distorting fear into terror.

 

The Demented Madness, stealthed from sensors, began its long pass in the cloak of the gravity well, following the fighter wings on their approach. The Hutt could feel the Clone as his hands gripped the control yoke of his ARC, he could feel each passing iteration of tactical analysis as it passed in waves through his battle-hardened mind. A plan was selected, analyzed, and then thrown away at the pace of summer lightning upon the plains of Dantooine. The Lord of Madness touched the clone’s mind, narrowing the focus and intent to align with the Battlemind. He trusted the Clone with his life, but the citizens of Iziz far below would be reckless to do the same.

 

The minds of the citizens and soldiers below were like an untreated forest, rife with dried wood and bramble, and fear would be the bolt of lightning that ignited a wildfire. The fleet of the Sith loomed upon the horizon like birds of prey, poised to consume all life. Rumors of explosions at the palace did nothing to assuage fears, and the fire began to grow. The Lord of the Krath breathed upon the fire, stoking its flames into his own creations, feeding upon the fears, the frights, and the terrors as they spread.

 

The alarm within the Onderon Space Command was swelling with each report. One fleet’s departure, and another’s arrival. A horde of voices unified in a way only heard in night terrors. A creeping feeling of doubt at their own training, tripping a cascade of adrenaline-fueled trepidation. The light was fading for them, being swallowed by a new dawn, the darkness of unnatural horrors. Sheog gorged upon the apprehension and fed the foreboding in every mind not in his allegiance. The Mad Hutt channeled the power back into its source, as a blacksmith feeds a furnace. It was delicious.

 

Far below within the city of Iziz, a mother held her children to her bosom, a growing dread replacing the warmth of her heart. Her husband worked in the capital, at the royal palace as a warden. The rumours of explosions there had reached her, and as the fleet appeared on the horizon her worries had expounded. Death was knocking on her door, and she was falling to its whispers of dread. She began to fetch a bath for her children, her hands worrying at their summer-blonde hair as she pressed their heads under the water's cool embrace, her face gaunt with a sickening unease. She had to save them from whatever horrors awaited the capital of Onderon. She was one voice amongst a choir of scrumptious terror as it grew with his direction.

 

You could almost taste it. Melt-in-your-mouth and succulent fear. The bedrock of all dark things. A primal thing, devouring hope, debasing strength. Fear was on the rise, and it was a mouthwatering feast. Within the terror, The Lord of Madness would find weaknesses, shatterpoints for Onderon’s destruction, or whatever decided to oppose them. The enemy's fear would be the fires of their own destruction.

Edited by Guest

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The currents of fear flowed in eddies about the assembled Sith Fleet, radiating from the planet, and the Onderon Defense Fleet, each Sith pilot acting in tandem together without a single word being exchanged. The tide of fear fed the streams of power to each pilot, each Sith Lord, a powerful updraft from a planet of beauty, aflame with terror. Each Sith individually exemplified their code, and it was woven into the battlemind’s currents, as a dark undertone, a well without end. Alibasi would have her first lesson, as Sheog began to weave the feast before them into the currents of darkness.

 

Peace is a lie…

 

The citizens of Iziz were caught in the flow, their fear feeding itself to terror, swelling as it was overwhelmed with the darkened power. The Hutt began to consume, allowing the feast to form for each member of the Sith. The slipstream of terror fed each in their turn, driving a boundless hunger. A black hole was never satisfied, hidden behind the light. The brightest casts the darkest shadows, and when its energy is spent it all falls into an endless night.

 

There is only passion...

 

The hearts of the Sith swelled as the pall of dread wove them all together. Drinking deep of their emotions, reveling in their appetites and desires, all bound to the current. Expounding the fear, driving it like spears before them into the hearts of those that stood against them.

Through Passion, we gain strength…

 

Emotions were welcome, even at their extremes. The currents of fear filled the cup to overflowing, filling each with the full breathless pull of the darkened embrace. A ravenous and controlled horde, working as one beast, and at its heart were the Lords of the Sith. A whirlwind of immeasurable magnitude, a grasping current pulling all hearts towards the void. An unbounded darkness

 

Through Strength, we gain Power…

 

The potency of the shadow was overwhelming, a deepset and primal strength from which all dark things abounded. The fleet was only a minute expression of the monstrous darkness that was unfolding its wings in the skies above Iziz.

 

Through Power, we gain Victory…

 

Into the battlemind a roar of esurient power passed across each circuit that connected them in Kain, through each tendril of darkness The Shadow Spinner passed, and the gathering storm of insatiable voracity which centered around the Lord of Madness. The Jedi’s precious light was extinguished in cowardice. A candle snuffed out, leaving only the monsters who fed on the fear of those left abandoned. The light was a gift from the darkness, concealing its power until the light falls, and all hopes are dashed.

 

Through Victory, our Chains are Broken…

 

The apprentice would find the unbound passions swelling, in a controlled frenzy of Sith power. The beguiling nature of the darkness, the wildness untapped, the bestial power of Sith strength. An all consuming storm, feasting upon Iziz, twisting fears into nightmares, nightmares into reality.

 

The Force shall Free Us…

 

The darkness had been graced with a taste of the fear, a delicious meal to itself, its currents strong, but the hunger was for far greater things. An unbinding of the soul, a consummation of all life.

 

A flicker in the Force, and a shuttle found its way into the heart of the horde. (Xae) Into the Battlemind the Lambda Shuttle alight with attention. Thousands of eyes, as if the entire ocean had focused upon one fish. It was caught in the eye of a hurricane of fear, a fly fighting against the winds of a hurricane. Corrupted Transponder read to ancient codes of the Sith, and the tempest focused its gales upon the hidden presence. The Lord of Madness reached out within the web, like a spider sensing a fly entwined with its silk. He brought a cyclone across the stars, an invitation to the storm of ravenous terror. The darkness brought a gift, another ally called from the ancient heavens to unify the power of the Sith. The currents of fear directed themselves to the newcomer, to caress or to drown.

 

...Drink from the river, embrace the beauty of their terror…

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 2 weeks later...

The force is a mirror in which all the failures of the light can be seen. The deaths on Kuat, countless dead in the name of the light. The dark reflection twisted by the failing of the ight as a slave to the bondage of morality. It was that failing light that sprang up across the horizon of death that was rising over Iziz, brought by a familiar presence. The Mad Hutt had felt her before, watched her be defeated upon during his own invasion of Gala. Exorcists, their light only held strength when supported by a mind and philosophy as rugged as the mountains of Vespa, and as unyielding as the ravenous hunger he possessed.

 

...I have studied you and found nothing but weakness…

 

The battlemind hardened, focusing the fear to consume the pitiful flames that sprang from that broken mind.

 

...I felt the fires as they consumed your friends, consumed your will to fight as all you loved died around you…

 

The vortex of terror rose to consume all light, grasping at it with hands withered and greedy. Sucking upon the light to feed it with false hope, easy dashed with the revelation already springing from the Force. She had been broken before, a shattered cistern no longer able to hold the hopes of the light. False purity, a facade easily crumbled to dust. A frontage of false fire, the combined broken promises to a thousand worlds left to rot by the Jedi. There would be no solace here, it was a black furnace of passion, of emotion, of fear that would burn away the false fires of the Exorcist, scar their pitiful Code that left the galaxy to die with its shallow teachings.

 

...Leave lest you be lost in the dark or consumed by its power, take your friends and flee to your impotent Council of infighting fragility…

 

The Hutt twisted the images from Cardia into the storm that buffeted the Exorcist, the recordings of the temple. Of an apprentice striking down innocents, at the head of columns of skull-faced soldiers. Bringing forth collations with the fall of the Jedi in the decades prior.

 

...Your apprentice, the broken thing you abandoned in her time of need now falls to passion, to the call of our power, its promise of even greater strength…

 

Dark tendrils tore into the light, ripping at the flames and devouring them, as it did the fear of the falling world

 

...How long until she falls? How long until she becomes yet another failure of yours? How long until she bows to the the dark and accepts it builds the strong and kills the weak?

 

The Sith Battlemind turned towards an emerging threat, casting aside the Lambda shuttle as a useless distraction, compared to more challenging prey. As The Paladin joined with the V-wings, a simultaneous rush of primal lust ran along the Sith fleet, they had missed out on a slaughter earlier, now they had the opportunity for another. To dance in the ashes of consumed lives, devoured by their hunger for war. The Mad Hutt dispatched his apprentice on the ship of the newcoming bounty hunter, she had her own mission, to follow the tendrils of hope which kept Iziz from falling into chaos and devour them. The Demented Madness would follow The Clone into battle, still under the cover of sensorscreens. It's weapons were ready to intercept any threat.

 

The Lord of the Krath began to weave the fears of Iziz, of the OSC, spurned by the abandonment of the Jedi. The foreboding that bore the Paladin and its fighters on their intercept course was folly, and it would drive them to their own destruction. He had a deep-rooted anitpathy for blind loyalty, for the misplaced hope which drove these Onderonians towards their doom. They were flying into a trap, and into the Force, the Masters of the Sith began to spin the shadows of doom into reality.

 

Whispers of uneasiness would crawl through their skulls, turning boldness into panic, a cold sweat that drove the warmth of heroism into the neurosis of hunted prey. They would gaze into the eyes of a beast as it devoured them. From the shadows of space formed a rush of starships, warped in their form, glittering hulks scarred from war, a fleet of the dead. Blackened hulls crushed by fire and the pull of centuries. It was a tapestry woven from the fear of them all, plaited by the combined terror of millions, and to those of the Paladin, it would be all too real.

 

The hulks were the tip of a spear that would be driven into the heart of the Paladin, and in their death they would join destruction’s parade. All they would need to do was fire. An overwhelming foreboding entwined the hearts of Onderon’s heroes, and to that, one answer was fed. The taste of heroism turned sour. Of Onderon’s past. Of the beastriders, and for their monarchs. They could change nothing. They could do nothing to save them. They could only run. Run to the ends of the galaxy where the darkness could not consume them.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 1 month later...

The overly insane Hutt pushed himself into the Commander’s meeting, which had assembled within the barracks of the Royal Gaurd. According to his intelligence report, hand delivered by Tau’vang his trusted Ewok Butler, the meeting was to address the Sith takeover of the world and to form a protest. The Hutt Sith wore only his monocle as he slithered in through the servant’s entrance, listening to the uproarous debate around him

 

“We cannot allow for such evil to take root here!”

 

The Hutt observed a pompously large man take the floor, his chest full of war-medals and rank insignias.

 

...Such a vexing display for a world that has been at peace for millennia…

 

The man’s soft voice erupted with alcohol-slurred anger, which was accompanied by the gyrations of his enormous belly, and the jingling of his medals.

 

“The demons come in the form of a white furrbeast… Much like what my son dresses up like for Dxun-con… And it has corrupted our Prince!”

 

Sheog’s crimson eyes narrowed as he began to devour and direct their rising paranoia. A chorus of cheers erupted from the ranks, along with anti-furry chants that would make any self-respecting Coruscanti triggered at the social injustice.

 

“I say we take back our country, form a government in exile, and beg the Jedi to come back to fight for us, and run away at the first sight of battle!”

 

The crowd’s cheers were more confused than enthusiastic. Quizzical looks were exchanged like AIDS in a bathhouse.

 

<>

 

The Hutt moved through the crowd, moving generals aside with his ornate walking staff. He glanced over at a broadshouldered woman who glared at him with the hazel eyes that spoke volumes about her lack of a fatherfigure.

 

<<...And Ladies who were brought in for diversity…>>

 

The Hutt placed a chubby finger to his soppingly moist lips, as if hushing them. He blew a few chunks of half-solidified spittle over an elderly man, dousing his glasses and causing him to fall.

 

<>

 

“I think I’ve broken a HIP!”

 

The Hutt coughed awkwardly and continued

 

<>

 

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up! Someone call my caretak-”

 

Sheog beat the man into the mauve shag carpeting with his tail. Each powerful slam shattered the man further, until he was nothing more than chunky bits of person.

 

<>

The faces of Onderon’s commanding forces looked at him in horror. The Hutt’s voice became terrified as he summoned the Force about him as a shield

 

<>

 

The Hutt tore each of the evil bone-beasts from their humanly husks, splintering them with powerful thrusts of his chubby fists, his grotesque tail, or the pommel of his walking stick. When he was finished, he was blubbering with a lack of breath, and sopping with sweat. He heaved a sigh as he looked across the masses of flesh, dotted with powdered bone.

 

<>

 

He reached down with a dripping fist and gathered a handful of the white powder in his palm. The Hutt Sith took out a credit voucher and snorted the powder through it into his sagging nostrils. The rush made him feel alive, and he could almost sense the life he was devouring. His eyes widened and he beckoned to the crowd of now-dead generals and admirals with a gesture of welcome. He placed a contract on the podium, and held out a quill made from the finest rump-feathers of the Kriclasvern, an extinct inhabitant of Mechis III, which the Hutt had hunted to extinction after a prolonged campaign of genocide.

 

<>

 

The Lord of the Krath began to growl with frustration, the quivering sound of half-digested food reverberating in his gullet. The lack of movement from Onderon's ruling class was beginning to annoying him.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 2 weeks later...

The Massive Hutt looked from Armalite to the small creature announced to him, and then back to the weapon. The Force echoed in the same sound from both of them, a twisting madness held within the bonds of flesh and crystal. He remembered the taste on his lips, the insanity of the first kill, held within the bonds of frost and ice. Overkill, a thousand bullets obliterating flesh into smear upon the fields of ice. The Hutt’s gutt bounced as a small laugh exited his mouth along with a healthy dose of phlegm

 

<

 

The Lord of the Krath reached out with his gluttony, feeding into the beast’s own hunger. It was not unlike that of a rhakgoul, or a shadowalker, a primal desire much deeper than its simple bindings of flesh and sinew. He raised his staff, allowing the humanity from Armalite flow to the beast in an offering.

 

<>

 

Sheog glanced at his holopad, observing a message from his beloved Exodus. His gluttony had overwhelmed his manners, and the admonishment from The Dark Lord was well deserved. He nodded to the holopad and summoned The Demented Madness. Sith Master Anders Rae and his twin approached, summoned with a widecast. Alaibasi was summoned as well, to start her training with the two human twins.

 

He peered at the Cathar through his crimson eyes, smelling the inhaled medications clingingto her fur. Her words carries a maternal tone, but he ignored it.

<>

 

He paused for a breath

 

<>

 

The Hutt prepared for departure, and the Demented Madness left the dual gravity well of Onderon and Dxun for the vast emptiness of space above. He would follow Exodus’ call, to death or whatever madness awaited. He was growing hungry again, and the insatiability was driving his insanity.

Edited by Guest

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 3 weeks later...

Anders Rae slipped silently beside the young Cathar the darkness of his cloak swirling about him like a shadow. His eyes were those of a demon, and without his Master’s influence, the Sith Lord was eager to leave behind the abhorrent laziness that had consumed him. Scarron Rae, his mirror in every way but sex, stepped to the other side of the Cathar, brushing aside a long lock of auburn hair from her sulphuric gaze. They were both clad in simple cloaks and tunics of pure black, stained from years of work beside the former Dark Lord of the Sith. Scarron pressed the credit-chit back into the Cathar’s furred paw with delicate fingers, painted in crimson with the symbolism of the Sith. A swirling tapestry that foretold the spells of witchcraft in which she was proficient entwined every finger, arising from the cuticle to disappear within her robed sleeves like a vine creeping up a marble pillar.

“Keep your money, young thing… You are the apprentice of Sheog the Mad…”

 

Anders stepped forward, his boots of blackened steel making a satisfying click.

 

“Worry not about material possessions or comfort, for with the Sith you will have both, but as an apprentice you must first earn them.”

 

Scarron pressed a simple knife of durasteel into the Cathar’s hand.

 

“You have shown you can be a diplomat, now show us you can do more than talk. Take a room for your own, and bring us back the body… And the story.”

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 3 weeks later...

The halls of The Marie were filled with the rushing footsteps of soldiers and pilots preparing for departure. To Scarron, the scattered thoughts and borderline panic flowed around her like a river as she tasted its sweet waters. Fear was in the background of every conversation, even those of Black Sun’s finest warriors, and it was delicious. Her brother followed in her wake, taking the hum of war in with each breath. To the half broken kitten, the Sith twins were an enigma, a brooding pair meditatively silent to the proceedings around them. Anders broke his silence with a gravely word

 

“Zirtani, your exhaustion causes your mind’s clarity to wane like a winter’s moon.”

 

Scarron’s words carried a venomous undertone, like the reverberating hiss of a coiled serpent.

 

“You would find yourself swiftly dead with such distraction..."

 

Her voice softened slightly and she outstretched her hand to the snow-white creature, staring into bestial eyes of vivid cerise, matched with tawny sulphur.

 

“Reach into that pain, cast away the deadness of your mind… Refresh yourself with the caress of the dark. When your mind is fully immersed, what do you see?”

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 3 months later...

“Ahhh… Onderon. The hidden jewel of our Empire. My question though, mighty lord, Is it a man or is it a planet?”

 

Sheog turned his deformed head to gaze at the Sith officer through drooping lids, barely containing the savagery of his stare. The fire-helmed officer’s face bulged and he began to shudder as he began to vomit forth his own intestines as if they were a fifth of Hennessy and he was a college girl after a late night party of drinks and drugs.

 

A female Twi’lek officer stepped over the seizing remains of her former commander, nudging aside the bright pink stomach as it writhed against the toe of her polished black boot as she did so.

 

“We are preparing a transmission for you sir, to the Sith Apprentice Luci- I mean Karys.”

 

The Sith Master shook his gigantic head, and relied instead on The Force to broadcast his presence to all upon the planet. It was much more fun to kick the nest and see what scurried forth. An overwhelming gluttonous urge would broadcast his appearance above the world to any that were force-sensitive on the world below

 

...Karys… You lost my girl an eye…

 

On the planet below, a shadowed form came upon both Telperian and Karys where they stood by the command table. It was the hulking form of a corrupted Rancor, slobbering jaws twisted into a smile.

 

<>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 2 weeks later...

With a large puff of his pipe, the insane Hutt passed a feeling of skepticism but acceptance. As the Sith erupted in wrath, he began to understand. All the man desired was destruction, but he tempered it for the good of the Sith Empire. It was admirable, and a trait not often seen amongst his brothers and sisters in the Empire.

 

<>

 

He passed a mission with his blessing, full defensive investigation of the Sith’s garrison.

<>

 

To his newest apprentice, he passed the landing codes for the Bleeding Kyber, and greeted him in the Force.

 

<>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 4 weeks later...

As the Princeling Milenko entered the grandiose Star Destroyer, the young Hayley motioned for him to follow her with a gloved hand. She brought them both to a small turbolift, and entered into the control panel a long series of numbers, which started the turbolift moving at great speed.

 

“Welcome to my Master’s experimental chamber, scientific experiments specifically. I’m sure his sexual and spiritual experimenting chambers are elsewhere.”

 

She gave the prince a wink with her one good eye, and motioned to a lab of sparkling ebony, lit by the fractured red crystals that ran like the pumping veins of a beast throughout the ship. Each crystal structure glittered and pulsed, screams of pain echoing through the force. The latticework was bound with the souls of those that had died in their conquests. Corellia, Dathomire, Coruscant, and finally Kashyyyk. The collected souls of the damned would light their work.

 

A large holoconsole displayed the pending genome project, an experiment in imprinting the complex genetic structure of a Tuk’ata with dark side corruption. There had been 132 experiments so far, each closer then the last at providing corrupted strength without a polymerizing chain reaction that would erase all usability from the beast. All in good time.

 

Another consol glowed green before a negative pressured chamber, displaying several Aurebesh warnings about the recombination of a several plagues throughout history. Currently a Trandoshan scientist was performing horizontal gene transfer to isolate the natural virulance of the Rakghoul Plague, in order to revitalize the ancient strains they had found on Belsavis, the LUCA of which was none other then the disease that had ripped the Infinite Empire apart, in memory long perished.

 

Finally, there was a large bacta-tank, bound by the crimson crystals in which floated the body of a young woman with raven hair and elfin features. Emblazoned on the side of the tank were letters F.O.X. The monitors showed little signs of life, but for a few lines of neural oscillation fed from implanted Magnetoencephalography. Theta waves were present in her hippocampus, and they matched the screams that echoed in the force. Every tortured soul was speaking through the dreams of the lifeless corpse.

 

“You spoke of awakening life. We know of awakening demons…”

---Planetside---

 

With gusto that only could be described as Hutt-privilege, The Demented Madness landed beside the troop formations that the Massassi was training. As the dust settled about them, the landing ramp yawned, matched with a widening hunger that permeated the dusty air with tangible intensity. From the lowering ramp, a small ranat scuttled, rushing to the Massassi Sith as fast as its little rodent feet could carry it. It wore a too-small blazer through which tufts of fur were bursting forth, and almost as ill-fitting was a feathered cap and monicle. It squeaked out in broken basic as it rose to its hind legs, motioning a bow with its arm as its tail whipped about him

 

“My name is Horatio Foruenbach, concierge of the Mad Hutt, Sheog, Master of the Krath.”

 

It bowed again, and the troops immediately straightened their shoulders in unison, like marionettes pulled by the same strings. The mighty Hutt pushed his way down the ramp as silence loomed about them. He wore a grey hood under which his crimson eyes blazed, the outline of a scraggly beard pouring down his matching grey tunic. How the countless rolls of greasy fat were contained was a mystery. At his side walked a buxom blonde, who stood out for her overused appearance.

 

“The Master Sheog, and his… ah… Associate? Kormy Daniels. You might know her from her appearances in… ah… Holos I will not name.”

 

The ranat sighed, whispering an aside

 

“At least it isn’t Rose Tico.”

 

The crimson eyes of the Hutt found his apprentice and a large smile spread over his grotesque face, making it even more unnerving. The Force pulled Karys to him, and the Hutt embraced him as a brother, squishing the man into his greasy folds. His voice was a blubbery whisper

 

<>

He turned to the troops, raising his staff above his head

 

<>

 

Scattered clapping came from the crowd of mostly confused troops. The Hutt held his apprentice at arm’s length, which was disappointingly not out of the range of spittle.

 

<>

 

As The Demented Madness made its way towards the assembled fleet, the great Hutt gave his former apprentice a mighty clap on the back. The Fleet was arranged in a perimeter behind the minefield, complimenting the Golan platforms with fire-support.

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The princeling’s words at first confused her, but as they became clear, a heated blush began to stain her pale skin crimson. It ran its way to her ears before she could get her emotions under control. The taste of bile soured her mouth, the memories of the attempted rape upon her by Uriel Stonedog clawing their way from where she had suppressed them. All these years later, several bodies ago, the feelings of violation and rage burned through her as if his tearing hands were still marking her skin.

 

“Those are chambers of Wrath.”

 

Hayley breathed out with her warning, the blush smoldering into ash on her skin. About her the Force took upon an edge of ice, and the very air began to chill. She motioned to the genome project, and brought up a holofeed of the destruction of Kashyyyk. Tuk’ata were seen tearing Wookiees asunder and feasting upon their corpses.

 

“The minds of lesser beings are easy to manipulate. Tuk’ata have been manipulated by the Sith since the early ages of the Sith. Their very DNA has been warped by the hands of countless Sith, into the chalice of corruption that you see before you.”

 

The girl held her hand over a sampling tray, and the screens lit up with a variety of signals.

 

“Useless beasts other then for cannon fodder. Imagine splicing the DNA of higher creatures to be as easily influenced as these…”

 

She pointed to the plagues, drawing the link between the two experiments. A small throwing dagger attached to a chain rose from the table, into her palm. She studied the notched edges with her one good eye, watching her reflection warp as she handled it. It ebbed and flowed with the desires of the room about them

 

“The Krath Master… Ason Antilles once bore this weapon. He used it to spread his own version of the Rakghoul plague, one that bound the minds and souls of those it struck to his will. Didn’t stop Sheog from eating him though.”

With the toss of her hand, she underhanded the blade to the Princeling, handle first so it wouldn’t stab the man.

 

“We have little interest in zombies. We want the living to choose the darkness, embrace it and grow stronger. If not, we want them to be utterly useless in their opposition.”

 

A growing hunger swept over them as The Demented Madness landed onboard The Bleeding Kyber. Hayley sent forth a greeting to her master, and followed Milenko to floating corpse, the subject of his attention. Jealousy sprang unwanted to her mind as she looked over the girl, darkness seeping from her body with every scream from broken souls.

 

“Reach into yourself, Princeling. What motivates you to breath, what keeps you from death? What drives you to embrace the dark? Here is mine...”

 

Rage began to rise within the girl standing beside the prince. It was echoed in the body before them, the crimson veins of crystal beginning to pulsate with the heartbeat of the damned. Broken heroes thrown from their high morality to bathe in blood.

 

...Biters and Retrobates…

 

Hayley was all but gone, replaced by a wicked thing, all grace and poise fallen away to the embodiment of Wrath. It beckoned the man to fall into its embrace. To join in the corruption of soul

 

...I am the second sin of man beyond the fallen fruit, I fell the first, bringing death to an innocent world. I drink of fierce Phlegethon, and thirst for her waves of torrent fire aflame with rage...

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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With slow and slithering movements, the great Hutt Master observed the scene but said nothing. Wrath had been unleashed from the bonds of the seven, it was the responsibility of those that had awakened it to fix it. He saw little of the Sith before him, their squabbles and debates, his observations were focused to the machinations of his newest apprentice.

 

They were shambling husks, sloppy clones of humanity. With a flabby hand in the Force, the Mountain of Gluttony inspected the creations, not bothering with the distractions of the physical world. Their rags of skin, emotions marionetted by inhumanity, a feeble interpretation of the breath of life. Born without life’s embrace to crystalline soul. It saddened the great Hutt, they were living life without its sins and joys.

 

To the ears or audiosensors of the clones and modifications of Milenko came quiet whispers, as if the veins of kyber around them were breathing their names, echoing their desires.

 

...One, Two, Three, you have not tasted of man’s first disobedience, nor of the freedom of will to enjoy its fruits. Never drank of life’s woes, of all that birthed death to the world…

To the grand Hutt they were but infantile golems, scarcely bound to life. He pitied them, and in a way envied them.

 

...Your minds have never wondered of heaven or hell, both too far to reach, too unattainable, too far from your Master’s goals…

 

For Hayley, the embrace was unfelt, all of her mind consumed by wrath. The words of Massassi and Princeling alike fell upon her ears as if from far away, dampened by still water. Her skin was throbbing, the feeling of lustful claws upon her back, driving her towards doom. She had to fight.

 

Greed.

 

Greed turns eyes from heaven in an all consuming desire for more. More than can ever be gained.

A kiss drove wrath away, the tenderness without lust breaking the chains of memory. Her one eye opened, glowing in sulphur to gave upon the Princeling and his pledge. A small smile stained her corrupted features as they began to fade, but her words were venomous

 

...To become a monster like me, is to admit you were too weak to remain a human...

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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With greasy fingers, the grand Hutt helped the genderbent Milenko to stand, taking her gently by the chin. He pulled her close to one of his crimson eyes, the multilidded iris focusing on her gentle, yet flawed features. To her it would be as if being consumed by a gaze of blood and sulphur, deepset into Huttish features, and yet so far beyond them. His maw didn’t move, but his voice spoke to her all the same, a creaking groan of a voice, as if hewn from timber shifting in the wind. He cared little for the praise of a princeling, and he did not hear it.

 

<>

The great eye blinked slowly, the many lids and lenses shifting as if they were laughing at her request

 

<>

 

The grip on her chin softened

 

<>

The grand Hutt let the woman drop, his terrible eyes both now focused on her

 

<>

 

The Master of the Krath listened to the advice of Karys, thankful that the boy had an admiration for monologuing, it gave him time to ponder. Karys still reminded him of Darth Lucifer, far too concerned with his pride, too consumed with coming conquests under a thousand stars, to be able to grow amongst his brethren. He breathed out a blubbery sigh, and the pounding of the veins of Kyber grew to a gale of power. The girl in the tank spasmed, her muscles clenching as the demons churned.

 

<>

 

A wisp of light sparkled from the breathing Kyber, dropping between them like a flare. Within the force it was faint, but with each breath came a bestial howl of rage. A broken soul, damned to be the plaything of the new gods.

 

<>

The Hutt beckoned to the princeling as he leaned upon his staff. Within the tank, the form was still but for a twitching in her long fingers. Hayley stood by the Prince’s side, her eye closed once again, her own seething slowly calming.

 

<>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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To the golem of flesh and kyber the Hutt nodded slowly. A long wisp of spiced tobacco smoke leaked from the edge of his flabby maw. As it drifted to the slimy floor, it began to crawl towards the female, ripping itself into the form of a clawing demon.

 

<>

 

The smoke curled about her legs before it fell into a mass at her feet with a resounding clatter. As it cleared all that remained was a metallic rod that rolled about as if possessed. It was screaming. Even in her kyber soul she could see the dying Jedi that the weapon had been collected from.

 

<>

 

The choice was ominous and tantalyzing.

 

...Do you truly see?

 

All light but crimson fell away from about them. Screaming intensified as the soul began to unwind and fracture. Fragmented life falling about them like rain, the joys, the happiness, the love, masking the sorrow and loss. The massive Hutt smiled cooly, allowing his apprentice to take upon the next steps. The soul was open for exploration as it fought against its binding.

 

<>

Before Milenko, a stagnant pool of memories formed, its shores shattered like a corrupted hologram. It was a playground at a school, lined with woodchips and swarming with silent children. He was gazing into the life of this broken girl. A small hand grasped his, and a small giggle came to his ears. Beside him stood a child, no more than eight years of age, bright blue eyes and blonde curlets bound with pink ribbon

 

“Papa said your name was Mammon. Come play with me!”

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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  • 11 months later...

A roiling hunger. Bitter in its chaos, a tempest of untampered madness. Lighting and smoke of crimson. Greed and Gluttony tore at the veil of the Force, allowing their master to enter physical form once again. A mountain of filth, never broken. Insane, but never disloyal.

<<Do you think I would ever… Truly… Leave you, Shadow Spinner?>>

The deep laughter of the Hutt, flecked and filled as it was with phlegm, held true joy. Mirth carried by insanity. A silver tiara landed at the feet of the Spider, tossed by the Master of the Krath. A gift for the Dark Lord.

<<Kuat and the Empress are yours. As promised.>>

The Hutt breathed in a deep, blubbering sigh. For a moment he gave himself pause. Had he come too far into the Spider’s web, to his very bedchambers? No matter, Such an entrance would have given even Ar-Pharazon enough time to disguise his whores. The Hutt snorted, clearing his nostrils and leaving such cares behind. The Force subsided, his entrance made. He had no need to impress the leader of the Sith, the Hutt knew grandiose entrances were mundane and cliché.

<<Did you think I would leave the Krath to Draken?>>

His staff dragged upon the flagstones as the Hutt bowed his form, what little resemblance he could muster to kneeling.

<<I am not Furion...>>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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The Hutt breathed in a blubbery breath of the stale air of the Dark Lord’s personal chambers. It was claustrophobic, the air tasted of latent fear and broken souls. It could also have been because Sheog’s massive mountain of a greasy body was not meant for the humanoid living quarters. His heavy-lidded eyes, horrifying crimson flecked with sulfuric yellow, scanned the room, passing over the Empress with little interest.

…Lord Sheog…

The Hutt’s deformed nostrils wrinkled, a momentary disdain for the title. He was a Master of the Sith and killed more Jedi then the rest of the active order combined to get there. Somehow, he had even killed several of the Jedi several times.

…What do you think the Sith have become?

The Hutt pondered the question. He never knew, when talking to his Sith brethren, if such questions were traps, or bait, or reason for some idiot to attack him. He didn’t care to be cautious with Exodus, diplomacy and guile were not the Hutt’s style, and would stink of dishonesty even worse then the noxious grease that stained his flesh. Sheog set the stage with a recounting of Kuat, the last battle at which the Sith had been tested. He was blunter then normal.

<<Our Sith got kriffing rickrolled by Stormtroopers without lightsabers.>>

The Hutt snorted derisively, pausing to deal with the phlegm that came from his action. He almost coughed the slimy bolus onto the Dark Lord, but caught himself, swallowing it like Lallu would have. He continued, his disgust bridling on anger.

<<Well Lucifer died, which is par for the course... Have you ever played Acceron mini-Golf? Like one shotting every hole at a family fun center. Yeppp... Lucifer got bloody roasted. His apprentice too. Wasted by an unmounted TIE pilot no less.>>

The Hutt produced a small, desiccated wormlike lizard. Its dead flesh was cradled in his palm. The chubby fingers slowly curled around it, crushing it into bloodless chunks. Wordless disgust. Ysalimiri

<<Oni died like a bitch against what they called a... Sexorcist I think. Probably was a fun death by the sounds of it. Got burned alive by flames, must have been one hell of a night. You ever had a night like that? Burning the bedsheets…>>

The Hutt glanced sideways at the Empress and gave her what he thought was a coy smile but it came across as a grotesque interest.

<<They don't call you Sexodus for nothin I'm sure.>>

The Insane Hutt calmed his absurdity, halting his prattling monologue before it became more indecent. He glowered at the tiara, pondering the Imperial’s efficiency. They had used some form of Meta, had won everything, but had still lost.

<<What have the Sith become?>>

The Force was rocked by the Hutt’s concentrated madness. Gluttony and greed entwined, wrapping themselves about the Hutt like a cloak. The staff cracked against the flagstones, sending sparks into the shadows.

<<They do as most creatures do. Shirk from responsibility when it is foisted upon them. We have a galaxy to conquer, let us not allow the weak to feed upon our strength, like a babe sups upon the breast…>>

His eyes fell to the Spider’s, and they shone with power

<<Let us forge it in our strength. If the rest of the Sith are to follow, they will need to grow up from the children they are. To leave their sandcastles. Their toys. Their whores...>>

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King Kheldar vos Correlli said:
Sheog, I have to ask, overkill much?
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