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Mordecai stared into the black as the ships drew nearer and positioned themselves for combat. A massive armada of Sith warships stood against the Rebel scum, and he grinned with savage malice. The slaughter would be marvelous. Aware of his apprentice's arrival, he broadcast a final time to all rebel ships. "Rebels, I am Darth Mavanger, champion of the Kuat Drive Yards and your greatest foe. I will not waste time on pleasantries- Turn back now, or die. To those that will remain, there shall be no mercy. Long live the Sith Empire." His calm was only a facade now. He had received the Dark Lord's reinforcements, but they were paltry. Was that all the Dark King of the Sith could spare? One capital ship and an amalgamation of cruisers and frigates? He sneered. He would do it himself then. Kuat was easily one of the most important planets of the war- with it, and control of the Kuat Drive Yards, the rebels could produce a fleet to rival their own. This would not be acceptable. His rage boiled within, and he nurtured it, nursing it into a raging fury. He would not allow this place to fall. He glanced at Kahla, nodding at her as the Hutt came and went. It would either prove itself more than it let on, or die and be out of his sight. "My apprentice, we stand on the precipice of madness. The Rebels are striking our home, the heart of our fleet. Do not let them take it. I shall be in the thick of combat, holding the Kuat Drive Yards. I leave your actions to your discretion. Either fight on the front lines or command your fleet from your flagship- the choice is yours. May the Force serve us victory." He looked at the captain, nodding. "The bridge is yours, Maran. Pummel them." He turned and strode off the bridge, his armor rustling as he did so. They had already detected transport craft, and the alarm had been sent to the Kuat Drive Yards. After the rebels' last play for the planet, the security had been tightened, more hardened veterans and capable commanders present in the most important junctions and hangars. That is where he would join them. As he walked, he was made aware of a second set of steps behind him. He glanced back, slowing as he noticed Lord Xahl. "Lord Xahl. And so we arrive once more on the edge of greatness. Kuat has been good to us, good to our careers. Let us hold it once more, as a bastion against the chaos of these rebel scum." Xahl only nodded, ever silent, though his emotions were clear on his face. Hatred. He knew little of Xahl's history with the rebels, but what he did know made him understand the man's disdain as well as he understood his own. "We shall have our vengeance, Lord Xahl."

A madness began to writhe within him, erupting through the carefully placed shielding like a bushel-basket catching fire from the flame it concealed. The rawness of the dark side ripped through the room, an ancient Sith revealed to the fullness of the Force. He was the reflection of the Maw itself, its unquenchable hunger drawing upon everything about himself. The Kriskwallon Bread Puffs roiled in his stomach, and he reached a hand into his satchel scattering the decking with white worms as he shoveled a handful into his gullet. The air seemed to change its taste. There was great hunger here, even so far from the Maw. So far from Her. White worms scattered the deck, writhing in that perpetual agony so natural to non-sentient prey. Their deaths were easy and thus the meal they made gave little sustenance to his troubled mind. The Jedi, however, would be a meal worthy of the madness. His malformed lips twisted, bubbles of air creeping through from one of his many stomachs in an explosive belch which shook the air. The Force was twisting his starvation into the tools he needed to procure his sustenance. “Let the Child go from here.” Crimson eyes focused, the multiple lids closing and opening to help the lenses with their task. The Hutt reached out with a worm-stained hand, motioning to the beautiful Gwenhwyfar as she reached for her blaster pistol. He reached out, beyond his body, ensnaring the girl in his locus of control. He could feel her heartbeat increase as his hunger crept through her veins. It began to echo within his own, middle heart. The worms on the floor, even within the folds of their own primitive reality, reflected himself; a mirror of his life in the eggbeds of Nal Hutta. He was beyond the realm of response, or the formation of words. Hunger was all he could feel. He stretched out beyond the worms and the girl, finding the brightness of the Jedi, her purity reflected upon the universe. Another heartbeat, one filled with life and warmth. He was drawn to it like a flitmoth to the flame, but unlike them he did not worship the heat or bask in the light; he was the malformation of a black hole, and the Jedi was a failing star upon the event horizon. He would consume. Devour. Her other words went unheard as he began to pull upon the heartbeats about him. The tenderness of Gwen, the primitivity of the worms, his own hunger, and the light of the Jedi. It burned within him, his stomach roiling. All would feed him. The knives cracked to speed, born by the Jedi’s power, a few shades of light against the darkness of the Maw. One of the blades scoured a furrow into his greasy, defiled flesh, drawing beads of puss and rotten blood, which reflected as malachite in the silver light of the Jedi’s blade. Pain seeped into the background of his hunger, driving it into a maddening pitch. Gwenhwyfar screamed as pain reflected into her, ripping and tearing through the nerves of her shoulder, a mimicry of the Hutt’s wound. The second knife, tossed by the fair hand of the Jedi shattered against the blade of Armalite as the Hutt hefted it in hand, the cold-worn blade of the bearded-ax splintering the durasteel with a near-sentient cry in the force from the spirit trapped within the alchemical weapon. It began to match the furious heartbeat of hunger that the Master of Krath had bound himself to, adding its voice to the madness of it all. All Kuat could feel it now, the locus of control spreading, eating at everything in its wake. He would consume all life, and bring it all to the void. When the shockwave came, ripping through the decking, the Hutt used its momentum to launch his bulk at the paltry Jedi with her sword of silver fire. He breathed in a blubbering breath, adding the metal to his control, watching as it began to bend and quake to the heartbeats of hunger. He added Gwenhwyfar’s pain into himself, amplifying her terror into a source of power, applying it to the durasteel around him. Steel plating buckled and failed, tearing up around him as he flew and shattering as he landed in a shockwave before the Jedi. The light was close now, close enough to swallow, to drain away into darkness. There was a weakness within it. The Jedi had cared for the child. To care was the weakness of the Jedi. It was how they all fell. He fell upon that tender heartbeat like a Krayt to a nerf. Sheog’s flabby finger slipped along his ceremonial staff, using it as a focus for his hunger. Through the soul reaper, he focused upon Gwenhwyfar, upon that heartbeat that mimicked his own. He spread out within her, entwining her like a coiled serpent. He tore into the furrowed flesh of her shoulder, peeling back the skin and revealing the exposed nerves to the bite of the cold air. He amplified Gwenhwyfar’s pain into a nightmare of pain and reflected it upon the Jedi before him. What the Jedi valued, would be defiled. One hand upon his ceremonial staff, the other on Armalite, the Hutt tore at the light, at that foreign heartbeat, utilizing the child’s pain as a tool. With the twist of his palm, he sent Armalite flicking towards the Jedi’s chest, thrown like an oversized tomahawk to skewer to woman into the shattered decking. It moved in an unnatural pattern; the spirits bound to its metal consumed by the maddening hunger of their master. They desired blood and could smell it in the air. Gwenhwyfar’s screams echoed through the halls, shrill and terrified against the stillness of the facility. ((1)) ((TL;DR: Damage taken from one of the knives. Mental attack on Sandy along with an alchemical weapon toss aimed at her chest.))