Sheog the Mad

Once more, the beast fell back against his blue-firebolts and once more, it did not die. The energy in its core only seemed to grow stronger with each bolt. As the beast's metallic hand grabbed for the growling blade, Sheog called upon his gluttony and greed to intervene. It was about time for a switch-up. His stomach began to roil as a ship driven from its moorings, and his maser dropped with a clatter to the white floor. An evil door had been opened inside him. Pain and fire began to pour into him. It would consume him if it were not removed. His desire for this meal drove him deeper within the stomach of the force. Through it's devouring waves he could sense the Sithspawn, readying a strike. Only worthy meals fought back. The fight made their consumption all the sweeter and filling. The black hole of his gluttony wished to devour this beast. What would be better than a pre-digestion? The force carried out the glutton's orders, increasing the fire inside him, rearranging structures and creating a weapon worthy of a glutton. Sheog's slimy maw opened and the entirety of his stomach contents flew forth towards the Sithspawn, expelled by the gluttony for a greater feast and the greed for a greater influence and applied through the force's influence upon his body. The very basis of his former meal had been changed. What had been a meal of fish and worms was now fully ignited magma, acidic beyond measure. The harsh liquor was like a burning net, keeping the mass on course and accurate, and adding to its causticity. The entire corridor was filled with the flaming bile, and the corridor was to be consumed. Sheog pushed himself backwards the full weight of his gluttony and greed bearing down upon him. If the beast were to somehow survive and attack, he readied his vibrosword, prepared to smite down the delicious meal and devour it.

((My sincerest apologies on the delay my friend. I hope it shall not occur again!)) Sheog placed a greedy handful of white worms within his gaping maw, savoring their sweet taste as they wriggled their way to their delicious doom. The Demented Madness sailed towards the pale diamond amongst the countless stars that surrounded this part of the Galactic Core under the direct control of the hungry Hutt. He was yet a Huttling within the ranks of his Sith brethren, but his discovery of a probable location of an ancient Sith artifact was promising. If he was able to successfully recover this article of the ancient Sith, his standing amongst the family would certainly increase. His laughter rumbled throughout the empty barge, ringing off the polished black hull. He'd left the crew behind on Kamino due to their incessant drinking and utter uselessness. His stomach rumbled and he stuffed another handful of the wriggling goodies into his maw. He leaned back and glanced lazily down at the control panel before him. According to his scans, another craft was already at the location of the beacon. Sheog sighed in disappointment. Things never did come easily to Hutts. He entered the ships coordinates into the Demented Madness' navicomputer and directed the craft to land smoothly upon the grey earth beside the other's ship. While his luxury craft made the easy decent through the clear atmosphere of the unnamed planet, Sheog made ready for any aggressive negations by equipping himself with his gear which he claimed from the cargo-hold. Upon his side, he hung his trusty canteens of expensive liquor of the harshest sort. He placed the mesh armor upon his breast and then went to gather his most important items: food. And perhaps weapons. More importantly food. To the kitchen, Sheog propelled himself, where he gathered a large sidepouch of white-worms (with a smattering of Rancor Brand® Gelatinous Cream-Salt© (perfect for a romantic evening read the package... To illustrate this doubtful fact, the package showed a kissing pair of Verpines. Badly drawn and completely necessary. What consumer wouldn't find that a selling point for a product?)) Beside the overflowing bag of worms, Sheog placed his trusty maser pistol and Arc rifle. On his back, he strapped a large vibro-sword (more of a knife to a Hutt). Satisfied with his selection, Sheog pushed himself to the loading ramp in preparation for disembarkal. He felt his yacht shudder as it touched down upon the field and the ramp promptly began to lower. He uttered a long series of oaths as his large eyes feasted upon a purple lightsaber wielding individual cutting into the entrance of the tomb. It might be a jeedia or a Sith. One could never tell until a spoken conversation was initiated. If the purple person replied to his following words with wishes of peace then it was certainly a jeedia. Placing a hand into his satchel of white worms, he pushed himself carefully over the random jumble of humanoid bones and broken bits of statue, Sheog advanced towards the individual. As he advanced, Sheog focused upon his gluttony, letting it guide his actions. Immediately, his hand went to his gullet, dumping a fistful of wriggling deliciousness inside. This human was a fine morsel. Muscular and tasty. From him an energy emulated. A meal fit for a Sith. Unless of course he was a Sith. Then it'd be more like cannibalism. Munching loudly on a handful of worms, Sheog spoke to the purple person, not but ten meters away. >>Hail purple-bladed one! It is I, Sheog of the Sith! I was born of Radcrass and under the current tutelage of the greater masters of the Krath order.>> Bits and pieces of the worms sprayed out of his smacking lips. He stopped for but a moment. There was no need for a monologue. To the point! >>I must inquire... Are you a Jeedia or... A Sith? Either I can deal with. My goal is to gain access to the artifacts that lie within this crypt and place them at the side of my master. I hope you do not wish to hinder me..>> ((1))

This beast was quite the challenge. Sheog coughed as the Sithspawn of whom/it/thing he fought stumbled backward under his continued assault of sapphire energy. The creature glowed from a hidden fire of energy, which withstood his blast. He focused on the beast as it revealed another of its kind, which seemed to be fighting an ally bunt as it was. Apart from the energy, which controlled his dark enemy, Sheog could sense nothing in the force. His greed and gluttony drove him. That was all that mattered at this moment in time. His gluttony spoke to him in a burping slobbering tone: The energy within this creature would make a delicious meal. His greed had no opinion on the battle. Like a wraith, the beast charged for its discarded, oddly growling, weapon for a beast was the only thing it truly was. Controlled by instinct. Led by nothing other than hate and the power of the dark side. It was no strategist. Towards its leaping form, Sheog placed well-aimed bolt after bolt from his maser. He switched swiftly to a one handed firing form and with his other; he poured the harsh liquor from his canteen into his gullet. It strengthened his stomach for the coming feast. It wished to devour him. His gluttony was far greater than its own. This beast was going to be a delicious meal.

Dahar vs. Sheog ((Short Descriptive Set-up of our little playground...)) Dust and Death. From space, the planet looked like a faded diamond, set against the bright blue of the planet's cold, class O star. The population of the planet had disappeared suddenly around the time of the Great Sith War. After its main city had become a haunted place filled with wraiths and Sith Beasts the Republic had classified the planet as uninhabitable due to danger. A few colonies had sprung up in the years since the fall of the Republic but they had also gone to ruin without a trace of its inhabitants. The last transmission sent from the Beta Duros colony had mentioned only a set of ruins from which a voice seemed to be calling them. After the colony's disappearance, an Imperial investigation team was sent to the surface in order to resolve whatever problems had plagued the population. Within a day of their arrival, the Battle of Endor took place and the only records of the legion fell into myth. One particular patch of the diamond was of particular interest. The underground tomb had not been disturbed for thousands of years. Its ancient guardians had long since gone silent and still, the ancient power of their long dead master long ago had faded. Now only dust and runes remained. The yawning entrance, overgrown with dark vines, was set deep into the grassy hillside of a long-forgotten planet. Across the hillside, lay weathered statues, scattered amongst knee-high grass of a pale color. Strewn about were weather-beaten remains of stormtroopers and their commanders. Beside the entrance was set a beacon, still broadcasting a feeble signal letting all those in the planetary ring know the location of the lost legion. The beacon had been set on a twenty-year delay loop and had only just activated. The door to the tomb itself was made from jet-black granite, and set within it were runes of a Sith nature, the most prominent of which was a red-outlined pyramid. At the base of the door were many scratches, caused by the hundreds of obsessed sentients trying to claw their way into the tomb using tooth and nail. None had been successful. The only thing that remained of their work was dim scratches and piles of skeletons. A hum can be heard coming from the insides of the tomb, barely audible through the thickness of the door. Unknown to the dead stormtroopers, if they had used their thermal detonators to try to gain entrance to the tomb, then they would have been successful in their obsessive quest. Past the entrance exists a dark and dank corridor, with roots from vines and other vegetation hanging down just far enough to brush the top of a common humanoid's head, adding to the psychological effects of the tomb. Through the corridor lies the antechamber of the tomb. From the dark ceiling hang similar roots to the ones in the corridor accept much larger. The antechamber is about 70 meters wide by 50 meters and hasmultiple outcroppings and ledges upon which sit pots and baskets filled with an array of preserved foodstuffs. The ground of the tomb is littered with bits and pieces of broken statues and the occasional skeleton. The incessant humming can be followed to the sarcophagus itself within lies a black pyramid. The humming is coming from the pyramid along with a psychic signal that seeks to lure the listener to its location. Undoubtedly any force-user, Jedi or Sith, would find value in such a trinket. The dark lord for whom the tomb was commissioned is unknown but his power was once great. Beside the holocron inside the sarcophagus, lies a dark-hilted lightsaber and a small bag of leather. The pale-orange glow of the native fungi that have found refuge in the corners and ledges of the tomb light the antechamber dimly. ((You get the first post Dahar... Gain entrance to the tomb or we can fight it out on the outside. However you like. Good luck. Feel free to add details to the battle-ground as you like.))

((OOC: Sorry about the lack of posting recently... Been trying to overturn a grade...)) Sheog gaped, as his blast seemed to have little to no effect except for a delicious frying smell that now wafted down the dark corridor. Something else wafted down the corridor (more like flew) the krayt tooth blade. The sithspawn leapt forward and shoved the blade towards his Impact Chain-Mail covered stomach. Sheog abandoned his mind to the depths of the force and let it drive him through his madness. Time seemed to slow (much as it did when one ate a Goborlack Cream Cake) the world darkened and Sheog's body began to move. The sithspawn's blade seemed to glow like Ikeran Iced Pudding and Sheog threw his large form to the side as the blade passed by his gut and nicked the chain-mail. As his form tumbled away, the force lit up a bench that jutted out from the corridor and he grabbed it with his chubby hands. He focused in the force and imagined the bench as a Keg of Cortyg Brandy too heavy for the servants to lift. The force augmented his strength as he ripped it from the wall and sped his actions as he spun around. The Krayt-tooth blade bit into the bench and the Sithspawn roared in anger. Like usual the force left him at the most inopportune moments and he was now left without the influence of the force. The creature pulled against the bench in which its blade was embedded and Sheog was sent flying once more. Mid-flight he turned so he would not have his back to the enemy. He smashed against the far wall and slowly slid down leaving a greasy smear. He groaned and unclipped his oversized maser pistol and aimed it at the large beast being careful to focus on the front sight. He let loose a hail of blue (much akin to the weapon's creators) death down the hallway at the large beast.

(OOC: So yeah... Pretty much like a quasi-duel I guess?) Sheog groped for his worm pouch on his hip. The Kaminoan's meal had been delicious but he was a Hutt and Hutts were constantly driven by hunger. His large slimy hand found his pouch and he squeezed it. SQUISH. The sound was a little louder than he had expected from his side pouch but at times, the cook prepared the worms in Cancus Cooking Oil®, which made them extra squishy. Nevertheless, Sheog found the sound had been slightly louder than a squishing worm. He breathed in slowly. It certainly didn't smell like the scrumptiousness of Cancus Cooking Oil®. It smelled more Dru'un slices left in a heated bin beneath sneaze guards at a C-class cafeteria, which had just been thrown up upon by a drunken Wookie. In addition, the Wookie had eaten a Tusken Raider. SQUISH. Sheog glanced down at his side. He had not touched his pouch this time. A metallic clanking joined the squishing in a cacophony made by a mad scientist. Sheog's red eyes widened with incomprehensible terror heard something creak and groan within the depths of the dark room before him. A shiver of primal fear ran up the folds of his back fat drawing a cold line. His formally clear mind abandoned him diving out of the depths of the force like the titan rising from a distant ocean. However, his mind had left the depths of the force and his concentration was broken a small connection to the force remained. Through that connection, he felt a strange presence he had not felt before even when he had been in tune with the force. The presence felt like an old bottle of Corellian Spiced Ale aged, but still containing a bubbly center. Sheog hated Corellian Spiced Ale. In fact, he simply hated Corellians. He forced his weight backwards and back into the more lightened hallway behind his massive bulk. Whatever it was, it could certainly pursue such a massive target. He listened as he moved swiftly backwards. All he heard was the sound of oozing and metallic scraping. Sheog made it out into the corridor and continued backwards up the hallway meanwhile withdrawing his Chiss-made maser from his oversized holster. It was a large blaster pistol for a normal humanoid but more like a holdout pistol for a Hutt. Whatever it was, it certainly did not seem or feel like it would be a friendly type. After all it was a Sith. Maybe it was a Sith creation! Could it be one of the demented creations of the Krath he had so much about? He checked his other holster to make sure his DN bolt-caster and flare gun were where they were supposed to be and then comprehension dawned on him. He was dealing with Sith which meant his master must be watching. Perhaps creativity would be of some value to his master. He replaced the maser with his bolt-caster. He focused on his greed and gluttony in order to find the force once more but all he discovered was that he was hungry. Hunger. He had little time before whatever Sith or Sith creation came rushing out of the door. He focused on the hunger and let it drive him. He felt a powerful rush run through his multiple hearts like a primal urge. He struck a deal with the hunger and its ravenous legions. An alliance of sorts. If he let the hunger control him and open his connection to the force, he would eat the enemy whatever it was. His body from cranial top to wiggling tail felt energized and focused upon the force. Although his connection to the force was in no, part equal to that of a master he had a powerful connection nonetheless. He leveled his DN Bolt-Caster at the door. He would show the Sith creativity. He would melt the connections and tendons of this beast. He would liquefy this Sithspawn into an edible soup. Like Icarus this beast would fly too close to the sun.

Kaminoan food was to say the least unsatisfactory. Excessive amounts of fish for Sheog's taste but he ate what was put before him. Food was after all food and was meant to be eaten. Another thing about Kaminoan food was that it was not very filling. After his fifth course, he was beginning to become satisfied. He ordered the food to stop and pushed himself back from the table. The Kaminoan chefs gathered around him ready to hear of his enjoyment of their labor. Sheog smiled broadly and wiped a bit of drool from his face with the expensive looking table-cloth before he spoke to them. >>My fine chefs! Seldom have I had a meal with so much fish... Nevertheless, you made the best of it I suppose. What I would recommend for your next guest would be a fine selection of breads and perhaps some variations of meat. Anywho... Well done. Now be off with you all! I have a mission!>> With that, he raised his hand and the Kaminoans scattered released from their force-fed service. He sighed and relaxed now finally alone in the eating hall. It was a rare time when he was satisfied and could finally focus on something other than eating. He closed his eyes, turned his thoughts to the hunger, and expanded his mind to envelop it. The hunger was calm for now but still roiled like an upset stomach that had not eaten for an hour. Sheog focused upon it diving into the very roiling waves of hunger. A strange feeling grasped hold of him. He felt... Focused. This was the force. He opened his eyes and glanced around him keeping himself submerged in the stomach of the force. There was something odd... Something was eating away at him. It was a singular pulse beaming through his connection to the force shooting through his submerged mind and conveying some distant location. It felt as though a distant nerf stake was sizzling on a grill with no one to tend it and eat it. He had to follow the signal no matter what. It had to be the Sith. He rushed (as fast as a stuffed Hutt could) down hallway after hallway. Soon he entered passages that were no longer habited and he seemed to continue to go downhill. He slowed his pace not wishing to become exhausted and withdraw from the stomach of the force. Absentmindedly he began to eat once more from his side pouch stuffing handfuls of worms into his gullet. As he continued to move ever closer to the source of the signal he felt the hands of madness begin to stir once more within him as if the very darkness of the place was urging it on. He came at last to a large door (just about the right size for a Hutt) and he moved up close to it. He had found the source of the sizzling nerf steak that had been left unattended. He had found the Sith. The stomach of the force he was submerged in began to roil as he put a large hand upon the door. His inner mind was buffeted by the wakes of dark side energy and he felt as though he was losing control of his very mind. In response he plunged himself deeper into the foul dark waters of the force where it was calmer. Sheog let out a sigh and cleared his mind of the madness (not an incredibility easy task). Once his mind was calm and focused, once more he pushed the door slowly open. He was ready to meet his master.

Sheog sighed as he continued to lean on the supply crates he had previously chosen as his spot of contact for the Sith. Which... Apparently wasn't working... He opened one of his away-snacks and smiled in happiness. Rinzefruit with a splash of the finest Souse-mustard and a side of meatlumps. Even if his training seemed to be taking a while to begin, food made it all better. He took his time devouring the deliciousness as he looked out upon the crashing waves and pouring rain barely visible through the docking bay doors. He was not all together excited about being on a planet that the only available food source seemed to be fish. He hated fish. Unless they were fried in wormy deliciousness. He licked his fingers and tore his sight from the hypnotic crashing of the waves. He pushed himself to the entrance of the hanger and into the exterior hallway. Still no Sith around... Sheog glanced around cautiously not wanting to draw too much attention, slithered out into another hallway, and found himself face-to-face with several Kaminoans and three protocol droids. Naturally, they noticed him (because he was kinda hard not to notice... Being a Hutt) and paused their conversation. The lead Kaminoan spread his arms stepped forward and began to speak. ”œWelcome to Kamino friend. What can the fine city of Tipoca do for you?”

**Encrypted Comm for Lallu**

The Demented Madness exited hyperspace above the oceanic world of Kamino sleek black and gold against the bright carpet of the Rishi Maze. Sheog ordered the scenic viewports to open and he reclined on his throne as he gazed upon the Maze's beauty. This was one place in his galactic travels he had never been but now he wished he had come here many a long year ago... This place would have helped him long ago. He shifted his gaze from the beauty of the stars and returned it to his over-sized datapad which at the moment showed a slight decline in his investments. He shook his head and tossed the large datapad at a (unsuspecting) servant. The datapad caught the servant underneath his left ear and sent him spinning into a bulkhead. Sheog ignored the resulting chaos as he ordered the pilot to plot a course down to the nearest landing pad. The pilot received clearance from Tipoka space control and the ship began to descend towards the largest docking bay. Sheog rose slowly from his throne and went through a swift sonic shower before he donned his sidebag and armaments. He stopped by the kitchen, picked up a pre-prepared mixer of food to take with him on the trip, and made his way to the lowering ramp. He exited the Caravel and scooted into the busy hanger thankfully away from the pesky rain. He stretched as he leaned against a pile of supply crates and waited. His m aster would find him... The Sith would have to find him...

Sheog slapped the side of his thick hide with the palm of one of his meaty hands. The wet slapping sound was enough noise to draw attention to himself from the guard that guarded the supply ships. The heavy-set trandoshan had been happily drinking stim-caf but now stood up to approach the large imposing Hutt. As he approached, Sheog moved to the side as they did the same. After a few pushes of his tail Sheog was now in between the guard and the ships the trandoshan was supposed to be guarding. He squeezed his palmed shockstick, which activated into the palm of his hand unfortunately burning it, which was to say a typical move for him. As he hissed in pain the guard withdrew his shockstaff and strode forward confident and smiling in the prethoughts of his impending victory over this strange Hutt. Sheog continued to stoop in an act of pain as the first trandoshan guard thrust his shockstaff into Sheog's tail. The pain coursed through him coming from his stinging tail. Thankfully, they hadn't set their staffs for something his size. He lashed out hard with his tail catching the guard in his kneecap. The crack and wet snap was drowned out by his scream of pain. He coiled in his tail in a very snake-like motion drawing the screaming guard close in a tight, oily embrace. Sheog smiled and whispered into the ear of the guard, who was now clambering for his holstered blaster pistol >>You really should not have done that! Now to find you a creative death...>> With those parting words Sheog moved very swiftly to the side port of one of the cargo freighters, opened the hatch, and scooted inside still dragging the hapless guard who was still struggling against the muscular, slimy tail . Sheog smiled as he found his desired location: The food prep galley. Sheog opened the food synthesizer and cleared out one of the preloaded cartridges. The cartridge was approximately mansized a fact that made Sheog smile. His luck seemed to be good today thank the stars that these merchants had decided to buy a deluxe food synthesizer (from the only name in food synthesizers, you can trust: Loolinbockle!® A subsidiary of the !Fia-Fia!© Corporation based out of Galantos which prided itself by using only the most skilled of Fian workers selected at birth to be given the ”˜privilege' of working for the fabulous !Fia-Fia! Corporation.) Sheog dumped the innards of the cartridge down the compactor and replaced the insides with the now terrified guard. He then placed the cartridge back into the food synthesizer reset the machine, and selected all of the delicious menu items to be synched up to the trando-containing-cartridge. He didn't start the machine, but simply set the crew of the ship up for having blood on their hands. He made as stealthy an exit that a Hutt could make from the ship and retreated to the shadows where he accessed his com. He hurredly dialed his caravel's number (no easy task with large fingers). The Demented Madness' steward answered his master's call and listened eagerly to Sheog. The Demented Madness was currently in orbit having tracked it's master to Trulalis through his com. Within a few minutes Sheog's ship descended and Sheog scooted up the ramp. He was greeted by his overjoyed servants who showered him with food and drink all of which Sheog ignored as he pushed his way to the navicomputer. The Demented Madness rose swiftly out of the atmosphere to a safe hyperspace distance. Sheog selected Kamino from his choice of planets. It was a dark place. There were rumors of a Sith presence there... Perhaps a suitable master would also be present... One could always hope... As Sheog enjoyed all the food his gluttonous appetite could hold, The Demented Madness entered hyperspace towards the oceanic world.

Sheog frowned as the black Twi'lek's eyes grew brighter as the red flame of ambition spread throughout her mind. She was surely an interesting girl, crazy as himself, but more or less lost in her other personality. She didn't seem to be listening as he raised a cautious hand towards her to shake her from her other personality, but he never reached her. Before he could, she began to speak. "First, I want to steal a souvenir... And then I want to get off this planet, because it is soooo boring here." She was like a huttling... consumed by its own needs, not yet aware of its allies or the galaxy as a whole... "Over there in the fields as I ran after Lucifer and tried to catch the other Twi'lek that served as our master for a period of time, I saw a couple of what looked to be ships in the clearing. They were made to be invisible, but I managed to catch a glimpse of supplies being brought from them. However... They don't seem to come to terribly often." Perhaps she spoke of a time before his coming to this world, or perhaps at that time he was preoccupied by that weak, hateful Croke he had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting earlier... Sheog opened his mouth to interject on the plan, and make a suggestion about taking it slow, but Lallu continued, blissfully unaware of his concerns. "I want to take something, or see if I can take something for these slavers here and then I want to see if there is a supply ship docked there.”

Sheog shuffled back a meter or so to look at his bandaging job. It looked almost professional. Pride swelled within his mind, setting it ablaze with a hidden fire. He shook his head at his own insolence and sprayed the Twi'lek once more on the arm with bacta. The bacta bottle sprayed out a fine mist that settled like dew upon the white of the bandages on her arms, and shone in the bright light that filtered through the trees. In a moment, the beauty passed as the bacta soaked into the bandages, helping to sterilize and heal the burn wounds beneath. She would need almost constant applications of the bacta in order to insure healing and to stave off infections. Burn wounds got infected quite easily, and robbed the body of its ability to dissipate heat. He had done good work, she would heal in time. He beamed down at the Twi'lek as she began to speak. ”œThank you”¦ I guess, my name is Lallu”¦ I have a longer name, but I like to keep it to myself. What do you think we should do now that most of our classmates have gone?”

Naturally, the black twi'lek was not around the next bend as he had hoped. Sheog slithered down the path at an increasing rate. She would have to be in major pain by now. His maddened mind thought back to the Sith ”˜hopefuls' he had left behind. He knew not what they were doing or learning, but frankly he did not care. They made his teeth itch. If he had teeth, they certainly would make them itch. That Crocke he had been dropped off with was especially infuriating. He seemed rather abusive and controlling of those beneath him, and probably thought that was the best way to gain the power of the Sith. Sheog paused on the path and cleared his head of the angry thoughts. Anger gained nothing. It was an easy path to power, and nothing is learned or truly gained taking an easy path. He breathed in deeply and discovered how hungry and thirsty he truly was. He withdrew his flask and took a deep gulp from its refreshing depths. The liquid refreshed him, driving the fatigue from his body, flushing it through the viens, and expelling it to the capillaries, which drove it through the skin in the form of a fresh coat of slime. It was good to be a Hutt. Sheog placed a slimy hand into his sidebag and removed a handful of white worms, the last handful to his despair. He quickly devoured them and looked around. He had to get more worms... He spotted a fallen tree and pushed himself quickly over to it. His madness was consuming him, and manifested itself in him as an insatiable hunger. He tore the log apart, searching for any sign of worms or other edibles. Nothing was to be found but bark and moist, rotting wood. He picked up a piece of the moist wood and put it in his mouth. It certainly didn't taste like worms. He spat it out at high felocity and moved on. He spotted a particularly muddy spot and began to dig. Sheog tried to focus on the force in order to help him find the worms, but he could not find it. After a few minutes of digging, he found some worms, not white ones, but black and blue ones. He tasted one of each and found them to be quite satisfying. He gathered up large handfuls of the wriggling worms and filled his sidebag. He sloshed through the mud and found the path once more. His madness had cleared for the most part, leaving him clear, but still hungry. He continued up the path, munching on the plentiful worms. They were soo much better than the white worms, and didn't leave any sour aftertaste. They were sweet, and tasted of necter and flesh, a wondrous combination. If any of the large Hutt cartels learned of these worms, this planet would be stripped down to the mud by teams searching for them to feed their insatiable masters. Sheog felt a slight tug in the back of his mind and turned slowly around. The path behind him was covered in worms, all pursuing him. His face fell, he had no wish for a fight, especially with worms. The path was covered in black and blue, a swarm of deliciousness. Sheog felt the madness take hold again, and he was consumed by hunger. In but a few moments, the worms were in full retreat, having lost half of their number to the Hutt's gullet. The cloud of darkness passed once more from his eyes, and the world grew once more bright. Sheog, to say the least was stuffed. He hadn't been this full in many a long year. He continued on the path, glancing once more upon the battleground he had left behind, scattered with dead worms crushed in his gluttonous rage. Gluttony, that was his path... There were five subsets of Gluttony that all Hutts strived for. His latest feat had fulfilled four of the five: eating too soon, eating too much, eating too eagerly, and eating wildly... Perhaps this path was one that could gain him power in the Dark Side! He smiled and looked up to see a peculiar sight; the black Twi'lek approaching him from the tree line, massaging a bleeding arm. His smile slowly drained from his face at the sight of her injured appearance. He withdrew his sterile med-kit from his bag, but then she began to speak: "Why are you following me?" Sheog smiled and started to reply, but he truly knew not the answer. Was it because he was trying to help her? Was it because of the kiss? Was he weak enough to be drawn in by her beauty? She was truly beautiful... Black with designs of red... Hutt's always had Twi'lek girls at their sides... No, there was no real attraction there, he was... Trying to help! He began to speak, slowly and surely, his madness completely gone... <> Sheog trailed off, as a smile crept slowly upon his face, just as the madness it concealed. He opened his medkit and showed it to her, pushing himself slowly forward, trying to move slowly and not scare her more. She seemed confident, but then again, she had done many unpredictable things... Enough for him to keep his guard up...

To say that Sheog was surprised when the Twi'lek kissed him would be an understatement. He was shocked beyond belief. He blushed (as best a Hutt could) but his stuttering response was cut off by her ear-piercing shriek of horror and fear. Naturally, she thought it was horrid to kiss a Hutt. Sheog's eyes narrowed in sadness, then widened as the Twi'lek made a spectacular leap from the depths of the crater to the top, casting his gilded canteen into the mud and gravel at the base of the pit and she began to run. Her screams and whimpers faded as she moved further and further out of earshot. Sheog's eyes grew wider as he put one of his meaty hands to his cheek. That had been his first kiss. How natural it had ended the way it did. Nobody liked Hutts. That was an unfortunate response to her discovery. For a brilliant moment, the kiss had driven the madness from even the darkest depths of his unfortunate mind. He had seen the world as clear for the first time since he had been a Huttlet. The world darkened once more as the Twi'lek's screams faded finally away. He certainly hadn't meant to scare her. That had never been his intention. Sheog let out a long, blubbering sigh and glanced around the crater. It continued to crumble as he watched. Quite peculiar. He pushed himself through the mud and gravel and retrieved his canteen. It was not broken, and bore no scuff marks for the considerable distance it had been thrown. He replaced it in his side bag and quickly packed up his med-kit. He hadn't even gotten the chance to help heal her wounds. At her rate, she'd need bacta in a jiffy. Once her adrenaline wore off, she'd be in a load of pain. Should he go after her? He rubbed his hands together and made his decision. He must go after her, she'd need help. What Sith code said he couldn't help another? Yes he was supposed to cheat and backstab, but one could get the same outcome through charity. Charity did not make one weak, reliance on anger did. So many here only relied on their ”˜anger' to fuel the fire of the dark side. The Sith Lords weren't doing anything to help stop that at all. They were encouraging it. Did they not know that Anger was not the only fuel for the dark side? Were they that incompetent? Perhaps... Perhaps not... Maybe they drew their hopefuls towards weakness to fuel their own intentions. In the culture of the Hutts, they had seven codes of infamy. Each code had a contributing attribute that helped draw that Hutt down the codes path. Each of the seven was a vice, and each had its power and weakness. Anger was the easiest path, but one did not grow in power through taking what was easy. One grew on the darker and harder paths. Many of the codes coincided and were interwoven. He had never achieved true infamy, he had never pursued anything for long enough. His father Radcrass had followed the Path of Acedia. He had to choose a path soon, before he was corrupted by these weak, ”˜angry' Sith. Anger was a reprehensible temporary madness with its only visible result coming as grief. The Krath would not be like this at all. He must seek them out, after of course finding and helping this Twi'lek. Sheog pushed himself up the crater's side and came to the ledge, which was crumbling. He grasped hold of the ledge and threw his tail up and over, landing him on his side, on the brink. He began to slide back down the crumbling brink much to Sheog's sadness. He spotted an exposed root from a nearby tree of a decent size. From his scabbard, he withdrew his trusty vibroknife (or what was comparable to a Hutt vibroknife, roughly the size of a short sword for the average humanoid) and switched it on. He stabbed the knife into the root up to the handle and deactivated the vibrations, leaving himself a good-sized handhold for which he could draw himself up. He grabbed hold of the knife and began to inch himself up the ledge. He heard a wooden-sounding groan and looked up in time to see the tree uproot and come flying towards him. Back over the ledge, he flew and landed with a cry as the medium sized tree landed on top of him, back at the bottom of the crater. It really wasn't an advantage to weigh a whole lot. Sheog pushed with all his might, and the tree only moved a few inches. He drew his madness and dementia into his mind and focused upon the force. It was very hard to do and took a lot of concentration, but he began to make progress. He removed the anger from his mind and instead focused of his other thoughts: Greed, extravagance, lust, gluttony, sloth, and envy. His greed for credits. His countless extravagances. His lust for... who knows what. His obvious gluttony. His species natural sloth. His envy for friends. These thoughts swirled through his mind like a dark whirlwind. He drew upon its power. He shunted it to his arms and tail. In an instant, the tree was flying off of him, landing beside him in the crater which seemed to becoming more of a sinkhole. He grabbed his vibroknife and shifted to an upright position. The power was amazing! Sheog continued to draw upon it and climbed out of the crater without any more assistance. He went quickly to the path, but then the power left him, as quickly as it had come. He felt slightly drained. He sighed once more and turned back to the nearby apprentices, lords, and hopefuls. <> Sheog turned and scooted down the path, thankful to be alone in glorious solitude. More time to think. More time to choose a path. Not a path he was physically walking, but one of the many paths to the dark side. The trees passed by at a decent rate. He knew now how badly rooted these trees were. As badly rooted as many of these Sith. As the trees were shallow, so were the larger body of the Sith. Relying only on anger was going to get you badly palnted and easily torn up. Sheog still couldn't hear her screams, even though he'd gone about a kilometer by now. Perhaps she was around the next bend...

As he glanced from hopeful to hopeful, his gaze was pulled to a twi'lek, sitting on the ground, giggling. Perhaps at him, perhaps not. These hopefuls were an interesting lot, an odd band, and stranger still than his father's court. They all represented different parts of society, or so he expected. He really didn't know who they were, but he expected this was perhaps not the best time for introductions. The Twi'lek girl was doing something peculiar, standing now, filled with rage. Sheog quickly averted his gaze, not wishing to dishonor her with his stare. Hutt's were not well... liked by Twi'leks, especially the female ones. His madness grew slightly as distraction and boredom took its talonous hold. He became aware that most of the other hopefuls were trying their best to harness the force. Some did well, others not. He glanced back to the master, and then back to the crowd. Peer pressure took its course and Sheog began to focus on the uncomfortable, dark pebble that was the force. It was more of a small jellycake than a pebble, covered in the dark stim-frosting that was the dark side of the force. As he focused deeper on the jellycake, he felt a sudden burst of energy coursing through his very veins. He felt faster and more or less clear of mind. He felt the energy come to a crescendo, culminating in a very high intensity... Belch.... Worthy of the finest Hutt princeling. Sheog kept his eyes closed, very pleased with himself. THAT was the force! It had tasted like food and drink at its finest, prepared by the most worthy of chefs. In his mind, the force had taken a physical form, one that a Hutt could understand. Food, of the most delicious type. It had shown itself like the threadless heartbeat of a greater power. He had just barely taken his first bite of a great unending feast. This was enjoyable. He focused once more upon the force, hoping to produce something far greater for the pleasure of the Sith Lord before him... This time, the force was much harder to grasp. When Sheog extended his internal hand, the jellycake leapt farther from his grasp. It changed forms to another type of food; a bowl of wriggling delicacies; black sac-worm, nearly hunted to extinction decades before, now so rare that a Hutt cartel would pay thousands of credits to get their hands on a bowl full of them. While he looked in awe upon the bowl of the force, he was ripped out of his concentration by a physical disturbance. Sheog's eyes opened and he found himself being showered and pelted by flying earth and rock. Rocks pelted his hide, as he tried desperately to find the source of the earthen shower. He delved quickly into the force as the small rocks and dust hit against him. Though unclear, the force, now taking the form of a nerf steak pointed his desire in the direction of the Twi'lek girl. Just as he made this discovery, the rock storm ended, leaving him with no injury other than a bruise on his lower tail. He looked angrily towards were the Twi'lek had last been, but he only saw a large crater. Ignoring the group of hopefuls and letting his curiosity lead him on; he squirmed to the edge of the crater and leaned forward to get a look over the edge. As he leaned, he felt the newly formed crater's edge give way and he began to fall forward. Without any training in the force, Sheog had no way to stop his fall or cushion his landing. His tail flailed to grasp on to a root or anything, but to no avail. He landed on the soft and rock studded ground and started to roll. He saw the Twi'lek's body swiftly approaching, and he dug himself into the ground, coming to a grinding halt only inches from the fallen girl covering her in a fine coating of dust to add to the burn marks upon her skin. Sheog glanced about and grabbed his side-bag from a small niche in the ground nearby and turned back to the Twi'lek, his previously angered expression fading to a sad, tired smile, not all befitting to the Hutt. He leaned down towards the Twi'lek and examined her. Her skin was black of color, and her limbs were adorned with scars and red thorn tattoos. He reached into his bag and held before the Twi'lek's nose a small putrid vial emblazoned with ”œRANCOR BRAND® SMELLING SALTS, WAKES MOST SENTIENTS!!”

As the Hutt bowed to the Sith Lord, he felt himself gripped by the inescapable Force of the Sith's will. With his slime covered lips, Sheog tried to form words, but none would exit. He couldn't talk, let alone breath. The Sith's grip tightened as the Hutt gasped for air. Then, he felt his enormous weight being lifted from the ground, which was to say a new feeling to the Hutt. The force was indeed powerful... Sheog felt himself flying through the air as the Sith Lord began to speak once more. "If you want to survive here, then listen well. No one here cares about you. Everyone will seek to use you like a tool, with little more concern for you than the usefulness they assign to you. You must distinguish yourself in any way you can. Every opportunity. Backstab, steal, cheat, do anything you can, and use your head about it. If you came here thinking you were going to learn something, you were only half right. Learning is the goal, but suffering is the medium. And you will suffer." Sheog suppressed a moan as he moved to get himself off his back in the slick soil, wriggling not unlike a large, slimy, dark worm. He finally managed the maneuver, no easy task, even for a strong and well-muscled Hutt like Sheog. Needless to say, he was distraught about the way he was treated, but he kept his expressions to himself, and made sure to not let them show. He knew going in that this is how the Sith worked, and many had told him that the Sith had no place for Hutts... But he knew in all of his hearts that if he was to fail, he would at least fail with honor. The thought of backstabbing and cheating made his insides churn momentarily, this was beginning to sound just like his home court on Sleyhron... Vile, desperate... Was this truly how the Sith were? Did they not honor hard work and diligence? Sheog smiled to himself, He may not be able to compete physically, but, he could compete with his maddened wits. The darkness of doubt and despair enveloped him like a whispering angel. Sheog closed his eyes and bid the doubt farewell, undoubtedly it had been planted there by one of the Sith, wanting to get rid of the useless Hutt. He slithered back to the group of hopefuls, smiling through the pain in his neck. This was going to be a bit of fun. He could, and would compete and he would join the Krath, if Lord Dagon wished. He was a Hutt! They were the galaxy-wide symbol of back-stabbing, cheating, and the like. He would cheat if he was forced to, but first he would try to win by his own strength and will, hopefully a quality the Sith would find appealing. He wouldn't need to rely on the others to accomplish the tasks, unless they were to team up... Hopefully with the Croke, they would make a good team... Teamwork... One would think the Sith would need each other, but perhaps not, it mattered not to him. He rejoined the group and made sure to keep his thoughts to himself glancing from one hopeful to the next.

The area definitely felt and reeked of a darker power. He hungered for the power. He craved it, like he craved a hank of delicious Ewok. Ewok would be just scrumptious... Such a delicacy... Sheog watched the slaves as they toiled, building the upper layers of the building. He identified several Sith overseeing the slaves, keeping them from pausing and stalling the construction. The slaves were of an assortment of sentient species; human, wookie, barabel, rodian... Thankfully none in his view were Hutt, a promising outlook. They might respect him more if there were none of his own kind under their command. Fear and despair roiled off of the slaves like smoke and was drawn to him and the other Sith like a swarm of Pirannha Beatles, who eagerly absorbed it in order to strengthen themselves in the force. The Sith themselves were full of dominance, watching everything closely. Sheog had never seen anything closely resembling the scene before him since his journey to Ylesia to observe the pilgrims of The Cult of The One and The All and their predicaments. That had been fun... This might very well be as well... And we won't have any bothersome t'landa Til to cause problems... Sheog focused his attention upon the group of hopefuls and apprentices gathered at the top of the hill, near the construction site. His thoughts swirled darkly as he pushed himself up the small hill, a seemingly easy motion for the large Hutt. His lips pressed tightly together in excitement as he neared the group that seemed to be breaking from their lesson as the lecture traded hands from one Sith Lord to the next. It appeared as if the current master in charge had just finished berating another student for an unknown offence. He focused his thoughts, and tried his best to control his madness and insatiable curiosity. Sheog slithered silently towards the Lord, keeping a safe distance, but close enough to hopefully catch the Lord's attention without evoking wrath. Sheog extended one hand in a gesture of greeting whilst placing his other over his third heart in a sign of humility. Bowing his head towards the Lord, not an easy task for a Hutt, one that ended up looking quite humorous as the Hutt sank lower to keep his balance, his face contorting into a tight lipped grimace as he slithered onto some sort of sharp outcropping that scrapped his underhide. He narrowed his eyes and began to speak in a humble manner, unfortunately a glimmer of madness still stayed in his mind. <>

”œYour pronunciation is perfect”¦ and I don't see how you could possibly add more spit to it. Ha-ha-ha. The insanity”¦ I picked up on that rather quick”¦ after all, you don't really try to hide it. As for myself”¦ My name is Sokar Thepta”¦ I come from the Thepta clan; We are known for our talents in Shape-shifting”¦ our Clan are what our people call ”œShifters”

Sheog's eyes grew steadily wider as the little Croke that had been laying on his palm, lept awake, jumped to the ground and began to shape shift to another form. The gleam of madness that lay in Sheog's eye grew steadily brighter. He stopped moving forward and watched the transition from Croke to Barabel. As he brought a wriggling handful of white worms from his ration bag, the Barabel spoke, in a hissing fashion, ”œNo wormsssss. But your wordsssss are likely true”¦ the Sssssith have to be involved and I hope that thisssss isssss a good thing. You may call me Sssssokar. What isssss your name?”

Sheog twitched slightly as he began to regain consciousness. He gazed blearily around the area they had been dropped off at. It was still light outside, but Sheog eyesight was still foggy from when he had been kidnapped, and the whole landscape was a haze of light and sound. Sheog groaned as he rubbed his eyes. His thoughts swam as fast as his vision and his body ached. He shook his head as his vision cleared, and he began to see his surroundings. Nearby lay another body, still sprawled where it had landed, much smaller than his own. It was small indeed, and in its normal form due to its unconscious nature; that of a spider/snail. Sheog grinned. <> Sheog pushed and slithered his way over to the small Croke, and unable to contain his insatiable nature of curiousity, picked it up. He held it in his meaty hand and poked it softly with the other. It stirred slightly. A big grin spread across Sheog's large face and he poked it again. < He moved forward, towards the edge of the LZ, still holding the Croke in one fat, slimy hand while fishing for some delicious white worms in his greasy side bag with the other.

<> Sheog belched and grabbed another handful of the delicious white worms he was obsessed with and put them promptly into his gaping mouth. He forced them down gullet and paused for another breath. He felt satisfied, but as always, spurred on by the gnawing hunger that resided inside his aching skull. He leaned forward in his throne and eyed the blue holograph of his father Radcrass. <> A large smile spread over the elder Hutt's blue, holographed, face, emphasizing the many scars Radcrass had accumulated over the years. Sheog smiled in return, and grabbed for another large handful of worms, but instead of eating them, he began sorting them by size and deliciousness on the table beside him. Radcrass shook his blue face, and leaned forward as the holograph terminated. The change in sound woke Sheog from his madness. Sheog slowly gazed around his sparse court sitting around his mobile throne room onboard The Demented Madness. There were few sentients, one Trandoshan (Ogarth) and one Gand (Joha'a), but many droids of many shape and size. Sheog's favorite (and most abused) droid was a black protocol droid, Hakill. Sheog motioned with his hand and Hakill made his way across the small throne room and stood beside Sheog. <> The droid buzzed annoyingly, the only sound he could make thanks to Sheogs order to remove his voice synthesizer. Hakill opened the com to a closed and encrypted channel and awaited futher orders from the Hutt. <> The Gand leaned forward, ”œHow about Honorable Sith Allies?”

Real Name: Sheog Anjiliac Diresto A.K.A: Sheog the Mad Homeworld: Sleheyron Species: Hutt Physical Description [!dscrp] Age: 130 Height: 4.1 Meters Weight: 2400 Lbs. Hair: none Eyes: red/gold Sex: Male Equipment [!equip] Clothing or Armor: Currently just a Dark Cloak. Main Weapon: DN bolt caster, Armalite, Ceremonial Staff, LS-150 Heavy Accelerated Charged Particle Repeater Gun. Side Arm: A Chiss made Maser Pistol Common Inventory: Copious amounts of credits, Model-3287 LumaFlare, fibercord (100 feet), armor, weapons, 41D, bags of freeze-dried white worms, a large, self-cleaning flask containing a strong mix of Corellian Reserve and Cortyg Brandy, and his ship; The Demented Madness Weapons: Ceremonial Staff: A long, walking staff, about five feet in length and three inches in diameter. Within one end, is set an orange-bladed lighsaber. The crystal for which this lightsaber is focused is made from the remains of Sheog's old master, Ason Antilles, whom he slayed in battle when Ason was possessed by the spirit of Orik Benden. On the other end of the staff is inlayed a soul-reaper, made from Sheog's digestive bile, mixed with a few of Ason's ashes. The soul reaper helps Sheog concentrate his power, and strengthens his connection to the force. Armalite: This is a Sith Alchemical weapon, which takes the form of a freezing-bladed, bearded axe. The from the tip of the axe, to the end of the shaft is about three meters in length. The blade itself is forged thin, for a superior cutting surface, about 45 cm in length. This axe was manufactured by Sheog's own hand, using mostly ingredients from the remains of Uriel Stonedog, who was slain on Hoth for crimes against humanity, as well as some digestive bile. The blade is resistant to a lightsaber's edge. The blade is also inlaid with alchemically altered white-worms, who are linked to Sheog's mind through the force. The blade will freeze flesh and blood on impact, and gives off a powerful cold. Faction Information [!factn] Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive. Alignment: Extremely, insanely, positively, evil. Current Faction Affiliation: Sith Current Faction Rank: Master of the Krath, Former Dark Lord of the Sith. (made so after the slaughter of many unfortunate Corsec agents, hapless Jedi, and the former Dark Lord, Darth Shadowlord) History: [!hstry] Force Side: Dark: Krath Trained by: Ason Antilles Trained who: Gonzo Lockjaw, Awenydd, etc Known Skills: Force Vomit: An interesting technique developed by Sheog himself when practicing using his strengths within the Sith Temple of Coruscant. The technique is generally self-explanatory; Sheog utilizes the powers of Gluttony and combines it with his stomach contents. The acid's strength is greatly increased by this, as well as the ability for Sheog to spin the contents into either a ball, a net, or simple spray. Slime Wave: This force power makes Sheog's lubricant production pores go into overdrive. It also dissolves an amount of fat, which the force converts into highly flammable oils, which can be ignited in a manner similar to napalm. The substance is also quite viscous and can easily entrap its target. Tortured Life: Krath magic to modify life, strengthen through alchemy. Master of: Force Drain/Drain Life/Consumption of Life. Lightning. Necromancy. Diviner of the Maw. Geomancy. Sexy Goodness. Specialist: Hunger and The Maw; Feels like a consuming void in the Force, consumes life and turns it into the power of the Force. Background: Sheog was raised on Sleheyron, under the watchful eye of his father/mother Radcrass Anjiliac Diresto. Though raised well by Hutt standards, Sheog developed a form of psychosis which led to spits of madness, and earned him his name after a particularly brutal episode which concluded with Sheog's exile from Sleheyron at the age of 110. Sheog used this time to explore the galaxy, while his father conducted research on the force and his son's psychosis. After several years of experimenting, Radcrass finally tested his son's DNA for mediclorians, which to his surprise, was a positive result. Radcrass contacted his son with the glorious news and to urge him to join the fight against the Republic and their strict rules, and even suggested the possibility of the sith, who would hopefully accept his ruthless personality. BattleMind: Expert in Battle Meditation THE DEMENTED MADNESS Manufacturer: Mechis III Limited Productions Model: Luxury Fighting Yacht Class: Yacht: Upgraded by Krath Scientists Technical specifications Length: 70 meters Maximum acceleration: 2,200 G Maximum speed (atmosphere): 820 km/h Hyperdrive rating: Class 1.0[1] Shielding: Chempat-6 with backup flash absorbers Navigation system: Navicomputer, Droid Brain, Homing Beacon Armament: 6 Laser cannon turrets (Along the sides, spaced evenly) 2 Ion cannons (Front and Rear Turrets) 4 Gatling-Style Railgun Turrets (based on the GAU-8 Avenger Series) Concussion Missile Launcher Bay (Forward Facing) Discord-Missile Turret (8 missiles) Defenses: Sith-Forged Armour Plating, beneath heavy shielding. Each section individually contained in the case of hull breach. Cargo Capacity: Utilized to hold Sith battlesquads Modifications: Piloting Sphere for Sheog that doubles as an escape pod. Integration made for the Forceflow, to allow for easier manipulation of all systems. KAIN interface. Retinue: Real Name: Gwenhyvar Fieldgrey A.K.A: Gwen Homeworld: Theryssa Species: Human (Hapan) Category: NFU Physical Description [!dscrp] Hair: Ginger Skin: Freckled with crimson upon a pale canvas Age:21 Height: approximately 5 feet in height. Skills/Weapons: Heavy Blaster Pistol, Vibrosaber Armor: Clone Trooper Armor