Sheog the Mad

The massive Hutt propelled himself towards the Dark Lord of the Sith, he himself staying silent as the leader of the Sith Order addressed the Twi’lek as he had. Sheog himself was offput by the number of droids he could detect through The Force. Their metallic taste within the Force was unmistakable, reminded him of a more organized Kain. Fleeting flows of energy crackling across circuit boards, twisting in processors, driving a hivemind that rivaled the one he shared with his own forces. He let a small sigh escape his blubbery lips, coated with slime and bits of half-digested food. His own gluttony had accomplished far more in the galaxy then things like these droids. Sentient in name only, hollow souls without purpose, bound to the will of masters. The Hutt was unbound by even the shackles of sanity. The tinkling voice of a girl caught his attention from the shadows. His crimson eyes fell upon a teenager with a mane of shaggy hair and a scowl that was unrivaled in ferocity. She looked to him as cute as a Shevestian Kit freshly weaned from mother’s milk, fancying its first taste of bloodied meat. The Hutt let out a small gasp as his mind washed over her with the attention of a worrying mother. The girl had a signature within the Force, unbound by training. She felt like an unsharpened dagger, as likely to hurt the wielder as the target. He responded to her with the beckoning of a hand and a kind word <> He waved to Exodus to hold up a second as he heaved his girth to follow the fast steps of the man. His retinue were bewildered by their unlikely addition. Vindalo, unsure how to address a teenaged girl other than Hayley, handed the girl an E-11 Blaster Rifle. <>

Vindalo’s purring voice whispered into the Mad Hutt’s ear as the Demented Madness made its descent towards Lemnos Industries. For some reason the name made the Lord of the Krath crave the crisp and refreshing flavour of Mackerson’s Hard Tea, which sent a wave of nostalgia through his rolls of fat. The days of his youth, sipping Hardened Tea from a pint glass, the ice tinkling against the glass, the other hand cradling half a white-cake, watching the cottonfields in full bloom being worked by underpaid immigrants. The crack of the whip. A scream of agony. Delicious Mackerson’s Hard Tea, now with a twist of lemon, the drink of the upper class. ...Oh Lemon Industries. Whoever named this must love citrus to name this thing after them… Maybe it's a reference to the sourness of the life of the plebeians... “Master, scans indicate the Dark Lord has not yet arrived… Should we proceed as scheduled?” The Hutt let the overly large craft settle on the landing platform, dangerously close to the edge. The ship shuddered as the landing gear attempted to find purchase, and in response Sheog selected a repulsor setting to keep them hovering. Despite his attempt, a flap of hanging flab from his underarm raked across the control board, cutting power from the engines. The Demented Madness slammed to the decking with a large bang that reverberated through the hull. Vindalo and his brother caught their footing with ease and made their way to the landing ramp, smirks of mirth on their faces. They were joined on the decking by the assembled team of Sheog’s retinue, while they awaited the Mad Hutt’s arrival. They were greeted by the massively overlarge Hutt momentarily, who wore only his simple utility pouch, slung on a bandolier across his quivering chest. The leather strapping dripped with oily sweat, and squeaked softly with each exertion of his breath. He had forgone his typical eccentric outfits, and they could feel a roiling hunger within the force that spoke volumes to his mindset. Sheog nodded to each of his team in turn, every member of Greywolf and Rampage squads returning it with a laugh or a joyful salute that hailed back to ancient dictatorships that had made genocide the fashionable trend. The Hutt’s voice was interrupted as he began with a belch <> The Sith squad nodded, straightening their uniforms, but keeping to their relaxed stance. They were the Hutt’s trusted men and women (Sheog was an equal opportunity employer of killers) and reflected the lazy nature that was exuded within the veil of the Force. They were bound to him eternally, and each of their minds were his, a reflection of his vices and demons. The landing ramp lowered, sunbeams passing like blades through the spiced pipesmoke, revealing the lopsided view of Lemnos Industries. Sheog passed first down the crooked ramp and caught sight of the datapad bearing Twi’lek. Her skin sparkled like sapphires, the shade of the Kaminoan sea past the Yarrin Rift. The Mad Hutt, flanked by his casually walking troops, scooted across the landing pad, leaving a trail of slime behind him with each push of his muscular tail. His staff clicked on the plated decking, sending small sparks about his heaving belly. Sheog’s voice boomed across the bay, carrying with it the translation in the Force, and an uncommon kindness. <

The Hutt’s heavily lidded eyes blinked as The Demented Madness came out of hyperspace above the planet of Nubia. From the scanning from his highly upgraded Luxury Yacht, The Imperial Remnant had full control of the planet. A Golan II platform was in construction, and in sweeping arcs flew two squadrons of Scimitar Assault Bombers and four squadrons of Tie Defenders. Amongst their center a Mark III Assault Cruiser slowly cruised along, a heavy hitter from the time of the Galactic Civil War. The Eventuality of Justice was its name, according to the transponder tag, and even with his stealth drives, The Mad Hutt was sure he was being scanned. He flipped a few switches to seem busy, and looked across his squad through the cameras in the storage bay. The Storage bay was now mainly a bathhouse for Hutt families, and the saunalike temperatures would help Hutt pores release their caustic slime in heaps. For now, it was the holding bay of his Sith troops, Two Krath Lords, Masters Vindalo and Karema, Human twins from Serreno who wore their crimson cloaks and bore single-bladed lightsabers. Assassins Vae and Vosh lay in one of the reclining pools, the water lapping at their deep black cloaks which concealed synthweave armour. The pair of Sith Warriors, both taken from the Greyjoy ranks before being trained as Warriors, wore heavy battlearmour and carried double-bladed lightsabers. Four Sith troopers in ebony armour lounged best they could with their heavy weapons and grenades. Four Tuk’ata with coats of deep crimson fur, rippling with musculature beneath snythweave armour played fetch with bath bombs. Rampage and Greywolf squads, the best of the Krath. Sheog drew his eyes from the console and looked at his own transponder signal, observing his current alias. He placed the webcam on his dripping and oily face, his deformed face trying to manage a smile as he opened his comlink <> Sheog made a particularly despondent sniffle and a large oozing blob of snot ran from a misshapen nostril <> He brushed away a tear from his eye with a chubby finger <>

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.

((OOC: Moving things along)) Hayley pulled the twitching corpse of a barabel from the communication array’s control panel. The beast had tried to disable it, but her pistol had put an end to that. She had shot him in the small nodule at the base of his reptilian skull, and his head had peeled open like an overripe muja fruit. Her one eye scanned over the transponder signals that were beginning to envelop the screen, a small barabel fleet was being overrun by a much larger force. The comlink opened, and a familier voice appeared, both projected over the loudspeaker, and through the Force <> An overpowering hunger for war sprang up in them both <> ((Continue on Nal Hutta with an infiltration post. We are now part of OpFor for Whitehelm))

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.

The ship reeked of reptilian sweat, a stale and putrid invasion of her nostrils. Mixing with it was a sticky sweetness that clung to the air in a fog of rancidity. Hayley could feel her one eye watering, and the smell threatened to choke her. She placed a hand on the bulkhead to steady herself, and felt a skittering terror climb up her arm. Stifling a shriek, the Sith girl tossed an arachnid the size of her head across the ships entrance, where it hit another web with a reverberating clicking. ...Oh... Screw that… The teenager flipped her blaster pistol from her belt and emptied a shot into the skittering and creeping spider, only to watch its carapace split open and a wave of miniscule spiders rush across the decking. Thousands of spiderlings began to click and shudder in their shells, and the echo began to grow within the darkness of the cargo-ships interior. Nope. A shrieking and insectoid rattle began to arise from the decking below her feet. Nope. Nope. Nope. Hayley turned her back to their escape vessel, and with a shrug tossed a thermal detonator over her shoulder. She could hear the timer beeping as she stepped down the landing ramp and walked calmly to Karys, shivers running down her spine. An ear-shattering explosion shook the entire facility, as the ship detonated in a starburst of flame, followed by a sonic clap indicating a hyperdrive breach. The girl looked to the Massassi as they were buffeted by followup explosions. The wreckage of the ship’s engine went critical, and the glowing and burning hulk hurled itself into the jungle. “Well that ship was totally not… Um... spaceworthy.?” She pointed to the facilities makeshift com-tower, past a few running Barabels, who were in a full panic “Let’s call us a ship… I’m sure a Sith picket ship was following us, Master wouldn’t trust our lives to fate.”

The burning stench of the Barabel’s blood being flash-boiled by the crimson blade of Karys hit Hayley’s nose like an acrid wave. She was used to the smell of human charr, but the lizard’s roiling blood stunk like a vaapaad thrown into an industrial grinder. She took a small step back and closed her remaining eye as the acidic vapour burned at her face, causing tears to form. She helped the Massassi construct a warning sign, a barbaric effigy to the darkness that was drawing at them from the jungle. The macabre signal would burn for a short time within the jungle, before the scavengers made a meal of it, and carried it off to their warrens with the rest of the body. The Pirates would feed the jungle, and the feral call would grow. The jungle gave way to scorched earth, creeping vines burned away by clear cutting, a seeping wound compared to the rhythm of life that had surrounded them. Massive Olbios brought low, to char and ash, nothing now but a mangled mess of coals. The jungle wept over its destruction, a dark cry that reverberated through both of them. The cause of the destruction was a small camp of prefabricated structures, and a small landing pad, upon which lay a YT-1000. The pirates were scattered about the camp, drinking and lounging in the oppressive jungle heat. They appeared drunk, or overfilled with their rations. Hayley crouched at the edge of the destroyed landscape, placing a palm into the cooled ash. “I feel anger and hatred...“ She looked at the Sith beside her, with a wry smile. It wasn’t the Force that drew her emotions to the surface, but something else. A primal thing. She looked back into the endless sea of green that faded into shadows, that which urged her to slay everything before her. To strike back at the pain caused to... “I don’t kriffing like being used.” She spat into the jungle, rejecting the emotions that grew within her. She had no reason to become an environmentalist. “Let’s get out of here. Power that is not ours, we ought not to use. Sheog once told me that... Let’s sneak aboard the ship and leave these lizards to this planet’s vengeance...”

Hayley slipped her hand beneath her shirt, the sharp pains on her stomach drawing her curiosity. The ripples of pain came from a leaking wound with charred edge. It felt almost foreign to her hand, the nerves of the skin being fried by the blaster shot, and no longer sending signals to her brain. She winced at the thought, and withdrew her hand, now stained in crimson. “His thoughts are often a disjointed jumble of insanity, but he certainly knows how to teach…” She looked to the jungle, the consuming power of its primacy drawing her into its embrace. They needed to get off this planet soon, or they might never have the strength to leave. It was almost a gnawing hunger rising inside her, similar in feeling, but different then that which flowed from her master. This was evil. A desire to destroy for no reason other then death itself. The screech of the Barabel drew her attention back to the situation at hand “TW- KRIFF- TW- BAHHHH” His shrill cry was grating on her ears. It’s reptilian pronouncement made her want to crush his larynx until no sound would ever be made again. Her fists clenched, her fingernails digging into the flesh of her palms “Twwwwenntyyyy…” His gasps now heaved in rattles “Not… As… Armed… As We…”

Hayley’s remaining hazel eye wandered over to the fallen barabel, his body embraced by the forest floor. She could see emerald blood leaking in a bubbling flow from gaping wounds in his armour, exposing shredded internal organs oozing with shuddering death. He was still gasping, frothing virescent bubbles popping on his jagged teeth as he strained for air through the shattered lungs. Her work. His blood mirroring the darkening treetops above, soaking into the moss, the rot, the lifeforce of the chirruping jungle. The vast emptiness she felt in the force was being filled by something else entirely, the call of the wild, the creeping darkness of the jungle. A hidden madness that drove to the primacy of her soul. It was true life, consuming the weakness about her. Her pain. The Barabel’s last breaths. Life was surrendering to something far greater. She could feel why they had come so far across the stars, abandoned themselves to the Force, in its vast emptiness. In its absence it was a crucible, forging them both in strength. Compared to that overpowering life, all other things seemed to pale. The Barabel’s eyes were glassy as he perceived her, and he raised a grasping, trembling hand towards her. A call for release, and end to the pain. She stooped low, placing her alabaster palm against the shattered scales, covering it in oily blood, glittering jade from the falling sunbeams filtering through windswept boughs above. His death was her responsibility and although no words could leave his quivering jaw, she knew the creature wished for one last kiss from her pistol. “They say, Karys…” She glanced up to where he investigated another barabel, her voice fraught with an unease that was echoed by the snarls of distant creatures, and the crackling rattles of the dying Barabel beside her “The Force shall free us.... Free us…” Her words marked her scorn “That is the lesson of this place… To find our own strength so we are able to carry on if the Force abandons us.” The girl stood, her bloodstained hair falling about her face like a veil. The glassy eyes of the Barabel turned panicked and his rattles became more strained. She could almost feel the surge of his adrenaline. The darkness of the jungle surged with it. “Die from your own weakness. Embrace the rhythm of the Jungle, of the chaos and let it consume you, and in your death you make it stronger. The strong feeding on the weak… Adding only weakness to themselves.” As for the victim of Karys, this one could at least speak. “S-s-sithspittting BAST-” The crackle of the crimson blade through his scales cut him short. “Godssss Damn you Jeedaii… Two clicks to the s-south. Basecamp. We have a YT-1000… And a shipment of productssss set to leave for Nal Hutta…”

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.

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…

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.

The feeling inside her abdomen was like that of a Cazaderan Bloodworm burrowing through her innards, taking hefty bites along its way. Each breath was a fire inside, blowing upon a furnace of pain. Her face was paler then its normal alabaster, and a slow trickle of half coagulated blood trickled down her cheek, oozing slowly from the scorched pit where her eye had once been. Her whole body shook with each shallow breath as she looked upon the Massassi as he spoke of his plan. She let a shaking hand fall to her side, where she unbuckled the small holster on the belt of her muddied and bloodstained pajamas. She slid a slugthrowing pistol from the blackened leather, and racked the slide, hearing the satisfying click of a slug entering the chamber. Hayley gave the Massassi a pained smile and hauled herself to the edge of the fallen log, watching as he turned to go “I’ll take the right one. I’ll fight to the last if we have to…” The young girl could feel the wood give way slightly as she hauled herself to a position where she could shoot, sprawling herself across the dryrotted wood. She could hear the pirate’s footsteps, the distant chirrup of ysalamiri, and the burrowing of insects around her in the rotten wood. The smell of mold and moss clung to the still air of the jungle, and it hung, humid and putrid about her like a smothering blanket. She placed the sights of the pistol on the rightmost Barabel, propping the pistol up on the wood. ...Wait for the signal… Focus on the frontsight and follow it through… ((OOC: Your plan will succeed, post up the aftermath of the attacks))

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. <>

The Demented Madness pulled out of hyperspace at the predetermined coordinates designated by KAIN and Delta. As the ebony exterior of the assault yacht glittered in the reflected starlight, the Master of the Krath let the Force flow through his shattered mind. He could feel every weapons system within his sphere of influence, each in their place, their triggers and AI crying out for destruction within his mind. The assault squads were ready, and he could feel their nervousness and the churning of their anger. The Hutt triggered his comlink to signal the fleet of his arrival, and activated the holodatabase of the ship. It would allow Ailbasí Zirtani the access to all Sith archival data, as well as any stories of The Sith she desired. <

A Lord of the Sith, a Krath by the name of Fash Backar approached the dais at the pace of a man with a mission. He was a Falleen, and by no terms an evil man, but he carried the Dark Side close to heart. He had worked with Sheog for several years, ever since the Hutt’s return from the Corellian escapades that had ended with the death of the entire Corsec active investigators, as well as a majority of the Jedi Council. He admired the Hutt, and he had a message for him from his friend Delta, as well as fleet reports. The overlarge Hutt scrolled through the readouts and pressed a few buttons to prepare his own ship, The Demented Madness to be prepped for battle, fueled and fully armed. The Overlarge Hutt leaned forward on his dais, listening to the snowfurred cathar speak of the histories of the past. It was the language of more ancient factions of The Sith, and had not been uttered in the halls of the Sith Temple since time immemorial. With a rush of wriggling flesh, Sheog landed on the cobblestones beside the Cathar, his battlearmour clanging with ringing underweave. <> He motioned for her to follow with a wriggle of his armoured fingers. Alongside them came two squads of Sith Lords, fully armed. Two Krath Lords, Masters Vindalo and Karema, Human twins from Serreno wore their crimson cloaks and bore single-bladed lightsabers. Assassins Vae and Vosh followed at the rear in deep black cloaks concealing synthweave armour. The pair of Sith Warriors, both taken from the Greyjoy ranks before being trained as Warriors, wore heavy battlearmour and carried double-bladed lightsabers. Four Sith troopers in ebony armour marched alongside, with their heavy weapons and grenades. Four Tuk’ata with coats of deep crimson fur, rippling with musculature beneath snythweave armour. The Hutt motioned to them as he pushed himself along the flagstones <> The Demented Madness was loaded with the squads and its armaments, Ailbasi and Sheog would settle into the command sphere where there would be plenty of room for both of them. It would leave on a departure vector to jump into hyperspace.

The overlarge Hutt shifted in his battlearmour, letting the chainlinked plates move with the pattern of his inconsistent breaths. He leaned heavily upon his ebony staff, feeling the gentle reverberations of the Force through the Ewok-fur rug that adorned his dias. The comings and goings of the temple were marked with subtle changes in the flow of the Force, and he enjoyed the way the Force changed its whispering stream with each individual. It was as if each individual was a thread in a mighty tapestry, weaving together an intricate design. A new feeling appeared in the chambers of the Dark Lord, and the Hutt’s eyes opened to observe a snow-white Cathar being escorted towards his dias. He picked up his pipe, filling the chamber with the ribbon-cut Talosian Tobacco, and tamping it down as the group approached. The gnarled briar pipe was lit by a flash of lightning from his oily fingertip, and he settled the ember as the small Cathar was placed in a submissive post before him. The ember glowed to awash his misshapen face and crimson eyes with dim firelight. He listened to her words about profit and an inkling of greed passed through his stormy mind. The Lord of the Krath pulled the sweet-smelling smoke into his maw and let it mull across his tongue before expelling it in a curling cloud about them. His words were in the language of the Sith, but came to the mind of the listener in their native tongue < He leaned forward on the dias, and passed his staff between them. The smoke curled about her legs, but not in malice. In the smoke one would see vast treasure chambers overflowing with jewels and gold, as if reflected in a dark mirror <>

“...Stop your kriffing singing you di'kut.” The sound of her father’s voice cut through the kind love of a lullaby, ending the words but the music continued in her mind. She could feel the caress of warm arms about her shoulders, and the whisper of a language made up from one who never learned basic. The words carried pain across her mind, the grip of the hug conveying emotional hurt <> The stomp of boots kicking upon hardwood was followed by drunken bellows and the scatter of toys being kicked aside. The grip on her shoulders released, and a form moved across her vision, the springs creaking on the bedframe and boxspring. A brush of cold air as blankets were moved aside, followed by a stream of light and a crash as a door was kicked off its hinges. The light highlighted her sister’s lithe form in a nightgown, backlit for a moment before she was thrown to the floor by a much larger form. <> The smack of knuckles on flesh and the words ended with the sharp exhalation of air tinged with pain. Another blow and the crunch of ribs from a kick from a metalclad boot. The voice began to sing softly as the blows continued, projected into her mind ...Now I cry for everyone, do not fear their voices, cry for everyone, do not fear your choices... Hayley held back a sniffling cry, that turned to a muted sob. The form moved to her beside and the outline of a palm sped towards her. -Crack- Her one good eye fluttered open, and the treetops came slowly into focus. The ebony bark of the olbio trees was outlined by their evergreen branches, entangled by twisting vines and hanging moss. Pain came next in stinging waves, carrying with it nasua that made her wish to vomit. As her mouth turned sour she let herself stain the decomposing wood about her with crimson bile, with a retch that almost made her pass out. As for Karys, he would see a small patrol of three Barabal Pirates picking their way carefully down a disguised path, marked only by the occasionally broken branch in the undergrowth. These three pirates were armed with slugthrowers made for hunting, and crept through the forest like nightstalkers.

The overlarge Hutt relaxed himself, his energy bubbling under his oily and flabby surface like a teakettle ready to sing. For the first time in a very long time he felt almost content and satiated. Not since his battle against Geki had he felt so very alive. Ar-Pharazon’s demons had long ago fallen, and at long last the shadows of the once great monolith of the Sith had fallen with them. If he wished to make a return, he need not occupy the flesh of a child. The Lord of the Krath felt a spike of energy in the Force as it passed from space to the sands of Korriban, augmented by the love of another. Draken and Alora... The Hutt beckoned his servants to set another pair of places at the feasting table, with eatery from Serenno and seductive foods for the woman. The Hutt’s crimson gaze moved across the array of phallic chocolates and natural aphrodisiac foods and his mind pondered for a moment ...I literally know nothing other then she is a seductress… The words of the Dark Lord awoke his thoughts as The Spider spoke to the Hutt’s uncertainty and unease at the arrival of his one time rival. The Hutt stretched his blubbery hide in a long and frothy sigh, which sent a rivulet of slobber from the corner of his grimy lips. <> His dripping lips took on a twisted smile, one that was meant to be coy, but only achieved a horrifyingly grotesque expression. <> The Hutt’s eyes took on the complexion of sulphuric yellow, transitioning from their typical crimson <> A comlink chirped on the fatbit that adorned his wrist. A layer of fat rolled back to reveal a bit of sparkling technology that was strapped tightly across the flesh. The band it was attached to was certainly strained by the job of keeping at bay the power of his rippling hide. He nodded to Exodus with another jovial smile. < He scrolled over the messages as they arrived, with a blank and dull expression adorning his face. With a chubby hand he placed a monocle over his right eye and squinted at the tiny lettering that scrolled past <> He fiddled with the settings for a moment before the strapping snapped and the integrated datapad smashed to smithereens upon the carpeting. The Hutt breathed in a large gulp of air in disgust, and his nostrils flattened in a rage. Instinctively the Acolytes milling about nearby dived for cover. The Hutt yanked a datapad from its wall mount with a gesture of the Force and levitated it at arm's reach where he entered his passcode <> He glanced across the prisoner reports and selected one at random to read for no reason in particular. He sent a reply to the prisonblock. <<Dark Lord, it would appear we have a scientist that was captured with a mistaken permit. If you don’t mind I’m going to see to this oddly mundane task personally with a proper trial! Would you like to be the defense attorney?>> Two guards would come to the cellblock of Ailbasí Zirtani, both Sith Warriors seeking Lordship status and deliver her to the throne room. Accompanying her would be the arresting personnel and a full report of her observed activities.

The shadowed figure kept his form turned towards the darkened Valley of the Dark Lords, and the sounds of the growls of Vex'aedr and Roe'gall seemed to give him no measure of concern. The crystal that lay about her neck seemed to pulsate with the flow of the shadows about them, like a torch flickering in a cave. Her words seemed to hold no meaning to him. The shadows parted for a moment, and beams of starlight began to caress the warm stone beneath their feet. The stars, in their constellations above seemed to take on a greater brightness in the contrast between the creeping of the night. The stars were tangled, their location far above the Valley gave them unparalleled view of the night’s glory, devoid of pollution of the night. The view from the Outer Rim, looking towards the center of the spiraling galaxy was incomparable. An apt astronomer would be able to decipher the distant patterns of both the Hydian Way and the Perlemian Trade Route as they channeled hyperspace travel towards the Galactic Core. The figure pointed to some of the fainter patterns hidden within the clutter of stars and they seemed to illuminate themselves to outshine their brothers. His voice was soft but carried a deepset power. “...Andracca the Wyrm…” Summoned to mind was the image of an enormous Drake, his coat aglitter with coals of flame, illuminated with each breath. His monstrous form dwarfed the mountains, and their twisting and jagged crags looked like splinters beneath his bestial claws. “H-he shaped the Valley before the waking of The Infinite Empire… Upon his back rode his tamer…” A new set of stars illuminated, drawing the outline of a spear held aloft by a strong arm. Into mind sprang a woman with crimson hair in a cascade of warrior braids, lithe of body, clothed in reptilian hide. “Scatha, the Worldmother, who travelled the gates of Infinity...” The starlight began to fall in silvered beams to illuminate Raia as well as Vex'aedr and Roe'gal. The figure’s hand appeared to glitter between black and silver as the starbeams passed through them, casting away the shadows. “You are a daughter to Scatha, and carry w-with you her p-power.” The crystal about Raia’s neck seemed to pulsate with a deep sensation of reckoning, which was echoed by the shadow within the Force. There was no malice there, only wonder and a sadness whose roots ran deeper than the stones of the Valley, to the very center of the world. “They called her a Witch of Dathomir.”

With a whisper upon the rising wind, came a slight trickle of Force Energy, almost imperceptible, but with a tangible flavour. It was almost as if a window had opened within the Force and a flow of fresh air had begun to disrupt the stale air of a long-lost tomb. The hair on the scruff of the necks of both Vex'aedr and Roe'gall began to stand on end. The Dathomiri girl, who rested in the caress of the evening winds that swept off the Valley of the Dark Lords would hear the faint resonations of chanting upon the warm and twisting wind that grasped at her as it passed. Before her the Valley lay in a blanket of darkness, but at the rocky crags of redstone that ringed the valley could be seen the distant flicker of torches. Passing from the valley below came a shadow, as if upon the wings of a fallen beast, and its tendrils wound about the railings below Raia, creeping like smoke. The sounds of the night began to dim as if muted by a blanket of nothing. From the corner of Raia’s eye she would see a figure step cautiously from the darkness and lean across the railings to observe the valley below. The figure was cloaked in ebony, with scarlet letterings about its hem. As much as it was obviously there, its hands gripping the railings, it also appeared distant as if built from shadow itself. A sigh echoed from the hood’s center, with grinding sadness upon its notes. "T-these nights pass s-so quickly..."

The overlarge eyes of the insane Hutt opened, their multiple lids sliding back one at a time to reveal the crimson glow of the Krath’s piqued interest. He had felt the presence of true darkness rise, and his avarice rose to great it. The Golden God’s spiritual presence soared in the room, as a bird unlocked from its cage, its power embracing the heavens. The Lord of the Krath was familiar with Lord Ar-Pharazon, his vile actions had corrupted his friends before, and had sewn unrest within the ranks of the Sith during the Hutt’s rise to power. Although he bore the man no ill will, and quite a bit of pity for being locked in the Hellvault, he was ever hungry for the power the man had possessed. His eyes found the girl, the Golden’s own daughter as the source of the corruption, and Quietus rising to meet the threat. With a Dragon’s greed, the mighty Hutt reached out into the Force to devour and consume. To the Lord of the Krath, the spirit of one so long gone was like a girl lost in the woods, and he had come as a wolf to devour. He had little words for the man <> His hunger was a gravitational field, pulling upon the fabric of the Force. The ravenousness and voracity began to draw on everything with an avidity to consume. Beside the massive Hutt, his servant Twi’lek, the yellow skinned and lithe serving girl dropped to her knees, her boney fingers grasping at her throat. She dug her fingernails into her skin with a wild desperation, clawing as if to remove an invisible blockage. She straightened her spine and reeled backwards, falling into a husk of lifeless flesh, her spirit and life guzzled up like a Gamorrean with a growler of Sevasti ale. The Hutt’s desire expanded within the veil of the Force, drawing upon the spirit’s overwhelming signature as a black hole consumes a star that sits upon the edge of its event horizon. Within the physical realm, an apparition of a serpent appeared to wind itself about the Hutt in a loving embrace, matched in its doting by the buzzing of a thousand flies. The voices of the flies joined in the hissing of the serpent in a chorus of unnatural voices <> The power began to draw further upon the spirit, adding to the strength of Quietus and Exodus <>

The overlarge master of the Krath watched the proceedings before him with interest. The Dathomiri desired a clan, and his two best friends were in the process of comparing mating scores. He gave a slobbery sigh and stretched his flabby hide, letting the embrace of hunger and greed guide his mind. The voices that cursed his fractured mind like scabies bedeviled the homeless grew into an echoing cacophony, a tornado of broken and scattered thoughts. He contained the storm within his internal wasteland, allowing his demented voice to speak into it. It was as duelistic as the two sides of his Sin. The lack of influence of the Krath faction upon the galaxy had often bothered him, and his mind set itself to funnel the darkening clouds within towards the realms of realism, beyond the simple debates and petty squabbles of the Sith. His desire for sustenance was beginning to grow unbearable. … The pale Hutt smiled at the remaining man, watching as the cowardly one claimed his reward and left in a hustle. He picked up the man’s discarded glass with a pinch of his greasy fingers and placed it into the washbin, while moving his soaked rag upon the bartop, eating away at years of accumulated grime. He spread out a small hologram from within his palm, letting it slide across the bartop towards Stephen. “Only the fool takes the easiest prize…” The hologram opened to reveal a VCX-100 light freightor, with black and gold trim. “The Aberrant Folly. The crew was found slaughtered. Don’t worry we checked, whatever it was escaped already.” The Hutt laughed uproariously, as if that news was meant as a comfort. “To Coruscant or Cardia?

The pale Hutt added another few high-denomination chits to the disorderly pile of credits, each chit falling from greasy fingers like an expensive waterfall. He stared at the pair for a moment, mulling the man’s question in his mind. A mischievous smile formed across his mottled face, and his words were serpentine “Thirty-Thousand credits for the information. Even if it proves to be untrue, it will have propaganda value. As for bringing him in…” The Hutt poured them both a second round of Ruby Bliels, and added a slice of muja to each glass. He brought out a velvet bag from his side-pouch and produced from it a golden chit, which sparkled in the dim lighting “One-Hundred Thousand Credits to bring in this acolyte you speak of. And if you catch the two of them, five million credits for her brought here, alive or dead.”