Sheog the Mad

The overly large Hutt’s smile broadened, and a stream of drool dribbled it’s way down from the corner of his misshapen maw, tracing the pattern of a multitude of flabby chins. He nodded in acquiescence to Quietus, another stream of smoke coiling its way from his broad-bowled pipe. <> His grubby hand motioned to the grand hall of the temple, indicating all the work he had poured into The Sith over the past uncounted days. His crimson eyes turned to the older of the Dathomiri that stood about him. His hasty judgements had not sat well with the woman. With a hissing tisk of his flabby tongue the ashen construct passed about the woman once more. The ashen man fell about the witch, his flesh boiling into something else entirely. The Hutt’s fingers twitched as if he were knitting, and the Force increased its intensity. The crystalline matrix within his palm shattered with a whispering expiring of spirit. The liquid within it joined into the cloud of boiling vapour that hung about the Witch like a net. <> The boiling vapour crashed to the ground, bound into the form of a supple hide of reptilian origin. Its colour was that of ebony, and held within it the strength of devouring hunger. It would fit the woman far better than bulky armour, as it was knitted from Sithly steel, bound together like a living muscle. The great Hutt turned his sad eyes to the young woman Raia but with his communicative construct gone, he was reluctant to speak for fear of offending her. With a blubbery sigh, he projected his voice in basic only. He despised the language, and his voice carried a much more evil tone when he spoke. There was an undertone of true corruption, and a creeping hunger wound its way into each word “You can train with me, or Shadowlord. I will not pursue you like you are some prize to be won, or a bobble to be put upon a shelf.” The Hutt breathed in a large mouthful of croaking air, while his eyes glanced at the older nightsister's fascination at his work. Perhaps she was interested in training with him as well. “Know if you come into my care, I will NOT leave you to the sorrows of abandonment...” __________________ ((NPC For Stephen Farstrider) The pale hutt picked up the datachit, admiring it with his yellowed and sallow eyes. With a pudgy fingertip he pressed a series of signals into his datapad. A holoscreen appeared before the pair, and a battlescene was thrown upon them ivory-clad stormtroopers, their armour like sun-bleached bone running through the blown out halls of a temple, and at their head a young woman. She was in her late teens, her lithe body clad in the armour of a stormtrooper, with a cloak of forest green. Her face was scarred heavily, but concealed mostly by a series of ebony braids. Her eyes shone with a white-hot fire that boiled through their natural emerald, as she held a blazing lightsaber of silver before her like a spear. The battle showed her slaughter of the Sith commander, and dozens of troops before the footage became corrupted. The Hutt deactivated the hologram, and looked upon the pair with a look of scrutiny as he placed a large pile of high-denomination credit-chips upon the mahogany bartop. “Kyrie Eleison, the Sword of the Jedi, who crossed blades with our great Dark Lord and survived… You say the she has fallen in love with the one she has sworn to destroy?”

The pale Hutt leaned over the bar, his yellowed eyes examining the two of them as he scrubbed at an oversized glass with a clean rag. The Twi’lek nodded her goodbyes and disappeared, with a gentle wave to the two offworlders. The second her foot crossed the threshold, the bar seemed to change. The Hutt’s smile widened as the lights began to dim slightly, and pushed a pair of drinks across the table, which were ice cold and sweating. “Might I recommend a Ruby Bliel, in a clean glass…” The Hutt winked at the pair, and straightened up, cracking his sluggish neck. It was abnormal for a Hutt to speak words in basic “My name is Nugget, of the Hutt triplets. I buy and sell information for the Sith, and run this bar. If you’re force sensitive, our Master is always looking for apprentices… ”

The Twi’lek looked over both scans and smiled warmly, giving them both a copy of the results. It showed a genetic stream of information, past diseases, and family lineage. There wasn’t anything far outside the normalities of a galactic citizen. If there was a medichlorian count, it would be displayed with a marker. If that was the case, both of the pair’s datapads would be beamed with recruiting information and pamphlets detailing career opportunities in the branches of the Sith. “It looks like you’re clear of most everything. You need not worry about selling information to the Sith, we pay quite handsomely. Pay is proportionate to the value of the information, obviously.” There was a comlink chime, and the Twi’lek glanced upwards as if listening to a report. “It would appear my new friends, that Sheog the Mad along with the other members of the Unholy Trinity are currently occupied with protracted Sithly dealings. If you’d follow me, I’ll bring you to our Lord’s right hand at the Careheart Bar.” She motioned them to follow her, to a mostly empty bar, alight with a neon glow. The bar was tended by a young Hutt with mottled white skin, who set a pair of menus down for them all.

A cadre of Sith Troopers mounted the platform Delta-952, and at their lead was a Twi’lek girl of a scarlet complexion. She was dressed in a simple black tunic, and carried nothing but a datapad and a gorgeous smile. She waved to the pair of newcomers, and held out the datapad “Welcome to Korriban, if you would sign in on our database with a scan that would be most wonderful. It’ll take a small droplet of blood in a painless matter. It’s for DNA, obviously, for the following reasons,” She squinted for a moment as if trying to recall a memorized list “If you commit a crime, we will know who has done it. To see if you have any genetic deformities or mutations for study. If there are harmful bits of genetic code, you may not have permission to.. Um… Breed here on Korriban, our Lord is very insistent that we have no one living off what he refers to as… The Welfare State? I’m also supposed to end this with the words, Make Korriban Great Again.” She shrugged nonchalantly, showing off her lithe shoulders through the thin tunic “After this formality is done, we can get you to the Master of The Krath, the Lord of Gluttony, Admiral of Avarice, and other names.”

There was a moment of silence between the request from Stephan’s ship, and an acknowledgement from the Sith Fleet. The defensive fleet had been on high alert since the destruction of the Cardian Praxeum, and they were itching for a target. Captain Zen Robash of the Krath Destroyer, Feast of Fate, reviewed the target profile of the ship, along with the man’s request for a landing. He stood in his armour upon the bridge, while the flight officer awaited an answer from the considering man “Sir… If it’s information on the Jedi, our Master will wish to hear it… You never know what will follow such information… And the shipname, at the very least our Master will want to inspect it for fortune, and maybe glory...” The captain stroked his long beard, still dyed purple and pink from the Krath Pride Parade the day before. He absentmindedly brushed glitter from his hands and onto the blackened decking “Fortune and Glory, so aptly named, you have permission to land on platform Delta-952. You will be escorted by strikecraft, and will be vaporized if you deviate. Report to the feasting hall, where you will meet the Lord of the Krath.”

Hayley’s breathing was laboured, each breath was an agony from the weeping wound in her abdomen. She watched beyond the blaster pistol aimed at her face as Karys knocked the Vornskr into the pirates below, their weapons drawn. Since they were not from a cheap action holo, the pirates did not simply wait to be dropped on by a snarling beast, and their shots cut it to ribbons as it fell from the Massassi’s mighty kick. As the Sith leaped down at them, Hayley felt time beginning to slow about her. She could feel the soft caress of the grass on her legs, interspersed with weeds and their cutting thorns of that tore small holes in her pajamas, pricking her pale skin enough to draw small flashes of pain. Hayley could feel each heartbeat, the thumping in her chest seeming to richochet off her ribcage from the pumping of adrenaline in her system. The lull of emptiness and the flash of fullness that came with each thud of her heart. The sting of the wind as it whipped her chestnut hair in a mane about her thin neck. The air tasted of the musk of slaughtered animals, and the fear that bellowed out of the forest, carried like a dozen arrows on the wind. She could not bind her mind to the force, to keep it steady as she watched the crimson blade of Karys crash into the barabels arm, nor utilize it to leap to the side as the weapon discharged. She only could smile up at the Massassi as a ruby flash of light lanced into her left eye, burning through the yellowed-hazel iris in a glancing blow that emptied the socket. She held on tight to the Massassi’s arm as they made it to the woodline, her feet moving on adrenaline alone. When they were safe for the moment, she collapsed against a fallen tree. She smiled at him once more, as she felt a river of blood beginning to dribble down the side of her face. She spat out a laugh, trying desperately to make the Sith smile. “Well… That went rather…” She slumped into the embrace of the rotting wood, and the nightmare of unconsciousness that awaited her

The great Hutt watched his old friend, the King of the Warriors turn his words into an offer of training, shortly after the words of his own daughter. He could feel the reservations of the young woman, and her rejection of his voice troubled him. He pulled a large breath of smoke into himself, holding it overly long, letting its spiced ash coat his tongue and the mucous-ridden slobber that coated his maw and gullet. He bound the smoke within him, coating the ashes with the essence of his gluttony, and the wanting hands of avarice. He breathed it out slowly, letting it spin across his hand and staff as he spoke to the Warrior King, unable to contain his mirth <> He breathed in as the shuddering laughter shook his body. His nostrils opened wide to fill his lungs with air. <> The Hutt’s laughter trailed off into a coolness as the smoke continued to weave itself, his eyes catching sight of Delta, and the force signature of Queala. She was wearing the armour he had forged for the clone, <> The Lord of the Krath’s smile returned, and the smoke flowed out from his hand to entwine itself with the armour he had once made as a gift. To the Dathomiri witch, Quela he spoke, kindly, but firmly. In his palm he cradled a single pendent of violet, that ebbed and flowed with the power of the Force. His crimson eyes showed pain and sorrow, the hurt of a father. <> And with those words, the armour that was bound by him, was unbound, the ashes joining the smoke as it flowed, taking its power with it. The metallic fixtures began to rust and fade at an intense rate, beginning to crumble into nothingness. The smoldering storm of ashes formed themselves into the edifice of the a regal man with ashen skin, and hair of long white locks. His eyes were violet and sparkled with reddish flames. It smiled, and the Hutt’s voice came from its mouth <> The man winked, and turned to the girl Raia and bowed deeply, his flowing locks running in rivulets down his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice was deep and raspy, carrying the words in basic. “I shall do my best to help you learn, daughter of Quietus, if your father and more importantly... Yourself, feel up to it."

The overlarge Hutt sighed, letting his hunger devour itself as he settled back into his own madness, becoming once more a massive mountain of greasy flesh, held by avarice and gluttony. His staff darkened, the blade extinguished, becoming once more the grimy slithering-stick of an insane Hutt. He spoke to his guest, as the former Grandmaster, Dahar dismissed himself. <> The hulking Master of the Krath sipped upon his pipe, letting another wisp of smoke to fill his maw. The tobbaco smoke had lost its spiced taste, and had become overheated ash. The Hutt let out a blubbering sigh and tapped out the burning embers onto the ornate ewok-pelt rug that was laid about him. Two protocol droids scrambled to put out the flames before they consumed the overpriced furniture. He sent out a comlink message to Delta, beckoning him to the feasting hall. <> The Hutt chuckled merrily at Quietus’s chidings, the laughter billowing across his folds like a series of stones tossed into a placidly fleshy lake. He passed his staff over the surroundings, and several more torches ignited, letting in more light for the smoky feasting-hall. < The Hutt nodded kindly, but his voice held a stern warning. He could feel an unfamiliar aura about the girl, as if the Force was swirling in a submerged storm. Eddies and ripples were hidden beneath her surface <> The Krath Lord summoned up the image of an infantile Ewok being tossed from the trees by a stormtrooper, to be dashed upon the sharp rocks below. A burning village, the squeals of the dying. <>

The voracious mountain of flesh remained still, and but for the gentle wheezing of his blubbery breaths as they gurgled through his ever-working maw one might mistake him for an overlarge cake decorated by autistic Nemoidian third-graders. One of his servants, a Twi’lek with flesh the colour of rotting flesh, carried a platter of refreshments amongst those assembled. From her whithering skin, and from her ashen and dead eyes could be read the horrors of Sith corruption. To the apprentice Raia she offered several bars of protein, made from simple nuts and fruit, melded with honey; a taste of home out of place amongst the swirling sands. Her voice was hushed and was carried upon the spiced pipesmoke that hung to every breeze. “You come from a world of grey, the mountains old... Your hidden fire is ashen-cold… You walk where all life falls to be devoured, hunger stalks those the Force has empowered…” The Master of Gluttony mulled the taste of fire-aged leaf upon his tongue, the strings of his influence in the Force causing the tastes to turn from natural spice to the semi-dry sting of woldflower honey. The Dark Side was at work. He let the smoke roll from his thin lips, flowing like a curtain down his lumpy and quivering hide. He could see each as insignificant within the flow of The Force as a mynock caught from its roost within the powerful grasp of a solar tempest. The overlarge Hutt dragged the pitted end of his ornamental staff upon the flagstones, sending up a shower of sparks, each of a different colour. The Force had a hold upon his mind, and his voice held a power that began to show as though through a crack in a mirror. <> The Master of Avarice pulled upon the threads sewn into the Temple, causing a distant rumbling across the Valley of the Dark Lords. A heatstorm was gathering upon the mountains, bringing with it lightning and fear. The Hutt's nostrils flattened, as if to block out a horrendous odour. <> The Hutt's staff tapped once more upon the flagstones, sending more sparks into the darkness < A word followed the Sith apprentice, to the ears of Lallu came a voice unbidden, and grotesquely disappointed. ...Your anger and madness are unbecoming. They do well for a mask, but oh so little for a personality... The Hutt’s eyes squinted as a crimson blade shone from the darkness of the hall, illuminating the darkened stone with an eerie light. A deep blubbering sigh came from his frothing lips, sending drips of soot-encrusted spittle in bubbling rivers down his flabby throat. A sudden spike avarice and hunger began to fold around him within the Force, like an arachnid spinning a web. The hall itself began to crackle with the pangs of starvation, and the desire for a feast in the Force. A low hum matched the Twi’lek’s, an orange blade emitting from the base of the staff within his flabby hand. <> The pipesmoke about him began to swirl, as if beckoned by an unfaltering wind, to envelope the girl and consume her in darkness. The Hutt reached towards the Dark Lord with an overlarge hand as if awaiting the call to strike. The Hutt's tail curled and his muscles began to wind themselves in serpentine fashion. Within his stomach the call for sustenance was echoed in the Force. From the smoke a chorus of voices began to whisper ...You are a fly within a hurricane… Such an unworthy harlot is undeserving of even the clothing of darkness…

With a voracious howl, the dark-coated Vornskr leapt towards the Massassi, its beady eyes filled with rage. The glint of bestial malice disappeared as the life was driven from it as it fell to the Massassi’s blade. Two more of the shimmering beasts leapt from the forest, to surround the Massassi and reinforce their brothers. The Vornskr fell from the treebranch, its skull split from the crimson blade. Nearby, Hayley drove her vibroblades along the flank of one of the Vornskrs that made an abortive charge to her side. A spray of dark blood coated her, slung from her vibrating swords as she leapt backwards. She slashed through the claws of one of the reinforcing beasts as she made her way towards the tree in which the Massassi was surrounded. ...Krakkkoww… Scarlet light richocheted about her, digging up deep troughs in the weeds and exposing blackened earth. The young girl dove into a tumbling somersault, feeling a scorching heat tear through her back as she did so. Her feat of acrobatics ended in a stumbling fall, driving her into the dirt. Yammering howls could be heard as the beasts made a retreat. Hayley attempted to stand, her stained clothing clumped with dirt and blood, but she crumpled to her knees, her stomach feeling as though something had torn loose inside her. All she could see was the darkness behind her heavily lidded eyes. “Looks like some Sithsssss have come to ouuuuur Domainnnnn” She struggled to open her eyes, and succeeded for a moment. Barabels, around twenty armoured and heavily armed. Most of them aimed their weapons into the tree within which Karys remained, the leader cruelly smiled down at her, with sharpened and frothing teeth. He held out a blaster, leveled to her face. Her hazel eyes scanned the weapon, seeing it was set to single shot, and most certainly not on stun “Kriffing Pirates…”

The overlarge Hutt placed the wooden bit of his tobacco-pipe between his shapeless and be-spittled lips, feeling the hard press of the ornately carved Antakarian Briar as he watched the Jedi Master manipulate the Force. The falling Master seemed to show the young apprentice a hopeful future, one bright with fulfilled dreams, before tearing down the facade, leaving only a bitter fear and hopelessness. The Krath Master breathed a small wisp of tobacco into his maw, letting the smoke mull upon his tongue. He could taste the fire-formed aging of the leaves, with hints of spiced rum and leather. The Ancient Lord of Gluttony spoke, his eyes glowing crimson in violet reflection of the Jedi’s blade. <> Another tendril of dirty smoke curled from his asymmetric nostrils, bearing with it a sweet and spiced smell to overpower the obnoxious odour of his sweaty and grimy body. <> The Hutt smiled broadly behind the glow of the embers in his pipe, as he felt a most familiar presence join them. The last glimmers of daylight streamed into the smoky hall, illuminating them all to their new guests. <> The Hutt’s signature in the force blossomed with a glowing insanity, driven by unending hunger. <> The Hutt leaned on his staff, blowing more puffs of smoke excitedly in a cloud about his mountainous form. <>

The overlarge Hutt smiled at the former Jedi Grandmaster, and in the distance a distant screech could be heard, coming from a young voice, and with it the rasping of chains. The Hutt leaned against his staff, his crimson eyes assessing the man before him < The Hutt’s eyes flashed bright with the embrace of his own darkness. A young girl was hurled to her knees before the pair, her age indiscernible, but she was clearly before her physical maturation. She wore tattered robes, indicative of a Jedi padawan, and in the Force one could feel her trying to reign in her terror, but doing so badly. The Sith Master lifted her trembling and tear-streaked chin with the end of his staff, the emitter on its base scraping away a bit of the grime and drawing more tears. <>

A comlink message arrives with a slithering ringtone backed up by the upbeat tunes of an often-played song from a Mos Eisley Cantina, intended for Master Quietus

The massive Hutt watched his guest as the man pondered the paths that lay before him. The Jedi seemed to be troubled by the specters of his past, weighed down by a troubled conscious and a willful malice. The Lord of the Krath took another delightfully long drag on his water-pipe, enjoying the changing flavours of muja and chocolate as the herbs were boiled into steam for his tongue to enjoy. <> The mountain of gluttony sighed out a mouthful of steam, which smelled delightfully of melting chocolate <> The Hutt took in another breath, watching as a set of Twi’lek twins began to dance to the sounds of upbeat background music. Their lithe forms didn’t interest him much, but it was mainly for the pleasure of his guests < The Hutt passed a chubby hand through his steam, letting the Force swirl it into a picture of the galaxy. <

(OOC: Lesson One: Pacing your Posts. When in battle, your actions must be concise and take no more than perhaps a minute or thirty seconds. It’s respect to the opponent and makes things believable) Hayley looked at the Massassi in disbelief, her fingers tightening on the leather-bound grip of her vibrosword. Her knunckles turned pale and she withdrew the vibrosword from the tangled weeds before her “E-WEBS? MINES? GRENADES? TRAPS?” She flung a series of curses at the back of the Massassi as he began to clamber up an Olbio tree with surprising ease for a man who had moments before lost all connection to the Force. Her voice wavered for a moment between fear and anger. “Karys, we have NONE OF THOSE THINGS!” (OOC: Lesson Two: Using your inventory in a fight. We literally only have our inventory. What’s on your character sheet, you have access to in a fight. The environment can be used for advantage, but one cannot spawn weapons out of nowhere for tactical advantage) With snarling vengeance, a pack of six Vornskrs burst from the treeline, followed by another pack of smaller Vornskrs. The first pack, led by a Vornskr with a coat of crimson, marked by rippling musculature charged the young girl where she stood in the clearing. The smaller group of Vornskrs, began to scale the tree in which the Massassi had climbed. Hayley sighed, centering herself for death as the beasts made their charge. The leader made a headlong charge for her neck with his gnashing fangs while the rest began to circle and flank her. She flipped herself backwards, digging her vibrosword into the spinal ridges of one of the circling numbers, letting the sword chew through flesh and bone alike. She dropped in a tumble to the grass, coming up in a fighting stance above the dying beast. “Dammit.”

The overlarge Hutt watched his guests disappear one after the other, not caring to stay to take part in the Hutt tradition of waterpipes and watching dancing girls. It made his heart heavy to watch each guest not care for protocol, with the exception of the Jedi Master, Dahar. Seeing the man staying at the table, the Master of the Krath motioned for a large variety of waterpipes to be brought to the man. The process of vaping was seen intergalactically as a douche-move, but water pipes could be used for far more than spewing clouds of vapour to impress the half-wits of the galaxy. Sheog selected a slender pipe, catching its metallic hook into the side of his maw and allowing the vapour to fill the enlarged crevasse that made up his mouth. It carried with it a meek spice called Alberayr-blue, flavoured as chocolate-cream, which relaxed the mind. It had little effect on the Mountainous Lord of Gluttony, other then a tingling feeling of calm that danced about the edge of his madness. The Hutt exhaled a cloud of water vapour, letting it fall about the two of them like a curtain. Into the vapour, the Krath passed his avarice and unending hunger. <> The vapour began to fold itself into the form of a Wookiee, the best impression Sheog could muster of the Jedi, Kiralocca, from the memory of his death at the Hutt’s hands. The shifting and clouded Wookiee began to roar, and the Force sprung awake with corrupting influence of greed. <

A message arrives for Vigo Delta

<> A Tuk’ata meandered into the grand hallway, its glossy coat a canvas painted with streaks and swirls of black and white. It walked with a gate measured and carrying purpose. As the creature’s clawed toes began to soak in the growing vermillion sea, its voice erupted in harsh barking, marked in fearish yelps. The running waters crawled and thrashed upon, swelling around the Tuk’ata as its yelping cries grew louder and more frantic. The liquid took upon itself the colours of a rusted hulk, and its reflection became terrible. <> The yelping turned to curling shrieks that echoed upon the fire-lit walls. A thousand hands reached from beyond the reflection, tearing through the veil to consume the frightened beast. Fistfuls of glossy mane were followed by the sundering of hand-torn flesh, and still the beast cried. <> The Tuk’ata’s skeleton, picked of flesh by rasping fingers, fell shuddering into the churning sea. A chorus of deep laughter arose from the waves as they began to flow into themselves, a collapsing ripple in a pond. The Hutt’s eyes grew darker as he moved his staff to stand before him. The pull of the void was nearly unavoidable without his connection to the Force. His voice became weary, holding within it a rasping hunger <> His eyes bored into Faust’s <> The Overlarge Hutt flicked his staff against the cobbles, and a stream of servants began to bring out trays of cakes and pudding. Frozen Bantha-cream was held aloft in silver chalices, adorned in candies decorated in gold. Each guest had their choice of their favourites. The Hutt laughed through a moist mouthful of wine-soaked cake <> The jumbled bones of the desecrated beast began to dissolve upon the dried cobbles, taken to ashes, devoid of all things living.

...Farewell happy fields of home, Where Joy will never dwell: hail my horrors, hail this new infernal world… Pain greeted Hayley’s awakening, drawing streaks of throbbing heat from her face where several furrows leaked ruby droplets to stain her tunic dark with blood. With opening hazel eyes, the girl gazed at the Massassi above her, reading the concern upon his jowled face. She hissed in a breath through gritted teeth, before wriggling around him to her feet. He towered over her, blocking out the bright sunlight as she swayed with darkening vision. “Dammit, I haven’t been without The Force since before I joined in my master's madness...” She placed a small hand on Kary’s chest to steady herself, letting the droplets of blood fall from her chin to dim the emerald gleam of the tangled grass and weeds on which they stood. A distant chittering growl echoed through the surrounding junglescape, quickly echoed by a chorus of others. She withdrew her vibroblade slowly, leaning a small amount of her weight on its leather-bound handle. She kept the blade at an arm’s length and sunk the tip into the grass as the wind began to pick up about them. The howling breath of the wind carried more bestial voices with it from the jungle. A few droplets of her blood stained Kary’s already ruddy features with flecks of crimson. “Vornskrs, I would bet.”

With a heavy sigh, the Lord of Madness removed his weight from his staff, letting its ornate handle play across the oil of his palm, the ridges of cracked leather providing a comforting texture not unlike sandpaper. His appetite had left him with the din of the newly crowned Dark Lord’s admiring crowd, and with it crumbled his joyful playfulness. His eyes turned from a bright crimson to a sickly orange and his perplexion faded from ignorant smile to grim satisfaction. <> With the tip of his staff, The Master of the Krath stirred a large bucket of punch that was brought to him by two bewildered Weequay. Its colour reflected the light of the hallway, changing with flashes of merlot and emerald as it picked up different wavelengths of light. The Overlarge Hutt turned to Exodus with a smile < With another gesture, the Hutt flicked the tankard to the floor, where it covered the sandstone cobbles with a deep river that appeared as blood, running the length of the hall in a wave of scarlet. The Hutt’s laughter returned, but darker and much deeper <> Over the endless chanting of the mindless, the Hutt turned to the Twi'lek, still holding his staff. His voice was overloud, and loaded with gobs of spittle <>

<<Exodus... The Elder Sith are off doing their own things... Cavorting with whores and being romantic for some reason. Perhaps they all got infected by some romantically inclined fungal plague. Quietus has been the only one responsive to my questions...>> The massive Hutt’s nose flattened in reptilian fashion as the touch of the Ysalamiri’s influence passed over him. The sound of intestinal distress began to stir about the room, coming in roiling waves from the ravenous hunger within the Hutt’s multiple stomachs and from his insane mind. For so long he had feasted on a mixture of food and the natural essence of the Force about him, and now he was denied sustenance. He blinked his overly large eyes a few times, the multiple lids keeping them slick with a gooey slime, before he inclined his head slightly towards the disabled Faust. <> With a wave of a trembling hand, the Hutt ordered in the awaiting feast, which was dragged, carried, and sloshed onto the expanded table by an army of various guards and kitchen staff who were very much uncomfortable in the task of serving such Sith Masters. The overlarge Hutt leaned heavily on his staff, watching as the multitude of dishes piled up on the mahogany table. He caught sight of the young Jedi he had dueled several times, perhaps even once in a dream, and beckoned him to his side. <<Dahar! Come and join us for the feast. This mate->> The overlarge Hutt indicated the disabled Faust with the butt of his staff in a respectful manner and a comedic wink <> The Hutt snorted derisively, his pudgy stomach heaving with exertion and irritation. Without the assistance of the Force, his madness was rising swiftly. He found his center, his hands beginning to quiver, followed by rippling in his underarms. He sighed deeply <> As the Hutt flexed in a sad display of quivering chubbiness, an adolescent Gammorean waddled up quickly with a tray of assorted candies, wearing a colourful smock of pastels. The Hutt bent down, swallowing the squealing and tender pig whole, leaving the tray to clatter on the ground, dumping the candy onto the slime-tracked cobblestones. <> The Master of the Krath indicated the table with a wave of his greasy palm, and the silver-lined platters on which it was served. The meal was more themed around quantity rather than quality. The main course was an entire brazed bantha, cooked to a medium rare, with pitchers of hamameal gravy, along with a dozen different types of dinner rolls, even ones without gluten. To top off the course was a salad of Alderanean kale and sweetgrass, with ships of Iridonian chestnuts and a drizzle of vinegar dressing. A locally sourced Nerf-cheese fondue was available for dipping of a variety of breads and meats. The Hutt pulled a handful of the Bantha-meat off the ribcage, before shoving it into his gullet with a satisfying slurp and smacking of his greasy lips. He glanced around at the assembled guests, and spotted the girl Keenava where she stood awkwardly to the side <>

Hayley brought a bare hand to her freckled brow as the ship entered the atmosphere of the jungle planet. She felt nauseous, as if a she were suddenly blinded, cut off from a sense she had relied on since Hoth. Her other hand began to feel clammy with a cold sweat on the control yoke as she brought the ship in for a landing in a small clearing. The landing was bumpy as the nacelles ripped through the forest underbrush in a tangle of vines and trees. She stood slowly, using the seatback as an armrest. She felt exhausted already, drained of her strength as though a leech was sucking the power from her very core. Her breathing was heavy and laboured as a sickening coldness formed a knotted lump in her stomach that would not untangle. She gripped at her flesh with stiffened fingers, one arm pressed to her flat belly. She stumbled towards the landing ramp, into the cargo hold where the Massassi was gathering his equipment “Karys, I feel like absolute shi-” She began to vomit a mix of crimson bile and chunks of protein cube. She landed hard on her knees, the durasteel biting deep into her kneecaps. She shuddered and vomited again, before leaning heavily against the unlowered landing ramp, her small hands shaking “So this is what the galaxy feels like, devoid of the Force…” The ships jolly AI, having sensed that they had landed on solid earth, triggered the landing ramp at the touch of a recognized human, dropping Hayley sprawling. She tumbled hard down the landing ramp, smacking her face on the corrugated durasteel before she landed in a jumbled mess, unmoving in the weeds.

The obtuse Hutt leaned heavily upon his staff, the Sith-forged steel supporting even his enormous weight. He stared past the great Sith Master, upon the forces that had fallen in behind him. For a moment the light began to bend around his enormous shape, turning into bright blues and deep reds, staining the room crimson in the shifting of colours attempting to escape the eternal pull of a black hole. Avarice and gluttony sprang forth about them like the curling flames of a solar prominence, untangling themselves from their master, as a child from behind an overbearing mother. The Leviathan spoke first, a wriggling serpent bathed in emerald flame. <> Following the words of Avarice, came a swarm of hunger, as a rain of locusts to devour and fill the wound growing in the Force <> As swiftly as they came, the madness replaced them with a bellowing laugh. The wound within the Force disappeared with them, taken into the veil of insanity. The Hutt smiled broadly at Exodus, and extended to him an oversized draft of Cognac, larger than the head of a human. He motioned him towards a long table, set for two, with two chairs. One for a human, made of ebony hardwood, with pillows for reclining, the other an oversized rolling chair that were more commonly seen in holorooms. <> __ A solemn voice came over the comlink system to the ship of Dahar “Landing pad Gemini, Master Jedi. A dancing girl will escort you to our master. Do you prefer Human or Bothan?”

The overlarge Hutt’s crimson eyes widened to the size of even larger dinner plates at the vision of the Master of Assassins appeared on his holoscreen. He had met the human with his dark and dashing mane of luscious locks at a Tattoo festival with Furion if his memory served him right, many years past. The Hutt felt a blush beginning to turn his greenish flesh a deep violet, the colour of overripe muja fruit, at mention of his weight loss. He placed an oily palm upon his flabby chest, over the fourth of his five hearts, a symbol of humility amongst his wormish species <> The Hutt was shaken by an uproarious laugh that rose from his belly, causing him to jiggle like a backworlds stripper after her fifth child. The laugh had the unfortunate side-effect of covering the holoprojecter in a globby film of pus-like spittle, as if he had just drained a rotting abscess from the belly of a greasy homeless Rodian. <> The Hutt attempted to snap his fingers to summon a servant and failed miserably due to the buttery nature of his flabby fingers. Reaching out with his gluttonous desire he summoned the kitchen staff to ensure the table was set with a feast for at least a hundred, and seats for two. <

The Lord of Madness leaned heavily on the operation table, up to his flabby elbows in the fragrant intestines of a Tuk’ata queen, mulling over a small bit of fascia in his gullet. The flesh of the Tuk’ata would make a wonderful meal, flame seared with a Red-Wine Reduction, the overlarge Hutt schemed, designing a full course around the beast, before remembering he needed to design a new sub-species for integration into the Sith military not into a meal. <> A clatter shook his concentration as a Sith apprentice ran into the room, knocking delicate scientific equipment all across the sterile tiles. The Hutt stared at the incompetence in horror as the Sith began to stammer “Mastt-ttt-ttter-” The Hutt glared lightsabers at the man, a hunger-fueled rage beginning to blaze hot within his mind <> The Hutt bit back the rest of his frustrated insult, feeling immediately horrid about mocking a person with a disability. The Sith began to hyperventilate <> The massive Hutt crossed the operating room, propelling himself forward on his slime with a few strokes of his incredibly muscular tail. He places a gore stained hand across the man’s face, forcing him to breath through his nose <> The Sith Apprentice’s breathing slowed as he found his center, his eyes still wide behind the Hutt’s gigantic palm. Sheog took away his hand, admiring the bloody handprint on the young man’s face “Something has taken control of our fleet, utilizing a priority Dark Lord command…” The Hutt’s heavy brows folded in concern, and he wiped his hands on the lime-green apron he wore, covering the writing “Kiss me I’m Dathomiri” in chunks of refuse and blood. He activated a priority comlink from the nearby wall-console, patching him through to the cockpit of Exodus with a hologram of his massively flabby face <> The Hutt tried to think of something somewhat funny, while crossing his fingers, hoping whoever had the Dark Lord priority codes was not a Dooku knockoff named Shadowlord. He stared at the blank screen in hope of seeing a return image <