Krath Apothos

Nok moved to the edge of the pit. His blind regard switched from artifact to artifact, and his fingertips began to unconsciously rub together, a slight smile quirking the edges of his mouth. Nok's body froze. Then, smoothly, he turned to the droid. "Fine. My name is Nok Morliss. I'm a wealthy entrepreneur and an amateur Sith. I was tasked by a potential master to come to Mon Calamari and retrieve...something." He turned his face upward, as if in thought. "I'm not sure what, that was kept fairly vague. Just an 'offering' of some kind. When the dark voice started talking and the chanting began, I made what I think is a rather reasonable assumption and decided it was linked to what I came for. Judging by this room," he said, a smile splitting his face, "I'd say I was right. Even a tenth of the rubble in here is valuable, not to mention an excellent bribe for any Sith on Onderon." He turned back to the droid. "I think you'll understand why I wanted to keep this from the more 'old-fashioned' members of the group. True to form, they've gone off to die gloriously. And thanks to your quick thinking, we'll have a chance to explain ourselves to the troopers. My ship and identity are both registered by the Sith Imperial census bureau, so if we can get them to not shoot us long enough to look up my name, we should be fine." He grinned wider. "Especially with something like this lab to offer. Play it smart, and we'll get out of this alive, and may be richer than we started. There is still that reward out on Jedi right?" Nok turned back to regard the pit. "Now, before we start congratulating ourselves, I should tell you that I'm having trouble sensing down there, which I think unfortunately means we've reached the end of the line," Nok said, pointing down.

Still as stone, Nok listened to the Sith commando's declaration, and then his ultimatum. Seconds passed, with his brow furrowed and his gaze fixed on empty space. Then, his shoulders relaxed, a decision made. His soft voice stayed calm and even as he spoke. "We can't be taken prisoner. They'll kill the Jedi, and maybe the rest of us as collaborators. Or worse, they could take us prisoner. We have to pick up the pace. We might find a split in the path or a place we can barricade to stall them. Anyone who feels like a noble sacrifice, now would be the time." Nok didn't wait, or pretend to make any show of being blind. Purpose infused each long stride as he made his way to the front of group and kept going, hesitation absent. As he passed Xar, he spoke in the same even voice. "Whatever happens, don't shoot the soldiers." "Or do, but then you're fired."

The Black Bracer dropped out of hyperspace, an ugly bulk of a ship blotting out the stars behind it. Seconds behind it, The Broken Bullet and The Moon Beetle followed, taking cover behind their heavily armored lead ship. On the bridge of The Black Bracer, Commander Jaden Jorus grimaced. "They're kriffing everywhere! Where's the...wait...officer, pull up an image of the Hammerhead, combat zone 33-A" The holographic image of a Hammerhead-class cruiser filled the space above the command console. That's...that's the Divine Justice! Kolchak! That stitched-up scrap of imperial boot-leather is here!? The sounds of turbolaser fire echoed in Jorus's memory, calling up starkly detailed memories of an old asteroid base on the edge of the galaxy. It was the noise that had woken him up, and for a few seconds he'd thought the boys we're playing a holovid in the next room. When he'd gone to shout at them to keep it down, he'd seen that same ship bearing down, turrets blazing. No hailing, no warning, just death raining on the base. The hangar and the medical bay had already been shredded in the first salvo, and as he watched the mess hall dissolved into glowing scraps of metal and scorched rations drifting in space. Jorus had been one of the only ones to survive, and the only one not to get captured and executed by that hatchet of a commander. Alright Kolchak...I've got the bigger ship now. Let's see you scurry. "Prepare missile salvos," he called as Our Velvet Ire dropped out of hyperspace behind the cover of The Black Bracer and activated its stealth tech. "Launch fighters. All gunners prepare for a tight firing theater. I aim to scrape some paint. I'm sending you targets. Commence firing on my mark!"

“They actually went after Kuat..." "Sir?" Jorus shook himself. "All ships, plot a course for Kuat. Jump in battle formation, and expect immediate contact upon reentry." The bridge dissolved into a flurry of activity as officers relayed orders and crewman scrambled to get the ship ready for the new fight. Jorus grimaced as he saw the hyperspace solution resolve on the holo-display. We're going in first. Marvelous. "Prepare to jump....Commence jump!"

“Alright, let's get started. Officer! Contact the 1st Flotilla.” "Connected sir." "1st Flotilla, we're beginning our advance on Talus. We're going to follow Herløv's heading and match their speed. Moon Beetle, Broken Bullet, maintain formation behind us. Captain Zymo, go dark and await orders." Alright, let's see how badly they want this rock. He silently thanked his boss for at least picking a ship with a thick hull for him to stand in.

"Cortosis. No, but valuable," Nok replied, a note of disinterest in his voice. He wasn't here for rocks, but if it kept the others occupied, then they were welcome to it. At the bridge, he grimaced. His ache in his arm was starting to fade, and with it his vision. He stepped out onto the length of stone without waiting and shuffled across. The droid proved its safe, and there's no sense in separating from the one heavily armed thing in this cavern protecting me. He tamped down on his emotions, forcing himself to stay calm. That voice was worming its way inside, but it didn't sound hostile. More like...a call? Is anyone there? He cringed after thinking the question, half expecting to hear his own voice mocking him again.

Nok wanted to shout something back about his views on hazard pay, but decided to just ignore the comment. Soaked in sewage, trapped in a cave on an ocean planet with a bunch of lightsaber wielding Jedi, and running towards some...thing, he didn't trust himself to be civilized. So long as the droid did his job for as long as possible it didn't matter if he complained. Besides, if he leaves early, I don't have to pay him. Nok wrenched away. "GET OFF ME YOU-" Nok stopped him himself and grimaced. This place, that presence...he couldn't trust himself. I...won't retreat. He modulated his voice to something more polite. "Yes, I feel it. As for who I am and what I'm doing, would you believe anything I told you?" Those words, they aren't old Sith. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. And before you ask, I'm not a Sith. I'm just an...interested amateur." He ran his lie through his head as he talked, until he thought it had enough truth to sound convincing enough to buy. "Look, I found out I was...like you. Sensitive. It's even how I see now. When I found out, I got my hands on every bit of Sith and Jedi lore I could find, but it wasn't enough. The Sith, I mean the living ones, were the only option that had answers. I mean, you Jedi are a bit hard to find and have traditionally...not gotten on well with neimoidian culture. But in any case, I was an idiot, a businessman who thought money and position would protect me from those monsters." He tightened his jaw for effect. "Don't believe whatever the news has been saying, those animals are sadistic killers, nothing more. Before I knew it, I was drafted or kidnapped or something into serving a warrior darth and was off to the battle of Kuat. Fortunately for me, my new master disappeared in the fighting after giving me just enough of a start in the Force to see once I got blinded." Nok covered his face with his palm. "I wasn't even in the actual battle. It was some animal that got me, a snake I think, though it happened fast and I don't remember much about it. I got off-planet, but the Sith Empire has me in their records, and I'm not anxious to get caught again. More than that, I need answers. I've been having dreams, the same vision over and over and over and it's terrifying me!" Nok shuddered, then collected himself. "Anyway, nothing smooths things over like an old-fashioned bribe. I've found a relatively reasonable Sith that I think I can deal with, but he'll only deal with me if I prove myself by bringing him something. I didn't even know what I was coming here for, just that I'd find something. And I'm willing to bet THAT" he said waving his hand at the darkness "has something to do with it. I'm not leaving. I'm not going to go the rest of my life in terror every night, afraid I'm going to die in...that I'm going to die in pain." He sighed. "There. That's my story. I know it's probably foolish, but I don't have any other options. And if the Sith can't give me answers...then maybe something down here will. But I am not dying on anyone's terms but mine." Not a bad try. If I'd had the chance to rehearse it, I could have really emphasized some of those emotional points, but that was still good for an off-the-top. Besides, I don't have to convince her it's true. I just have to make her doubt. Selfless person like her...well, better not to count on anything down here, but I seriously doubt she'll try to kill me now.

Out of the star-field surrounding Centerpointe, the bulky and ungainly Bulwark Mark II Black Bracer dropped out of hyperspace. Despite being freshly painted its namesake color with its name carefully emblazoned in gold on its prow, its layers of armor were pocked and scarred with the old marks of blaster fire. A few seconds later it was followed by the twin Captor-class Cruisers Moon Beetle and The Broken Bullet, which immediately dropped behind the Black Bracer and took position behind its bulk. Away from the newly arrived ships, a single Hapan Nova-class Battlecruiser, Our Velvet Ire, dropped out of hyperspace and began circling the beachhead. On the bridge of the Black Bracer, which looked like something between a military command center and a chapel, Commander Jaden Jorus stood over a holo-display and squinted at the read-out with his good eye. The results of the last fight played out before him in names and numbers. “...Yeah, they’ll be back.” He activated communications. “This is Commander Jorus, of the Fleet of the Strands, 1st Flotilla, here as reinforcements. Sending security codes now. Just let us know where you want us to park this tub.” As he waited for the confirmation that would let his ships approach the fleet, he grimaced and rubbed at his cybernetic arm. The boss had hired him out before, but this was different. The boss’ merc jobs usually had him commanding the tiny fleets of small-time warlords getting into territory skirmishes, or pirate-hunting for local governors. Every once in a while he got into something big, like a cartel war, but nothing like now. This was the kriffing Sith Empire. What the heck was the boss thinking? Small jobs were his style, not this imperial conquest nonsense. Sure the pay was good but was it worth the attention of a bunch of maniacs like the Sith? Then again, the last time Jaden had seen the boss, he’d been different. First and foremost, the wily, overdressed schemer had had his eyes gouged out, so that had been a bit distracting. Second, the boss had seemed distracted himself, barely paying attention to Jaden’s reports. Third, a lot of the missions he’d been sending Jaden on since then had been strange. The old merc didn’t know much about the historical knick-knacks the boss would sometimes have him pick up, but it seemed he’d been doing it a lot more recently. Sometimes he’d even been pulled out of a job before it was done to go snatch some ancient tablet or cup or book from some hole in the ground or a collector’s stash. Three more years. Just make it three more years, then there’s that nice resort on Naboo where I can wither away in peace. He keyed communications again. “Captain Zymo, broadcast the lead ship your stealth frequencies. No sense giving anyone a reason to shoot you before this place gets noisy.” Heavy Brawler Escort: Hammer and Anvil Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Bulwark Mark II Black Bracer |20/30| Destroyer Group (Missiles): Focus Fire Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser Moon Beetle |9/9| Captor-class Heavy Munitions Cruiser The Broken Bullet |9/9| Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters Assigned PC: Nok Morliss (commanded by NPC Jaden Jorus) Task Force Experience: Green, 1XP Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire |9/9|

Identity NPC controlled by Nok Morliss Real Name:Captain Jaden Jorus A.K.A:Old Jay Homeworld:Nal Hutta Species:Human Physical Description Age:67 Height:6’2” Weight:160 lbs Hair:White Eyes:Brown Sex:Male Equipment Clothing or Armor:Worn combat fatigues, cybernetic arm Weapon:Heavy blaster pistol Common Inventory:High-capacity datapad, portable scanner/communications array Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Non-Force User Alignment: Neutral Evil Current Faction Affiliation: Sith mercenary commander through Nok Morliss’ employment Current Faction Rank: NPC History Force Side:N/A Trained by:Various Nal Hutta mercenaries Trained who:None Known Skills: Survival training (skilled) Ground combat tactics (expert) Space combat tactics (expert) Speeder pilot (expert) Space pilot (skilled) Basic hand-to-hand combat (expert) Marksman (skilled) Cybernetic maintenance and repair (skilled) Background: Captain Jaden “Old Jay” Jorus will be the first to admit he shouldn’t be alive. On a planet where the average scumbag tough-for-hire survives a decade or two at best, Captain Jorus managed to keep himself from a gutter grave through a combination of caution, intelligence, and a lot of luck. That luck kept him alive when he started pirating for one of the local hutt lords, saw him through several stints with different mercenary companies, and even got him through a term of service as a draftee in a moff’s army post-Empire. Eventually he managed to commandeer his own freighter when he stumbled on its distress signal in an asteroid field, and decided that at his age he had better find a safer line of work than soldiering, and so he became a smuggler. It was on his last smuggling job, a simple pickup for an arms dealer, that his number finally came up. One of the arms dealer’s enemies had tracked him down and managed to detonate the munitions shipment, hoping to take everyone with her. The arms dealer and Jaden both survived but were badly wounded. The medical droid on the dealer’s nearby ship rushed both into surgery, keeping Jaden alive while it worked on its master. Jaden would later learn it had done so in case it needed “raw materials” to keep its owner alive. When the arms dealer, the neimoidian Nok Morliss, woke up, he ordered his droid to fix up Captain Jorus as best it could. Up until this point, Nok Morliss had been expanding his business and fortune through shady deals, sabotage, fraud, takeovers, and any other method he could think of, and he’d been handling much of the field work personally. Exposing himself like he had for a simple arms deal had been a mistake, and he needed someone to take over the grunt work of his operation. Captain Jorus would be that someone. When Jaden finally awoke after weeks of sedation, he found roughly half of his internal organs replaced by cybernetics, along with one of his arms. The neimoidian who stood over him offered him a simple deal. He would work for Nok for one decade in payment for the cybernetic upgrades or Nok would shut them off. If he was found wanting, Nok would move on to a new candidate and find another way to recoup his investment in the old pirate. If he excelled, he’d receive a portion of the profits in payment. Not seeing any other options, Jaden agreed. Fortunately for Jaden, after a lifetime in trenches and spaceways, Nok’s “corporate” work was a relaxing change of pace. Captain Jorus’ rough and dirty style easily bullied Nok’s more civilized targets, and most of the jobs were already half done when Jaden got involved thanks to the neimoidian’s planning and connections. Nok began entrusting Captain Jorus with greater and greater responsibilities, eventually hiring him out as a mercenary commander for the myriad private wars in the Outer Rim. His extensive experience served him well, and Jaden got a reputation for competence and professionalism, and most didn’t suspect him of carrying out extra “assignments” for his patron while he was doing his job. Seven of the promised ten years have passed, and Jaden is enjoying the good life for the first time, Nok indulging the veteran’s simple tastes and keeping him out of the line of fire. Though, the threat of shutting down his cybernetics was never rescinded, and Jaden knows what will happen if he goes independent before his contract is up. So when Nok reassigned him to hire on as a mercenary commander for the Sith Empire, the old captain went without a word. Ship / Fleet The Fleet of the Strands, 1st Flotilla Heavy Brawler Escort: Hammer and Anvil Capital Ship Experience: Veteran, 2 XP Composition: Bulwark Mark II Black Bracer -constructed: Hypori Tours of Duty: Defended the kuati shipyards in the Second Battle of Kuat Description: One of the largest ships employed by the Sith House of Exiles, the Strands, the Black Bracer is a recovered CIS-era warship retrofitted with modern technology and layers of reinforced armor. The crew are traditionally all members of the Starmasters of Varaka, a disgraced cult forced into contracted service by the Strands. Their fervent, and likely erroneous, belief in a promised afterlife at the side of their ancient master pushes them to never retreat until ordered, and so the Black Bracer serves as a willing escort and wall for other ships of the fleet. Destroyer Group (Missiles): Focus Fire Two Cruisers Experience: Veteran, 2 XP Composition: Captor Class heavy munitions Cruiser Moon Beetle -constructed: Balmorra Captor Class heavy munitions Cruiser The Broken Bullet -constructed: Balmorra Tours of Duty: Defended the kuati shipyards in the Second Battle of Kuat Description: A pair of sister ships commissioned near the end of the Clone Wars, the two cruisers were passed around the Outer Rim as a set, modified repeatedly by new owners for new work. Eventually, they came into the hands of the Strands and were given to the Starmasters, who turned the expansive hangars of the vessels into missile batteries. Crewed mostly by conscripts and slaves, the two ship crews have developed a friendly rivalry, and have been used by the Starmasters to subjugate small space stations and asteroid bases in the name of the Sith Empire. Covert Strike Force: Silent Hunters One Stealth Cruiser Experience: Veteran, 2 XP Composition: Nova-class Battle Cruiser Our Velvet Ire Captain Zyro -constructed: Hapes Tours of Duty: Defended the kuati shipyards in the Second Battle of Kuat Description: Contributed by the Sable Weave, the council leaders of the Strands, Our Velvet Ire is a remnant of the House leaders’ origin as an assassin cult. Outfitted with sensor scramblers and stealth armor, the ship is designed to line up the most advantageous attack vector possible and unleash a barrage before the enemy knows they’re there. It’s currently crewed by the Abyssin Captain Zyro and his raiders, a band of pirates captured in Sith space and sentenced to death before the Sable Weave interceded on their behalf. Why they did this is still unknown, even to Zyro.

This had better be worth it. Nok had smelled raw sewage before, though never from this close, and this stuff was actually worse, despite how impossible that seemed. On top of the overwhelming normal stench of normal sewage, this glop radiated the overwhelming scent of fish. Nok thought back to the nubian spinefish drenched in shaak butter and garnished with powdered lux urchin he’d eaten three days ago, and had to fight not to wretch. Wonderful, now seafood is ruined for me. Nok heard the others moving through the sludge, and saw them through the throbbing aches he’d earned from the fall. He also saw… Yes, there, an opening about 12 feet up. He couldn’t be sure if the others could see it in the dark. Enough. I’m not sitting in this muck waiting for them to find the exit. I doubt they were buying the blind man routine to begin with. Nok waded over to the wall directly below the fissure, firmly ignoring the texture of whatever his feet were stepping in, and slapped his hands as hard as he could against the stone. The stinging in his palms illuminated the stone wall to his mind, showing in stark detail the chinks and cavities peppering the surface. He reached up and grasped a knob of rock, his sewage slick fingers slipping for a second but eventually finding their grip. Then Nok began to climb. He smiled as he pulled himself out of the muck with a SCHLUCK. This reminded him of when he’d first started making his fortune, sabotaging his own customer’s operations to drive them into debt and into his control. He’d been fierce then, hungry. He remembered squirming through air shafts, cramming himself into shipping crates for hours, slicing computers with second-hand local equipment… And now I’m covered in sewage, free-climbing a wall in a Lethane filled mine on a quarantined planet. There was a reason I stopped doing this nonsense. Nok rolled over the lip into the fissure, and took a second to catch his breath. He could barely “see” up here, away from the others and with the stinging in his palms subsiding. He considered calling on the terror of the vision again, but after the internal conversation before the jump he was no longer sure he could control that torrent of emotion if he invoked it. Alright, different plan then. He pulled out one of his vibro-knives, keeping it off, and before he could think better he drove the dull, rounded hilt into the meat of his upper left arm. Then he did it again, and again, until his left arm throbbed with what would definitely be bruises. He flexed, the pain sharpening with each motion and lighting up the passage. Concealing the knife back in his sleeve, he started on the downward path. There was no question in his mind that he was going down, not up. The argument he’d had with himself had lit a fire in him, and he wasn’t going to quit now. Never surrender. He might retreat, rethink, or restrategize, but he would never truly give up on something he wanted. That’s what made him different. That’s what made him better. He could almost hear the voice mocking him with silent insults that struck home nonetheless. Was he just fooling himself? Was he just some lucky and arrogant grifter, a bottom-feeder waiting to get stepped on? Fitting planet to die on if I am. The passage descended straight at first, but eventually changed into a winding passage that moved with the contours of the rock rather than cut into it. The Lethane was growing thicker, and Nok’s lungs started to burn as he struggled to breathe. He channeled the pain into power and kept going. He wasn’t thinking now. He was going to win, he was going to get what he came for, or he would die trying. This wasn’t some con or mission anymore, this was him alone with the howlrunners, the two beasts starved and snarling as they eyed the worn neimoidian. This was wrestling mind-to-mind with that serpent on Kuat. This was fighting for his life against that tree-thing on Garn. Then, like passing through a door into a heated room out of the cold, the Lethane cleared. Nok sucked in a deep breath of sweet air, confused. Had he passed the gas’s source? Lethane did rise, but the change was so sudden, like entering a force field. Nok took in his surroundings, the throbbing aches in his battered left arm acting as his light.

As the group sloshed down the corridor through what had to be raw sewage, Nok kept quiet. The droid and the Jedi together seemed more than capable of filling the silence, and better yet they didn’t need someone to respond to keep them going. That big one though...he was strange. Nok could barely see him from the faint fear and minor aches of the others. He was empty and still, as if he was dead. Still, Nok was grateful to be ignored. It helped him to focus on...the cold. It had crept up on him, but now he felt it sink in. A malicious, invasive presence, moving with hints of intelligence. Dead in the cold and dark. Nok gritted his teeth as he felt a surge of uncontrolled fear run raw against the underside of his skin, the words dredging up a familiar sensation with fresh intensity. No. I am in control of my fear. That vision is my weapon, not- Your end? Nok’s heart seemed to stop for a second. Had that...no, that had been his own mind, fueled by this place, by this presence. Your destiny awaits below. Stall. Stall and run. Run to the sun and be warm. No! He thought fiercely, shutting out the treacherous thoughts as his skin crawled in the chill. I will not give up! I am Nok Morliss! I fought and killed my way to where I am, and I will take anything I want from this pointless universe! Nok’s confidence gained footing as he reminded himself of his victories, his deals, his vast wealth. I’m smarter than them! I’m better than them! Everything I’ve earned and taken from the fools of this galaxy is proof! And I’ll have more, because that’s what I am! I am a conqueror! Nok’s mind turned as cold as the air as he took control. He dissected the fear running through him, analyzing it until it was nothing but a sensation, just like the cold. A tool to be partnered with the Force and his intelligence. Flashes of Nok’s siblings sprang into his mind, memories that had been indistinct suddenly clear. He saw their mewling and their groveling as they envied their elders. He saw himself, pretending to be one of them as he snatched and cultivated wealth and power. You’re just another one of them, part of the set. You’ve always been one of them. You just convinced yourself that you were special. Just like every idiot you’ve conned. You are not real. You’re my own mind. Am I? Then I know you best, don’t I? Nok could feel his control slipping as the fear squirmed free, doubts fraying his focus. You think that because you robbed a few Outer Rim rubes and hedge-fund brats that you’re something special? You’re just an opportunist, a vulture with a little more bite and a little less patience. You think you can stack up to a real Jedi? Or a real Sith!? Nok fumbled in the sleeve of his robes until his fingers closed around the hilt of one of his vibro-knives. This. I earned this. ...You only killed one howlrunner. I...no, I had the other killed as a lesson to myself. To never surrender! I think you actually believe that. Nok head throbbed, and his skin felt like he was submerged in a hill of clinging, stinging insects. Be quiet! You’re my mind! Mine! You’re mine! You will- The Jedi tripped and fell into the hole. The “sight” broke Nok out of his trance. His own inner turmoil was providing plenty of negative emotion to see by, but he’d barely realized they’d even come to a pit. And then the Jedi had just...tripped. Then the large one jumped after her. Nok collected himself as he entertained the possibility that he was hallucinating. Could he even hallucinate with the way he was? No. It was real. It felt real. As real as the squish of bodies landing in yet more raw sewage. Nok’s resigned acceptance that his expensive, custom robes were a total loss at this point surprised him. The fear was gone. He grimaced as he sucked in a breath. I am a conqueror. He jumped.

Nok was in awe. When the resounding boom of the explosion echoed through the chamber, he’d felt the rush of force and heat tearing towards them, greater than anything he could have pushed back with the Force. He wasn’t even sure if he could push on something like that. The tentacle-faced man was down on the ground, Leena the Jedi seemed to be out of ideas, and the droid didn’t look like it was interested in saving anyone at the moment. Then the woman who’d exploded with emotion and power at the clinic tossed something, and a burst of cold and power erupted that he could only assume stopped the explosion, given that they weren’t dead. Nok took a moment to gather himself. “That explosion sounded like it came from above us. I’m guessing that warehouse isn’t there anymore, so we’re not getting out that way. And given what that explosion implies, I’m not going up there anytime soon anyway to ‘turn myself in’.” He frowned. “That was Lethane gas. It comes from cortosis. There might be a mine down there.” Nok wanted to descend deeper and follow the voice, but admitting you were actively looking for Dark Side voices in deep caverns seemed like a quick way to get a lightsaber to the throat. He thought for a second, and decided. “I’m heading down there. Better to find a mine or another corridor than to wander around up here and hope security doesn’t think to search for survivors.” He was well aware how crazy that sounded after the dark voice, but he was willing to play up the naive academic in denial a little longer.

Nok hissed in surprise as his foot slipped during the climb down the vent. He listened to the droid as they descended, getting a better impression of the machine’s personality. In the back of his head, the smell of the gas niggled at him. Where have I smelled that before? “Not sure, exactly. But I’m something of a collector of Jedi and Sith history,” he said, focusing on keeping his robe out of the way of his feet while he fabricated his story. “An amateur really. But when I heard there might be something like that here, I couldn’t help myself. Hobbies and all, I’m sure you get it. Plus, artifacts of the ancient Jedi are worth fortunes, and Sith artifacts even more so. Heard there was a plague and figured a nice charitable donation would get me on the planet, then I’d have all the time in the world to search while every other collector waited for the quarantine to end. Then I could sit around on a beautiful ocean planet sipping Correllian until I got cleared to leave.” Part of that was true. Neimoidians were notorious for being resistant to disease, though they carried them just fine. “As for the voice, like I said I’m not sure, but my studies have shown me that Sith love their macabre security systems.” Nok put a slight quaver in his voice as he continued, playing the part of the sheltered academic in denial. “I’m guessing that was an automated system of some sort trying to spook intruders, and it carried up the vents with that explosion of gas.” The lie sounded pathetic even to him, and he doubted the droid would buy it, and might not even buy that Nok believed it. Let him, the point here was to play a part, even if that was the part of someone hiding poorly behind another part. Though seriously, where have I smelled this before? “Oh wait, you asked my name. Jin Meer, nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but I’d hate to fa-” He stopped as his feet touched solid ground. He hadn’t even seen it before he stepped onto it. Or in it, he corrected morosely as his shoe squished. Nok jumped as the Jedi from before, Leena spoke right next to him. Perfect, no pain or fear. Of course. But that wasn’t it either, not entirely. He should still be able to see a little, even if only from his own mild fear. But the Force wasn’t still. It was...agitated, like water in a gently vibrating tub. It didn’t feel like it was coming from down below either. It felt like it was coming from above, in anticipation of something. The closest thing he could describe it as was an echo in reverse. Nok extended his awareness, trying to grasp it, relying on his instincts and feelings with no formal training to fall back on. It’s not hate, or anything else. No...it’s something else...where...wait, yes, back then. Nok remembered the last sight he had ever seen with his own eyes. The serpent. The taste of its essence hanging in the air. The edges of its mind stirring the depths of the Force. That’s what I’m feeling. The intent to kill. Yes! And...death. Death but not death. Death that...is waiting. Death that hasn’t happened yet. Nok took a sharp breath as he realized he was sensing the future, even if only vaguely. That got him a lungful of the gas and he doubled over coughing, chest burning from the acrid vapor. Then he remembered where he’d smelled this before. It had been at a mine, his first cortosis mine, where he’d stupidly taken a deep breath and started hacking like he was now. The dirty, squalid miners around him had run for their lives as soon as they smelled what he had, ignoring their employer’s confusion and abandoning him to the thing they feared most. The vent passage suddenly was lit clear as day as Nok’s dread surged out through the Force. “Is that...Lethane gas?!”

Nok felt the presence a split second before it exploded into the room. Or rather he “saw” it. Emanating from the vents, the Force twisted and writhed like a bug under a pin, only for the dark power to explode out an instant later, sending the vent grates flying in a rush of vapor. All around him, something elusive slithered and spread through the air like tendrils, something that echoed with an audible voice. Well, that’s a fairly clear sign. A small part of him preened at the title of “lord of darkness”. Flattery was one of Nok’s unfortunate weaknesses, but at least it was one he was usually aware of. The entire warehouse was lit up with panic and terror, the equivalent of a sunny day on Cato Neimoidia for Nok. He was tempted to simply enjoy the new pleasure he found in the sensation, but the rational part of him was very aware that he was in a room filled with violent Jedi who'd just had a brush with the Dark Side. A fight here between him and them would barely qualify as a warm-up for these warriors, and Nok couldn’t go outside without getting shot or quarantined. Likely both. He considered the nearest open vent. It came from below...and it’s powerful. Powerful enough? He stepped towards the grate. Besides, that woman from the clinic is clearly siding with that Leena...who as it turns out is a Jedi as well, because why not? This blind man act was barely holding up before, and it’ll crumble the second she starts talking after that display. It’ll have to be enough, because my chances up here are getting slimmer. He took another step towards the vent, but stopped in front of the droid. “I’m leaving. Offer stands. If you think you can make it outside, then go ahead, but my offer just doubled,” he said as he pulled off two of his nova gem encrusted rings, “if you can get me to the source of that voice before getting me off planet.”

The droid’s offer threw Nok for a loop for a second. Not because of his sudden change in politeness, but because the suppressed vehemence of the machine wasn’t accompanied by the telltale pulse of negative emotion. If anyone living had tried that Nok would have been swimming in hatred and bile. Granted, it was a droid, but it still felt odd to hear it without feeling it. Maybe I can overcome that dislike...or at least keep him on my side long enough to get me off this planet. No time to be stingy. Nok kept his voice low, preferring not to shout out to the entire warehouse, though someone nearby would still be able to hear. His voice dropped into his friendliest, oiliest, most appeasing tone, the kind you use to tell the inspector what a magnificent job they're doing while you slip him a thousand creds. Act servile and let people's egos do the rest. “I’ll pay you 15,000 in hard credits now to protect me. I’ll pay double that again once we’re safely off-planet, and I’ll pay you another 15,000 if I get out of here without serious injury.” Nok held up his hands. “Plus I work with some specialty droid manufacturers, so I can probably help you get replacement parts cheaper. And it goes without saying I’ll compensate you for on-the-job expenses and injuries.” That's about all the hooks I've got at the moment. Best not to lay it on too thick. Just one more blatant appeal to his pride. Nok shrugged as he pulled out the top of a small money purse that clicked with the distinct sound of cred sticks before tucking it back in. “Just a thought. I’m not good enough to get off this planet on my own, and I’m not against paying someone their worth for their help.”

Nok had decided the best response to lightsabers was to keep quiet and out of the way. Jedi. Wonderful. Trained, LARGE, Jedi. Tempers were flaring, particularly from that Cathar. If this turned into a fight between the Cathar and the dual-wielding humanoid... No, these are Jedi. They’ll calm down, and… ...notice the blind man without a seeing eye droid. Perfect. No chance of faking this then. No one would buy that he’d run through the streets and found his way in here without help. Fine. Stay out of their drama for now, and find yourself some insurance. Nok’s thoughts were interrupted as the droid, a RHTC-560 Hunter Trainer he realized, weighed in on the conversation. Nok quirked a smile when the droid called everyone “lesser”. One of those personalities then. Unfortunately he was also standing near Nok when he started talking, and was pretending to be talking to him specifically. Wonderful. So much for staying out of everyone’s attention. “I have to agree with the droid here. We need to calm down if we’re going to make it out of this. I don’t think anyone here wants a fight with the local law enforcement, especially when everyone is already scared from this pandemic.”

Nok moved with the panicked crowd through the halls of the clinic, their alarm illuminating the way clearer than he could have seen with his eyes. But he felt clear headed, sharp, even strong. The fear...fed him. No, not fed. It galvanized him, pushed him, purged him. He’d been around fear before, and he’d channeled his own terror early on, but this was the first time he could remember being so close to so many soaked in blind, animal dread without being scared himself. The panic-charged emotions of the crowd, half convinced they were about to die, flowed through him and emptied him out, yet paradoxically surged into him and swelled him with crackling, boiling life. He could feel their fear like it was his own, but it was outside him and sharpening him instead clouding his mind, the difference between the hot blood in his veins and a cool drink of water on his tongue. The closest comparison he could make was to the first time he’d tried glitterstim, but without the heady loss of perception. It made him into his best self, focused and alive. Nok breathed in the clear air as he got outside and the crowd dispersed around him. No withdrawal, no manic desire for more. A drug without drawbacks. He smiled. If there was some cosmic intelligence guiding the workings of the universe, then it clearly favored people like Nok to give him such a gift. The clinic exploded, sending Nok crashing to the ground. Kriffing idiot. Feel smug a safe distance away from the exploding building. He got up and brushed at his ruined robes, but his mood refused to dampen. He could have sworn he’d sensed...something coming out of the clinic during the explosion. Which was strange, since without some kind of negative emotion from someone nearby he shouldn’t have been able to sense something moving so fast while he was distracted by...well, an exploding clinic. Unless the thing itself was… ...No, that can’t be… It was. In the spreading ripples of the crowd’s panic, Nok could see the woman from before standing up from the ruins of a gurney before beating what must have been fire out of her coat. He kept his distance as she promptly stole a hospital courier speeder. Kind of cold, considering I’m pretty sure you caused this, he thought as she sped off. I hope you’re not what I’m here for. You strike me as “difficult”. Though, I suppose I could have offered to let GH-7-X3 treat the burns… GH-7-X3 was in the clinic. A low, heavy pulse of negative emotion emanated from Nok, illuminating the wreckage and pavement in stark detail. Rage. That...that droid was custom. Years of upgrades. Thousands and thousands of credits on its mind alone. Dozens of databases integrated. I rewrote the root commands myself! His blood boiled as he realized the sheer amount of nerf fodder he’d have to wade through just to clean up this mess. He’d have to hire some outside agent at a premium just to comb through police evidence on the off-chance they recovered that hunk of scrap’s data drive! Jin was on record entering the place before it blew, so Meer Medical was on its way down even if they couldn’t link anything to him! And that wasn’t even getting into the mountain of credits and the months of work it would take to replace that stupid, useless thing! All because some untrained, unhinged, unstable thrill junky couldn’t keep her feelings from exploding a building!? Nok should have calmed down. He should have fought to keep himself under control and rational. But he didn’t. This anger felt good. Anger had been the first emotion he’d learned to properly wield in focusing the Force, and even if it wasn’t his strongest it still felt powerful, red, and raw. There was no way Nok was kriffing leaving without what he came for. This...offering, whatever that kriffing meant! Fine. Even if you're not what I’m looking for, you’re the only thing that’s even come close. And considering you nearly blew me up, I think I’ll… Nok stopped that train of thought, and took a deep breath, suppressing the anger. As hollow as it made him feel, the calm, little voice in the back of his mind had finally broken through. That attitude wasn’t going to get him anything but shanked or shot in an alley. He had to be calm, rational, and controlled. Revenge was like gambling. You were a sucker to play unless you could afford to lose. Remember that first lesson. She’s untrained. Find her presence in the Force. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Nok walked into the warehouse, keeping his irritation at a slow-burn to let him see. There were a few others aside from the woman, and a...combat droid?

Nok planned as he wove his way through the halls towards the back of the clinic. First, he’d have to disable one of the droids. Once he’d done that, it shouldn’t be too hard to- His train of thought derailed as a surge of emotion cascaded past him and submerged his mind in the torrent. Panic? No, despair! He gritted his teeth against the unexpected shock to his senses, his mind blind to anything but the tide of anguish. The intensity was overwhelming, magnified... The Force. This is the Force! Then it was over. Nok gasped in a breath, and braced his hands against the cold floor. He was on the floor? When had that happened? His robes were bunched up, and his embroidered blindfold sat askew on his head, the disinfected air brushing against his eye sockets. Getting to his feet, Nok’s mind raced. What had that been? And how had it ended so quickly? No, that wasn’t right, it hadn’t quite ended. The air still pulsed with emotion, but not the overwhelming misery of a few seconds ago. This was more chaotic, more disjointed, like the crazy ripples in a puddle after an earthquake. And whatever or whoever the source was, they were in the direction Nok was going. Not my monster to kill or maiden to save, Nok thought as he turned around. Except...the offering. Could this be it? It would add up. A Force-sensitive with depths of power and pain like that would be valuable enough to any Sith. That idea seemed off somehow, but Nok couldn’t pin down why. Still, it was his most solid lead, and the sooner he was off this disease riddled planet the better. Nok tugged his silken red blindfold back into place shuffled forward down the hall, head down, playing the part of the blind neimoidian. If this person was at all trained in the Force, his ruse wouldn’t work, but it cost him nothing to try. If this person was the type to be offended by an act like this, they probably wouldn't respond any better to a Sith apprentice. As he rounded the corner he got a good “look” at the carnage. Unconscious bodies littered the floor, and the sickly sweet stench of burnt skin wafted through the charred air. In the middle of it all stood the source of the shifting spectrum of emotion, a humanoid woman of some kind. The Force around her rippled and twitched as it settled, still twisting in the aftermath of power. Could be a human, but without actual eyes it was impossible to tell. “Is someone there? I heard a noise. Is everyone all right?” Nok stopped a foot away from walking into an orderly’s body, aiming his sightless gaze into empty space, a good foot away from the woman.

Not kriffing likely, Nok thought as the Mon Cal walked away into the sick room, the dry rasping of the infected accompanying her. Nok let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when the door slid shut behind her. Maybe she’d expected him to follow, but Nok had no intention of getting anywhere near the mucus spewing, slimy, sweaty, feverish bodies of these sick fish. Still, she was odd, and not just in her saccharine, upbeat personality. There had been a moment there, an instant of negative emotion breaking through her calm positivity. Had it been fear? Anger? It had been too quick for him to catch, a bare blip to his senses. That in and of itself was odd. Everyone else was panicked and worried, but she remained calm and somehow managed to not make it an act. An instant of something throwing her off balance, and she shook it off in the time it took Nok to blink. Well...used to take him anyway. Come to think of it, why did she assume I could help? She must have seen that I’m blind. He didn’t like this, and he didn’t like the peculiar feeling coming from the room she’d entered, like a cold, damp rag to his fear and irritation, paradoxically making him feel better as it made him more nervous. There’s something more to her. Was she the offering? That’d be convenient, which meant she likely wasn’t. Still, it would be good to keep tabs on her. She’d said her name was Leena. He filed it away. __________________________________________________________________ Rather than follow her, Nok quickly made his way through the clinic. Wherever his droid had gone, that Cal woman had distracted him long enough to lose track of it. Not worth the effort I suppose. It’s not like they’re going to run out of plague before I leave. Speaking of which… A few quick questions and a hurried walk around the clinic told him he wasn’t getting out anytime soon. The city security was on high alert, and they’d never let anyone out of this place. He could try a bribe, but as afraid as everyone was it was a die toss how that might turn out. A doctor’s note then. An authorization off the datapad of some medical officer to show he was clean and the promise he was going to get more medical supplies might be enough to get him out of here. Then an idea occurred to him. Perhaps a bad idea, but some of Nok’s happiest days had stemmed from bad ideas. He was already bleeding money on this trip. Ventures, deals, and schemes months in the making that needed his personal attention were stalling while he took this little scavenger hunt. Why not make a little profit to take the edge off his losses? He hadn’t personally done something like this in a while, and it’d be just the thing to keep him sharp. The plan itself was obvious once all the pieces were examined. A clinic like this was likely a non-profit venture. That meant charitable donations, and some of those likely from drug companies looking to polish their image. This kind of place wouldn’t see much actual currency, not without it being spent immediately anyway, but Nok was willing to bet at least a few of those drug manufacturers were sending supplies to this clinic and others like it to boost their stocks. Compassion in a tragedy like a pandemic was worth big publicity. If nothing else, some of them had to be giving the clinic a discount. All Nok had to do was get the head of the clinic’s datapad, slice his way in, and put in a couple dozen small but extremely expensive orders for rare and valuable medication and equipment. That might normally be suspicious, but in the middle of a pandemic with an unknown disease it would be understandable, and no company wanted to be seen as denying medical aid in a crisis. Discount or not the profit from selling that kind of stuff in the right Outer Rim markets would be huge, even if Nok had to foot the bill himself. The shipping would be handled by Meer Medical under Nok’s directive, graciously offering to ship the supplies for free to try and stop their falling fortunes. The supplies would never arrive and Meer Medical would disintegrate under a storm of accusations, especially when their noble founder was discovered missing. The clinic would then likely suffer the brunt of the public’s anger when it was discovered the order itself had been fraudulent, and when they learned that Korell Meer’s “cousin” had been in the clinic right before the order had taken place...well, the public liked to make its own stories. Of course they’d suspect the neimoidian, just the wrong one. Nok would be a bit richer, he’d have finally wrung some real value out of Meer Medical, and both “Jin” and Korell Meer would disappear. Nok had never liked the sniveling, self-righteous grease stain to begin with, and his studies had uncovered some old Sith rituals he’d been anxious to try. Even if the rituals were worthless or the barely trained Nok was incapable of performing them properly, it’d be interesting to see how long Korell’s sanctimonious attitude lasted. Nok doubted it would be long. He was a neimoidian after all. Feeling much better with a plan and a direction in mind, he pushed away thoughts of the peculiar Leena and began looking for someone in charge.

“And your reason for visiting...Jin Meer?” Nok smiled. “Humanitarian. I’m here with aid supplies.” “...I see.” The spaceport security officer gave Nok a suspicious glance she likely thought he couldn’t see. With his silken red blindfold covering the scarred ruin where his eyes should be, it was an assumption Nok encouraged. In truth, he couldn’t ‘see’, but he could sense the quarren woman, the low fear emanating from the people walking past acting like the soft glow of a candle to his Force senses. Since slavery was illegal on Mon Calamari, he couldn’t bring his usual source of negative emotions to see by, but apparently there was nothing like a pandemic to spread quiet panic and unease. “You’re thinking I’m lying because I’m a neimoidian,” Nok said, keeping his happy, innocent smile even. “No Mister...Master...Lord…” she stammered. “Just Jin, please.” “...Jin, I hope I didn’t offend you. I did not-” “It’s fine,” Nok waved dismissively. “It’s understandable. Most of my kind would rather sell these masks for 1000 credits a breath. But for me…” Nok paused, then pointed at his blindfold, “a handicap has a way of giving you a new perspective.” “Of course...Jin,” she said, clearly not convinced, but flustered enough to want the conversation to end. Must be someone brand new. Things are worse than I thought down here. “Anyway, I believe my arrival was cleared with the portmaster.” “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t recall seeing you on...oh, there you are.” As difficult as it was to tell under all those tentacles, Nok thought she was frowning as she tapped at her datapad. ‘Jin’ and his ship hadn't been on the registry an hour ago. Thanks to a hefty bribe to the portmaster, Nok had gotten around that problem. And to top it off, I can blackmail the man with evidence of the bribe next time I come to Mon Cal. Assuming this disease doesn't kill him. “Will that be everything officer?” he asked, smile still pasted to his face. “Yes...I think that will be everything.” Nok’s smile turned genuine for an instant as he watched her rack her brain, no doubt trying to figure out if she’d missed anything or if she was supposed to do something. “Follow me X3, and bring the supplies.” The GH-7 medical droid hovered behind the controls of the repulsor sled, and at Nok’s command he piloted the overloaded sled forward. “Master,” the droid said, tone mild and respectful the way Nok preferred it, “may I suggest putting on your mask now?” “Right, right.” Nok slipped his mask on, a better quality one than the cheap ones in the crates behind him. Those masks would work fine, but they’d smell awful after a few hours of hot, wet breath. Well, they were just handouts, and it’s not as if charity was why Nok was here. ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Nok saw the clinic without seeing, the discomfort and pain of the patients mild next to their fear. It flowed through the halls like an undercurrent, washing past Nok and illuminating every room to his senses. It had taken Nok explaining his cover story to one of the doctors to get inside, that he was “Jin Meer”, a representative of Meer Medical, a tiny medical supply company run by his “cousin”. In truth, it had been a legitimate company until Nok drove them into bankruptcy and took over, turning it into a front for selling pharmaceuticals to the Outer Rim at a disgusting markup . It was failing to turn a profit now, and Nok would likely liquidate the whole thing soon, along with its founder Korell Meer, a rare neimoidian with a conscience. Even with his story, the doctor had been hesitant to let him in until Nok offered to lend his medical droid to help for as long as he was on the planet. The GH-7 had a solid reputation as a diagnostician, and the doctor changed his tune immediately. Now he’d likely do everything in his power to keep Nok on planet. This is all a distraction. I need to get down there. The shade’s message had been cryptic, but something waited for Nok here, in the 'waters of Mon Calamari." An...offering? He wondered if it was the disease itself, but that didn’t sit right. Not as the disease was right now in any case. Still, he’d have to tell GH-7-X3 to smuggle a few viral samples out. No telling when that might be useful. “Now where did they put him to work?” Nok picked a hallway and started down it.

SENSARA IDENTITY: Real Name: Nuruodo’rela’inrokini AKA Orelai A.K.A: Darth Sensara Homeworld: Csilla Species: Chiss PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Age: 33 Height: 6’2” Weight: 124 lbs. Hair: Black Eyes: Dark Red Sex: Female EQUIPMENT: Clothing/Armor: Black leathers, boots, gloves and robe. Face always painted, hiding the signs of Force corruption underneath Weapons: The Wicked Tongues. Two identical red lightsabers. FACTION INFORMATION: Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force User Alignment: Lawful Evil Faction Affiliation: Empire of The Sith Rank: NPC Sith Lord of the Pyramid of Production and Logistics HISTORY: Force Side: Dark Trained By: Darth Vaephus Trained Who: N/A Has never taken an apprentice Known Skills: Lightsaber combat – Form VI (Expert) Political Science (Expert) Military Strategy (Expert) Economics (Master) Force Powers: Force Persuasion (Master) Speed (Expert) Force Concealment (Expert) Telepathy (Master) Force Empathy (Master) Mind Control (Skilled) Lie Detection (Skilled) ____________________________________ Background: Orelai began with nothing. Born on Csilla, Orelai grew up in a family bordering on the edge of poverty, her parents unskilled workers living from job to job. Long hours and little supervision left Orelai neglected and free to roam. Her intellect outpacing her education, Orelai spent most of her childhood with older, more privileged students at the local university. She held no illusions that they considered her a friend. Instead, she endeared herself as a partner. Orelai smuggled in contraband the university declared off limits, and the students let her hang around. She soaked up their assignments, borrowed their books, and learned everything she could from what they let her see. In this way, she managed to put together a piecemeal higher education her family could never have afforded, but unfortunately without the official degree to go with it. Not eager to remain where her birth had dumped her, Orelai took the best option for a young Chiss to improve their life: the military. Her fractured education and relentless work ethic got her a position as a low staff officer, and her eyes only looked up. She shot up the ladder, far faster than she should, even given her drive and edification. When she was promoted to captain of her own frigate, she finally puzzled out her powers. Orelai discovered that she had the ability to “push” people. Not outright control, but when she wanted to she could open someone up to her point of view, break down their prejudices and defenses, and make them see things her way. It grew stronger when she was irritated, and soldiers had more than once turned away from her room when she was furious. When she covertly interviewed them, they claimed they couldn’t explain it, except that they had felt like she wouldn’t want to be bothered. Eager to exploit her new ability, Orelai actively pushed people she disagreed with. Blue blood officers, stubborn codgers, and ignorant politicians all began to see things differently after spending some time with Orelai, transforming from detractors into supporters. When her term of service was done, Orelai took her ability to the next level. Politics. She soon positioned herself as an influential member of the Inrokini house, and had her eyes on the title of Aristocra. Unfortunately, power has consequences. The veins in her face and arms turned black as the dark side she’d grown so dependent on corrupted her body. She hid her affliction with make-up and concealing clothes, but rumors began to fly, and were soon confirmed. The discovery of the “shameful impurity” of being a Force sensitive combined with an investigation into her suspicious rise to power convinced her that her time in the Ascendancy was done. Sacrificing her most loyal pawns in a distraction, she fled Chiss space and made her way to the Sith Empire. It was here that she met Darth Vaephus, an elderly Chadra-Fan who prided himself on his ability to manipulate his rivals from the shadows. In Orelai he saw a tool, and he taught her all he knew. In Sith fashion, she betrayed him upon achieving her lordship, and continued to rise in power. Her enemies squabbled and killed under her gentle touch and silken whispers, while the painted lady climbed higher and higher, eventually catching the attention of the Dark King himself. Now she sits as a member of the Dark Council, surrounding herself with intelligent, competent non-Force users cultivated to be susceptible to her influence. She maintains her “push” constantly, the weak and suggestible finding her more and more agreeable by the second while she calmly and logically presents her point of view. An academic through and through, in her mind she is achieving a dream the chiss were too short sighted to see. The universe would be a simpler place if the simple-minded simply listened to their betters...

Maliba Kyro I N F I D U S IDENTITY: Real Name: Maliba Kyro A.K.A: Darth Infidus Homeworld: Arkania Species: Arkanian Offshoot PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Age: 33 Height: 6’4” Weight: 163 lbs. Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue Sex: Female EQUIPMENT: Clothing/Armor: Black uniform Weapons: Profane Edict. Adjustable-length red lightsaber built into phrik gauntlet. Standard length of 1.5 feet. FACTION INFORMATION: Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force User Alignment: Chaotic Evil Faction Affiliation: Empire of The Sith Rank: NPC Sith Lord of the Pyramid of Military Offense HISTORY: Force Side: Dark Trained By: Darth Gor Trained Who: Garik Doma (Current Apprentice) Known Skills: Lightsaber combat – Form I (Expert) Echani Martial Art (Expert) Stava (Expert) Teras Kasi (Master) Military Strategy (Expert) Military Tactics (Master) Force Powers: Force Telekinesis (Expert) Tactile Telekinesis (Master) Speed (Expert) Detoxify Poison (Master) Force Body (Master) Force Heal (Master) Shatterpoint (Skilled) Force Jump (Expert) ____________________________________ Background: Maliba was born imperfect. One of countless Arkanian genetically modified children, Maliba numbered among the few complete failures. A quirk of her altered DNA left her without an immune system, and she was raised in a clinical environment as a result, segregated from the outside world in a sterilized hospital suite where her condition could be studied. Looked down on and disregarded by the “perfect”, pure arkanians, her only interactions were with her doctors. This, unfortunately, pushed her into an obsession regarding her physical flaws and achieving the perfection held sacred by her people. She physically trained and studied constantly, but nothing softened the looks of pity or contempt she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye. By the time she reached adulthood, she had honed herself into a physically perfect specimen apart from her genetic defects, and her mind was razor sharp. She proved her superior intelligence over and over through Holonet strategy games, and she regularly outperformed professional athletes in the hospital exercise center, though she never had the opportunity to best them in person. Yet nothing she did made people look past her flaws. The anger and desire to belong that had driven her through childhood turned to hate and bile. It finally struck Maliba that no achievement or dedication would get her out of this bleached box of a home, or make her own species see her as anything but an imperfect curiosity. She cursed in silence, despising them. It was around this time that Darth Gor found her. Sensing her from across space, the gamorrean Sith felt Maliba's hatred and power in the Force, and saw in her a potential apprentice, a connection between them willed by the Force itself. Calling in a favor from another Sith lord, Gor retrieved Maliba under the pretense of having her partake in a medical study. Once she'd been brought to the empire, he met with her personally. At first wary of the old gamorrean, the ideals and promises of the Sith Code soon hooked Maliba, and only a week later she formally became Darth Gor's apprentice. The first thing he taught her was how to use the Force to purify and heal her body, wielding it to fend off the infections her genetics left her defenseless against. The technique was painful, requiring her to regularly use the Force to scour every vein in her body clean, but suddenly after decades in isolation Maliba could walk outside. Just as the Code of the Sith promised, the Force had freed her, and she'd only begun to touch the potential Darth Gor hinted at. Maliba grew in strength, taking a cue from her master and focusing on martial arts and traditional fighting styles while only mastering the basics of lightsaber combat. She learned how to let the Force push her body beyond its normal limits and keep her fighting at peak capacity long after she should have dropped unconscious. Reveling in the power and control she felt in combat, she amplified it by learning an esoteric form of Force telekinesis: tactile telekinesis, using the Force to supplement the motions and strikes of her own body. Finding she had a natural talent for the art, it gave the illusion of incredible strength. A single blow might cave in a wookiee’s chest, or snap a droid’s arm in two, or shatter a blaster rifle. As the Force made her stronger, more durable, and fiercer, she strove to test herself against anyone who would accept her challenge. She earned a reputation for playing with her foes, avoiding finishing the fight as long as possible while giving them plenty of chances to come at her, only for her to bring them down again. It wasn’t enough to beat them, she had to steal their pride in their strength away. Eventually, she had had enough of warm up fights, and challenged her master. The duel between Gor and Maliba lasted for six hours, the Force allowing both to strain their bodies to the breaking point. Gor’s natural strength was nothing to Maliba’s Force enhanced blows, but the wily elder Sith kept up with his apprentice through cunning and skill. However, Gor’s age had robbed him of much of his endurance, and soon even the Force couldn’t keep his body going. As Maliba stood over him, and he saw the joy in her eyes at taking away his victory, he named her Darth Infidus, for she would be a Sith who savored destroying what others held sacred. Darth Infidus rose through the ranks, her keen mind, hungry drive, and perfectionist standards keeping her a level above her fellow Sith in the battlelines. Shortly after achieving the rank of master, she caught the attention of the Dark King and was appointed as the Lord of the Pyramid of Military Offense. She still finds her greatest joy in desecrating what others worship, and her quarters are filled with the pilfered artifacts and artwork of the conquered, strewn about and vandalized. What use are values and beliefs without strength to back them? For a Sith, strength is their belief…

DEVILFISH (MADE BY NOK MORLISS) IDENTITY: Real Name: Garik Doma A.K.A: “The Devilfish” Homeworld: Naboo Species: Gungan PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Age: 23 Height: 6’0” Weight: 161 lbs. Hair: N/A Eyes: Yellow Sex: Male EQUIPMENT: Clothing/Armor: Black uniform Weapons: Force pike, Red lightsaber FACTION INFORMATION: Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force User Alignment: Chaotic Evil Faction Affiliation: Empire of The Sith Rank: NPC Sith Apprentice to Darth Infidus HISTORY: Force Side: Dark Trained By: Darth Infidus Trained Who: N/A Known Skills: Lightsaber combat – Form I (Skilled) Mechanic (Skilled) Scavenging/Salvage (Expert) Force Powers: Force Telekinesis (Novice) Speed (Novice) Force Body (Novice) Shatterpoint (Skilled) Force Jump (Skilled) ____________________________________ Background: Garik Doma grew up in a small village under the waters of Naboo. His village, Otoh Bomonga, sat nestled in a crevice deep beneath the surface, deeper than most other gungan communities dared to build. The village prided itself on its expert hunters who dared the depths in teams to bring down the most elusive game. Situated near one of the entrances to the planet core, the gungan hunters set trap after trap for beasts of all kinds, dragging their carcasses back up to the village amongst a cacophony of cheers. Like many, Garik Doma admired and envied the hunters. His childhood daydreams saw him as one of them, bringing down great leviathans through wit, weapon, and war cries. However, the reality didn't match up with his fantasy. Garik Doma never got a chance to be a hunter, his scrawny body making the hunters quick to dismiss him as a potential protege. Instead, Garik ended up relegated to foraging the submerged canyons and tunnels near the village, spending his days searching for algae clusters and fat, lazy eels. As days passed, with Garik gazing down into the abyss even as he scraped up green and yellow slime, something began to change. Something pulled Garik towards the darkness, something beyond a desire for adventure and glory. Garik ignored it, likening the desire to the insane urge to jump a person feels looking over a cliff. But it persisted, plaguing his dreams with visions of crushing darkness, eyes in the depths, and whispers in the water. One morning, Garik didn't go foraging. Instead, the village hunters raised the alarm as they discovered one of their bongos missing, and Garik nowhere to be found. The hunters descended after him and searched, but found no trace of the skinny gungan. Believing that he'd gone deeper than even they were willing to go, they wrote Garik off as some monster's meal. Four days later, a crippled bongo limped out of the deep, power flickering as the submersible listed and spun. Garik sat at the controls, hands clenched on the helm, one eye blind and the other staring blankly ahead at nothing. When the villagers pulled him out of the bongo, he came without a word, listless and limp. When they imprisoned him, he didn't protest. He barely drank, only ate when prompted, and slept only when his body collapsed from exhaustion. "Deep Mad Doma", as he came to be called, did nothing, and soon he was written off by the village as a cautionary tale and a tragedy. Months went by, and Garik's caretakers noticed some oddities. Things outside of Garik's cell had a habit of moving, if only a few inches. Sometimes they found things in his cell he couldn't possibly have gotten. One night, they found his cell inexplicably unlocked, yet as far as they could tell Garik hadn't moved. Suspecting the mad gungan had a covert visitor, they stepped up their guard, yet they never caught anyone coming near the cell. Then one morning the village raised the alarms again. The guard sent at the changing of the shift found Garik's cell open, and the night's guard strangled. One of the hunters' bongos was once again missing, and Garik was nowhere to be found. Even Garik has no clear memory of what exactly happened, but he found himself near Theed days later after going through the core. A ship in the spaceport drew his attention and he wandered up to it in a daze, so oblivious he never saw the hulking human behind him stun baton him into unconsciousness. Waking up hours later, Garik found himself in the custody of pirates, looking to make a quick profit selling an "exotic" gungan slave. On the bidding stage of the slave markets of Onderon, Garik laid eye on his future master. Darth Infidus, at the market brokering a deal for slave "recruits", sensed the dark side in Garik just as he sensed the power in her. She confiscated him on the spot. As they looked at each other, Garik spoke. "...Meesa gonna kill you..." She smiled back. "Maybe, but not today." Since then, Infidus' pet "devilfish" has been a fixture of her organization. Found wandering the halls, single eye stalk fixed in a glassy, thousand yard stare, no one knows how much the gungan sees or hears, but since taking him as her ward and apprentice Darth Infidus has developed an uncanny knack for ferreting out dissenters in the ranks. Often, Garik can be found in a dreamy, half-conscious state. Yet now and then he snaps into an insane rage for no reason, screaming wordlessly as he beats or butchers whatever poor sot happens to be nearby. To hurt him is to incur Infidus' wrath, and so most do their best to avoid the Sith master's pet gungan. Yet, those who venture close enough sometimes hear him whisper to empty air... "...Meesa knows..."

Nok whirled. The voice, where was it coming from?! His fear ratcheted up, but he couldn’t see it, couldn’t sense it. Where...what was it? There. Something. A distortion, a warping, a fracture, a thread, a tangle. Something. The list. Telekinesis. Extrasensory perception. Healing. Energy projection. Suggestion. Consciousness manipulation. In his research of the Jedi and Sith, Nok had found the reports of several scientists who looked to categorize all that a Force sensitive could do. They’d analyzed reported feats, verified and checked against footage and data from the Clone Wars, and compiled a list. Nok had read each of them, and had been confident he’d understood all the Force was capable of, all it could offer him. But this… Sorcery. There had been mention of Sith sorcerers. Millennia old legends, fanciful tales of dark figures wielding unholy power. It had all been so clearly propaganda and hyperbole. Now Nok wasn’t so sure of himself. This is real. Not illusion, not a trick. Something more. Nok listened to the creature, the words carrying a weight beyond crude sound. Mon Calamari? Then it was gone. It hadn’t left, it was just not there anymore. Nok’s brisk pace as he walked out of the tower was one part fear and one part excitement. Moving objects with his mind and swinging a sword around. Controlling the weak minded and electrocuting the strong. The goals he’d planned now seemed so...small. Pathetic. Like a child given a planet-sized supercomputer and using it to play Dejarik. There was so much more. If anything of what he’d read regarding the ancient Sith sorcerers was true, then the limits of what he could accomplish through the Force were vaster than he had ever imagined. There might not even be limits. As he boarded The Bleeding Edge, he felt as if he stood on the edge of a bridge, a bridge thousands of Jedi and Sith had crossed to reach power. Below, the dark void rushed past, and it promised to swallow any and all alike who swam its depths. Nok would jump. And he would make it his.

"Wait outside." Nok stood before the entrance of a tower, imposing and shaped to menace the land rather than blend with it. His battle droid bodyguards halted at his command, oblivious to what Nok could sense. This place was newly built, but it radiated with the Dark Side. As he stared blindly into the structure, the uneasy feeling that he was trespassing crept over him. I don't belong here. He grimaced and squashed the thought. He'd been in the presence of true Sith before, and while this feeling was subtler and more insidious than the ferocity of his previous master, Nok knew better than to trust his instincts in a place like this. To back down, to show weakness, to give up, that would be the end of him as a Sith student...and possibly as a living being. Still, better to leave the droids outside. They were his weapons, but here was a place Nok would need no weapons, at least none so obvious as the droids, and the clanking bots could be irritating at the best of times. No sense antagonizing a Sith. He strode into the tower with a confidence he convinced himself was real. He allowed his fear to blossom inside him, and given where he was it didn't take any encouragement. He was afraid, but his intellect saw past the base emotion, letting it become the tool that allowed him to see. The Force echoed with the surging and waning of his dread, and as it did his attuned mind "saw" the tower interior around him. He barely noticed the details, watching for the Sith he knew was here. Nok had reached the end of what he could accomplish on his own, without a master. He had spent years and a small fortune collecting Jedi and Sith trinkets with a new perspective, studying old texts and uncovering the philosophizing of ancient masters. He trained himself as best he could to master his new sight, to control the fear that was the birthright of his species and his greatest source of power. But now he'd stagnated, blindly groping for secrets and abilities he knew rightfully belonged to him but maddeningly eluded him. And so, he'd returned to Onderon, and found himself here, in the lair of a Sith known to be looking for an apprentice. "I'm here," he called out into the empty space of the large tower chamber he found himself in. He held his arms out and turned slowly, posture straddling confidence and arrogance. "Do I meet your expectations?"