Belly of the Odium

[Allyson Locke]

Screams and enjoyment echoed through the Force. Spencer had been plagued by the memories of death that created the force wound over Anobis. She had avoided going to the Force wound for some time now, but it was starting to get worse. Knowing the effects of the Force wound Spencer knew that people would be drawn to it and want to devour it then control it. Getting out of bed, she headed towards the hanger. Pulling off the robe she wore she tossed it aside and soon set the course towards Anobis.

Nightmares shot through her mind as she set the autopilot. She knew what happened her, she could feel it. A familiar aura lingered in the Force wound - it was Ashin’s. The woman was here and this was where that monster reawoke the hunger that lingered inside of her wife. Doing her best, she tried to keep the rage and hunger inside of her. The last thing she needed to reveal was a strain that Odium could cling to and get through her solid defenses. As the peregrine drew closer, she felt something inside of her pull towards the wound. She felt as if her body was ripping apart as the Force that created her wanted to be devoured by the wound.

It took a few moments of meditation, but she was able to pull herself together. The ship landed on the ground and the pain that lingered within the Force here. She needed to figure out how to fix it, this couldn’t linger anymore.


[member="Darth Odium"]

 

[Darth Odium]

[member="Spencer Jacobs"]

He had tried...he wanted to...but the draw was too strong the taste too sweet. He had to go back. The groaning agony of hunger was all consuming and needed to be satisfied. The once lush mountainside lay grey and lifeless as he stood on the rocky peak looking down on the death he and the Varanin woman had wrought. Black eyes filled with tempestuous lust for more. Birds and beast feared to tread on the ground. The leaves lay lifless and grey about the dull dead trunks of trees.

It was beautiful....

He thought of Quinn...he loved her...odd as it was but that solitary strain of life held him from complete indulgence. Her strong spirit, the fire that burned in her heart, such passion and strength. He closed his wicked obsidian orbs and tool a deep breath as he began to reach for the force. The souls bound in in him and te crystal cried out as he used them for strength and began to drink the cup of the force like a lush with a bottle.

More more he wanted. The hunger would be filled the mountain, the world, the galaxy could die for all he cared, as long as the emptiness was filled. He hoped Quinn could save him....for there was no hope of him saving himself. The wound must grow and the force itself must die.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Touching ground near the wound was something she had never felt before. Despite her barriers of mental protection, the screams of the force echoed in her mind. The first time it hit she fell to the ground and felt the buildup of bile in the back of her throat. She didn’t let it go farther than that, it took her a minute to catch her breath and to get rid of the acidic taste in her mouth. Deep breaths was all she needed and she stood up and was prepared for the next wave of pain from the Force. Each moment hit her, harder and harder – then something inside of her cried out in return.

The Hunger.

“Feth, so this is what it feels like…” She spoke quietly to herself, she was usually capable of controlling it to the point where she rarely felt it. Now it was demanding her attention and she did her best to stifle it. Moving on she came upon the scar that was torn into the Force. She sensed someone else there and she moved closer – her mind on edge she moved closer. Her knowledge of Force Wounds was extensive and she knew that those that felt the hunger would always come to the source of the wound to feed. Which is why her own hunger cried out for her to drain the wound. Her hair stood on the back of her neck as she looked at the figure, the hunger radiated as if it was all he knew.

“Who are you?”

[member="Darth Odium"]

 

[Darth Odium]

[member="Spencer Jacobs"]

The oilly blackness of the darkside slipped across his mind like a film of slick fatty grease at the bottom of a metal pot that had sat too long before being washed. It held him in it's tumultuous embrace and gripped his very being like the cold hand of death itself as he sank deeper into his hunger.

The air itself felt heavy and dead as he used the wound to gorge himself on the living force. Skin on his outstreched hand dried, cracked and fell away like flesh from a lecherous body as the energy began to wreck his body, the body that hungered was consuming and being consumed in one treacherous cycle of addiction. He gasped for breath and tore himself away as he thought of Quinn, his one true weakness. The companionship of the slight kiffar woman was a carefully guarded secret known by few, but that wasn't the only thing that tore him from feeding. There was a presence. A beacon of life and power on the mountain of death. He could smell the Varanin woman on her but it was only part of the whole. He could feel her presence calling to him like a banquet called to a starving beggar.

He turned his head as the woman's voice reached his twisted mind and bid him give his name. What was it? For a long moment he only blinked as his obsidian orbs met hers. His mind like a savage labyrinth of twist turns and dead ends was still in blind rapture of his so recent feeding and he had lost something this time, but what was it? Another blink and he opened his mouth to speak and made nothing but a weak rasping croak that may have been a name before he came to his senses.

<<Hatered>> was his telepathic reply as his head tresses snaked across broad shoulders tasting the air for her scent. His simple bone covered armor a fitting adornment for the creature as he looked at her, <<Odium>> No, petty Sith titles, no declaration of greatness would cross the mind of the slave to hunger and hate. He simply was.