His black dress shoes touched down on the dark, moist soil of Dromund Kaas. He looked down and scoffed at himself for the idiotic "mistake" he'd made. This kind of footwear has no place on a jungle planet, not with the multitude of various soil types and dense vegetation that threatened to all but swallow him whole should a predator shirk the opportunity at its next meal of the night. He made a mental note to find something a bit more... sturdy than the tuxedo he presently wore. Well, apart from the poor choice of clothing and the muck that now coated his once shined shoes, he gravitated to this planet like a moth to an open flame. Its pull was irresistible. No, even that thought was wrong. It was the planet which called to him. It was the destination which he sought that called to him in such an alluring way.
He recognized the pull for exactly what it was. He'd felt it time and time again, if only in smaller proportions. Perhaps the first true time he'd felt it was when his Master drained him and teetered him on the doorstep of death. The void that he'd been left with allowed him to become finely attuned to the voice of power and Dark Side Force energy that rang out from various sources that leeched from the Lord of Gluttony. It seemed that this particular source cried the loudest. It wailed and screamed almost as plangently as the voices within his head and body. As invigorating as it was, he continued to move to the north, through the trees and towards the goliath beast that beckoned him nearer and nearer to its gaping gullet.
Inon broke through the brush and took a step back. It seems he'd reached his destination, the effect was similar to an intense headache that persisted and pounded in perfect, inverse synchronization with his heartbeat. The pull of power was far stronger than the torment that scratched at the recesses of his mind. Still, he pushed forward, each step painstakingly harmful to his being. Each one more difficult as he trudged closer until he came upon the metallic prison that once held Darth Voracitos.
The man paused just past the threshold and pulled out a deep magenta vial that was only as long as his slender index finger and about twice as thick as it. He unscrewed the black top and looked around. The stench was foul, but what did he expect? Flowers and sunshine? This place reeked of a plethora of scents that he couldn't bring himself to even begin to identify. This was quite the prison they'd holed his Master in. A heavily fortified one, if first glances were indeed trustworthy. He looked around and walked deeper into the tomb. He had a rare chemical to find and contain. It would be essential to his work.