Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Shooting Star [Floating Market]

ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
"Tell me, sister, can you see me now? If I looked into the nether and peered into the swirling depths, would you be there for me? Would you whisper sweet nothings in my ear and tell me that peace was coming for me?" The voice was like glass breaking, disharmonious.

Light a candle for Sargon, who is not but from all, cometh that which is, we see what you hath wrought.

The man who now called himself 'Vesper' threw back his head, letting out a wry laugh as he sat at the table, lounging at it. His chosen clothes -- a sleeveless, shimmersilk tunic with long, white gloves -- exposed skin that was knotted with surgical incisions and scar tissue. Most eerie of all was its greyish pallor, however, like he was rotting. In a way, he was. His blonde hair was cut somewhat shorter than usual.

He was sitting in a cafe. All the other patrons were dead. The horror of their final moments was reflected in pooling blood.

"Today is a beautiful day, sister. If you had been strong, like I was, you would be around to see it. This is the first step towards... no, 'revenge' isn't the right word. I'd say... fulfillment?"

Light a candle for Nogras, shatterer of the fabric of space, she who shines, we hear your cry.

"I don't believe in gods. I believe in myself."

Light a candle for Balagoth, entropy made flesh made spirit, consumer of matter and energy, we feel your fangs.

"He saw it too. He called them 'The Great Enemy' and named them evil but they are a promise that we must keep."

Light a candle for Halrormalenth, who made me, who shaped me and witnessed my flaws. We deny your regret.

"I will understand."

He did not understand. But he hoped. And his eyes were darting back and forth, waiting for the mocking phantom to return. The one he had seen when death was near. Perhaps she was death, his death, as he had always feared. No, that was a fear for Antherion. He was Vesper, Darth Vesper, or perhaps simply the whisper. He would be freed from the prison. Glory to the new flesh.

He took a flower, a pale and fleshy thing, and tossed it dismissively over his shoulder. It began to take root with unnatural swiftness, and cast vines and roots out. It began to grow and propagate.

"I can sense you. I call to you. Come to me, maggots in the corpse of God."

| [member="Lethia Morow"] | [member="The Slave"] |
The Slave moved with a calmness that proved how tired he seemed to be. Whatever he had been doing, it was obvious he only just woke up, likely from days of hedonistic behavior. A slow grinned creeped onto his face as he brushed some of his hair away, taking a few steps over the various bodies that lie juxtaposed.

His boots picked up small traces of their blood, carrying it with him like a sin he didn’t commit. Deplorable to most, he found the scene something more akin to beauty. In a way, it showed anger, sadness, regret, and a number of ones life choices all in one gracious display of prowess. Or just what they enjoy doing.

Either way, it pleased him.

He picked up a still warm cup of caf, blowing on it lightly as he took his seat across from the newly formed, and obviously decaying, abomination named Vespar.

You rang?” he said with a coy tone.

And so he sipped his beverage, idly waiting for the small talk to begin.

ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
Vesper, once frail, now simply mutilated, raised his beverage to the man in reply. In spite of his pallor, his face was intact, in spite of some bruising around the edges of his lips and eyes that seemed to only darken and remain with time. "For you, and for anyone else who answers the call." His smile broadened ever so slightly, examining the form of the wearied acolyte, marked with his sufferings and his joys. "But if I had to pick anyone to answer, it would be you."

Around the pair, the flowers began to spread, tiny veins working their way slowly into the metal, lapping up the blood, weaving themselves into flesh. Finishing his drink, Vesper threw the glass against the wall, where it shattered. Normally, he would be all for order, but at this point it was, well, pointless. This place was soon going to be plummeting into the atmosphere. The Floating Market, the derelict ship that had become a place for crime and commerce, was the last remnants of what a certain Abyss had created before the Fall of Malachor. He had his hand in its burning, and he would see the job completed. He would see it seed new growth, and create a better place atop it.

"This place bores me. I say we redecorate, so I have invited all the lifewarpers I knew. We are going to create something, something alive."

The cyborg pushed himself up out of his chair, glancing over the figure. Maybe he wasn't up to it — no, who was he kidding? He had seen this type before. They were always ready for the next slaughter. He gestured and the plants begin to entwine with the corpses, entangling with ruined spinal columns and bursting out of eye sockets. Muscles tensed at the bidding of networks of roots, and mouths that had given their last, agonized sighs opened again to exhale clouds of yellow pollen.

And they rose.

"I don't suppose you brought any pets? I want this place to be a menagerie by the time we're done with it."

| [member="The Slave"] |
[SIZE=10.5pt]"You're going to make me blush.", he said with a scintilla of flirtation.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“I always keep pets with me.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]And so he did. As he sipped the Caf, an import in customs began to shake and shutter. The bindings on its durasteel cage came loose, and the destructive nature of what it held broke free from its containment. In a corner of the Black Market began a surge of activity, cries of fear and anguish being the first sounds to echo through the husk before it followed with the sounds of gunshots and defense.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]What The Slave brought was only his most recent experiment, a hive mind creature designed by his deliberate touch. Twi’lek slaves reforged into killers, with a singular queen to run them. Their skin transformed into bone, milky white with harsh red joints between the plates, their tongues whips themselves. What they lacked was morality, an afront to intelligent design.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]And so they destroyed where they were. Those they captured were taken to the Queen and fed to her for nutrients, in turn creating more. He released a creature with horrifying reproductive capacity, something he couldn’t help but take some pride in.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Slowly he stood with Vespar, finishing off his brew before tossing it aside.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“While they do what they must, what would you have us do? See the sights?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]“I do love a vacation.”, he said with a wide grin.[/SIZE]

"The freak is back at it, I suppose." In a rather unusual outfit, at least for her, brown canvas covering her face, beside her, her sister, wearing an identical outfit. "You really think this is going to conceal us? Last time I checked he was crippled, not blind."

"Oh I know he won't see us." Around them, scattering crowds making way for the illegal goods, trinkets and magical items. Usual, she liked to take cannon fodder with her on such missions, but she had no intention of doing that today. "Where was he again?" as they made a left into an alleyway. "Shouldn't be too hard to find -- given he's in the only cafe filled to the brim with dead bodies"

"You'd think he understood why killing his own people would not be a good idea, anyway, the fool has put up an advertisement for alchemists. I'd suggest you stay outside and gather information; although be a dear and inform Mother that I'm wishing to speak with her, preferably not aboard this cess pit though." The figure nodded and departed, proceeding to "barter" with one of the stall managers about an antique watch that could, make you see dead things. Unlikely.

She could see the Cafe now, although slightly grimy it was the only place where there was not a crowd of people dying to enter. As she crossed the door, whilst not lifting her hood, could see the sight before him; giving a raspy cough in response on the way to the counter, although no assistant was present. Turning around she idly began to spoke with a droning voice, not one Antherion would've heard in their previous encounters.

"I heard you were looking for chemists, that is, if you are the person I'm looking for."

[member="The Slave"] I [member="Antherion"]
ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
"I imagine that, soon enough, the rats will try to jump overboard. We move to cut it off... and to ensure we have an exit path, unless you're keen on burning up in the sparse, stale air of that hideous corpse-world."

As he spoke, the floral undead rose, their motions stilted, puppeteered, yet possessed of a surprising speed. As seed pods and plant matter dripped of them like water after coming out of a pool, they began to scatter, moving heedless of death to spread the malignant flora that lurked in the depths of their flesh. As [member="Serenity Loveheart"] drew near, a few of them would break off, growing closer to her, enticed by the Dark Side scent that drifted off of her.

Fingers would play over skin, and dead faces drawn taught with agony would rasp while examining the figure.

"Chemists? No. Alchemists? Yes. So if you're here to burn some magnesium or something, I suggest you get out of here as fast as possible." He was much, much worse for wear than when Serenity last had met him. His arms and legs were bulkier, but the flesh was knotted and scarred, sometimes seeming like a patchwork and in other places like wet, kneaded dough. His skin was a nice, healthy gray.

"If you have any monsters you'd like to show off, turn them loose. This isn't a directed, surgical strike. This is terrorism. And we are bringing the terror." He pursed his lips. Something was... off about this one. She hid her intentions well, but his intuition would certainly alert him to danger, if not to the form it came to him in, or its true identity. "Here -- I recommend taking a few seedpods and heading over to the slave market. I'll be sending my blossoms as an advanced guard."

"When the most crowded place is infected, it will spread rapidly. Meanwhile, my associate and I have an appointment with another, equally vital part of the ship."

| [member="Nick Imura"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Taran Ge'Mav"] |

Or Market Research.

A mixture of both was what brought Vitor alone to the Floating Market. A massive vessel orbiting Malachor V.

The Sith had been on it only once before - during a meeting between powerful and less-powerful Sith - a while ago. The talks were about unity and conquering the galaxy. Politics, basically. All of what was said there was reported to the group Vitor owed allegiance to - The GenoHaradan.

Vitor strolled through the crowded Black Market of the vessel and found himself inquiring a merchant that sold weapons that Corondex Arms, his own company, produced. The prices here were absolutely intolerable but Avendahl understood why. Not that this was the only place to do so. Funnily enough, Corondex Arms directly had procured products to illegal elements hundreds of times.

He abruptly stopped in the middle of a plaza. The malicious feeling of the Dark Side growing stronger around him.

Something was to happen.

[member="Antherion"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"]​
There was always fun to be had with this man.

However, he seemed to be changed from last I saw of him. He was changing into something else. Something... more. And I enjoyed the look that he carried himself with. One that showed pain and strife, but it brought him to a new level of power. I loathed it. I wanted that power for myself. However, to get that kind of power, to even get the man to ally himself with me, I had to extend a hand first.

Walking onward to meet with the man, I smiled as he was currently speaking with another individual. A woman who seemed to carry herself highly. Reminded me of my wife. One I left home to be here. I came upon my ship. One that could bring one of the very things he needed.

"I believe you asked for specimens that could be useful in this. I come and present my own creation to be useful for this operation."

Producing a holoporjector from my hand, it formed the image of a moving, breathing red-scaled Arkanian dragon that I had nurtured since birth, and formed to become a very powerful ally. She was a true testament of my skill with Alchemy.

"She is Nemesis, A beast who will bring the fate of many to vengeance, or justice."

[member="Vitor Avendahl"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Serenity Loveheart"], [member="The Slave"],
"Oh, Alechmists? I'm one of those too. Born and raised." Kneeling down for one of the flowers and picking it. "As for pets? I've got plenty of those, albeit it not your traditional ones." Walking out of the cafe and turning around. "And do be sure to contact me if you need anymore assistance. Cr-.. My dear friend." Cover blown? Who cares. It's not like him or the other individuals would be able to outrun him, at least she hoped so.

Opening her communicator link, she contacted her sister. "He's actually gone mad I believe, there's... flowers coming out of the bodies in that place; looked kind of pretty though." Looking back into the cafe window "Our friend wants a pet. Not too sure as to what he means by that, but if he impress him enough... well." Laughing into it. "Pets? I'll... see what I can do."

A genuine pet was not something she could really produce at this moment in time, he did however mention terrorism, and if it was free game...

Removing her cloak, she revealed her usual line-up, big gun with a lightsaber, something she could see a few other individuals baring right now, bumping into one man [member="Vitor Avendahl"], with a happy look on her face "You should leave here within 5 minutes. Bye bye!" rushing off further into the depths, away from the busy crowds; finally coming to the arranged meeting point with her sister.

"Were you being serious about the pet?" "No. Just get me a rocket launcher and as many people from our little group as you can."

"Honestly.." beginning to make their way to customs station.

[member="Antherion"] I [member="Nick Imura"] I [member="The Slave"]
The slave watched Serenity enter and exit, saying nothing to her the entire while, simply giving her his temporary attention. She wasn’t what he came for, and her words seemed untrue; but perhaps that was every Sith. The thought passed by him, then gone as he turned back to the corpse-creature that was Vespar.

Shall we begin?”, he said, removing his outermost layer to reveal black robes that lay tight in the shoulders and chest, while his forearms and waist were graciously wrapped tight with further layers of fabric. He obviously dressed for comfort, his usual vibroblade on his hip as he waited for [member="Antherion"] to join him.

My own creation will ruin the Black Market in short order.” he said, pulling a small vial from his pocket and snorting what was in it. It appeared to be a type of spice… but it couldn’t be sure.

He groaned for a second as they walked before speaking again;

So long as the Queen survives, they’ll be fine.


In the Markets, the gore had spread. As the Queen began to establish a nest, her worker drones tore into the crowds; harvesting organs and meat with extreme prejudice. They didn’t abide by conventional laws nor morality, more a blind hunger for growth. Nothing more than mindless killing machines made them all the more perfect…

Still, pockets of resistance existed despite their forceful nature. They wouldn’t last long, with each death adding to the numbers of the creatures that surged forward into their once beautiful example of capitalism. Security systems would begin to flare across the ship, but as the horde began to enter the hallways the ship would find its chance of survival more difficult than before.
Abyss laugh didn't echoed through the air, as there was no air around him to start with. Shrouded in an energy field that shielded him from the deadly emptiness of space he stood on one of the outside decks of the market where neither energy nor artificial gravity could be found. Or at least that was what he allowed people to believe. The Mindeater never build something without a failsafe, a method to turn the game around should anyone meet him on his own turf. He made his way to a seemingly derelict terminal, the broken display lighting up the second after entering a long, complex code into it.

"Glory, report."

The A.I.'s avatar appeared on the display, the figure of a women readjusting her position to not be affected by the crack in the screen. Following her appearance was a collection of camera feeds, some from static position around the ship that had once been called "Ophidia" as a tribute to his master, some from cameras held by his eyes and ears walking through it. While there was chaos on the surface, the Floating market had remained untouched until now, and here the Prophet's hand was still omnipresent.

"Several agents suspect Empire activity, but they are hidden under the masses. They are on standby and await further instructions."

On the screen numerous pictures popped up, showing anyone that his agents had deemed as potential members or allies of the resurgent empire. Most where blurry, and it was impossible to say for certain if they were his enemies or not. But he wouldn't take any chances this time around. The fall of the market would be their fall as well.

"I want a bounty placed on anyone of them. The inner eye shall stay covert and monitor their reactions once they get attacked. It should tell us who of them are sith. The rest of my agents shall retreat to the maintenance shafts, ready to spread towards the hangars. I want them to gather all explosives they can. When the market falls they will go down with it."

The first piece was moved, now it was time to wait until the enemy would make his move.

[member="The Slave"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"] [member="Nick Imura"] [member="Vitor Avendahl"] [member="Antherion"]
All was not well in Sithville. Just as the Sith Order had looked poised to make their run through the Outer Rim while the Silver Jedi had perhaps stood at their weakest point, they had faltered and split up in a diaspora that stretched from Dosuun to Ession. It seemed without the guiding hand of some of the old Sith Lords who had made the One Sith the juggernaut that it was, there would be nothing like it to follow. All good in Arisa's book and the Watchman intended to keep it that way.

There had been no public announcements of the breakup, of course, but it was clear that something was amiss from the tabs the Silver Jedi still kept in the region. Informants had led the investigator to start poking around Malachor, and the nearly derelict battlecruiser that orbited above. The floating market, as it was called by those there conducting business and dark deeds.

Right after disembarking from her nondescript YT-1300 freighter and locking it up, the masqued Jedi would be hit by a giant wall of stink from all the grubby masses that now moved through the tight quarters of the ship. It was a struggle not to immediately scrunch her nose from the putrid odors whilst undercover. If it wasn't for seeing the exterior of the Darr Itah upon approach, then she could have been fooled into thinking it was just another ratty civie station in the Outer Rim.

But the shadowport was still built inside the husk of a great warship, a One Sith warship at that, and it appeared to at least be semi-functional. That meant it could still be of some value. Quietly, she moved deeper into the ship, nimbly navigating through the throngs of lowlives on the hunt for a functioning console.

((OOC Note: It's not yet reflected in my tags, but I'm coming into this thread as a Jedi Master.))

[member="Darth Abyss"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"] [member="Nick Imura"] [member="Vitor Avendah"] [member="Antherion"]
Rage had entered the floating market under the false pretenses of being a spacer. Dressed in nondescript clothing and keeping his saber hidden. He would appear the part too. But, of course he was Sith and he had answered the call of his fellow Sith. He wanted to take part in the debauchery, to relish in the slaughter, to feel alive. So, he was here. Rage watched as the masses ran in a panic from a certain cafe and hoped he had not arrived to late. Chitinous monsters chased the peasants and disgusting plant undead followed suit.

“No finesse. Their is no beauty in this slaughter,” Rage said grimly.

He would make something that would light the way. Something to show these Sith what a ancient alchemist could truly do. Rage shooed a few of the monstrosities away from a gathering of corpses.

“These will do nicely,” He said with a smirk.

Rage withdrew his lightsaber and began hacking the corpses to bits. With the force he smashed the pile of gore together. Giving it eight great big meaty arms, two giant legs of flesh and finally a round ball of bone for the head. He stepped over one of the disgusting arms and stooped low over the chest. He withdrew a crystal from his pocket and penetrated the conglomerate of flesh with his fist. Rage withdrew his arm and the effects began immediately.

The crystal inscribed with ancient Sith runes, glowed brightly. It grew and began to envelop flesh, It bound and stitched the mound of meat together. It covered the mass until it all shined together as one giant jewel.

“Up,” Rage commanded the crystal creature and without delay the golem stood.

[member="Arisa Yune"]
[member="Darth Abyss"]
[member="The Slave"]
[member="Serenity Loveheart"]
[member="Nick Imura"]
[member="Vitor Avendahl"]
ʜᴄ sᴠɴᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏɴᴇs
Dreadbloom. The principles of design were based off the Seeds of Rage, but they had a sort of wildness to them, a sort of feral artistry that could be as much his own mark as the sterile genius of Lord Fulminiss. A plant that required no physical sustenance, no soil or sunlight, but rather drew sustenance out of the Dark Side, feeding and gathering form and matter to itself from anguish, pain, rage, and hate. Naturally, this meant it was to the plant's advantage to grow furiously, to seed strong emotion, and to keep its victims alive as long as possible. A carpet of fleshy, pale white and red was spreading outwards from the cafe, and [member="Serenity Loveheart"] would be able to feel it growing towards her in her own palm, the vines clutching at her like a child's hands.

Many individuals, as they coughed out spores and tore at flesh, were themselves alive and conscious, their throats filled with crimson verdigris that choked off their screams.

It was spreading, spreading with utter and reckless abandon.

[member="Nick Imura"] was a welcome, familiar face. On Kro Var, they had met in an uncertain muddle, not knowing whether they would be allies or foes. On Lorrd, they had met sharing the cause of knowledge. Now, they were brothers in the light of Nogras, and it was a right and joyful thing to see someone who would be so useful to his interests.

"Unleash it." He did not hesitate, he smiled broadly. "Friend, there can be no escape from this... except for us, and I have a stealth interceptor in synchronous orbit above the market being piloted by a droid for when a quick pickup is necessary. If there is a place where the mighty dragon is needed, it's the docking bays."

"We will be traveling to the escape pods to likewise fold, spindle, and mutilate. If you want to join us, feel free. Three's a crowd, but crowds are fun in this sort of affair regardless!"

At this point, due to the viral nature of the creatures, the Floating Market had erupted into chaos. Entire hallways were thick with spores that grew off the horror and confusion stoked by the thrashing populace, and carapaced monsters ran rampant amongst spacers and criminals, persisting with deadly abandon against the blaster fire and crossfire that prevailed in the looting and confusion.

He turned to the Slave, a cold, thin smile on his lips and what seemed to be a hint of dark interest in his eyes. This one was... no, this one was not like him, a different impulse drove him. But they were both predators. He could appreciate such a thing.

"You'd better keep up~" He said, his voice a playful ring of overlapping feminine, masculine, and monstrous tones. He set off towards the pods at a clipped pace, raising his right hand. As he passed by each camera, it would fuzz out with electromagnetic interference for just a second before flickering back, none showing his face.
| [member="Vitor Avendahl"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Arisa Yune"] |
Forlorn was the once cramped markets, now riddled with the dead and soon to be. The barters, the carousing, the heckled masses and murmurs of the crowd replaced by screams, fleeting breaths, and broken dreams. In the matter of only a few minutes, the center of this secluded economy became nothing more than a nest of carapaced abominations with rage in their hearts and claws on their fingers.

Bodies lay strewn from webs, hung like the gallows of a prison station with too much free time on their hands. Hearts left empty of their crimson subsistence, and all those around forced into the proverbial futility that was the hope for survival where there would be none to be had.


Today was a reckoning. A message sent to powers in higher places. These people’s lives meant nothing. As vines forced cracks in the durasteel foundation that held the husk of a ship together, and crowds of the unforgiven were dragged into the hive of the creatures, The Slave and [member="Antherion"] rushed to the only escape.

With most of the ship already scavenged for parts, life support and insurance was the last thought many of the people aboard the ship had. Pieces sold for scrap for the meager credit now gave shockwaves in time to those now desperate for salvation, and even those that were hope to find it would be met with a grievous obstacle.

The two sith were abominations in their own right, but one was far surpassed in corruption. Antherion was something The Slave almost looked up to… his ingenuity, his creativity, his very essence seemed to drag him along in a way few could. How pleasant he found it, to witness such unadulterated passion. To subject those less worthy to the punishment they’d deserve, grinding their bones to dust and leaving their corpses to the fruitless vacuum of space.

It tickled him pink even. In these few moments he was sober, his thoughts somewhat clear, and yet he couldn’t help but think of the horrid and demeaning. In this moment, the true level of which the dark side had begun to take hold of his mind was becoming evident… How corrupted he had become since his meager days as a piece of human equipment to be used for another’s bidding.

Oh but how he loved to be used.

His lips grinned wider as the two moved towards the final resting place of this outpost’s last hope. In due time, the thousands aboard would feel the aspirations of two creatures come to fruition. Their plans were far bigger than them, and they’d serve as a foundation for the future of Malachor.

In due time...

│ [member="Nick Imura"] │ [member="Vitor Avendahl"] │ [member="Darth Abyss"] │ [member="Arisa Yune"] │
Five minutes?

The Sith's eyes followed the flamboyant lady that had bumped into him before she disappeared into the crowd. There were all sorts of weirdos here, so this was not surprising.

What surprised him was that even utilizing as best as he could the technique to keep his Force presence negligent, he still felt the darkness stirring externally. It was odd since utilizing aforementioned technique forbid him from feeling presences and ripples through the Force, due to his lower skill.

He would not risk undermining his cover in such a place until all hell broke loose upon the Black Market.

The first phase of every cataclysm and disaster were the domino of screaming. The second phase was the horde of people running for their lives trampling everything ahead of them.

The third phase. Massacre.

What had been stirring five minutes earlier was now unleashed here. At the sight of what was going on, Vitor had no choice then dropping his cover.

His precious senses came back to him and he felt less oblivious to the events. The Dark Side was consuming everything its path.

Creatures, twisted by the dark side, were running rampant. The pestilence in the air infected quickly and easily everything in its path. Avendahl kept his cool and strengthened his resolve by grasping his hilt. He was no longer the dread struck acolyte.

But he was also not an idiot that would be hit by the tsunami of death. Vitor fled.

Yet, the contagion was quicker. He had no other choice.


The red blade erupted from the hilt as the first creature attempting to assault him ended headless on the ground.

He headed toward where the escape pods might be. It only made sense that the assailants had began from the hangars. Avendahl's ship was probably even gone by now.

No longer hiding his Dark Side signature, the hooded Sith sought to survive. Unknown to him, yet, his destination was where the perpetrators of this madness were.

[member="The Slave"] | [member="Antherion"] | [member="Darth Rage"] | [member="Arisa Yune"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Serenity Loveheart"] | [member="Nick Imura"]​
"Glory, I transfer command over the Inner Eye to you for now."

Abyss had watched as chaos was set loose on the Floating Market, even if he hadn't been able to see who or what exactly he was up against. It didn't mattered, they would suffer for this if he knew their faces or not. While his A.I. muttered an answer in the background that sounded like "finally", the sith lord made his way through zero gravity, pulling himself through the husk of a ship towards an entrance into the maintenance shafts. By now his agents had began to plant explosives in the hanger bays all around the market, but they would wait for the cue from Glory before using them. His own stealth ship waited in space, ready to get him of the shadowport with or without hangars.

Going down through the long, complex network of tunnels and shafts formerly used to allow engineers and technicians to make repairs and optimizations to the stardestroyer, he slowly descended down towards the lowest level, the sweatshops even below the slave market. The sith lord stepped out into the production halls, filled with slaves and people that were paid so bad that they could be slaves as well.

His enemies had used the arts of the dark side to litter his station with creature forged by alchemy, at least that he had figured out by now. But if they thought that crime and trickery was all he to answer their attack, than they had misjudged the situation. His left hand lifted into the air as he stepped through the slaves, and a moment later six of them placed themselves as a hexagon around Abyss. Only a second later their blood dropped to the ground, as yet another six slaves slaughtered them, their eyes empty from the indoctrination of the Mindeater.

Then his saber jumped to life, carving in runes into the spilled blood, six burned symbols that were placed all around him. That was all he needed, runes to channel power into a direction, blood to give them form and slaves as sacrifices for the power of the spell he would weave.

"Dukra iv VietaVietaVieta"

The runes around him began to glow in a bright red, and the body of the Mindeater was lifted into the air as he began to channel his power through it. With every second the light around the runes got brighter, and the slaves around the cluster began to stumble and collapse, as their live essence began to fuel the power of the mindeater.

"UdaiUdaiUdai nuyak XuontaiXuontaiXuontai"

Even his mind had never reached as far as it did now, the power of more and more falling slaves becoming his own. Sweat began to run down on his face, and it felt like his body was about to be torn apart, while the tendrils of his mind reached towards the monsters he called to bring down his enemies. Starweird normally weren't so close to a planet, but they hungered for the death of those connected to the force. It would take them a bit, but they would come, and they would tear anyone apart on the command of Abyss.

Sith to basic: Daughters of Space, Obey my command.

[member="Vitor Avendahl"] [member="The Slave"] [member="Antherion"] [member="Darth Rage"] [member="Arisa Yune"] [member="Nick Imura"] [member="Serenity Loveheart"]
"This is getting weird."

"You didn't think it was weird that he openly said he was going to terrorize his own people?"

"I wouldn't put it past him at this point."

"I feel.. cold..."

A jump of motion came out from her hand, not by her own concious. Looking behind her, the vines were growing.

"We're getting off this ship. Now. He's planted a seed or something to kill me; I'm sure of you."

"You're getting paranoid, plants need sunlight to grow."

"Then explain those" Pointing backwards towards the growing wildlife. Just then, as the creature fell that was slaughtered by [member="Vitor Avendahl"] fell to the ground like a bunch of crumpled bones, one more jumped on her sister. In an act of desperation, she grabbed for her sidearm, the Dreamcatcher. Suitably named, it was a gift produced by The Black Hand. Forcing it directly into a Twi'Leks skull, it fired. "Get off of her you freak!" and it too, had the same fate bestowed upon it, a string of metal fragments piercing and fracturing its cranium, reducing it to nothing but flesh with no mind. Looking at each other, the two began a dash to the hanger bay, Carina beginning to speak into her communicator.

"Get the ship started, make sure EVERYONE is in it by the time we arrive."

Not even waiting for a response, she closed it. The ship wasn't even opening its doors when she said this, it had only just landed. They weren't the only ones in this position as thousands of individuals ran towards the hanger bay, some of them not even owning ships, in an desperate attempt to get off of this hell-hole.

As they arrived, the freighter's bay door had just opened, but as they were about to depart, a small Rodian child began pawing at the steel, trying to get on. She looked towards her sister, who looked back with more sympathetic eyes, sighing, she looked down at the orphan.

"Get on then." Kneeling down and grabbing her arm and pulling her into the shuttle.

[member="Darth Abyss"] I [member="Vitor Avendahl"] I [member="The Slave"] I [member="Antherion"] I [member="Darth Rage"] I [member="Arisa Yune"]
[SIZE=11pt]Rage watched as the destruction unfolded. His blood red crystalline golem smashing and pounding the odd spacer to bits. One of it’s eight great arms coming down to crush the poor souls with a splat. They stood no chance against the behemoth. A few had weapons and thought to turn and fight the creature, but the laser fire merely bounced off the mirrored crystal armor of the golem. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Rage laughed as a man fired upon the creature. He might as well have been a child with a toy gun for all the good it did him. Rage’s mirthful grin turned to a frown “Kill him already!” Rage shouted as he pointed to the spacer with the las gun. The golem stepped forward with clumsy steps and simply crushed the man beneath it’s foot. Slowly Rage and the golem had been funneling the rift raft into the hangars. As the markets depleted of life, the hangars seemed to swell with it. So, this is where Rage headed next.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The slaughter had been fun, but to Rage’s own surprise resistance had been minimal. He had expected more from the renowned home of the Sith Lord Abyss. Rage shrugged at the thought. If Abyss wasn’t going to put up more of a fight then it was time for him to be going. Besides he sensed something amiss here. This place would be a tomb for all aboard unless they left quickly.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Rage and his creation followed the stream of panicked people, smashing and maiming all along the way until finally they reached a hangar. Rage spotted a ship preparing for take off and deemed it worthy enough. He hopped atop the crystal golem’s back and ordered it to march forth with a thrust of his finger. The pair reached the shuttle with ease, simply trampling those in the way.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Rage spied a small Rodian child pawing at the doors of it. The vessel’s door swung open to admit the child in and the Golem struck. With all eight arms it held the durasteel doors open and rage slid down from its back. He waltzed into the shuttle and spied a strange looking girl ( [member="Serenity Loveheart"] ). He scowled at her then reached into his coat.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“I have one thousand credits. I will pay for the child and my own fare if you get us out of here,”[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]The golem had released the doors as soon as Rage was aboard. It was now simply wandering the hangar attacking anything that moved and smashing ships to itty bitty pieces.[/SIZE]
She was always in the mood for some profit, even in places where she wasn't necessarily looking for it.

"Multiply that figure by ten and that's your admission. Orphans travel free." Looking down to the Rodian girl who was now being tended to by her sister.

The golem mercilessly continued to swing, hitting people into walls, smashing them to bits, crushing their bones and destroying any former sentient being.

"Time's ticking."

[member="Darth Rage"]

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