Private That's Why You Shouldn't Go Down

[Calyx Sundrift]

Kasir Dorran

The turbolift shuddered. Lights flickered. With a shriek, the rusty doors ground open.
Darkness loomed ahead.

“Lights!” The command was muffled by the rebreather, but it rang out, firm and clear.

Eight beams cut through the gloom, sweeping across a desolate hallway. Dust hung thick in the air, undisturbed for years. The ventilation systems on Empress Teta’s lower levels had been shut down long ago.

This was Level Ten, beneath even the restructured sewer lines. No oxygen, no light, and no life. No one came down here willingly.

Unless, of course, they were paid to.

Calyx swept his beam upward, catching a swath of black fungus clinging to the ceiling. “Nasty place,” he muttered, glancing at the Duros beside him. “Bet there’s hawk-bats nesting down here.”

“Not a chance,” the Duros replied, his light tracing a broken door panel on their right. “Nothin’ lives down here.”

Calyx let out a low laugh. Hollow, in the stillness. “Tell that to Kanjiklub.” The crime syndicate they all worked for had taken an interest in Level Ten. Possibly as a new smuggling route, or maybe for weapons storage. Either way, it was up to them to investigate its true potential.

“Think someone beat us down here?” one of them suddenly asked from up ahead.

“Nah.” another voice answered quickly.

Calyx had felt the underlying edge. “Why not?” He hesitated. Calyx was already moving “’Cause-” tHe kid’s light had landed on a blast door.

A hole had been carved through it. A sense of dread crept up on him.

Lightsaber.

“Oh, burn me,” Calyx muttered.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Calyx Sundrift​

Like an icy hand upon the breath of the living, Kasir found himself far from Korriban, sent with purpose. His Master had sent him here to unearth relics buried in the city. The Sangnir did not question; he hunted.

In such depths the air was thick with decay, along with the taste of rust and mold. For him, it was not suffocation, but perfume, for this place was ripe with prey. Shadows clung to him, pooling at his feet, stretching with each step, desiring to taste what he would taste.

He heard them long before ever seeing them, the survivors, the stragglers who wandered too deep. No matter where the Sith assassin roamed, there were always scavengers who believed themselves to be clever. But their heartbeats always betrayed them in the end.

When he finally struck, it was not driven by blind fury. With inhuman strength and grace, his lithe form poised on the balls of his feet, slithering forth. His slender, pale digits, already stained with the viscera of previous victims, closed tightly around the victim's throat, their screams devoured by the chamber as his fangs sank deep into their flesh.

Iron and fire. Hot and intoxicating. The crimson sustenance spilled across his tongue, down his chin, dripping onto his hands until they were slick.

For a time, he was just a vessel for the beast within.

The body sagged in his grasp, a broken puppet that still twitched. There was no satisfaction in this kill, only the cold voids of his orbs mirroring the emptiness within.

A living embodiment of death itself.

The presence of others pressed against his senses, their aura foreign, lacking the darkness of the Sith. Either way, a potential threat that could not be ignored. Head tilting, nostrils flaying like a Nexu on the prowl, he honed in on their scent.

His gaze shifted toward the carved blast door, the scar of a lightsaber.

He had been careless, distracted by the indulgence.

Now others wandered into this hunt.

Kasir would not flee, nor cloak himself. He stood out in the open, self‑made divinity burning bright, daring fate to make the next move.

 

[Calyx Sundrift]

Kasir Dorran​

Calyx stood beside the young gang member, who's light still traced the edges of the carved-open blastdoor. Another joined. The Duros he'd joked with earlier.

He stared at the hole, then scoffed and stepped through. "Ain't nothing. I told you, there's nothin' alive down 'ere."

"That's recent!" Calyx hissed.

The Duros just glanced back, shrugged, and unholstered his blaster. The others all followed suit. Calyx knew better. If they were up against somebody who wielded a saber, a blaster wasn't going to cut it. It simply wouldn't be fast enough. He left his blaster for what it was and drew his vibroknife. It wasn't optimal, but he'd used it to duel before. It allowed him to execute some cadances of Ataru, at least. That gave him much better odds than a blaster pistol would.

Three of the others passed through the hole before Calyx took his chances. That made him the fifth in line. Front and rear covered.

The eight beams of light swayed from the dark ceiling to treacherous rusted floor, and the eerily long corridor that lay ahead. Twice did they pass a cross-section, and twice did they discuss splitting up. Calyx advocated against it, just firm enough to push his opinion through.

They found one of the bodies first. A pale, dried husk. Torn open from neck to groin, lifeless eyes reflecting unspoken shock and horror. The group collectively held their breath. "Force! What kriffing happened here?" One of them exclaimed, kneeling down next to the body. She was a Nikto, dark hair short and unkempt. Calyx couldn't recall her name. Luche? Lache? Something like that.

"Bloodsucker." The Duros thought for a moment. "Must be Mynocks or something."

Calyx made a face "Mynocks don't do that." He retorted. "They don't even take blood!"

"Wyyyschok then?" Another offered. Those spiders were vicious, and it did seem like something they could do.

Calyx attacked again. "On a city planet?" The silence was telling.

"He's not been dead for long. Couple of hours at most." The Nikto woman - Calyx had decide to dub her Lu - said. She was still studying the body. "Cal's right about the danger. Whatever did this has gotta be still around." Lu concluded.

The Duros snorted. "We knew t'was gonna be dangerous. That's why Kanjiklub sent eight of us." Some nodded. "Whoever pulled this kriff will be shot on sight. Simple as that." With firm step, the Duros continued. Behind him followed an Ortolan, the two other humans beside Calyx, and a bulky Whiphid. It left him with Lu and the young Zabrak who'd found the signs of danger first.

"Think it's safe to continue?"

"No." Calyx offered honestly. "But we don't have much of a choice." With a tight grip on his vibroblade, Calyx strode after the others.

The Ortolan, walking beside the Nikto, cast his light down the corridor.

It was then that they saw it. The dark shape in the distance. Unmoving, bloodied, beside the bodies. Eyes settled on them, two luminous reflection in the torch's light. The human before him cried something out. The Duros was already firing his blaster.

In a heartbeat, the others followed. A volley of blasterfire lighting up the corridor as angry red streaks shot toward the dark figure.

 

[Kasir Dorran]

Calyx Sundrift​

Those beams of light were but fragile things, borne upon mortal bones that sought to pierce the all-consuming dark.. only revealing a glimpse of their fear, rather than any hint of true courage. In that moment, the Sith's elongated fangs glinted, aching with the hunger that consumed him.

A guttural snarl rumbled from deep within his chest, vibrating through the cold corridor..

Then came the first volley of blasterfire through the air, bolts scorching all around him. But before the bolt could reach him, he had slipped sideways into the welcoming arms of the shadows, their inky embrace a familiar caress, a door welcoming the Sith home. Beams of light swung wildly as the predator was gone.

Kasir heard the tightening of throats, the quickening of heartbeats, as he emerged at the flank of the Duros, tearing through flesh viciously with wet, even intimate violence. His palate was coated with arterial spray. The figure's scream gurgled and died in a pool of crimson at his feet.

From the belt, a hand drew forth a short and cruel blade. This one was forged not only for war, but sacrifice. The edge was razor sharp, perfect for the rituals that he delighted in. With savage grace, he descended upon the next of their group, driving the steel into the chest again and again, relentlessly. A gory symphony it became, painting the walls, while cries of agony continued.

The third raised his blaster too slowly, and his hand snapped out, seizing the weapon by its barrel, twisting it aside. A bolt hit the ceiling. With a fluid motion, he drove the blade upon the man’s jaw, punching through the skull, silencing him instantly. A crack wrenched it free.

Now two tried to flank him, but the Sangnir emerged into the shadows once more, only to reappear behind them.

Their lights fell, rolling across the floor after futile attempts to defend themselves.

The sixth, already stumbling back, was firing wildly.

Amidst the chaos and carnage, his gaze remained fixated on the one who wielded a knife. Oh, he would take his time with that one.

A wrist was ensnared by his iron grip, twisting until the bone snapped with a satisfying crunch. And that was just the beginning, for he began savoring every drop as he drove fangs into the exposed neck of his prey.