Fortress of Tawntoom

Craxius turns off his bleeding blades, retracting into the silvery hilt. Then, with a flourish and the help of the Force he returned it to his belt. He folded both arms over the chest and bared his teeth in some sort of smile, while arching an eyebrow.

"Tired of the show, I assume. It can get dragging after a while"

The yellow eyes stared at the second and third Dark Sider.

"And who might you all be? I felt you in the Force. You're deep in the Dark, clad in dread and hatred, yet you do not follow the creeds of Malvus, Savage or some other Sith lords. I do not sense any of them in you. You're driven by something or someone else... I came... seeking answers, I felt the pull beyond the stars"

The Zabrak's mind ran fast through the information, gears turning on his head.

"You follow a Prophet of the Dark Side... I can feel him. His Presence..."

This has not been heard of in a very long time. He read of Kadann and Darth Millennial, who were said to have precognition and be able to read the waves and lines of the future, but nothing else. Only mere charlatans with empty speech and an ever growing power-hunger, but no-one who could actually speak with the voice of the Beyond. A Dark Lord.

"You talk about a new creed. There hasn't been a new one in many years now, nor since the death of Lord Krayt... A new founding of the Sith, the second since Darth Bane's rule"

He moved on his feet, pensive. Malvus had taught him the ways of the mind, of philosophy and religion, of the ways of the Sith since times immemorial. Craxious could quote by memory the decrees of Lord Bane and comment the teachings of Sidius' holocrons or even debate with ease the findings of Darth Wyyrlok, the third of his name, loremaster of the One Sith. He was no fool, and actually found enticement in such matters.

"I want to know more"

He said, with thirst, feeling again the dark pull in his subconcious, like tendrils.

"All my teachers and mentors have failed to reach perfection. My father is a brute and rules over a crumbling domain, only held together by his vanity and ego; utterly blind to his failure. Malvus is far too old and fails to see what the future will bring: his dark caval is merely a short-lived attempt to survive. He will soon vanish into the Shadow, the Void will call for him; time is due. Both lacked insight and the abbility to see beyond their own shortcomings... This shall not be my fate, I want to know more"

He gazed at the trio with intensity. They could help him achieve his greatest ambitions, sate his ever growing hunger, his thirst. The mere presence of the Dark side on the planet was intoxicating. This was worth way more than a score of sectors. Here the Sith could thrive and dominate the Galaxy again. And Craxious would make sure he featured in that, prominently.

When he closed his eyes, the Force spoke to him in his dreams. Of course, that could have also been the spice he had ingested, and perhaps it was not so much a dream as it was a narcotic induced hallucination. Regardless, a wonderous vision had entered the devilish mind of the drake, an image he had become obsessed with transforming into reality.

For days he had followed around the Supreme Leader, traversing back and forth from his apothecarium to the throne room with fresh paint swatches of varying shades of red. At first His Holiness appeared to feign interest, pursing his shroud obscured lips as he appeared to debate between scarlet and cherry, or crimson and ruby. Eventually the pontiff appeared exasperated by the sheer volume of options and sent the Sith Eternal's dark apothecary away with a few forks of Force lightning and a shouted "Begone!". So it was He-Who-Hungers found himself in charge of selecting the new colour scheme for the cult's stormtrooper corps.

He had already settled on a shade of red, the question was which shade would be best.

Humming a catchy tune in his lab, the cult's mad alchemist routed around in a supply closet as he searched for the proper surgical instrument with which to conduct his test. Eventually his bloody orbs fell on a familiar object, a serrated edged dagger forged from wintrium on Klatooine, affectionately referred to by the Hungering One as the Headsman. Dragus smiled coyly as he pulled the glass blade from its protective sheath and held it under the dim laboratory lighting. It was a beautiful weapon, which is why it was so sad it had been relegated to collecting dust in a closet. Perhaps he would offer it to Kr'Naan when she was a bit older. It was about her size anyways. Dragging a finger talon along the edge of the dagger, sparks elicited as the razor sharp edge of the blade carved an actual furrow, however small, in the claw of the draconian. Satisfied the blade was already sharp enough for the task at hand, the saurian Sith turned from the supply closet and proceeded over to the squirming figure hanging from the ceiling.

In the middle of the lab, a human was bound in a rusted length of barbed chain from ankle to shoulder, swaying back and forth as they dangled upside down over a filthy metal grate. The floor beneath had several catch drains that led to fortress menagerie in the level directly under the apothecarium. The human was male, middle aged, and altogether average in every aspect. He moaned into an excrement soiled rag shoved into his mouth, preventing him from speaking and more importantly, from shrieking. The ground was slick with multiple layers of organic liquids at varying states of fluidity. Dragus for his part showed no sign of unease as his toe talons raked over the greasy decaying film. He reached up with his left claw, the glass dagger still held in his right, and took hold of one of the chain coils encircling the human. Gently he eased the swaying until it had stopped completely, then bowed his head slightly so that he could get a good look at the human's whimpering face. Tears and snot streamed from the man's eyes and nose, blinding and choking him as he struggled against the restraints. Putrid steam blew from the barabel's nostril slits into the man's face as Dragus leaned in, his breath hot and rancid, his forked tongue flicking out to lap at his victim's tears. After a moment he withdrew his tongue and smacked his lips.

"Your fear iz exquisssite, human." Rasped the reptilian, admiring the potent expulsion of fear pheromones in the human's tears and sweat. With his right claw, he played with the glass dagger, flipping it between his talons. "It'z almossst a shame you've been ssselected to ssserve az materialz for my latessst project." Flipping the shikkar one last time, he brought the tip of the glass blade and rested it against the human's moist cheek. The Great Devourer's lips peeled back to reveal a mouthful of daggers that dripped with salivation. "We could have ssspent dayz, weekz even, together otherwissse. Alaz, your wyrd haz reached itz end, whereaz mine dragz on ever ceaselesssly. My only sssolace, the work itssself, which I dearly enjoy."

While the dark apothecary taunted and teased his victim, several beady red eyes glared out from the shadowed corners of the lab, growing larger as the verminous figures entered the light. There were three of them, a triumvirate of the Hungering One's ranat assistants, each holding a gore stained bucket between their gnarled paws. With a sweep and wave of his overlong tail, Dragus motioned his rodent followers closer, until their scurrying placed them beneath the man hanging upside down from the ceiling. He moved the dagger blade from the human's cheek and pointed it at the buckets, then returned the blade back to the cheek, only this time with less care. A bead of crimson seeped from a thin red line forming on the side of the human's face. The nostrils on either side of the barabel's snout sniffed the air, scenting the freshly spilled blood.


All three of the ranats pressed forwards, jamming their buckets against one another as they jockeyed for position beneath the struggling victim. Raising the shikkar to the man's neck, Dragus quickly drew it across, separating layers of tissue with ease. Blood poured out from the wound in the neck, coating the saurian Sith's claws as he continued to push and pull the blade in a sawing motion, eventually severing the spinal column until he had completely separated the head from the body. A wet deluge of dark crimson drained into the raised buckets, bathing the twisted rodent henchmen in the process. It took a few minutes to get every last drop out. The mad alchemist stood and watched, his bloodied dagger still held in his right claw, and now a grisly trophy hanging from his left by its hair. "Excellent." Hissed the tyrannical terrorsaur in obvious pleasure. "Now go find sssome stormtrooperz to dump that blood on. I don't care if they protessst, you doussse them until every inch of their plassstoid iz coated. I don't want to sssee any white."

The threesome chittered amongst themselves in fast paced rat-speak, then nodded to their dark beneficiary and began to scurry off, struggling not to spill a drop of the freshly collected life fluids. Watching, them go, the barabel raised the head in his hand and extended his jaws as he sought to sink his curved incisors into the severed part. Razor sharp teeth sunk into flesh and bone, crunching open the skull with a single bite which he munched down merrily. He then brought the opened portion of skull before his maw and buried his snout into it, sucking out the brains with several messy wet slurps. When he was done, he simply dropped what little remained and waited for his flock to roll in the next victim.

Repulsor engines scattered rising plumes of volcanic gas as a cargo empress-class super freighter descended towards the landing pad on the roof of the Fortress of Tawntoom, positioned directly beside a massive cage of wrought iron that contained the Sith Eternal's aviary. Uvaks and hawkbats squawked furiously as their roust was disturbed by the lowering transport. Water sluiced off the hull of the ship as its landing struts emerged from its underside and made contact with the tarmac. The sound of blowing repulsor engines then began to lessen as the pilot shut down all systems and put the ship into rest mode. Inside the cockpit, the chalk white furred pilot swiveled in his chair and slipped out of the seat, setting two naked paws that ended in long claws on the deck. He reached a furry paw to his head and smoothed the fur between the two curved horns that grew out of his skull and protruded from his scalp, as that middle portion had a habit of sticking up, then headed towards the rear compartment of the 'Ice Queen'. Everything aboard seemed to be dripping wet as the ship had just returned from Arkania where it had become encrusted with snow and ice. The heat of the volcanic crater the fortress sat upon was now causing everything to melt.

Slamming a clawed paw on the ramp controls, a hydraulic whine sounded as the boarding ramp was lowered to the ground and the interior was unsealed. The abominable snowok swaggered down the ramp, naked save for a furry hood crafted from skel hide and hair. He was met by two charcoal furred night ewoks that approached the ramp, each wearing a similar hood of tanned man flesh around their heads, glaring up at the snowok with beady red eyes. They banged the butts of their spears on the soot stained floor before lowering the leaf shaped obsidian heads with the tips angled towards the snowoks snow furred belly. Wolffang froze in place, looking at first at the spear tips, then beyond at the two feral bear folk that had him at spear point. He raised his paws to show that they were empty, then gestured to the ship with a jerk of a thumb over his shoulder.


At first the two dark furred bears eyed Wolffang suspiciously, though his use of ewokese did much to put the duo at ease. Looking to one another, both night ewoks slowly nodded and raised their spear tips away from the snowok and towards the ash choked sky. Letting out a breath of relief, Wolffang turned on his heel and led the other two bears inside. As they walked the interior length of the ship, the snowok captain would occasionally stop at separate cargo compartments and explain what was in them. The first few cargo spaces were cryo-sealed, which hardly felt necessary given where they had just come from.

"Dragon eggs from Arkania." Explained Wolffang to the other bears. "They don't do well in the heat so we are keeping them cryo-sealed until the master has time to make the appropriate...alterations. There are two dozen aboard and believe me when I tell you they were not easy to get. You know where you find dragon eggs? In dragon nests...which usually have dragons sitting on them."

As though to emphasis his point, a shrill reptilian shriek sounded from further down the length of the ship, followed by a rumbling thud and the creak of metal. The two night ewoks jumped and held their spears tighter, eliciting a chuckle from their white furred snow-kin from Hoth.