Treachery, a cancer entrenched deep within the heart of the Sith...
Iziz knew from experience that some cancers were harder to cut out than others, tracking this particular tumor down had proven difficult, but very rarely was finding someone impossible for a member of the prestigious Sith Assassins. Iziz had found that after a certain point her natural trail had gone cold, scent scattered through the ephemeral current of a rampaging river as the Jawa walked the surface of the home planet of the Ossarians. Not quite knowing where to move at this point in time he analyzed what would allow a person to vanish on the planet. The first thing which came to mind was murder. It seemed to him that the level of adversity on the planet was at an all time high, aggression was high, as were combative situations and tempers... Though once again, the evidence didn't support such a mess, a Sith fighting for their lives, Acolyte or no was something legendary to behold, an event which would have scarred the situation that they would have been in and the Jawa would most definately have sniffed it out... That drew Iziz to the slave trade, asking a couple of slavers around if anyone here was crazy enough to dabble in Sith slaves, to find that there was a specific name that came up more often than not.
Rhommamool
A warlord who owned a considerable slave force and often roamed the wastes with his band, sacking and plundering everything within his estranged territory. Iziz thanked the slavers, beginning to then look for the Fence which was commonly used by the beast of a man. A day passed, and Iziz soon found the slimy waste of space. Exiting little more than an hour later, a solitary house was in flames, a trickle of blood leaking down Iziz's chin as the rodent smiled. A location had been given, and he was finally on track to eliminating his target. Preparing for a hard drop Iziz readied his Fury class interceptor and began to make his way for Rhommamool's territory... The Jawa was amazed with what he saw, the convoy of slaves and thugs were populous enough to cloud the sky with the dust kicked up by the fleet of vehicles. Swooping across in his Jet, Iziz opened the back hatch of the ship, allowing his pilot droid to take over, Iziz, little more than a thousand meters up would look down at his intended targets.
One of them, was who he was looking for.
Kicking off the back of his flight, Iziz began to free-fall down for the mob, using his cloak much like a squirrel suit as he glode down towards the earth, his tiny light frame working to his advantage as he spread his living cloak allowing it to take the speed from him while the Jawa hit the stygium stealth generator on his belt wrapping the void like translucence around himself as he continued to plummet to the earth at moderately slow speeds for a free-fall drop... Peering down, one of the targets was many times larger than the other's, a huge war truck, something that looked more like a mobile battle platform than anything else. All of them, storming for what looked like a moderate size settlement a mile or two in the distance. Iziz knew where his landing pad was, and the overweight man who sat in the back of the truck itself, looked like the leader of the rag-tag bunch.
'Oh... this will be fun'
A voice spoke from within Iziz as the Rodent finally came to land, generating power in the force and using his own telekinetic control to still everything within his body, not allowing it to shake, rattle or move on impact, Iziz connected with the rig, rolling out and lunching forward towards the man hooked up to the respirator. Hidden blade drawn from over-top his wrist, extending the wrist blade as the Jawa lunged it deeply into the man's chest, penetrating his heart and twisting to ensure that the Assassin connected with the Nerve cluster he so tentitively considered life's off switch. Killing the man before he could slump back in his chair as the Jawa revealed himself to the world... what came next, would be outstanding.
Chaos ensued.
Slave armies required the chain of command more than almost any other force, and without a named successor, the band would plunge into near immediate chaos and revolt as word spread. But Iziz was looking for the former sith to stand out among the rest, awaiting a force signature, or someone who would attempt to leave the fight. There was 'something' here, but it was dampened through the emotional chaos of the war-band as they descended into madness. Strolling forward as the slaves turned on their masters and each other in a paranoid attempt of survival, surely a sith within the ranks would make themselves evident soon enough.
They would have to. And So Iziz would speak aloud through the force to all those sensitive enough to hear it, hoping to pick up on someone reacting.
"Come out... come out... little candle, or you may be snuffed by the wind."
[member="Ruby Wilded"]
