The Blackout

[Darth Abyss]

Katarr, The Blackout

Katarr had once been a lush, beautiful world with wide forests and deep seas everywhere. Then Darth Nihilus robbed the world of all live, leaving a rotten wreck of a world behind that since then remained as an abandoned grave to all but Abyss. Like on Malachor the Prophet had seen a path to the future where others only saw ruins and junk. Defiance was the first of the new free cities, a town build out of the derelict leftovers of Katarr's former owners. After it had come to live Abyss did what he always did: He waited calmly and patient for the people to continue the reclamation of yet another dead husk by themselves, so he could simply extend his hand into their creation without doing the real work himself.

The Blackout had once been a drilling rig before the world fell. What exactly had been mined there was long forgotten, gone and buried with the people who build it. Now it was something else, but not even the seemingly all knowing Mindeater had a word that really did the place justice. Able to hold up a few thousand individuals at once it was a bit of an understatement to simply call it a nightclub. Where the large drill had been was now just a large hole, with countless makeshift elevators allowing for travel between the different levels.

Yet it was still the word that was closest to being somewhat fitting. With 49 levels from top to bottom there was a lot of room, to much for one single nightclub. Instead the levels where split between various groups and gangs, and on almost all of them a club or bar could be found, each of them greatly variable in their style, guests and prices. Right on the top was the area of the wealthy and corrupt, where the drinks were almost bearable and the rooms at least pretended to be clean. With every level down the establishments got nastier, and at the bottom there where no clubs left at all.

In the dark were broken, almost empty levels where every step could lead to fall into the depths of the black sea, where only lifeless water and pollution waited. Gangs, and other criminals used these levels as hideouts or safe rooms for the wealth they earned with their respective business on the Blackout.

Abyss path lead to a level closer to the ground then to the top of the derelict rig, in a small bar filled with thick smoke from a variety of legal and less legal substances being burned to ash, with drug dealers selling their wares to junkies passing by and with a calm yet haunting electronic tune playing in the background. The metal husk of a man, now just a set of armor inhabited by a dark spirit, walked inside, cutting straight to the counter and the Barkeeper behind it.

"Drink?"

The blue Twi'lek behind the counter didn't made the effort to look up to great his current customer, occupied with polishing a glass that seemed to get dirty with every move of the old rag in his hand. Then the soundr of Abyss strange, otherworldly and even slightly ethereal voice echoed through the air, followed by the sound of glass shattering on the ground.

"No. I do not have much of a stomach for booze these days. Information is what I require, and I am sure you can get it for me. The purple jewels have set up camp in the lower levels, and I would like where exactly."

A twisted laugh broke through the air, without any hint of real amusement or humanity in it. The barkeeper looked at the sith lord, with a few drops of sweet running down his head, while a nervously trembling hand reached for a com near to it.

"I ... There is a contact that can help you. But he will need time to get here, a few days at worst."

The Mindeater's claw like left extended towards the blue alien, and for a second it looked like the sith lord would once more leave a corpse behind. Yet then the steel claw opened, raining down a quite respectable amount of credits down on the counter.

"This should be enough to make it happen today. Also do something about the lighting in her. I do not even have real eyes and I still can not see anything in her."

Without wasting more time on the Twi'lek, who was now in the process of picking up the credits and greedily staffing them into his pockets before anyone could see them, Abyss began to extend his senses to see if there was anything or anyone worthwhile in this rundown bar that would help him pass the time until his meeting.

[member="Thraxis"]

 

[Thraxis]

The sounds rolled in from the corner of the cantina, an echoing cacophony of curses and cheers as two large kegs sat to the side of a table that all crowded around. Around it all sorts had gathered, murderers, racists, petty thieves and anyone else who fell in the wide spectrum of villainous scum. In the centre, a single man whose body was clad with expensive wounded Phirik, claws and scratch marks abounded along the seams of his armour as his head was laid bare for all to see.

A jovial expression crossed his face, far more than it had any right. Scars sliced and dashed along with his skin like deep canyons. His cheeks were burnt crispy from burns of fire and acid alike while from his sweaty brow his hair hung low, stuck to the brows skin as trails of dried blood rolled down and almost sewed the two fabrics together. Slurping sounds emanated from here, that and the frat boy esque state of, 'drink, drink, drink' the group that had surrounded him echoed. A single large Gammorean rolled his fingers along his shoulder blades, giving a pep talk as Thraxis feigned worry about his newest competitor.

"Come on Thraxis!" The overweight Gammorean exclaimed, which was saying quite a lot as he felt multiple folds of fat press up against his back. "Who are you? Huh? You are the lord of the Graveyard! Propotier of Dar'Manda and one of the greatest drinkers this Galaxy has ever seen!" The sound of feet stepping in unison from a small pep rally of his compatriots. It was a good change coming down to the darkness that was Katarr. He was hesitant to come here, mainly because it was in the Mid Rim, even if it was on the other side of the galaxy to those big wigs in the Galactic Alliance and The First Order. "Come on! You can do this! Ya just gotta believe!" He said with a smash of the hand against the table as the first keg was brought out, a long plastic tube that done nothing for the taste was rolled with it as a Referee got between the two.

Thraxis eyes flared with jovial joy, he never got this sort of fun at the crapholes on Tatooine, but he also never engaged Wookies in games like this. The Wookie towered over him, a smirk on his face. "You really wanna do dis? It ain't gonna end well for ya." The behemoth of a beast chuckled, a wry smile crossed along Thraxis face as he shook his head back and fourth, grabbing his tube and pressing it against his lips.

"I think someone hasn't heard the legends of the man who Drank Tatooine dry." He rolled his shoulders, the Gammorean comedically hobbled over to the side, a towel draped across his brow as beads of sweat from the anxiety rolled down. With the wave of the hand between the duo, the race began. The thin tube rolled with a green ichor, the potent smell of alcohol rolling out Thraxis nose with a dark haze, covering his mouth as he ran his fingers along the table with a 'tap tap tap'. The rookie drunk deep and heavy, he used to his Fungal Growth Booze, which in all fairness was some of the strongest stuff. This stuff. This was Thraxis own personal brew. It didn't taste good, it was more likely to make you vomit than it was to get you drunk. The Wookie's cheeks inflated as he swallowed his pride, the the first load of booze hitting his gut like a tank ramming a building. He took a pause, still hearing the slurping of Thraxis as he consumed his keg with great ease.

A few minutes passed, the Wookie was dizzy, his head rolled as the thing strand of plastic rolled from his mouth, as he fell to the side with a crash, falling into his booze as a noxious scent rolled in, the group that surrounded them quickly dispersed as Thraxis immersed himself in the vapour. Cries of disgust echoed around him as they contemplated what they were drinking was more poison than alcohol. With a kick of his feet, he stepped onto the table, "Who is next! I take all challengers! Man, women, child. Hell, if a Machine wants to go I will outdrink them too!" He cheered as he stood atop the table, punching the air with reckless abandon, not knowing he was busy punching the ceiling of the room.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"I am none of the things you mentioned, but I still accept a challenge."

The crowd got silent for a second, as the Prophet's voice resounded in the smoke filled bar, people that had spend their time in varying degrees of either drunk euphoria or depression suddenly shut their mouth, watching as the metal figure made his way towards @Thraxis. Abyss was the one making the important decisions around here, as he had done on Malachor. Yet he wasn't a ruler in the traditional sense. Under the title of Prophet he had held his influence over his small underworld hubs in a underworld fashion. There was no throne, no parades in his name or any of that stupid nonsense. He remained in the shadows as more myth than man, once in a while pulling a few strings and just staying public enough to not let the people forget that he really existed.

"Yet I assume my condition could turn out to give me an unfair advantage."

A metal hand reached towards a filled glass of a dirty looking liquid resting besides roughly 50 years old human man who was in the process of sleeping with his head on he table. The drink jumped into his hand despite the meter in between, dragged their by an invisible force. For the first time the normally perfectly still metal jaw below his mask opened, and he proceeded to pour the whole drink into his empty shell. Only a second later the sound of liquid running down steel could be heard, and then the drink decided to simply leave Abyss metal body through the small gaps in the armor around his knees and feet.

"Well that was even more disappointing then I expected."

There was another laugh from the sith lord, just a slight bit more amused and less hollow than the one he gave the barkeeper. Like his voice it seemed to lack a source, simply forming out of thin air around the Prophet. The reactions of the crowd were various, depending on their level of intoxication. Those already at the end of their bender laughed with the metal man, to drunk to really understand the implications of this little demonstration. Those drunk but not to drunk mainly showed confusion in their expression, simply unable to fully understand how anything like this was possible. The few poor souls that had stayed sober for whatever reason widely showed horror, as they realized that thing in front of them was nothing but a hollow metal husk, with nothing inside that should allow him to talk, move and act.

"Barkeeper, bring this man whatever he wants. By decree of the Prophet."

Abyss descended down on a chair nearby the Thraxis, leaning back and allowing his body to look relaxed. Not that he actually felt anything anymore, but people normally got nervous when he proceeded to simply stand motionless besides them. He had seen and heard about the man in front of him, no one survived in the underworld for long without knowing who else was in the game. He extended his metal right over for a handshake.

"Thraxis I suppose?"

 

[Thraxis]

His fingers snapped with a resounding click, finger guns formed afterwards as he snapped at him to take a seat. "Like I said, I accept all comers. Big or small," he replied, the metallic motions were reminiscent of a certain diabolical droid commander he knew for what felt like aeons ago. No matter how much padding, there was no denying what he looked at to be a droid of some sort, plain and simple. As the man reached over to grab a cup, pulling and tugging the force to do so a second of rage took him over. He could have walked and grabbed it. It was just as simple. With a sharp smash and his features darkened his head dropped down, barbs of wood stabbed and jabbed into whatever cracks they could take hold off. His features quickly dulled as a long drawn out smile took over his dark features, his eyes closed as joviality filled the tension yet again.. "Just evens the playing field." Pressing it against his lips he started to suckle on the teet of his nectar, a single Gammorean who could stomach the toxic stench as it rolled through the room saw how quickly he consumed, more akin to that of a hose draining a fire hydrant for all its got than a man drinking out of a keg.

A few seconds passed before he stopped, the trail of booze quickly rolling down the curling spiral of white as he saw what he meant by 'uneven'. "Right. I keep forgetting that most droids can't stomach the booze." His lips curled inwards as he tried to hold back laughter at his substandard pun. They truly were the lowest of the low when it came to humour, always funny for the deliverer never fun for the person who received it. With that out of the way, the barkeep came over, a large handkerchief covering his nose as he inquired what beverage Thraxis would be partaking in. "Something light my good man. One of those Wookie drinks should be enough. Really freshens the breath." He replied he was going to pay the man once this was done but wasn't the kind of man to disrespect such an offer.

The metallic hand rolled over, Thraxis head looking it over, his head an inch away from the table as he looked over the hand, not so much admiring the craftsmanship but more so to make sure it wasn't a booby trap. With that out of the way he rolled his arm to his opposite, pulling off the container of Phirik as he revealed his arm as the perfume in the loosest sense rolled out, thick potent and heavily intoxicating he gave the man a shake. Littering the length was scars and marks, welts and poxes damaged the once pink skin. Bulbs of green ran along his veins, while short lengthed chasms ran along the other. No hair was in his arms, stripped clean from fire and acid. His fingers were thick with callous, a single finger was wrapped with a generous heaping of white bandage, a weeping wound underneath as he was testing a few days ag the effectiveness of removing a nail with the back end of a hammer. A rather effective torture since it managed to make himself scream. "Yeap. Not too many others. I think." A quizzical look wrapped his face as hips pursued as his eyes grew starry-eyed before shaking his head, getting back to the situation at hand. "And you would be. Well... I am gonna say not Flannigan. He has more of a bombastic entrance. And ya, not Ultimatum either. I don't think he would be caught around this sort of dive. So I think I'm gonna hedge my bets on..." He let the tension build around him, he was sure most others knew him well, especially since they rolled out of his way and gave such fanfare. "Ya know. Let's put my bets on Abyss shall we?" He let loose a sigh, he was hoping he wasn't wrong considering all the effort he had put into figuring that out, which essentially consisted of 'I saw his arm'.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Good work detective. My contacts in the Coruscant police department say that they are in dire need of sharp minds. Looking for a new job?"

While there where no facial features that could hint at it, the tone of Abyss voice still could deliver a joke somehow, despite how inhuman and unnatural it sounded. The thing that amused him most was that while not meant serious in any way, he was probably still one of the very few people in the galaxy that could find a way to get even a man like [member="Thraxis"] such a position if he really tired. Not that it would be of much use, as there was a good chance that his fellow criminal wouldn't stay there for long, at least not after using his authority to steal something very valuable or something like that.

"Also I am neither a droid nor some cyborg, only insulted. Allow me to give you some "insight" into my true nature."

There was the twisted laugh again, while the sith lords metal hand reached for one of the armor plates that his chest was composed out of. Slowly he lifted the piece up, openly revealing what actually was below it: Absolutely nothing, besides the back side of his armor. He was hollow, no cybernetics, no machines and no flesh, only cold, unforgiving metal and dark side energy. After a few seconds he casually reattached the plate, like there was nothing special about his new state of being.

"Now that I "opened up" to you, why not do the same for me?"

While speaking the Prophet's left claw danced over the table, carving a almost too perfect depiction of the Blackout into the soft wood, his mind barley noticing the effort of doing so. At the same time his head remained locked in place, the empty black gaps where a normal would've had eyes fixed at Thraxis. He had no real eyes, and due to that he couldn't just see time on a almost 4th dimensional level, but perceive his surroundings in a 360 degree view.

"You are famed for being resistant to most common drugs and poisons. Care to play a little game with me?"

From the robe of the sith lord three things emerged. One was a pouch almost bursting with credits, the other two inhalants filled with two different substances. One was Faith, or FAI74 a drug he had developed that was highly addictive, easy on the body and mind numbing euphoric. The other was Fate, a combat drug that induced violence and paranoia.

"Both these drugs are designed by me, one inducing euphoria, the other paranoia. If neither of them has any real effect on you, then you can keep the credits. Interested?"

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis looked into his hollow chest plate. Well hot damn, looked like the Force was good for something after all. Though he pushed the thought aside, no matter how beneficial it might have been in some cases the result was till the same. Wacky Voodoo magic. He gave a short series of claps at the response, "Alas. Follied again!" He chuckled in response before hearing that he needed to do the same. His Phirk arm was already off, so showing himself off was easier enough. "All righty then give me a sec." He sighed as he snapped a piece of glass from a cup, his head snapping back as he pressed his foot against the table, enabling him to look directly at the Doctor of the group. "You got some bandages?" He inquired with a quizzical glance, only to be responded by a quick nod of fear. Geez. Gonna need to teach this lot to not be so batpoodoo scared at a... Well not a droid. He thought to himself as he grabbed the shard of glass, pressing it against his skin as blood rolled out, his teeth grinding against each other as he slowly drew it through the flesh, not merely the upper skin, he went straight through the muscles, his skin furious with pain as he dropped the glass to the side, sighing a little as he took a deep breath. "Okay, so you see..." He trailed off before seeing his offer. "Oh. You... You didn't mean literally." He replied with a long sigh, "Snorf. Get over here." he motioned his now bleeding arm over to him, placing it on the table as heapings of blood rolled down, dripping and rolling from the wooden table onto the cold stone floor.

He didn't hear his little talk about how he was resistant to drugs or poisons. He didn't even know he was. Though considering all the torture and hell he had been through, how hard could it really be to handle? He grabbed the fate First, not knowing what it was he looked it over, giving it a short sniff before sighing. "Well... It definitely ain't alcohol." He chuckled as he looked to the Gammorean, he looked with wide eyes that screamed, Are you really just going to take a random drug? Thraxis responded with a quick nod of the head, before turning to Abyss, a dumb smile drawn along his face before pressing it close to his nostrils. "Might not have as much effect as it could. Ya know. Blood loss and all that hu ha." He replied, it was an alien feeling, he was never disposed to sticking drugs into his system and the long drawn out scent was most definitely euphoric, he had better times drinking booze than he did most drugs. He looked around a bit, sniffing a little as he turned to his left than right. He was at the very least not seeing red, so that was a start. "Hey. Pretty good stuff." He replied, his fingers tapping on the table before a thirst formed in his eyes. He stared deeply at the anger drug, the way a man looks at a woman for love.

He snatched up Fate, looking it over with a crazed eye. "Ya said Violence and Paranoia right? Let us get started then shall we? Let's see if you can top Zeltros." He was more curious than anything else, was their more rage than Zeltros could muster, could he reach a Zenith of madness he had never before reached if this could pull him to his brink than he was gunning for Heaven itself. He pressed the drug up another nostril, depressing the trigger with great haste as he looked around, shaking his head a little in hopes it would speed up the process. A few minutes passed as he waited for it to take effect. Nothing. He couldn't even process what little anger that ran through his head. It was such a minute amount he may have just grown resistant to anger itself, or growing up with nothing but it has made what he experiences the absolute peak of rage. "Hey, I think you got a faulty thing. I can't even feel this one." He replied a little sad, he was hopeful for its fruits to not be wasted. To reach a new height of rage, or even be Paranoid. But the Graveyard had its effects of Paranoia already with its Dark Nexus constantly sputtering out unease to all that inhabited the planet.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

If there would've been a face left to represent emotions, then Abyss would've shown an quite surprised expression. Now all he could do was to slightly open the metal jaw, which looked more horrifying than actually surprised due to the unnatural, mechanical motion that was more reminiscent of broken droid imitating humanity than of an actual biological being. Not only had [member="Thraxis"] willing cut himself open without much of a question, but he had consumed both of his drugs without showing much of an reaction at all. It was quite impressive, as Fate had shown to both ridiculously dangerous and potent during the "clinical trials". Clinical trials in this case meant giving drugs to kidnapped people against their will in a badly lightened basement. Effects had widely been the same, psychosis, paranoia and fits of uncontrolled, erratic violence against themselves and others without remorse. Maybe the main problem here was thatr the former hutt cartel torturer in front of him didn't exactly needed a drug for all those things.

"I am not to proud to admit that this was quite impressive. Ever thought of retiring and going into the cloning business? Genes like that are probably worth a lot."

For the first time in a while Abyss actually felt entertained by what he was doing. Since becoming a near transcended dark side demigod not much had posed a challenge to his strength, neither that of his body nor of his mind. Now that had changed, the simple game had turned into a challenge, and as ambitious as he was he intended to win it. Again a claw reached into his robe and from one of the many deep pockets a jedi amulet appeared, filled with rubies and diamonds. Worth more than the credits of the first round to the right buyer. He placed the little trinket on he table, and then reached into his sleeve, placing a small throwing knife besides it.

"Looks like I have to up my game then. Posioned throwing knife, imbued with a mix of spice, synox and a neurotoxin. Same bet as before, if it has no effect you get the amulet."

He had designed these small treacherous weapons himself, the mix of poisons webbed into the steel by sith magic so it never became dry without actually hitting a target. They had been created to counter strong force wielders, the spice and the neurotoxin numbing their minds enough to diminish or even temporarily disconnect their control over the force while the synox slowly killed them. He had seen sith lords at the peak of their height struggle against the effect.

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis scoffed at the offer. It would be like selling himself off to the highest bidder, but that hadn't meant he didn't have clone backups. Hell, he might not even be the original, long nights of drinking, the occupation he was in, he might have been Thraxis clone number three and probably wouldn't even have noticed. But he never released the clones. That was too dangerous. Not so much to others as it was himself. "Can't Pheromones of a Zeltron and all that. Can't have a second of me running on the loose now can I." He sniggered in response, he had at the very least gotten a reaction so far, but the poisoned dagger was something else.

He coiled some fingers around it, holding it at the very back of the handle like someone wielding a nuke. "Synox huh? Well. Been some time since I saw this around." He responded, his fingers danced it between each other as he turned his head to the Amulet, looking it over since both his arms were a tad indisposed so far. It was an old drug, lasting over a hundred times his own lifespan given his young age for this industry. He tossed the blade into the air, a little bit too much force behind it as it stuck between the cracks of the roof, his free arm dropping right beneath it as a few award seconds past. He was hoping it would have fallen but didn't take into account how low the roof was. "What the-." He stated followed by a tsk. "Sorry 'bout that. Was meant to fall down and... Oh, it doesn't matter the moment is ruined." He pouted, he was all for bombastic and stylised motions and with this one ruined he pressed a foot against the table, his body hunched over as he pried the dagger from the roof, a jolt of movement as he fell back into his chair, once more overestimating.

With a bang and a clatter he fell through the chair, the Gammorean that had been tending his arm knocked down beneath him as he was quickly knocked unconscious, the bandages luckily holding foot as he rubbed his head, "Goddamnit. Maybe those drugs involve dizziness too." He laughed off the embarrassment pulling himself to full height as a Weequay walked over, hauling the Gammorean away to be tended for. He smashed his arm against the table, pressing the dagger deep through the skin and through the bandage slowly withdrawing the blade to make sure an ample amount flushed through his system.

"Right, so how long does it... Take." He shook his head, the dizziness really setting in as he looked at the Darth, a wicked smile drew across his face as he let loose a chuckle. "Oh... Oh, you dirty dog this one has a kick to it." He could feel his muscles growing numb, flexing his arm as slowly its movements became sluggish. He shook his head, pulling his body back as his arms latched on with a vice like a grip around the table. He reared his ugly mug back, a jovial grin overtaking him before gyrating his entire body with a bone crunching slam, his forehead bracing against the wooden table as splinters, debris and blood were left in its wake. He reeled his head back, this was the life. It had been all too long since he tested out Torture on himself. Approximately three days if he was to be generous and not consider fingernail tearing torture.

His head dropped to the side as he stood at full intention, grabbing the dagger and giving it a once over, his blood had stained it a deep red, he took a single sniff and could smell the slightest drop of alcohol in it as he turned to Abyss. "Well then. Looks like you win this round." The kick was rapidly wearing off, the longest lasting one being Spice as he never dabbled in the stuff. "Oh well, it's a damn shame. Would have loved to see what happens when Amulet meets a Dark Nexus." He chuckled as he snapped his fingers, a Gammorean walking over with a chair for him to sit down in. "Right then. What ya got for round three?" He was rather enjoying himself, most people either only drink with him, or get into a fight with him. And getting the chance to test out all these potent toxins was getting the blood pumping, which was rather handy when this was what you were doing.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"You mean like this?"

Abyss watched as [member="Thraxis"] accidentally got his knife stuck roof, knowing full well what he had meant to do. Casually he flipped another of his throwing knifes out of his sleeve, the sharp metal rotating exactly three times in the air before landing on the table, stuck right below the little picture he had carved into it early. This was clearly just to show of, but when it came to throwing knifes around, there were very few in this galaxy that could rival his skill. He was only mediocre with a saber, and besides a handful of disciplines not even a exceptional wielder of the force. Throwing stuff around on the other was where he excelled, and more than one of his enemies had found death before even coming close enough to land a strike. There weren't too many chances to show this talent in non hostile situations, so he happily picked this one to do so. A man had to have some ego once in a while, even if the man was made out of metal and wasn't actually a man anymore.

Again he watched as the former torture took up his challenge, way to happily to be seen as sane in any more civilized system. The reaction that followed was impressive yet another time, and despite the fact that Thraxis was affected by the poisonous mixture he still handled it with far too much ease. Standing and talking right after putting synox into your body was not really a common practice, even if it involved a seconds long blackout in between.

"Third round? Let me see."

For the third time a metal hand began to wander into the depths of the black robe, searching through the various pockets that always made people ask "where does he keep all that junk?" First for the stakes. He kept the amulet on the table and added a small collection of additional things the man from zeltros could win. Another pouch of credits, a handful of rings of various worth and origin and lastly an artfully forged hilt of a jedi lightsaber. The weapon wasn't nearly as valuable as the amulets and the rings, but he was a collector. Each saber he had gathered was claimed from a battlefield or found in some dangerous ancient tomb and each of them had some level of emotional worth. That he was ready to put out on the table as well was a sign that he was very certain to win this round.

Then his left reached into his boot, pulling out another hidden knife which had a quite distinctive blue color and a somewhat shell like optic. It was called famines' taint and was a symbol of his position as member of the assassin council. It was also one of the most deranged weapons he carried, imbued with a quite unique spell. His right reached to the side and from one of the surrounding tables a large mug of beer jumped into it. He began to stir the drink with the knife, while whispering words in the old language of the sith. A moment later a slightly foul odour began to be emitted by the beer.

"Rules for round three: Drink this and not be near dead."

The drink had been altered by the spell of the knife, creating something he dubbed famines blight. Not actually a poison but a magical sith bio weapon that altered the blood of the victim to burn through any nourishment stored inside at a highly accelerated rate. It was unclear if Thraxis physiology would aid him in shaking of the effect, but a exceptionally strong and resilient body was the pretty much the only way to counter the effect for anyone not gifted with the force.

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis looked with a smile at his little handiwork with a knife, "Yeah, pretty much like that, just with a lot more blood." He replied, watching as the blade rotated three times through the air before slashing into the wooden frame, directly through his rather extravagant picture he made with such ease.

Thraxis watched a little bemused at the antics, dozens of items sprawled across the table, some Jedi beat stick, a few Pimp rings, the amulet of unknown use and a bag of credits. He watched as he stirred the brew Thraxis eyes widening at the opportunity. This was where he excelled at, drinking no matter what the costs. Anything less than acid and Lava was free game and with a cockiness exceeded only by exactly no one else, he chugged it down. He didn't need the information on this one, nor did he really care. It was all booze in one way or another though a slightly rotted scent perforated from the drinks liquor. He made sure to spill none, not a single drop before placing it down on the table half drunk. "You made. A big mistake." He replied with a hardy laugh, pulling and downing the rest of the drink in one last sitting.

He sat down with his hands crossed. This wasn't conventional. No searing blood, his mind wasn't warped to see demons or devils. Instead, he just felt a consuming hunger slowly trickle in through his body, not just his stomach felt empty, slowly his entire body was being consumed with a powerful hunger. He sniffed a little. "Oh now, this one is a treat. Not many people utilise hunger nearly enough." He stated as he pushed himself a little back in his chair, his features slowly widdled away ever so slowly yet a jovial grin still laced his face. His eyes shallowed out but his eyes still held that confidence he straddled in with when he consumed it.

Time passed, his hunger slowly dissipating though the wounds were still there, his skin drawn out, the features of his face faded as he looked at his hand, he pressed a free arm against it, feeling the bone with far too much ease. He gave a little shrug, "Well. Gonna need to start feasting now aren't I?" He sniggered, he didn't really care for the treasure on the board, he snapped his fingers to the Barkeep, "I need slop! Anything ya got really." He cheered, the Barkeep pulling out a rather portly looking Sloopy Joe and dropped it on the table, walking back a little annoyed as he saw the scrawlings on the table and splintered chair not too far away from where Thraxis sat. "Now then, the question is. Do you think I am nearly Dead?" He said as he started gobbling down his Sloopy Joe in a manner more like a Rancor tearing through flesh than a man actually eating a sloppy joe.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The sound of metal grinding over metal wasn't to far of from its human equivalent, as Abyss sharp teeth clenched in what could only be described as disbelief. He explicitly said half dead, and while [member="Thraxis"] clearly was affected by his little show of sith magic, dead or half dead was a bit of an overstatement. The thing that lowkey annoyed him the most about it was the ease with which the torturer managed the corrupted hunger summoned by his spell, a spell that had been effective against all kinds of powerful foes during his life. Yet he wasn't a sore loser, he could accept a defeat if it was as clear as this one. A metal hand extended, shuffling the collection of items towards the man from zeltros.

"Again I have to admit that this was quite impressive. I know a few alchemists that would pay a fortune for the opportunity to experiment with a body like yours."

It was true. Like half the sith he knew that dabbled deeply into the art of alchemy and the creation of sith spawn would probably burn down a world or two for blood, bones and genetics like this, and a few more worlds would burn due to the creatures born out of such experiments. Hell even he himself wouldn't pass up on such an opportunity despite not really caring about the creation of new life.

"Well looks like I am all out of tricks. At least besides the mental arts, but I do not expect your body to be much help against them."

All out of toxins, poisons and biological weapons. That was new for Abyss, normally he was already quite surprised if someone endured more than one of his little trick weapons. The last challenge he had to offer was the power of his mind, as he hadn't earned the title of Mindeater for nothing. But if he was honest with himself, he felt like that would be almost to unfair, as even a fairly strong willed individual normally stood no real chance against the abilities he had honed and mastered of the course of years, to the point where he reached a history book worthy level of strength in them.

"But I am not a fan of being defeated, so I challenge you anyway. Endure my mental torture without breaking, and you win ..."

Abyss reached into the inside of his robe, realizing that he had very little left that he could bet on this challenge. All he could find was a small pouch of credits and a single and quite simple ring, worth less than anything he had put on the table before. His mind was working overtime, trying to find something he could spare. Then it hit him.

"You win this bar. By decree of the Prophet."

The last part meant that he didn't just would get the ownership of the place, but also the protection of Abyss, something that meant quite a lot around places like Katarr and Malachor. Trying to robe, demolish or anything else aimed at hurting a business that was under his protection was a certain way to die in a very morbid and creative way.

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis pushed the goods back with a hand, shaking his head back and fourth. "No. I don't do this for the reward." He chuckled, a thirst in his eyes, "I do this for the experience." A lengthy sincere smile crossed his face as his head cocked to the side. "But I will admit. I too am impressed. You have quite the powerful collection of tools at your disposal. Not very often do I give praise to someone else armaments. Always too straight forward with swords on fire, or explosives. No one ever refines the art of combat with poisons nearly enough." That sincerity still laced his every word as he pressed his elbows onto the table, a drink taken from his keg prior before taking a deep breath. "As for experimentation. I do have a few clones sitting about. Love to see what would happen to the dirty Zeltrons of they were exposed to such horrors." The idea ran along his spine with a thrill that few others had ever reached, a zenith of joy at the horrors they might go through. They might have been himself, perfect clones of himself but there was always the single solitary fact. They were Thraxis, and therefore, they were Zeltrons.

He looked around at the offer. Was this bar really the best he was willing to put up for grabs? Thraxis wasn't a businessman, hell he wasn't even the lord of his own city, delegating himself to the role of mere councilman. Though he was the only one in the council, which made his word law. He took in a deep breath, his offer was one he couldn't pass up. "Your right. I will lose this next bit." He took in a deep breath, his eyes half filled with anticipation, and the other with dread.

He took a deep drink of his booze, tossing the cup to the side as he looked to the soldiers gathered, their guns set to stun as they took aim at his back. If he could push that one nerve, make him relive the horrors of Zeltros than those six men would need to have a damn good aim. "But like I said. I do this purely for the experience. And if I experience yours..." He trailed off, his eyes closed as he turned to the ceiling, the black smoke from the substances rolling over his features taking it all in before dropping his back down, looking with an eager determination to go through those horrors once again. "Well then, just leaves me that little bit more prepared for next time now doesn't it." He chuckled, his mind warping and shifting as he prepared for what he could. This would have to be brutal, and he had no idea how to counter this sort of thing. All he could be think of all the horrors he had caused, the vision of disease rotting underneath living flesh as skin turned purple and pus filled limbs, the lamination of Pregnant woman as their children were torn from their gullets or even the children he savagely put on pikes to cement his rule over sith inbreed. If he could just make him see horror, he might just be able to come out on top. "So then. By decree of madness, I accept the Prophet's bet. Let us go through hell and back." A wicked smile drawn as a sliver of blood trailed between cracks of his teeth savagery blaring through his eyes as the world slowed down. He was ready to be met with doom itself and face the reaper in one on one combat of the minds.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

While there was no shift in the fixed, deranged smile of Abyss metal skull, it was still the most fitting expression for what was about to happen. Tricks, drugs and toxicology were staples of his skills, but mentalism was where he truly and fully excelled, and one of the few things that brought him actual happiness, even if it was born out of stilling his hunger for a bit. He gathered his focus, and even those without a connection to the force would be able to feel as dark energy began to swell inside the empty metal husk, a corrupting presence that held influence even over those besides [member="Thraxis"] gathered in the room. The strange metal crown on his skull began to emit a slight crimson glow, as Abyss dived in deeply into the vast emptiness of his own mind, the endless darkness that couldn't be filled, not by the man he once had been and neither by the many minds he had devoured. His left hand raised into the air, the claw like fingertips aimed at his opponent in this game. Now all he had to do was to find an angle.

"What makes a heartless man suffer?"

The voice had lost even the last hint of humanity in it, as his mind reached out for that of the torture, while gathering a wild stream of memories from the network of his crown. He had once tired to break another being of the darkness with the echoes of pain, chaos and horror, only to learn that many were not easily broken by such things. That forced him to alter his method, using the other side of the spectrum to break a mind.

"If you show him how it would be to have a heart."

Abyss finally unleashed the attack he had build. A seemingly endless stream of foreign emotions and memories. Love, joy and happiness, wives and children, peace and serenity found in a life filled with people that cared for him. Thraxis wouldn't simply see these things, but he would live them, feel like these memories were his own, like he was the one that had lived them. That alone wasn't enough, Abyss wanted to display the full force of his ability. The mental blast that followed would disrupt the order of the zeltrons mind and memory, confusing them with the new ones thrown at him until he wouldn't know who or what he was, what was real and what simply the corrupted hand of the Prophet toying with his head. And even if he managed to bring his mind back to order, he would still be haunted by the lifes he never had. Or at least that was the plan.

 

[Thraxis]

He could feel the sensation, his eyes tensing ever so slightly as he felt the darkness overflow around him, it was just like Graveyard, the sense of paranoia, the lethargy filling his body as his muscles tensed, at this point he was so exposed that it caused his lips to curl in defiance, if this was all his mindscape games could offer, then he wasn't going to do much in the end. His ears perked up, however, the strange words rolling out, What makes a heartless man suffer. His brow raised, there was plenty that caused him suffering, the deaths of friends, his people going through future plights, his death and worse of all having to live on Zeltros again, those horrors flooded fourth, the cheer and smiles of all around him twisting his face in disgust before calming down, thinking it was part of his games. Though he didn't realise that had brought it onto himself.

Then the next set of words rolled out, his words twisted with carelessness as if he wasn't passionate about what horrors he could bring Thraxis under. "You don't sound too enthusiastic." He chuckled, his mind was still filled with horrors galore, the torture he had committed, the vengeance he had planted in the hearts of children, was he doing nothing? Simply letting Thraxis cause the torture on his own in some sort of psychological mind game? Then it hit him, in his mindscape he saw the first thing twist and morph. A Pregnant woman formed in his mind, slowly his hand reached out from her womb and it healed, the viscera and bloodshed shifted into pale skin as he saw himself approach, a smile on his face. Was he simply twisting his memories? Then it happened, he screamed in joy thinking he knew the future, only to see him embrace her in a hug. "Dearest Eliza. How I missed you." His mouth dropped, visibly upset with what he witnessed as if a part of him vanished into thin air. "Thraxis! What the hell are you doing! Eviscerate the whelp!" He screamed before turning to see another horror vanish into thin air. The children, all the children he had slaughtered, each scorched into his mind, plagued by the constant thought of what could have been. He could name them all from their parent's cries and yet here they stood. With Roses in their hands, a smile was drawn. This wasn't right, none of this made sense. Had they forgiven him? Had all he was done been some mere illusion of grandeur? He tried to take control, his arm extended, grabbing his own and trying to force a punch, only for the shadows to twist into nothingness around him.

"What madness is this!" Bitter tears rolled down his cheek as he looked at all the memories he had prepared as a bulwark twisted and contorted against him. He turned to see a crowd of animals, a species all thought extinct except those who never knew the ancient tales. Nightmare Demon's. Small simians with human skulls sat in wait, Thraxis watched with wide eyes. These were the perfect pets to bring destruction with. He turned to see next to him himself. Him and a few Soldiers, he recognised them instantly, the implication made clear. "Commenor. No! Don't you dare!" He screamed, jumping on top of himself before seeing him raise a gun. "Don't you dare!" A tear rolled down his doppelganger's face. "I'm sorry. But you must be removed, to keep Lady Kay safe." The words filled him with a dark rage, his teeth ground against each other. This wasn't merely a memory anymore, this was a horrifying different reality as if given a glimpse into what could have been. The guns were depressed, single swinging blaster bolts whizzing through the air as the impish creatures were cut down where they stood. Tears forming in his eyes. Where was the Manic Mangler? Where had all this compassion come from? To kill these deranged creatures to keep another safe? He could have used them as tools of destruction and war, and yet here they lied. Wasted carcases. He moved over, his feet dragged through as his hands passed through them. "Damnit..." His teeth pressed against each other, a wicked smile drawn as his features curled and snarled. "IS this all Abyss! Come on! Do your worse!" He echoed before it all shifted once again. And he saw a horror he hadn't seen in over a decade. His home.

He walked to the door, a hand pressed in Eliza's hand, a child at his side. Thraxis looked with sadistic rage, his features shifting in reality, his lips cracking and peeling as blood poured down. "No. Not them. Don't alter it!" The door swung open, a well groomed Zeltron looking with a smile as she embraced Thraxis with a hug, her features twisted and morphed like that of an alien though still, he knew exactly who he glared at. "That impudent witch!" He screamed, his fingers clawed and scratched as he entered the room, and he saw all the horrors. To another's eyes, it was peaceful, calm and serene. But for a split second, he warped the memory back to what it was. A hellscape of blood and guts. A single man sat at the back of the room, his naked form dyed red as he drunk and consumed the flesh of the people, their heads torn by his bloodied hands as they hung from the chandelier, their warped faces showing the horrors that still laced their face. Limbs swung from every corner, his eyes devoid of all light as if a Black Hole had consumed him. The single man looked, his teeth elongated and sharpened to a point as his features turned and scowled before the single man was pulled into the domain, his words a blood curdled scream as a leg flung and smashed against the wall before he lost control. His greatest memory was being warped. The day he killed one of his families. Though there were still a few left to hunt down.

Thraxis walked in with a smile on his face, children walking over and giving him a hug, the words Uncle sickened him to the core as black ichor spewed from his body, the table covered in the grotesque scent of alcohol as his mind continued to play tricks. Their bodies pressed against him as this Eliza witch made small talk with the alien species. He was cooed over, drawn to the table to sit down as he looked between the family. A dozen kids, a few adults. But there was something off, their features weren't similar to Thraxis. This was just a sit in the family, one of the many who lived in the house when Thraxis remained in the roof, scuttling and hiding. Yet here they all were, embracing him like their own kin. Thraxis began to growl as if some primal rage took over as the Gammoreans prepped their guns, taking a step back as they prepared to subdue the beast.

Then came the final straw, the child of his looked at him, their features eerily similar to Thraxis, her words rang out like nails digging into his chest, "I love you daddy." Then it all stopped. Reality of his mind crumbled around him as his mind snapped from reality, insanity taking over as his eyes peeled open, blackness warped the pupil as his teeth turned to sharpened daggers, he could barely register as a Zeltron as the Gammoreans let loose a flurry of stun shots at him, he twisted and knocked up the table, screaming at Abyss as he prepared to pounce on the horrors he had afflicted, a mere inch away before two Weequay pulled him back, their entire arms twisted around his as they tried to subdue him, a constant barrage of stun bolts upturned the room as he stood uncontrolled and unhindered by the force, he struggled to break free, no matter how much strength he mustered he slowly grew weaker with each repetitive shot before his movements became lethargic, his body collapsing a joint at a time to the floor as they stood over his prone body, releasing the rest of the substantial number of shots in their gun to finally put him down. Six Gammoreans, Six blasters, and six empty clips deposited to knock him down as he looked around one final time. A single blood curdled roar before unconsciousness took over, the Gammoreans reloading their guns as they took aim, making sure he wasn't merely faking his defeat.
[member="Darth Abyss"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

The mind of [member="Thraxis"] wasn't what he had expected when he had issued the challenge. You didn't had to be a near godlike mindreader to see that something about the man from zeltos was not quite right, and that something had probably left horrible marks on his psyche, but the level of pure, unhinged madness he found was still more than a little surprising. He had entered the minds of broken beings that used their pain and suffering to become powerful lords of the sith, and yet all of them seemed rather sane compared to the utter chaos presented to him.

That wasn't the only thing both surprising and impressive, actually it was overshadowed by the amount of stun bolts needed to finally put his fit of madness to a rest. It was once again a testimony to how ridiculous resistant the body of the former torturer had grown. Abyss in the flesh had been able to withstand pain and suffering to an almost similar degree, but only because the force had empowered him to do so. Accomplishing it without the gift was something he would've expected to be actually impossible until a few minutes ago.

Abyss moved his metal shell up from his chair, walking towards Thraxis until his hooded figure stood right above the man. While there had been a strong reaction to the mental attack, he couldn't really tell if he was broken or not while being unconscious. Some people needed weeks to recover from a mental meeting with the Mindeater, others never fully came back, imprisoned in their own madness after their thoughts were scattered and lost in the abyss.

A metallic right hand extended towards the seemingly stunned body of the man, a single, slight spark of red lightning jumping on his chest. If that wouldn't wake him up on the spot, then nothing would. His left once more aimed for a table, another mug of beer jumping into it. Abyss stood over him, offering his right to stand up, and the mug in his left. It was rare that he showed such hospitality to anyone, so far he had enjoyed this meeting enough to not go full sith lord.

 

[Thraxis]

His body pulsated as some sort of Sith magic rolled through him. It was not a good pain, his body shifted and twisted, limbs snapping back and forth as he slowly came to reality. The Gammoreans pressed their guns against the back of his skull, his features mangled from the experience. He slowly pulled himself up, he didn't take notice of the hand, instead slowly twisting from the floor before stretching out his limbs, a resounding crack running through his body before sitting up. Legs crossed as sombre features took over his form.

He looked at Abyss, a jarring smile drawn across his face, though he secretly held resentment. He couldn't tell if he was happy about what he went through after all this was his job, to experience the full force of pain torture could inflict to fully grasp how to do it to others. Though on the other hand, he had performed Taboo. He had few memories he cherished, the Hospital with Kay, the days of the Cartel and most solemnly of all, the day the world stood still. In the first time in so very long a bloodbath actually took place on Zeltrons soils. He was the first, and as far as he could tell, was the only one even capable of performing such a feat. And it was more revered by him than the Sacred Way held the Holy-Book. But he held it back, that long drawn smile draped across his face to cover up the inner anguish of having to fix the memory, even though he had little idea as to how he could achieve it.

"Well then. I suppose you win that round. Good job." His words were sharp, harsh and filled with resentment, though he tried to morph his features to hide the struggle. "Gonna have to go fix those memories. Dunno how. Might have to do some slaughter." He tried to chuckle, but nothing came out, the deflation that he brought with every situation was now a struggle, for the first time he felt something akin to loss. He hadn't even felt this way when Fiarr fell to some cowardly Sith Lord. Though in all fairness, the guy never talked and he barely knew him.
[member="Darth Abyss"]