The Children of Korriban

[Darth Abyss]

-Set the mood-


Nar Shaddaa - Slums

Darth Abyss and his men made their way through the dirt and decay that marked the slums of Nar Shaddaa. The smuggler moon wasn't known for being a place of wealth, order or as place that was particularly friendly to those who inhibited it. Poverty and hunger controlled the streets on the lowest levels of the cityscape, addicts, rough sleepers and low lives sharing the dirt of the sidewalk. Those who ended up here where already lost, at least to most. The city sucked them in with its hypnotic lights, with gambling and drugs, with crime and buyable love, only to spit them out one day, drowning in their debt to the multiple syndicates and groups that controlled their part of the moon until they had nothing left but the cloths on there skin if they were lucky.

The men that walked besides the sith were shrouded in, long, black robes like their leader. On the outside they quite as well could have been sith, or dark jedi, but under their hoods waited only men. Good men. Men with skills that had made Darth Abyss ventures far easier for the most part. Before they gave their loyalty to the sith Knight, they had been part of the One Sith intelligence, some of the skilled agents to infiltrate enemy cities while disguised as simple civilians. Others experts for torture, for media and mass manipulation, psychology and many, many more things that had served them well.

The group, composed of eight hooded figures, reached the place they choose for the first small step of their plan. A fairly large backyard, behind an abandoned and broken chemical factory, filled with addicts and homeless, that came there in hopes of shelter, or in hopes to find something left in the factory to numb their senses. Rarely he had seen so much human waste in place, so many failed men and woman, broken by their lives and the unrelenting grip of Nar Shaddaa. They had nothing, no food, nothing to keep them warm at night. Abyss watched the from a distance for a moment, as they twitched and struggled under the burden of their fates and addictions. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only ambition. They didn't knew yet, but they had been chosen to be the first of his children. The Children of Korriban.
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"Brother, we are here to help you with your suffering. We know live on the streets can be hard, but there is another way for you, for all of you."

The sith kneeled on the ground, in front of him a disgusting excuse of a men. Since he began talking to him, the men scratched and twitched, mumbling about the bugs under his skin. An addict, broken by years of disease, of spice and booze, and maybe other things that were even worse. This was Nar Shaddaa after all.

"But ... But ... I need ... Need ..."

The arms of the man were bloody, ripped open by the nails he dragged over them, over and over, again and again. His eyes looked almost lifeless, he was not much more than a soulless empty shell that only lived for the next fix.

"Calm, brother. We will help you. With everything. Put your trust in the darkness, and you will be cured of the addiction that cripples your body and mind. Rise, be reborn, as a child of Korriban."

The words from Darth Abyss were filled by the force, influencing his mind with the power of the dark side. The broken mind of the man had nothing that could resists Abyss grip on his thoughts, he had to obey his commands, if he wanted or not. Slowly the man stumbled to his feet, repeating what the sith had said.

"I trusted in the darkness, and now I am cured. I feel like I have been reborn."

From the other homeless around surprised gasps could be heard. They had been quite ignorant to the group before, but now, after they saw how their fellow was "cured", they began to show interest. Whispers could be heard:

"its a miracle." "He is a saint, he cured him." "Please help us."

Darth Abyss rose to his feet, looking at the people that wasted away on the ground. He opened up his arms, gesturing them to stand up.

"Follow me, My children. Let us feed you, and cure you so you can all be reborn."

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The old warehouse had been abandoned for long, but now it had been reoccupied by Abyss and his men. At first he and his men gave food to those they brought in, then they told them to wait, on one of the many chairs placed in the center of the room. Now it would be time to see if what they had planned would work in the way they had anticipated. Unknown to the homeless, the food they were given had been spiked with a small amount of highly potent psychoactive substance that would send them in a trance like state and open up their subconscious to them. The chairs had been placed so they would all look at the same wall, where by now a video was played with a simple projector.

Light of different wavelengths in an uneven rhythm flashed at them from lamps placed around them, overstimulating their already drugged and broken minds. The video skipped through a myriad of scenes in seconds, the only constant was a depiction of the Mask Abyss wore on his face most of the time. While the experiment began, Abyss extended his mind in the force, the haze of his presence filling the room and the minds of those in it, the last piece of the processes.

Every entrance was guarded by at least two of his man, making sure to keep curious eyes out. Also his apprentice [member="Phar'ra"] had been tasked with the security of the place, and was the one who would call the shoots if anyone demanded entrance. The sith trusted him enough to let him decide who could enter, not only as another slave but also as a potential allies of their course.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

A god was no god if there was no one worshiping him. But to get worshipers took time and shows of power, and a busy god had no time for such petty things. A god needed a herald, someone willing to spread his name to all who would listen, and bend the ear of those who wouldn't. Phar'ra was [member="Darth Abyss"] 's herald, loyal, devoted. The Kaleesh already viewed the young Sith as a living god, and his actions only proved them. Bending the mind of so many, even those broken, was no small feat. It reassured the alien of his belief.

Not a single guard spoke to the Kaleesh as he wandered from entrance to entrance. Silently he checked in, making sure there was no outsiders trying to get in, and more importantly nothing that would attract the guards of Nar Shadda or the bounty hunters of the Hutts. No outsiders could be killed, unless discreetly, and needed to be turned away as non violently as possible.

As possible was the key word in this situation however. Not everything went according to plan. On one of his rounds a drunken human stumbled up to the gate. Instantly the racist of a man pointed to the Kaleesh, yelling. "Hey, Boneface. Da hell are you doin here? Dis isn't sum place fer shummies." A racist term for aliens not used since the days of Taras in the Old Republic. Before anything could be said, the drunken man turned, about to yell to the whole of the plaza they were in. A quick judgement call on Phar'ra's behalf however prevented any such attention. Quick as a shadow he moved, grasping the mans throat from behind and crushing it.

A second hand wrapped around the drunken mans mouth to keep any of the blood welling in his mouth from escaping. With another quick shuffle of his feet Phar'ra took the now corpse into the room, setting his body down out of sight of the street. A sigh escaped his lips as he looked to the two guards staring at him in shock.

"Pay attention to da' doors." They gulped and nodded, looking away from the bone face man immediately.

Nothing can go wrong.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Abyss walked between the chairs, his commanding presence still filling the air with the power of the dark side. One of his men had worked out the rough edges of the procedure, and Abyss himself only added the final touch. The touch of the force, to finish what psychological torture and manipulate had started. His voice was just a whisper, yet it would fill the minds of those broken souls around him, and eliminate any barriers that could be left in their heads.

"We are all brothers and sisters in the darkness."

He repeated the words over and over again. At first the homeless stayed silent, still imprisoned in their drug induce trance, but with every repetition, more and more began to whisper, until all whispered at once.

"We are all brothers and sister in the darkness."

So far, so good. The method had only recently left the concept stage and neither Abyss nor his men had been certain if it would work the way they had anticipated. He continued his walk through the lines of chairs, until a hooded figure moved towards him, and whispered in his ear. The guards had reported what his apprentice had done, and a small, satisfied smile appeared on the siths face. Sure it would have been even better if they hadn't a corpse to dispose, but at least everything happened unseen and silent. His apprentice was developing quite well, especially when considering that Abyss hadn't found the time to teach him properly yet. Maybe this was a good time to start, to introduce the kaleeshen warrior to the more subtle ways of the sith. He whispered back into the mans ear, that slowly moved away from the sith afterwards.


"Lord [member="Phar'ra"] our lord has requested your assistance immediately. You should go to him."

The guard on the entrance had just been informed over his com to tell Lord Abyss apprentice to come in. While the man was just an apprentice, Abyss had made sure that his men showed the same respect that they showed him. It was likely that one day the Kaleesh would take over Abyss operations, and both he and his men knew that.

 

[Kahlil Noble]

A bony gaze was given to the guard as the man spoke. A simple silent nod was offered from the Kaleesh as he turned on the pair. With his example, they should be able to keep outsiders out efficiently. Or so he hoped. Without delay the acolyte stepped into the room, and couldn't help but stare. He hadn't seen anything like this before. All these people watching flashes of colors and shapes, or something, and chanting. All chanting the same thing.

All chanting what [member="Darth Abyss"] spoke. He could feel the Force being twisted, but he wasn't sure how. Did it have to do with the chat itself? Was it focusing the Force? Or was it the Force that was responsible for the chant. Phar'ra was certain he was about to learn. Quietly he stepped before his master, and dropped to a single knee to bow his head. While Abyss had made it clear to the soldiers to think of the Kaleesh as an equal, Abyss was still the Sith Master.

"Mah masta'." The words were spoken in almost the form of a question, meaning to ask why he was summoned. His head lifted to stare directly at the masked man.

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Apprentice. You understand what I am doing here?"

His expression was as strict and stoic as ever, looking down at the kneeling man with his yellow glowing eyes. It was a rethoric question. If his apprentice hadn't yet caught what he was attempting to do, than he hadn't the right to be his apprentice. He had only spent a limited time to teach the kaleesh warrior, but as any sith acolyte he had to realize that, while an apprentice was there to learn, a master wasn't there to teach. After all the way of the sith was one for those with the strength to take what they wanted, and those who couldn't would inevitably struggle, fall and die.

"The way of the sith is more than swinging a lightsaber, or summoning lightning from your fingertips. Its a way of betrayal, of schemes and manipulation. If you want to secure your survival you have to learn how to influence the weak minded, how to force your will on others."

Slowly his presence that had shrouded the room began to retreat, but not completely. He wouldn't sacrifice the success of this project for his apprentice, so he only made enough room in the homless minds for his apprentice to enter them.

"Now. Let them believe that they will be reborn as children of Korriban. Failure is not an option."

He was fully aware that he hadn't given the man an explanation on how the sith used to force to influence minds. His apprentice had shown potential, at Abyss was willing to test how far it reached. To someone with a strong and dominant character, the power should come natural, at least on a level that would be strong enough to get into the heads of the broken and weak minded individuals that had been gathered here.

[member="Phar'ra"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

A nod was given as the Kaleesh stood. [member="Darth Abyss"] was correct in how easy it was to figure out what was going on. After his own mental intrusion at the hands of Abyss himself, he learned what it felt, and how it looked. These broken minds were being contorted and twisted to the masters will, forced to submit to a god. And now it was Phar'ra's turn to try and do the same himself.

He turned to the closest one, a woman who's hair was torn out and eyes were almost glass. She was going blind, possibly to the large amount of Death Sticks she smoked. The scent was thick around her, almost enough to make the alien cough. A reaction he kept down in front of his master. A clawed hand reached up to rest just above her head, and silently he went about doing as his master asked.

But how?

He tried to force the Force, but nothing happened. It was like learning how to use wings when one never had them to begin with. How does one learn how to use something they never knew existed? That they couldn't even feel?

Wait, he had felt it. When Abyss tore into his head, he felt his mind shatter, and he felt what his master had done. Thousands of needles aiming for any weakness in the psyche, digging deeper and deeper until Abyss got what he wanted. With 'new' knowledge the Kaleesh pressed forward once again, this time reaching not in the Force around him, but in the mind of the woman before him.

He could feel it, the fragile 'shield' that enveloped her mind. So worn and filled with cracks and holes it was almost as if it mirrored the state of her body. Well, it did, didn't it? This was very new territory after all. Just as his master had done to him, he created the many knives, and went to penetrate her shell. But, as the knives went down, he learned very quick about his lack of his restraint. Her mind crumbled before her, and before the Kaleesh could stop his delve her mind shattered.

She foamed at the mouth as she doubled over, quickly dropping dead as not even the memory of life remained in her head. A frown settled upon the lips of the Kaleesh as he cast a side long glance to his master. This didn't bode well for the young Sith.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Under his mask a eyebrow twitched but his expression kept its stoic look, as he watched what his apprentice had done. Failure wasn't the word he would use, as his apprentice had showed the power that had been asked of him, but he lacked restrain and control. Sure his action couldn't go unpunished, but his mistake wasnt gravely enough to have his apprentice replaced by another. Yet he had to make sure that his apprentice would understand why he was punished, and that his failure was not the state of the homeless but the fact that he had given in to his emotions.

"You have disappointed me, apprentice. A sith controls his emotions, they are nothing to us than tools. But we can not allow them to consume us, to control us. Again."

He motioned to another homeless, while a hooded figure appeared from the edge of the room to drag away the broken shell his apprentice had created. The punishment was on hold, mainly because Abyss understood that pain inflicted by a master on an apprentice was something intime, something that forged the strange bond between two sith.

[member="Phar'ra"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Phar'ra bowed his head to [member="Darth Abyss"] as he spoke. Abyss was correct. The Kaleesh was so far into his own memories he forgot his restraint. His control. Golden eyes watched the broken shell get pulled away, He let the image burn into his head as a lesson. A lesson so he would never forget, for he was sure his master would enforce it. He let his gaze turn to another, and this time he wasn't going to fail.

He simply refused to.

The Kaleesh turned his attention to the next homeless, this one a rodian male. A bug. Phar'ra almost rolled his eyes at it. Rodians disgusted the larger alien. But, he had a task to complete. A single hand raised just like before as his eyes shut, and this time he focused on more than his own memories. Instead of daggers, a mist would envelop the already cracked mind of the spice addict, seeping into the thoughts of the Rodian. The very first thought, the need for spice.

Disgusting.

But the acolyte pressed on, going deeper into the mind. Glimpses of a past life, of bounty hunting, of a family. Of the fall and addiction to spice. These all were revealed to the Kaleesh. It was then that an idea formed in his head. Before, his master had made a man think he was healed, so why couldn't Phar'ra?

Darkness is all you need. With it, you are cured of your addiction. You are reborn.

The glazed eyes of the Rodian seemed to snap into focus as the words rang deep in his mind. He turned his head to the bone man, and just like a robot he spoke.

"Darkness is all I need. With it, I am cured of my addiction. I am reborn."

A smile crept over the face of the Kaleesh under his mask.

We are all brothers and sisters in the darkness.

"We are all brothers and sisters in the darkness."

This was repeated several more times in the Rodian's head before the Kaleesh pulled out of his mind. The chanting continued even after, eventually with less robotics and more emotion. What was once glazed eyes seem to come into focus as he chanted, as if the words themselves had healed him. They had not, but a smile, if it could be called that, formed as he chanted.

A true believer was born.

 

[Darth Abyss]

The hint of a small, satisfied grin crept onto Abyss face, as he observed the second attempt of his apprentice to create a new child of korriban, this time with success. He wouldn't forget his initial failure, but the path of the sith was more than simple punishment. It was one of manipulation, of mind games and conditioning. Pain itself was a valuable tool to form this man into a sith, but it was only one of many tools he had. Any lifeforms could be conditioned, could be formed to disregard any natural instincts if one put enough work into it, but pain alone couldn't accomplish that. He wouldn't give his apprentice much praise, mainly to keep his ego in check, but a little of it was important to push him in the right direction.

"Good. Your potential seems sufficient for what I have planned. You earned yourself the right to live another day."

He turned around, his focus wandering of from his apprentice and back at the task at hand. In any group there were those stronger than the rest, if in this collection of addicts and broken beings. While he could easily influence the weakest ones without giving the single individuals much of his focus, the stronger ones could might resist, as long as he wouldn't work on them directly.

"I have another task, apprentice. Some of those gathered here are stronger than the rest. Find them, and break them. If one of them seems extraordinaire, bring them to me. I have greater plans for them."

His eyes once more focused on the group he began to let them chant in unity again, hammering his conditioning deep into their minds. His apprentice should be able to identify those who resisted.

[member="Phar'ra"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Stronger ones.

Perfect.

A smile formed behind the mask as he was given a more challenging task. Immediately he closed his eyes to feel around the room. The broken shells of the inhabitants of this room slowly became clear. From mind to mind he went, viewing with the intent on finding he who would dare resist his master. It wasn't long until he found it. A shell with little to no cracks, a mind forcing itself to be clear. The Kaleesh walked around the room to the location, and let his eyes settle upon the form on the one who resisted.

A child.

The smile quickly changed to a frown as Phar'ra stared down at the boy. There was no pity or remorse for the Acolyte, just annoyance. A child was the one who resisted, not the adults. A simple boy. How weak these spice addicts and broken souls truly were. There was no more time to waste however. A single hand raised for the boys head, who seemed to ignore the Kaleesh.

Once again, a mist would envelop the mind of the boy, probing for weaknesses. At first, there was none. An innocent mind was a sound mind, far from an easy place to break into. But down here, in the slums of Nar Shadda, even the young couldn't be protected from the horrors of the streets. The first crack would be found, a memory of theft. The first taint of darkness on such a young soul, and a perfect entrance in.

Mist would turn into a needle, and mercilessly Phar'ra would press into the child's mind, breaking right through the thin crack. It didn't take long for the Kaleesh to fully take over the mind, for there wasn't much there to begin with. So young, so fresh to this world, so easily broken. The right memories, the right twists. Memories of his parents contorted into horror shows as their faces melted and they killed one another.

Tears ran down the cheeks of the child as these false memories began to flood his mind, and the first step was complete. Now to finish it. A simple suggestion was all it would take. With the boys mind so completely wrapped around his fingers Phar'ra only needed to give a false sense of security to completely twist the boy into a loyal cultist.

Your parents are gone, but Darkness will take care of you.

"My parents are gone, but Darkness will take care of me."

We are all brothers and sisters in the Darkness.

"We are all brothers and sisters in the Darkness."

Just as the Rodian had, the boy began to chant with the others. His eyes lit up with a determination born from lies and deceit. Yes, the boy too was brought to the children of Korriban. A hint of a smile took shape behind the bone mask as he allowed himself to take some pleasure in what he had done. Hopefully this would please [member="Darth Abyss"] .

 

[Faith Highwind]

Another hooded figure made its way inside the warehouse, undistinguished from the intelligence officers posing as cult members. Faith had been called by her "master" and as much as she wanted to resist her body moved forward like on autopilot. She still could see the child she murdered under the influence of [member="Darth Abyss"] brainwashing every time she closed her eyes, yet even that painful memory couldn't fight the control the sith had over her. Unbothered by the guards at the door she made her way towards Abyss, as many of his men had witnessed what he had done to the jedi a few weeks before this day. She felt utter disgust when she thought about the things he would have her do today. As she was close by Abyss, she dropped on the ground, kneeling before him in complete submission. The expression was blank and soulless like that of the homeless around her.

"Prophet of the Darkness, I came here as you commanded."

If her body had any reaction to her mind, she would have thrown up at the sight of what Abyss had done to all those people. She wished with all her heart that he wouldn't force her to kill any more innocent people. Everything was better than more guilt.

[member="Phar'ra"]

 

[Darth Abyss]

"Miss Highwind. It is an honor that my most precious jedi found the time to join us today."

Darth Abyss face was now a cruel, openly visible grin, as he looked down at the jedi on her knees. She was the fate of her whole order, she was the key to what he would do to all of them that would make the mistake to set foot in his realm of otherwise interfere with the doing of the children. He had watched his apprentice break the mind of the child with satisfaction. The kaleesh was learning fast, and he was undeniable effective in the tasks he had given to him. Surely he would be as effective with his next mission, one simple, yet one only a sith or someone else without any morals left could do. He lifted his eyes from the jedi, eyeing [member="Phar'ra"].

"Apprentice, I have another task for you. Allow me to introduce you to [member="Faith Highwind"], a dedicated child of Korriban, and former jedi padawan."

A single dark laugh, a mix of mockery and honest amusement left Abyss lungs, as he introduced his newest creation to his apprentice.

"As you might have realized, some of our new children have weak and broken bodies. Some might not make it through the next day without medical attention. Some are even lost with it. So I command you to find those with a chance of survival, so you can bring them to Miss Highwind to keep them alive. Those who are to weak to live are worthless. Kill them and dispose of their bodies ... Ah and do not overestimate her abilities, she is just a weak slave. If you are unsure about someones health I would suggest you rather kill them than waste our time."

 

[Kahlil Noble]

"Yes."

It was the short and simple answer to [member="Darth Abyss"] 's command. Find those who wouldn't survive without medical attention, and kill them. It was far more simple than breaking into the mind of others. He knew how to kill. What he didn't know, and didn't like for that matter, was how to tell who could survive when healed and who wouldn't. Why waste any time on those who couldn't survive on their own?

But, he was loyal. And curious to see why the Ascended would want to keep the weak alive. Perhaps they would prove valuable down the line as cannon fodder or the like. A simple nod was offered to [member="Faith Highwind"] and without another thought directed to her way, he pointed to the boy before him. He was fragile, sickly. The first to be healed if only because of how strong his senses were.

Without a word he would leave the Jedi and the boy alone to move to the next person. A Gamorien. A thin Gamorien. The pig man was nothing more than skin and bones. Disgusting. Unceremoniously the snap hiss of a saber came into existence, and the blade was thrust through the pigs heart. In a trance, the Gamorien didn't even notice his death, and he slumped down without another thought left in his head.

 

[Elliot Day]

[member="Phar'ra"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Faith Highwind"]

Ironically for Elliot Day, night was his blanket; his comforter. His noir outfit billowed in the winds as a storm front moved in towards the city once more. He stood on top of a building; long range from the warehouse. His low-light macro binoculars caught all the misdeeds that happened in the dark; specifically the ones that were taking place outside the warehouse he was being paid to stake out. It wasn't much to see until a hood strangled and dragged a victim away. That was disconcerting. Other than that, it was simple guard routine and a couple people coming and going. Some of them were hoods; others were addicts.

Cult activity wasn't a stranger, especially this far down in the dirt of Nar Shaddaa. But, this didn't look like the dirty work of the Enlightened or the Red Capes, the two most prominent cult presences established under Nar Shaddaa's bed. That meant they were a new group on the scene and that meant they were far more dangerous right now. Elliot could see two possible doorway entrances and they were both guarded by two guards each. Strange. Being this far down the underpants of the underworld, one wouldn't typically have to worry about people poking around a long-previously-established warehouse that had been picked clean ages ago. Yet, there they were: guards galore.

Someone was either paranoid or the stakes were too high on this one. He started re-evaluating the cost effective nature of this case:

Grace Velker: early 30's, black hair, Serroco descendant (despite the name, which suggests adoption), faux-tsundere attitude, worried sick about her old man.

Thomas Velker: aged-mid 60's, former body builder, developed a gambling problem after Grace became independent, down hill slope ever since.

Grace used to keep in contact with her old man every now and again. The contact was cut and has been for too long. She needed someone to take the case and the whiskey stash was bare. His Foresight wasn't doing any good because the guards didn't intend on doing anything any time soon except stand and guard, stand and guard. Occasionally, lights could be seen flickering from some of the windows. Bad lighting or evil scientist experiment? He had a bad feeling about this.

He uncovered his wrist watch and realized he was 5 minutes past recording time. He pulled out his recorder and spoke quietly into it, giving the time, day and what little he had gleaned from this vantage point.

 

[Faith Highwind]

Faith felt the strong need to throw up as the blade [member="Phar'ra"] thrusted through the heart of the alien, yet her body showed no outside reaction at all, her blank stare looking in the distance as she moved to the boy she had been commanded to heal. To use to force to heal someone had to feel peace and tranquility inside, but Faith was far from being relaxed after what she had witnessed. How should she even do what was asked of her, how could she even try after all? Still her hand moved over the body of the boy mechanically, searching for injuries and sickness inside his body.

She tried to channel the light inside her, but the thought of what she was doing stopped her from ever being able to. Yet she couldn't give up, as much as she wanted to. Her programming would just take over and make her do it, if she wouldn't do it herself. Maybe she could reconsider her stance on all of this, and while she was opposed to what was going on with all her heart, she had been made into what she was to heal and not to kill as she feared. Maybe, just maybe she could find some peace in the fact the she would help those lost souls to survive until the point someone would strike down [member="Darth Abyss"].

 

[Darth Abyss]

Darth Abyss stood in the middle of the room, still using the force to let all gathered there shout in unity. His apprentice was weeding out the weak, and finding those worth to keep alive. He wasn't surprised to feel a hint of confusion about this from [member="Phar'ra"], as the way of the sith was one to leave the weak behind. He was learning fast, and had gained some understanding of what their code really meant, yet he was still in the beginning of his training, rather hot blooded and shortsighted when it came to a plan that required weeks, months and years of planning, that required patients and control. The weak would be nothing than simple tools, tools to throw away when not needed anymore, but until then he would all of them to spread his words.

Brainwashing was only a small part of gaining believers. It was undeniable effective, but also time consuming and needed a proper setup to work. The trick was to send those unending loyal and fanatic to the others that lived in the slums. At first only few would follow what they ha to tell, but with every time [member="Faith Highwind"] would walk through the city and help those in need, every time his men would go on an share food and meds with the people more would actually believe that they did what they did to help those that lived on the lowest end of Nar Shaddaa. He turned his head to the two others, as his presence slowly dimmed, but that didn't stopped the men and woman inside from shouting, exactly as he had planned.

"Seems like we have been successful, Apprentice. Finish your task, then we will advance into the city and spread our word. Congratulations, Apprentice, you are now a High Priest of the Children of Korriban."

A single, mocking laugh followed his words. The title he had given the kaleesh was absolutely meaningless, yet it would help him at the task at hand. The mock wasn't directed at the apprentice itself as he had done what had been asked of him, it was aimed at the title itself.

[member="Elliot Day"]

 

[Kahlil Noble]

Phar'ra had just finished killing another as [member="Darth Abyss"] spoke. In response a simple nod was offered, and his gaze returned to those in the room. Much to his surprise, with the help of [member="Faith Highwind"] many of the locals would indeed survive. But something was amiss in the young Jedi, and the Kaleesh could feel it. What had Abyss done to ruin such a peaceful Jedi? Seeing how complacent she was with his killing and her healing, the Kaleesh felt another pang of fear.

If Abyss could warp a Jedi so, what could he do to Phar'ra?

Such fear was welcome this time however, as the Kaleesh used it as he killed those that wouldn't survive. Between crushing their minds and cutting out their hearts, he learned he was rather effective at both in conjunction. He went so far as to test himself, thrusting into the heart of one while his attention was split to invade and destroy the mind of another. While successful, it proved difficult and if not for how broken of a mind it was, Phar'ra most likely would have failed.

Once finished with the room however, he stopped beside his master, letting his golden gaze fall upon the man.

"What be next?"

 

[Elliot Day]

[member="Phar'ra"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Faith Highwind"]

The rain was coming. Elliot could feel it in the air. His current vantage point was about to get wet, except in a worse way. Being a city planet, the rain was already toxin-filled enough without getting even worse as it traveled down to the lower strata of society. It was time to leave and find "shelter". He knew a good place that was popular with the homeless in this sector. It was an obvious recruitment zone for these "fishers of men" to try and drag their nets through.

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Long ago, underground mag trains were a common form of transportation. As technology marched forward and cost effect shifted, the railways were left abandoned and the trains were scrapped, forgotten and/or re-purposed. This intricate and long reaching system of tunnels was as much part of the underground as it used to be for the city itself; before all the construction went upwards instead of outwards.

He chose one of the many fire barrels that was least populated. This wasn't abnormal, given the natural humanoid psychology that dictates the need for privacy and space from strangers. What was abnormal was the number of people here and not just homeless. Men in robes and former homeless people, who now looked much healthier than their currently homeless brethren, spread out among the masses, offering words of encouragement, promise of survival and a way to "belong".

Elliot stood there, a little mesmerized by the fire, but a lot more interested in taking mental note of the snatches of conversation he could pick up. A man walked up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder and said,

"Hello, there, friend! Might I take a minute to share salvation with you?"

Elliot didn't turn around because it hadn't happened, yet. Due to his power of Foresight, he knew that it was going to happen. He turned around and faced the man who was walking towards him. The fire behind him completely silhouetted Elliot's figure, cutting an imposing stance that caused the cultist to slowly and nervously come to a stop a few feet away. Elliot lifted the e-cigarra to his mouth and took in a puff of vapor. The tip of it lit up with a bright, light blue color, which served to temporarily light up and accent his silver grey eyes with eerie, seemingly fluorescent color.

The cultist even went so far as to take a step back. No one had prepared him for this. Homeless, desperate people were one thing, but this trench coated man was appearing to be of a different ken. The cultist made a snap decision and opted to try his hand on someone else. He was new at all of this, after all. The light tip of the e-cigarra died down until Elliot was shrouded in darkness once more; vapor trailing out of his mouth and around the edge of his fedora, up towards the ceiling. He moved to another fire barrel, so as to possibly cut down on suspicion as he navigated through the small community of the forgotten.

 

[Darth Abyss]

Darth Abyss turned to his apprentice, his expression once more lacking any emotion.

"Your punishment."

Guided by his men, the homeless began to pour out of the warehouse, following his orders to share their new found believe with those who lived in the dirt of nar shaddaas slums. As the room was becoming empty, Abyss motioned his apprentice to sit on one of the chairs. Sure [member="Phar'ra"] had done good, but there was still his initial failure. He wouldn't allow his apprentice to forget what the price of failure was, and he had felt the small moment of fear inside the kaleeshs mind. Turing a jedi into a mindless slave was not to different from turning a sith into one, and Abyss knew that Phar'ra was fully aware of that. He wouldn't make him just another mindless creature, but he would give him a taste of what would happen if he would disappoint him again.

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"Lord Abyss, we have suspicious activity on the ground levels. It seems like someone is trailing us."

Abyss man all belonged to at least one branch of intelligence work, and had many skills when it came to surveillance and covert ops, especially inside of city's and crowds. The hooded figure had lost sight of the trenchcoat, but he knew that he was here somewhere. They had orders for this kind of situation, depending on what the man was after. Two options, simple and effective: Bribe him, or kill him.

[member="Elliot Day"]

 

[Elliot Day]

[member="Darth Abyss"] (He was new at all of this, after all.)
(What I meant was that Elliott was an unknown variable and it made the guy think twice before Elliot slipped away)

We'll, the hornet's nest had been well and truly kicked. If he left, that would be too obvious; they might send someone after him, like a spy or, worse, an assassin. He had to play it cool; play the bluff of innocent bystander.

He stayed where he was and hunkered over the fire just like the fellows around him. If someone wanted to talk, he'd talk. If someone wanted to rumble, he'd rumble. Otherwise, Elliot remained as cool as a cucumber.