Seeming as the Sith worms were starting to scurry away, the Sith Master entered consciousness out of his trance like state for a brief moment to move his ship forward as fast as it could go to reach the Mandalorian Fleet. They harbored tons of asteroids, and with the dwindling defenders of Dromund Kaas, Voracitos was willing to risk minor damage to his vessel to not only prevent those asteroids from delivering their devastating destructive power upon the Sith Power Base, but to utilize their weapons against them. Voracitos may have been out gunned and even out classed, but he was heavily shielded, heavily armored, and had four times the attractive force of his adversaries flagship. He could not hope to go any faster, but that didn't matter, as he would just slow them down a notch in a way he knew best: human errors... a lot of them.
Voracitos entrapped in his holocron meditated in his favorite Throne from life, comforting and relaxing his mind, clearing it, and in the voids place fill it with his dark desires, his wants, his loss, his resentment and hatred... he put in the void the form of Ashin Varanin. Misfortune incarnate, she had done this to him, brought him to such a lowly state of existence. He had been the sole Pillar that upheld the Empire from falling to utter uncontrollable Chaos, and then she cast him down, broke him by using his own self doubt. She had conquered more than a world that day, she had conquered his confidence. But in death, consequence becomes more, immaterial and thus less important. Confidence was not an attribute he needed to worry about any more. He had nothing to lose but what he had owned in life.
"queen." His wisp ghostly echo, resonated quitely through the chambers that held his holocron.
Even that now was crumbling down. That bitter, bane of a woman, she killed his inner most core even after death. Unfortunately for her, the more she took from him the more driven he would become in finding her once more... and watching her die, watch her fall from her high, high perch. Oh how he desired nothing else... but the Empire was still close to his heart. He had been at one point, the only thing that kept it from being destroyed sooner, even as many would try to deny it.
All that emotional energy was building up and cackling, and resonating between the crystalline pillars that represented the Shards of the Holocron in which he inhabited. They were chained together in a circle, all of the tilted slightly inward, as if they attempted to peer into the top of the Sith Masters heads, to decipher the manifestation of his will to command them. They had long since been turned into a vegetative slush, for exactly the purpose of him imposing commands to them through the force. The number of Shards he had used did not matter entirely, but the fact that they were many made the Holocron an artifact of astounding brilliance and power. Though he was considered an amateur alchemist or Sith Scientists Voracitos never had a shortage of creativity. To him, these Dark Arts were exactly that, arts and crafts. The overall quality was not necessarily the objective (the preferable), but it was the creative spirit behind its coming that often gives a manipulated object its power.
Outside of the Mental Meditation Chamber of Voracitos in the real of the living, the brief conscious moment he had manifested a command, he in addition to altering its course from stationary, also command preparations to wrestle control of the Mandalorian Asteroids, utilizing approximately 100 tractor beams. Being so far away it was a faint hope and a race against time, though the energies he was prepared to unleash could be enough to stall them to the point of vulnerability. Primary objectives to the Mandalorian sacking may have been turned into Sith defeats, but he would not allow them to leave unscathed, without sever wounds. That was simply unacceptable.
It was time for this brutish wrecking ball to smash into something just as stubborn and unforgiving as itself.
The slight unease those in space felt increased by half, and continued to build at a rate one degree increased level of agitation and paranoia for every minute that passed. The memories had not come yet, he was not yet ready to do that. What he was prepared for though, was dissension. In every Mandalorian Vessel as of this moment, there is at least one possessed by the will of Voracitos. It could be anyone, anywhere in the ship, from a pilot on the bridge, to a worker on the engineering deck, there was at least one man who had lost his mind completely, where Voracitos quietly scooped it up and supplanted his own. They would be realized as having an unusual eerie calm, and apathy; this was due to the fact they were possessed by a Shard of Voracitos, to whom did not know the bounds of human emotion, and could only express what Voracitos willed them to express. His mind was in too many places to count, thus some details could not be commanded of them.
The only important possessed person was upon the bridge of the Mythosaur, one of a few nameless lieutenants. Voracitos turned him away from his work, while making him drag his hand across the buttons of whatever it was he had done, mucking it up a bit. He made him scream loudly after the Captain had taken a drink. The lieutenant pressed his palms into his head momentarily, causing a brief moment of alarm between two of his comrades, before they could touch him to see if he was okay, he darted around them clumsily.
"Where is the Captain?" He said loudly, though not screaming. "May I have a word?" His eyes darted about as sweat began to trickle down his face. His hands clasped slightly as the shard got used to the body, his head wiping here or there. "Where is the Captain? May I have a word?" He repeated, without accent, and monotone.
@[member="Captain Larraq"]
