Darrian_Gabriel
Sicarii Assassin
Nar Shadda, perhaps the most feared, crime ridden and notorious moon in the known galaxy. Every vile bit of treachery, extortion and violence that the criminal underworld had to offer could be found within it's vast and sprawling urban slums. On the far side of the moon, within the hellish East Districts, an elicit deal between two shadowy parties was taking place. On the upper levels of the Glam Trinkets nightclub and brothel, a slim and gangly Rodian, stood flanked by three hulking guards, all carrying intimidating blaster rifles at the ready. This is Voldrik Kyvan, a well known black market dealer who owned several casinos and brothels on several different planets. Kyvan stood confident as he owned the Glam Trinkets in which the back alley transaction was taking place. One of the guards places a large metallic container on a table in front of them. The container glowed with almost a radioactive sheen through portholes on the side. Across from the table, a phantom like wraith, completely obscured by a black robe and hood, stood silent and brooding.
"Here are the parts you ordered my lord Mahaliel. I must say, even for a Rodian with my connections, this was not easy to acquire."
"That'll cost you four hundred thousand credits...as agreed." says one of the guards.
The shadowy figure across the table tosses a large satchel into view and it lands with a thud onto the table. Kyvan retrieves the satchel and digs one of his scaly hands into the bag, pulling out lumps of credit tokens.
Kyvan laughs "Always a pleasure doing business with such an esteemed Sith Lord such as yourself." he says as he tosses the satchel to one of his guards "Now is there anything else I can do for you, perhaps interest you in a lovely Twilek or Zeltron companion for the night? Any species you desire is yours for the asking."
The figure just menacingly stares out from beneath his hood and waves Kyvan off dismissively.
"Very well, I have more business to attend to on the lower levels, Dimitri here can see you out." Kyvan says as he addresses a second guard "Boltan, put that deposit in one of the deck safes, I'll attend to it later."
Boltan nods with a grin and begins to walk out of the room, when a laser bolt from out of nowhere strikes the guardsman directly in his midsection..he lets out a yelp of agony and his body goes flying back, the satchel full of credits spilling onto the ground. The front doors to the upper level smash inward in a blinding barrage of laser fire as dozens of heavily armed mercenaries flood into the room. Kyvan scoops the fallen bag of credits off the ground and begins to flee.
"They must be Sarthian's goons, how did they find me so quickly?" he screams as he exits in the melee and confusion.
The Rodian manages to find his way to the lower levels and continues to flee out an exit that leads to a dark alley adjacent to the Glam Trinkets. For a brief moment, Kyvan thinks he has successfully evaded capture, until the distinct hum of a lightsaber can be heard mere inches away. Kyvan freezes in his tracks and slowly starts to turn around...but before he can turn to face the threat, a red lightsaber slices down, gruesomely detaching the Rodian's right arm from the rest of his body. Kyvan howls in pain and drops to his knees, clutching at his now smoldering stump. In shock and terror, he slowly looks up to see another frightening phantasm draped in a black hood and robe. Out of the darkness steps forth one Darth Tragedis, his demonic like glowing eyes peering from the shadows, his lightsaber blade resting almost serenely at his side. He steps a few paces closer to the grievously injured Rodian, staring down, his face adorned with several tribal tattoos enunciating his status as a malignant Sith Lord.
"Hello Kyvan, I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." says Tragedis, his voice mockingly calm and casual.
"Please Lord Tragedis, I beg of you! Tell Sarthian I have his money, I was just on my way to delivering it!" screams Kyvan.
"Your over thirty solar days delinquent in your payment dear Kyvan. You know how Sarthian hates to be kept waiting."
"Please, I'll do anything..." pleads Kyvan.
In a show of absent minded cruelty, Tragedis begins to pat the Rodian's head with his black gloved hand, the way a master would groom a loyal pet "Sadly Voldrik, Sarthian has deemed you too much of a liability. Besides, you had to have known that this was to be your ultimate fate."
Green tears begin to flow from the stricken Rodian's black eyes "I'll give you anything! Money, women, holdings, property...just name it!"
Tragedis grins with sinister glee "How's that old saying go...ahhh yes. Be it too little, be it too late."
Back on the upper level of The Glam Trinkets, Sarthian's mercenaries have decimated most of the occupants of the club, many of them looting whatever goods they can find. Several of the mercs help themselves to the plethora of exotic and beautiful brothel girls literally everywhere. However there is one denizen who has not gone down so easily. Mahaliel, the shadowy figure in which Kyvan was first doing business, stands stoically in the corner, seemingly not bothered one bit by the chaos going on around him. In fact, he has killed a good number of the mercs that dared to come near him. One of Sarthian's top henchmen, a Mandalorian bounty trooper named Kato Dass and several of his men engage in a tense stand off with Darth Mahaliel. Suddenly a severed head comes bouncing into the room, momentarily breaking the tension. The morbid appendage, slowly rolls into the light, revealing it to be the decapitated cranium of Voldrik Kyvan.
"So much for that..." says Dass beneath his helmet.
"Indeed Dass...round up your men and let's get off this decrepit rock. Our business here is finished." says Tragedis as he strides into the room.
"I'm afraid it ain't that simple gunner. We gotta little problem." says Dass as he points to Mahaliel in the corner "Bastard took out five of my best jockeys!"
Tragedis squints slightly as he immediately recognizes the other Sith Lord "Well, well, well...Lord Mahaliel. What brings the likes of you out to the scum wastes of Nar Shadda?"
"So he's one of you aye? Should'a known with all that Force mumbo jumbo he was flailing about with. Listen tell your fellow Slimp or Slith, or whatever you bastards call yourselves, to stand down!" says Dass angrily.
This prompts Tragedis to reach out, violently putting Dass into a Force Choke "Hold your tongue Mandalorian! The next time you dare to besmirch the name of the Sith...I'll happily rip your vocal cords out of your throat, do you understand me!"
Dass struggles to breath against the invisible energy slowly strangling the life out of him as he weakly manages to nod. Tragedis savors the Mandalorian's suffering as he finally relinquishes his Force hold around the mercenary's throat. Dass staggers back, violently coughing to try and regain his breath, being humbled by the Sith Lord.
"Beggin your pardon caps...but you might wanna come and see this!" says another merc, looking out a nearby window.
Tragedis walks up to the other merc and peers out the window. In the far distance, the Sith Lord sees two gigantic ships of an unknown design, both beginning to dominate the tops of the Nar Shadda skyline. Than without warning, one of the ships emits a devastating wave of neon blue energy that incinerates several yards of buildings and structures beneath. The terrified screams of civilians and bystanders could be heard.
"What in the name of the Ancient Sith is that?" asks Tragedis, not recognizing the origin of the hostile craft.
"I don't know, but I ain't stickin around to see what it does when it gets here!" says the merc as he and several others begin to evacuate the brothel.
Tragedis looks down onto the dimply lit roads, to see waves of citizens flooding onto the streets, trying to escape the incoming destruction. The wayward Sith goes over and looks Darth Mahaliel dead in his eye "So what of it Mahaliel...you know anything about this? Furthermore, what are you even doing here?"
K.O.D Rusty of Shackleford holyman1998 AtlannianSpy ThatGuyWithSouvlaki Gish_Sky nh1