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In the workshop of his ship, Mandalore the Immortal was hard at work, a spray can in hand and a filter over his mouth.
Aresol coating hissed out of the can and coated the stark white plates of Mandalore's Armor a dull grey.

This was only one of several projects the Immortal had going. He needed further to run maintenance on his armor suit's weapons and swap out some components.
Furthermore, it had gotten back to him that Kusei had spotted him on Abregado-Rae.
Someone clearly hadn't informer her of his return. She thought him an imposter.
The Girl should have known better by now. But that was for her clansfolk to worry about.

Mandalore finished his paint job and hung the plates on a rack to dry. He turned now to his workbench, where his Crushgaunts sat, waiting his attention.
A few modifications would do wonders for there capabilities, and he would need them all the more for his next task.

In Huttspace, the Crimelords were throwing a fighter tournament together. An opportunity like that would dredge up several of the Empire's Most Wanted for easy pickings. In addition, it would make for a perfect chance to seek information about the activities of the Imperial Knight he had been hunting for. Strong fighters liked to keep tabs on possible rivals, and Seraphim's skill at the Martial Arts was well known in such circles.

But the Tournament was two weeks away.
An alias had to be crafted, gear had to be modifided to meet the tourney rules, and practice needed to be done to slip back into his Hand to Hand training of his commando days. But it could be done.
The Immortal had done far more in far less time.

Ari Maki led Kusei into the tall corporate headquarters for the now defunct Mandal Hypernautics Corporation, which they’d requisitioned for use as the new capital building of Mandalore. Smiling quietly Ari turned to his granddaughter as he stepped through the doors, “I saw the images you captured on Abregado Rae, and must say it certainly looks like the Mand’alor...”

“He’s dead,” Kusei said coldly, “I can’t have seen him because he’s dead.”

“Not exactly,” Ari answered with a smile as he turned and stepped through a pair of doors to an improvised medical ward.

Kusei followed, frowning, “What do you mean not exactly?”

Ari smiled, “I mean that the armor isn't buried with our fallen leader.”

“What?” Kusei hissed, as they stepped through another pair of doors into a rehabilitation center.

“The armor is still in use…” Ari began, growing a smile as he spoke, “…by our new chieftan.”

"You're kidding," Kusei replied glancing through the glass at a number of warriors going through rehabilitation and adjusting to new limbs or whole bodies that had replaced injured ones.

Ari nodded, "He's quite different then our last leader, but he has also taken up the Immortal mantel, perhaps to start a new tradition in the Immortal's honor." A slight smile slipped across his face, "Of course there is only one Immortal in the eyes of the Maki, the one that gave us back our heritage, and we will continue to grieve his loss."

"Why haven't I heard this... surely the news of his..."

Ari cut her off before she could finish, "Our new Mandalore prefered to keep the news quiet. He wishes for us to regain our self determination and free soul, and for that reason he has removed himself from the day to day workings of the world. The Provisional Government made up of the clan leaders is running the nation, rebuilding the damage of the war and dissassemble years of neo-imperialist cultural poisioning to our worlds. Once that is accomplished the government will break up, and individual clans will rule over themselves once more."

"A long process," Kusei said quietly, "And we still have debts to pay."

"That is your own interpretation Kusei, but remember there could well become a time when we must call upon you to shed that imperial cloak you've grown so accustom to." The old man winked at his granddaughter, “So what mission have you been given now… a hunt I hope.”

Kusei nodded, “I’m suppose to track down and watch a woman called Freya Starsinger.”

“Well then, it is a hunt, and may it be a challenging one,” Ari answered with a smile.

The jedi's eyes opened up, the concept of time had been lost. He was groggy, and his arms felt like lead. His senses restored quickly, but it was unlike what he ever felt before. His nerves felt like they were on fire, like a really bad sunburn, but nothing made sense. That black creature was reading information at the databank.

"You.... you wont find.... anythign in there," Hassen sputtered. He tasted blood in his mouth. He wished he could wipe it, but the fire in his arms that felt like lead made even his greatest effort fruitless. "I've... been trying to find... the jedi... for the last four years..."

The creature finally turned around to look at his victim. Hassen got a good look at his kidnapper, his agressor. It wasn't normal; he still couldn't feel anything. This being was only a void; nay, it was a vaccuum. But it wasn't right. He tried to summon the force. Nothing, not a single voice. He did not even know what could possibly happen. What was causing the silence? surely not this being; only the strongest of the entire council, bound together could strip a person of their mind and the force. This was different. It did not feel right. He did not know what this thing was, but he needed to get up and destroy it. But there was a hunger, a hunger which he felt in the deepest part of his stomach. Looking left and right, he found only a hunk of meat, freshly slain, steaming on the plate. But the hunger could be controlled. It could be handled. It was only hunger.

"You feel hungry," a voice said out. It was purely mechanical, but a deep throated mechanical, but it wasn't the sith. It was piped through a com system. "You feel that burning desire in the pit of your small intestine. It gnaws at you, but you foolishly think you can control it. This message has been pre-recorded, as that sith you think as a "monster" or "thing" cannot speak your basic. It is death, but a kind one. He has a code of ethics which you would not understand. For that reason, he feels bad the poison in your blood must be there, but it will test your drive to survive."

Hassen's eyes darted back and forth. He saw images flash before his eyes, memories which he had not fully buried, love which was not covered. The memories began to warp; hallucinations of the worst fears to ever happen to him flashed before his eyes. A jedi holds no fear; however, he can be traumatized. "You'll never convert me. I'm a master of the Jedi Council. I will not fall to the dark side."

The voice responded on que. "I thought you'd say that. That's why I don't intend for you to do such a thing. You see, I want you to live, if you can. You can tell the jedi that come looking for you exactly what lies in the heart of the sith. But that depends entirely on you. Outside your building there is a shuttle. If you can muster the strength to feed, you can walk out this building and head off the planet."

Hassen was not scared, but his heart was starting to skip itself. What was this?

"You're curious as to the feeling you are experiencing? That is the biological stages of panic. Even though your brain will not belive your body, if you were any less of a jedi or sith, you'd be screaming in fear right now. The body can be manipulated, but moreso you jedi are even easier. The neural inhibitor which you assume is on your head does not exist; you severed the connection to the force yourself as a result of the poison. Its a beautiful thing, that drug. But its cure is something which I must say will turn you into that which you hate. On the plate beside you is a slice of a human heart. It will give you the strength to move, but you must eat it quickly. I am sorry we had to get rid of your legs, and once you ingest that sliver, the pain will come shooting back to you. I have highlighted on the screen the location of at least twenty of your compatriots, despite your feeble attempts at locating them, just to show you the nearest possible places to find help. Perhaps they may help you out. Murdering a human being to eat them may be cliche of the villian, but isn't that what you deem us? Now, gather your paralyzed body and call upon the force, because you only have a minute to get to the shuttle, otherwise you will be dead."

Hassen did not know what to do. Or say. Or anything. This creature had done something that confused him. What did the message say? Poison? Humans? Eating? His head pounded as he stared back at the plate. It called to him...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shuttle touched down on the surface, as the back end opened up. It jumped ten feet as the cargo left its hold, landing on the ground with a horrible roar of fury. So much life. So much desire. It felt empty, and needed to fufill itself. A rancor behind it attempted a feeble grab, but the creature was dull, dim-witted. It knew nothing and was as stupid as the rest of the animals on the planet. Before much endured, the rancor lay dead. Withdrawing its tail from the chest of the beast, The Licker fed upon its new victim, drawing within itself new strenght and genetic dispositions. This wasn't a wild rancor, it had a bond with someone on the planet who had already died. But the print was still there. The connection could still be felt...

He grinned and fallowed her into the house.
"So, I didn't check my scanners to see, what planet is this?"

The Sith laughed, "I wish for you to join me, and let yourself fall deep into the darkness. Your rancors can come to, they will be to some use to you. Now if you refuse, then everyone will die, including you and your pets, a much greater threat approaches," he said.

As the clanking and banging of mechanics at work echoed in the main starship hanger Calra leaned against the metal wall and folded her arms over her chest. With a hiss she watched Revak labor on the Ion Dragon repairing what damage the enemy starship had wrought.

With a sound more akin to a metal drum the repulsorlifts of two T-wing starfighters echoed in the bay as they dropped to the metal floor.

A few feet from Calra, Jenel Olo sat slowly swirling a drink in her hand, "I see that the most recent hunting party is back."

Calra nodded, "Said they picked up a pair of old Ubrikkian Bulk Freighters. Nice prizes."

A tight smile slipped across Jenel's lips, "I heard something that might interest you... The hutts are holding a tournament of martial artists on Nar Shaddaa in a few weeks. It'd be a real feather in our cap if you win."

Calra's tail twitched, "Really, how am I suppose to participate when I'm wanted by the Hutts?"

"An alias, plus Nar Shaddaa isn't so much a Hutt world as it is a spacer's world, I can sneak you in pretty easy. Plus who would know its you? We repaint your armor a different color... no big deal." Jenel shrugged, "The Hutts did put some limitations on the weapon selection, no ranged arms and no energy blades."

"Just cold steel? Sounds like fun," Calra answered with a slight smile, "Any limitations on electrically charging the weaponry?"

"Nope," Jenel answered with a slight shake of the head, "I love the idea of having the hutts fund us like this. That purse could buy us a whole fleet."

Calra snorted, "Like we need another one." A grin slipped over the creatures face, "I'll have Revak whip some swords up... How are you going to sneak him in?"

"I'll think of something."

"My challenge, my destiny, The Licker, and if you do not cooperate, not only will it kill me, it will kill both you and the rest of the organisms on this planet. One big bite at a time," he said. This witch had some trust issues, but she had to belive this one.