[center][color=gold][h1]Darth Marrik[/h1][/color][/center]

[center][h3]Illos City, Night[/h3][/center]

 Several figures stood silently at the end of a darkened dead-end alley, apparently waiting for someone or something. All were armed and armored save one, who wore the finery of the well-to-do. An obviously clandestine gathering, though none were there to bear witness. From the alley's entrance furthest the group, a cloaked figure rounded the corner and began it's approach. As the steady footsteps echoed down the stones of the alleyway, the lone figure spoke,

 [color=gold]"You were to come alone." [/color]The figure stopped about twenty paces away from the group, and stood deathly still.

 "I don't do deals in person without my bodyguards. Ignore them. They won't act without my word." The finely-dressed-man said, waving a ringed hand dismissively, "Now, if we're going to do business, I'd like a name."

 [color=gold]"Marrik."[/color] The lone figure replied tersely, drawing back his hood. The Sith's face was half-covered by his visor, but his carnivorous teeth were fully visible. His ghastly visage gave the well-dressed-man pause, but only for a moment.

 "Right then, Marrik. So, you wanted information, information that neither of us is comfortable discussing over the Holonet. Now we're here, so ask your questions. Each answer will cost you, though." The well-dressed-man's fingers trembled a bit in the anticipation of the conversation-to-come's monetary reward.

 Marrik stood unmoving and silent, face unreadable behind his visor. He would not be paying this man for any information this night. For one thing, he had very little in the way of personal wealth at the moment, barely a credit to his name, but more than that he disliked this man. He found he could bring himself to [i]hate[/i] this man, in his fetid opulence. 

 [color=gold]"You're fat."[/color] Marrik growled, and the well-dressed-man raised an eyebrow, [color=gold]"And you're weak. Bloated and decadent like the rest of the people in power in this backwater of the galaxy. You have information. You think that makes you powerful, that it gives you some advantage over me, but you're wrong."[/color] On "wrong" Marrik's arm slipped out from beneath his cloak, and he produced his lightsaber, engaging the main blade, and then the pommel exhaust. The armed guards drew their blasters from their holsters, leveling them at the Sith. Now that Marrik was closer, he had their count. Four armed humanoids, two on either side of the well-dressed-man. The man took a step back, allowing his bodyguards to step into a firing line in front of him. Marrik waited one more moment, gathering his building anger at the man's arrogance and weakness. The Sith stepped forward.

 Blaster fire rang out, lighting the alleyway with red streaking flashes. One shot missed, careening further down the alley. Marrik smashed one back into it's shooter (the one on the far left) with his lightsaber, one struck him in his leg, and the other in his chest, and then he was on them, using the force to propel himself into their midst. The middle man of the remaining three he cut down instantly, his vicious strike nearly splitting the man's torso in half diagonally. He roared as he smashed the pommel-exhaust blade into the next one's face. The man got one more blaster shot off into Marrik's other shoulder and he hesitated to get his bearings. In his moment of pause, the last remaining bodyguard fired twice, both shots landing clean into Marriks abdomen. The Sith Lord staggered, his fury and pain rising to ever-greater heights. The man shot again, but this time Marrik batted the blast away, building his fury, feeling his rage form like a pit in his stomach, and travel up, through his free arm. The man shot once more, and the blast was again denied by Marrik's lightsaber.

 Marrik roared and his left hand shot up, a stream of crackling energy, his rage made manifest, blew the last bodyguard into the wall, and lifted him high into the air, frying the man alive. When the light of his force lightning (as well as the life of the last bodyguard) had died, Marrik walked toward the well-dressed-man, a slight limp due to his leg injury giving his approach an even more dire and menacing look. The man moved to draw a side-arm, but Marrik shot forward with the force once-more, grabbing the man's arm in a firm grip, and cleanly slicing it off with his lightsaber, leaving only a cauterized stump. The well-dressed man, now covered in sweat, shrieked loudly and fell soundly onto his rump. He turned to his stomach and began to crawl desperately away, but was stopped by Marrik's heavy, booted foot landing hard on his back.

 [color=gold]"Information,"[/color] Marrik said through pain-gritted teeth, [color=gold]"Information is not power. Information is a tool to be used by those who already posses power. [i]I[/i] am powerful. You are weak, and that is why you find yourself in this... predicament."[/color] He rolled the man onto his back with his booted foot, and activated his visors automatic removal, revealing his yellow-tinged eyes. [color=gold]"Now, you will give me all of the information you have on the Imperial Remnants in the area, as well as any other major factions and their resources. You will do this, and for every minute you refuse, I will remove another piece of you."[/color]

 The man stammered for a moment, and then, through wracking sobs of pain, he answered the Sith Lord's questions.