The Assassin: Final Amends

[Darles Chickens]

Maro found himself leaning over a railing on the second floor of the mess hall. The Champion's circle. An exclusive club that took up the entire second floor of the building would be nearly vacant but for a few loan stragglers, looking down upon the populace for their own reasons. Maro's was reconnaissance. His sickly yellowed eyes glared down at the gathered crowds. He's spy Mors moving through the huddled masses. His vision would shift up his path to the robed target. A woman. This wasn't who he expected, but it also wasn't going to be an issue. Mors would certainly be in for a surprise, but there wasn't much the Sith could do to aid his partner. He'd toss down the remaining drink that as in his glass and flicked his coat as he made his own way to another vantage point, his hand now training to the hilt of his saber. ​

 

[Soverin]

There was a loud commotion as Mors pushed through a gathering of Sith, activating his lightsaber with a loud hiss! It waved through the group and forced them aside so that he could point his weapon in challenge at the hooded Sith. He was rabid, barely on the fringe of feral.

"You." He was in plain sight, all those around him had backed up when he went swinging his saber accusingly. "I am Mors Soverin. The assassin you hired to kill me failed." Admittedly brash in entrance, Mors wasted no time calling the robed Sith out. His voice was loud so that all the gathered warriors and combatants could hear.

"I'll have my revenge for your incompetence," Mors flicked his eyes to the pit and back, sharpening his gaze " --- in the ring."