Private Modeling Maldor

[The Battalion]

Aboard: Colossus of Shadows

Wearing: Warrior's Skin

Armed With: Elaine Tear's Lightsaber (Corrupted)



The Colossus of Shadows glided through the blackness of space to a pre arranged meeting point where Maldor Mecetti would be allowed to dock.

The ship was currently House Io's pride and Joy, a massive mobile stealth city for the cultivation of warrior citizens. A flying wing design. You'd need a fleet armed with the most powerful weapons that could be fielded to have a shot at destroying it.

It was the enduring symbol of her wife's will to defy all who wanted her dead. It was a technological marvel, one of the most advanced ships in the Galaxy.

It condensed House Io into kaleidoscope of wildly different viewpoints and such. The refugees and the disillusioned organics, the Murderous, quirky Soldier Droids that were legally citizens, and could be found conducting all manner of bizarre activity on the vessel, everything from simple trolling to complex, highly deranged social experiments, to androids that looked like supermodels in tight catsuits, to the Cult The Battalion spoke for.

The Consort of House Io awaited Maldor in a section of the ship set aside specifically for her Cultists outer facade was painted white. Anything that the Cult influenced was painted white.

When Maldor arrived, he would be escorted through clean, high tech looking interior streets by an honor guard of Skeleton-like Model 3 Units , wearing white sashes and wielding Force Pikes.

Little telltale signs would indicate the danger of the Cult. The Temple was tall, highly engraved yet everyone seemed to steer clear of it. Everything also seemed quieter as a result. The temple exuded a powerful, rotting aura.

Some of the Brain Demon Cultists might have been spotted before even seeing the temple, clad in skintight white catsuits, often looking supermodel-esque , yet no one they were observed speaking to, especially the ordinary looking types, stayed around them longer than necessary.

The temple interior was polished white...save for the runes drawn in blood.

And at the end of a private section of the temple the Battalion would be found, at the center of a great empty chamber save for the bled Kybers lining it. Like all the Cultists, she was clad in her old catsuit, which look painted on rather than worn.

Upon Sensing Maldor, the Matriarch and Blade Master of the Cult would smile, rise with hands folded behind her back.

"Welcome, Lord Mecetti..." The Battalion called out. "My apologies for not taking the time to give you a tour of the city. But my Cult believes when someone's very soul is at stake, when they seek the darkness...then showing them that darkness takes priority."

The Battalion would step towards Maldor, her fine carved features made eerie in the red lights contrasting sulphur colored eyes.

"Tell me...what about the Darkness calls to you the most. What emotion is most powerful to you?"

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

Colossus of Shadows
Temple

​

Maldor arrived on a House Mecetti Executive Shuttle, meeting the massive ship at a pre-determined location and time.

It was the sort of Behemoth that could confront an entire fleet. A product of the Tarkin Doctrine. It was the diametric opposite to House Mecetti's own philosophy about naval power. The biggest. The best. But it contained enough material and technology to outfit two fleets. Too many eggs in one basket.

And intimidating as hell, just as Tarkin had intended when he'd formed the doctrine nearly a millennia ago.

He arrived with a droid pilot, and no other personnel. No guards. No weapons, beyond his lightfoil. No armor, beyond his robes.

There was no point to any of that.

He could have brought every ship he had in service to the Empire of the Lost, and it couldn't have made a dent in this thing. He could have brought a battalion of troops, and they couldn't have defended him against the forces such a ship held aboard.

He had to trust his safety to his host. There was little other choice.

He was escorted to a white and forboding section of the vessel. There were many droids here. He wondered if most of their personnel were droids, or only in this part of the ship.

When he finally came into the presence of the Batttalion, she did not waste time. Did she truly believe this religion of hers? Or was it a tool? The latter was something he could understand.

For him, the Force had always been a mere tool for power. He had learned Sith techniques for no other reason than because the holocrons were available to House Mecetti, and his secret tutelage by the holocrons required no registry with or indoctrination by the Jedi.

But for her... well... she certainly acted like a true believer.

"Battalion. Thank you for welcoming me. What little I have seen of your ship is already a marvel. I suspect it would take a year to see it all.

As for my motivation to 'darkness' as you put it...

I realize the Sith value passion as a motivator for influencing the Force. Especially Hatred.

But I do not go about Seething with rage, nor do I consider doing so worthy of a Noble of House Mecetti.

My father is often dour, or curt, or direct to the point of rudeness. But he made sure to instill in me that a loss of self-control was never acceptable. And living in a state of rage seems like a sure way to lose control.

I am led by my desires.

My desire for advancement. For power. For the growth and security of my House.

But even this much passion has caused a stumble. Were it not for my father's talent in turning calamity into opportunity, my clumsiness could have cost us everything.

So if your cult demands wild abandon, I'm not sure I'm the right student for you.

I've already paid the price of excessive passion. I seek control."

And yet... here he was.

His presence here might speak more convincingly than his words.

---

​

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

"I understand the reasoning of Casteban Mecetti completely..." The Battalion assured.

"Loss of self control is no boon to any Sith. That is what led to the disfigurement of Vader at Mustafar if the records we have are true. Control is the ultimate focus of Sith. Emotions are tools, like in a surgical operation. Hatred, Rage, Fear, Desire, all are valid instruments." she explained.

The Battalion summoned a plume of purple flames in her hand that radiated the Dark Side.

"Combined, they create many effects. So let us see what your upper limits are. You claim your learning came from Holocrons--"

A Model 3 Nuetralizer in a white sash, marched in with a singular Lightfoil, silvery with a engraved defensive cup. An Antique of Cortosis Weave Durasteel.

She took it, and a purple Lightfoil blade the thickness of an average chopstick slid out in a hiss.

"Demonstrate to me what these devices deemed you worthy of knowing..." She said, lunging for his own Lightfoil with an expert, practiced swipe that gave away her mastery of Makashi...

Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

In this realm of uncertainty, his fingers had already been itching to grasp the sanctuary of his light-foil. Now they were finally rewarded with the object they craved.

The weapon leaped into his hand with a thought, and ignited at an impulse. Maldor melted into a defensive stance as naturally as ice melted before the burning sun.

It was clear within the first heartbeats of their engagement that Maldor possessed a natural physicality and finely honed skillset that was invisible most of the time. The point of his foil became a finger of death, pointing at his opponent like a warding magic spell.

Maldor, in the Senate. Maldor, at the party. Maldor, distracted and bored in a bureaucratic meeting. Lazy. Spoiled. Fop.

That was what everyone could see.

But the Holocrons knew better. And now, so did the Battalion.

Maldor, performing forms in the dark, until the sweat dripped from his body in rivulets of exertion. Maldor, testing himself against droids. Winning duels against Saber Rakes. Standing in the hall of a ship overrun by pirates, standing against a fusillade of blaster fire to shield a troop of hardened soldiers.

Glimpses now, revealed to someone attuned to the force. The skin and flesh of the fruit peeled away, to reveal the seed at its core.

The man advanced, probing with the tip of his foil while yielding nothing. Seeking an advantage, a weakness to exploit. Not the faux opening of a clever foe. No, the true avenue from which victory could be extracted.

The probing for an attack was careful, calculated. It whispered truths about what his true connection to the Force might be, even while disguising it under a veneer of cold calculation.

But there was a feeling within that cold.

An emotional spine that held the rigid control.

She could feel it. Few others could have discerned it. He hid it well. Everything about him was wrapped in confidence.

But Maldor was afraid.

He was always, eternally afraid.

---

The Battalion

​

 

[The Battalion]

The young Lord was crisp, fluid in his attack The Battalion made note of every muscle movement as she flicked aside his first strike, countering with the tip of her own blade, which she made certain to swat aside his probing when it got too close, baiting him to attack by occasionally feinting an attack for his wrist or fingers with the tip of her blade, only to pull back at the last moment, trying to Guage everything about how he reacted to her own techniques, as much as he was surely starting to see her immense skill.

Talented... genuinely talented. She admired his quick thinking, his discipline. Long hours of passion. Practice.

But for all his talent...

She was still the Blade Master of the Cult. Particularly. She was a Grandmaster of this particular method of using Makashi, and held back as she assessed him. If she wanted him dead...he would have to increase his skill dramatically if he wanted to survive her. Or any of the other hers within her.

Still, he was doing well. He was more than a credible threat to any Jedi he should encounter--her former self, the disgraced Ashlan Crusader Elaine Tear, would have struggled with him.

But she had centuries of experience on him. And was good at sensing emotion. And it was likely at this point, the more she fought him, the more she sensed his fear. Constant. Gnawing. It reminded her of Laertia's fear, before she had been a Cultist.

His fear was deep. Controlled...but only so long as Maldor thought he was in control of the situation. And with how fluid her attack and defense had been, she had begun to deliberately avoid opportune moments where his technique had lapsed, just a little, enough that she could have skewered or beheaded him almost without effort.

Surely it, combined with her horrifically rotting aura in the Force, almost on the verge of being a Dark Nexus but not quite, surely it was starting to occur to him that The Battalion was the one actually in control.

"I can taste your fear..." The Battalion remarked, flesh everywhere on her body shuddering and bubbling like rats were underneath for a split second, horrifically distorting her otherwise, carved, icy beauty before it snapped back to normal like nothing had happened.

"It writhes in you, controls your actions. You lost control of the Situation at Coruscant, and your terror has only deepened as you fled to this Empire of The Lost...

She seemed like she was going for a slice, only for it to transition to an almost blindingly fast thrust at his knee cap as she spotted an opening. It was the first attack that signalled she was done playing. It was time to impress upon him how much he still had to learn.

And how much she could surely teach him...


Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

"I can taste your fear," she said, and in that moment a horror rippled over her form entire.

As if he'd been commanded to be so, he felt a spike of the terror which was often pressed deep into the vault of his soul. Now, as though she was reading from a book of his inequity, she called forth and named each of his nightmares.

"It writhes in you, controls your actions. You lost control of the Situation at Coruscant, and your terror has only deepened as you fled to this Empire of The Lost..."

He would have liked to have told himself that it was her distracting words that left him open to her next strike. That was a lie he might have allowed himself in other circumstances. But here, he could afford no such lie. No self-deception.

She was better than him. Truly, deeply better. Moreover, she was better than anyone he'd ever seen. Better than the Sith whose skilled essence resided within the holocrons he'd studied. Better than Jedi he'd witnessed, either fighting in the field or captured on Senate holonet records.

She was better than anyone could become in less than a dozen lifetimes.

And so... he'd legitimately fallen for her feint. He was nearly skewered by her piercing blade.

The elegant plasma weapon stabbed through the cloth covering his legs, close enough to sear his skin before he could move his leg. He clenched his teeth in pain and hissed as he danced aside too late to avoid damage.

It had been no accident. She was no longer merely sparring with him. She was testing his utmost limits.

And if he fell short? Would she dispatch him here? Discard him as a faulty prospect?

He was not particularly adept at telekinesis, but now he was grasping for any advantage. He reached out with his mind, seizing at her ankle, hoping to throw her off-kilter long enough for him to engage a new attack and turn the tables.

"I'd see to your own writhing and not concern yourself over mine," he hissed, making the ankle-pull before doing something he was good at. The physical aspects of the Force were his ally. He made a powerful leap- over her head, upside down, slashing down at her shoulder as he passed above her.

It was too bold a move. Too elaborate for such a skilled opponent. He was trying to surprise her.

He was getting desperate.

How many more burns would she put into his flesh if he didn't satisfy her now as to his skill?

It was time to risk himself. Even if the process of risking himself- and losing to her- might be his end.

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

"I have writhed in ways that would make even a strong man like you beg for death, Lord Mecetti..." she replied, the light in the room giving her carved beauty an increasingly eerie pallor. It was not said as boast, nor and insult. Just a statement of fact.

She smiled as he tugged at her ankle with telekinesis.

"Ankles? Tisk tisk, Lord Mecetti!" She outright mocked, yet allowed herself to be tugged, but went with the flow, as it would allow her to readjust her position. And his.

The Battalion didn't even look as Maldor Mecetti jumped, over her, striking at her shoulder, a twist of her feet, a shift of her torso, and a flick of the wrist with her own foil deflected his attack entirely, letting the kinetic force of deflecting his attack carry her blade to a position where she would be able to thrust or slice at his own shoulder once he completed his land.

"Surely you can do better!" she playfully taunted as his feet touched the ground and she delivered a lightning quick jab at his shoulder, which would hopefully give him a good scar if it landed...

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

It was not a good sign that she had the breath and energy to continue speaking and taunting him as she fought.

It was a worse sign that she seemed to so effortlessly avoid what he'd thought to be a bold move.

Then, as his feet touched the floor, she brought her glowing blade forward in an expert thrust, quick as the flicker of a snake's tongue.

He twisted his body, but not quickly enough. The tip of her superheated weapon pierced through his expensive silk robes- made from the strongest silk available in the galaxy- as though they had been made of nothing more substantial than wishful thinking. It further grazed against the flesh of his shoulder as he twisted away, leaving a wound a centimeter deep.

Maldor grunted and fell back, trying to make it seem he'd been overcome by the pain. But instead, he drew himself towards her legs, once more going for her ankles. This time, he used his own legs in an attempt to trip her, as opposed to his telekinetic talents. Expecting her to sweep her blade down at him as he did this, he swung his upwards to intercept it.

But things were dire for him, now. If his latest gambit to trip her did not work, he would be prone beneath a dangerous adversary.

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion could taste his desperation.

How terrible it would be, were you to fall here, having finally bitten off more than you could chew, her dark side laced telepathic voice lanced into the very core of his soul.

Your legacy over before it can start. All because you never HAD control

The tactic with his feet was expected. She sidestepped, and backstopped in a controlled manner away from his legs, holding her foil in place to intercept his sweep upward, letting his blade skid against hers, blending it with a balletic twist out of the way which left him wide open.

She could have killed him in many ways. Beheaded, stabbed, sliced apart. But she didn't. She simply backed away. Because the point wasn't to kill him. But to teach him his first important lesson.

Her flesh bubbled and shuddered horribly as her dark side aura lanced out in an attack on his mind, every personality inside her holding back, but having more than enough power to bring him to his knees without killing him or driving him permanently insane.

You are so afraid of loss. The loss of your looks. The loss of your wealth. The loss of your title...

Her personas each combined to try and torment his fearful soul with images of his worst fears coming true.

The Battalion, her flesh constantly wriggling horribly, the flesh on her face pulling in multiple directions, partially exposing her pearly white skull, approached Maldor, her gorgeous, carved looks completely gone, exposing her for the abomination she actually was.

But there are worse things than all of those. There is the loss of your SOUL.

The strength of her aura, increased it's efforts, trying to cripple him with pain.

Here is your first lesson. The skill of the blade is nothing next to a Sith's real weapon, which is the Dark Side. I can teach you the power to kill with it alone. Would you like that? the now deformed, constantly bubbling, warping, melting humanoid thing in front of Maldor Mecetti asked within his head...

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Whatever move he made, she was ahead of him. Toying with him, now. Terrorizing him.

She could have killed him. But she did not, allowing him the chance to roll back and stand again.

This, apparently, so that she could advance again and stoke fear within his core.

Her visage was transformed. Her face seemed to melt away, revealing the skull beneath.

Her voice was within his mind.

But there are worse things than all of those. There is the loss of your SOUL.​

Maldor shuddered, seeing what had become of her. Part of him wanted to cleave the head from her shoulders... but he knew that if he attempted this, he would be killed.

Here is your first lesson. The skill of the blade is nothing next to a Sith's real weapon, which is the Dark Side. I can teach you the power to kill with it alone. Would you like that?​

Maldor was in wide-eyed horror, "Is this... this disfigurement the ability you offer? Is this your path to power?

I do not seek to become a monster. I seek to control my fate. I do not want to revel in the corruption of my flesh!"

Why would anyone want this? His mind filled with terrible images, shaking him to the very core of his being.

He glanced left and right, wondering what his chances might be of escaping this place. Fighting his way to his shuttle, somehow. Boarding it, getting away without being shot down.

It seemed as unlikely as walking on water, or turning into a wisp of smoke.

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

"Oh, this warping of flesh is far from your reach..." The Battalion replied, as her flesh continued to shudder everywhere. "Do not pay attention to such crude matter. That is your second lesson."

"I offer you the chance to learn how to use your very strength in the Dark Side as a weapon in of itself. That is more powerful than your Lightfoil. Just look at what using my power at only a fraction can do to you..."

At Maldor Mecetti insisting he didn't see want to become a monster, the Battalion gave a horrid chuckle with a warping, melting mouth.

"Every Sith that ever became any kind of Sith with paying any respect towards was a monster in some way. They didn't need to have their flesh warping to be one either. It is action, choice, not appearance that makes one a monster, Lord Mecetti..." The Battalion said, her flesh resetting to her prior, unblemished appearance...though there were still unsettling ripples that traveled the whole of her body once in a while, the aura she exuded lessened in strength but threatening to ramp it right back up in a heartbeat.

"As a Moff, a Nobleman, you can be ignored, out played, out maneuvered, and killed. But as a Sith who places their faith in the Dark Side, You shall do the ignoring the outplaying, and killing of others. Ask yourself, and I mean really, look deep within you, and ask yourself...in this moment, when you face a foe you are so outclassed by you genuinely wonder if any second could be your last...what is your title as nobleman, your riches, your rank as Moff worth? What do they profit you, when none of them can save you here? What are they worth in comparison to what you would give up just to have the power to defeat me?"

She shut off her Lightfoil.

"When you are fully trained, these blades, which you place such weight on, will become only an occasional toy to humiliate others. But your real sword shall be in your heart. I can be the stone upon which you sharpen it. Join me, and I will show you so much more than what your Holocrons possess." The Battalion said. "I will give you access to power greater than any title the Empire can bestow..."

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Casteban felt as though a weight was lifted from the air in the room as she reduced the power of her aura and eventually deactivated her foil.

He extinguished his own blade, returning it to its place at his hip.

"I desire the power," he said, "that was never in question. Else I'd not be here."

He eyed her suspiciously.

"But what does it mean to 'join you?' What do you want from me, to teach me these skills?"

He was a nobleman from a corporatist province, where it was difficult to discern the difference between the noble house which ruled the land, and the nationalized corporation they controlled. The idea of payment for services rendered was intrinsic to his upbringing. Payment wasn't always in coin, particularly at the highest levels. It could be in traded favors, loyalties, or other subtler influences.

Knowing the price she wished to exact from him was essential to understanding whether the deal was a favorable one.

Gaining the power to do what he wished would mean nothing if that power was all sworn to her. Then he would be nothing more than her slave.

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

"You are wise to remain hesitant..." The Battalion complimented, tossing him her Lightfoil.

"Only a fool leaps without thinking. You do your family credit."

The Battalion paced about, her flesh, finally stabilizing.

"But, yes, I do wish to teach you. I see great fear in you. Intense, all consuming dread. From fear comes anger. Then Hate. Then Suffering. Then the Dark Side." she explained.

"You have one of the most excellent bases for the rest I have ever seen."

"But you expect a price. Of course you do." she said turning to face him, hands clasped together. No move made to defend herself in case he chose to strike.

"I mentioned previously our house has a desire to spread the Dark Side to Force Users. After thinking on it some more..."

She smiled.

"I am seeking to open a Dark Side Academy. One that will be administered to by my Marauders. I desire a tithe of your world's Force users as the first class."

Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Maldor considered her as she stripped him bare in a way that merely being naked never could. He'd reached down into himself, before. He'd been ashamed to find fear at the core of himself. He'd done a lot to conceal that core. Wrap it in duty, ego, skillful confidence.

But there was no concealment, here.

His robe still smoldered where she'd pierced it. His flesh cried out in pain.

It could easily have been worse. He could have lost everything, here. His limb, his life... perhaps even that ephemeral soul.

"We have a list of Force-Sensitives in the population," Maldor said, "we've long wanted to make our own cadre of Force-capable warriors, to counterbalance the Jedi..." And the Sith, he thought to himself. "But we've never had the trainers needed to forge such a force. The most we could do is conceal them from the Alliance."

He could only imagine what the Jedi would do with a number of House Mecetti affiliated force-sensitives. Once they'd been brainwashed by the Jedi philosophy, they'd be able to dismantle the entire House.

"I can have ten-percent sent to you. About a hundred candidates. My father won't send more on my word alone. Not unless he sees some profit in it for the House.

My private tutelage is not worth enough to the House that we're willing to give someone an army in the way of tuition fees.

Particularly when you could easily turn that army against us."

His mind was already turning on the ethics of the matter. A hundred souls sacrificed for his personal advancement... it was distasteful, but not really anything new. Usually, he sacrificed men and women on the battlefield. And often in greater numbers.

But she'd doubtless be able to corrupt their loyalties. A hundred souls programmed by the Sith to destroy House Mecetti would be as much a problem as if they'd been turned Jedi.

He'd have to find some way to be sure that his House wasn't planting the seeds to its own destruction by making this arrangement.

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

"A hundred will do very nicely to start." The Battalion assured Maldor Mecetti .

"And I commend you on your caution in giving us even that much. But the Hundred given us will be trained as Dark Jedi only. Not as true Sith. They will be given the skills needed to oppose Jedi, but not to truly pose a threat to you or your Father's rule. This is an easy deal for us to make in truth: One does not raise up a full blown Sith Academy casually. It would create as much problems for us as it would you. Dark Jedi can be just as useful for our mutual purposes. My cause is to spread the Dark Side. What form it takes in the process is something my Order isn't too picky about."

More of the large, skeletal Model 3 Droids brought in another case.

The Battalion went to it, and removed the hilt to an energy sword built by her house. She tossed it to him.

"I'm thinking this could be the weapon we instruct said students in. Give it a whirl. Tell me what you think. An Academy of a Dark Side trained fencers would be a useful to you...how would you feel about them being trained on your Homeworld? We can train them elsewhere, but if you really want to conceal something from the Jedi, sometimes the best bet may be right under their nose. That's how Sidious did it, at least." The Battalion stated.

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Maldor caught the weapon and activated it.

Instantly, its thin blade erupted in blue energy. Not the color he'd expected. But if she was going to train 'dark Jedi,' then perhaps she wanted to avoid the red-saber association of the Dark Side. It's something Maldor had sometimes considered. But he figured if he had to draw his foil in anger, there was much more to worry about than bad headlines.

"A Collimating energy emitter," he noted, "Interesting choice. Gives it a unique appearance. The Rakes in Tapani who can't build a proper foil, or don't have a real Sith model in the family, often make use of something like this.

A bit embarrassing for them, but less embarrassing than not having anything at all. I've seen a few men run through by these sorts of things, even despite them having a real foil in their hands."

He gave a few experimental swipes.

"Almost as useful as a true light-foil. Well-balanced. Fast. You have to get used to the directional cuts. And the hilt is a bit wide due to the collimator."

He shut it off and tossed it back to her.

"You are intentionally limiting their power with a weapon like this, while giving them something which is more socially acceptable.

Yet it's still able to kill a Jedi learner just the same."

He considered her for a long moment.

"Your plan is to disseminate dark-side practitioners. Let them play. Find the strongest. Then collect the best of them into a more elite force.

Yes?"

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion listened to his assessment of the weapon, and smiled at how it resembled her own critique of the weapon.

"Well, said, Lord Mecetti..." she replied. "Exactly the thoughts I had, when I first wielded it. And yes, the weapon is intentionally built to limit them. They want the Lightfoil, they shall have to earn it. Such a Force may be used of course for many other purposes, chief among them...Gadfly..."

The Battalion could see it now. Maldor gets some occasional henchmen, the weak get weeded out, cycled into the ranks of the strong, and through all of that, she would sharpen Maldor, guide him into the power of Darkness, and House Io gains a valuable ally.

"You may keep that one. We have plenty more..." she assured. "Let's keep this discussion going in a more pleasant venue. Are you hungry?" she asked Maldor Mecetti

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Maldor regarded her for a moment.

The most opportune time for poisoning, torture, or imprisonment had come to an end. It seemed safe enough to enjoy an invitation to dinner. If she'd wanted him dead, he'd be dead. And she seemed to have inflicted all the pain she intended to, for the time being.

"I could enjoy some seared meat that wasn't my own," he admitted.

He glanced about him, "But tell me, is there anything alive here besides us?

I imagine the machines make obedience more sure. But life more dull?"

He winced slightly, extending his arm for her to take if she wished.

"It seems like a lonely business. I half believe that you want my people just so you can enjoy some conversation from time to time."

---

The Battalion

 

[The Battalion]

The Battalion chuckled at his comment about seared meat as she took his arm.

"It happens to everyone in the business." she replied. But then raised her brow.

"House Io is full of Organics. They mingle with the machines here, and while they do serve vital roles...they are also full citizens..." she said gesturing to the distinctly Skeleton like Droids with heavy frames.

"Their programming is modeled on human thought process, or as close to human as can be managed." she explained.

"The Sons of The Parliament shall not falter." The Droids said in unison, saluting.

"I'll explain as we head out..." The Battalion assured.

Five minutes later.

The Brain Demon Cultists section, as it turned out, was deathly quiet because normal citizens avoided it like the plague.

The rest of the ship was much livelier. There were shops, restaurants, theaters, sections deliberately modeled to look like city streets, and always, always with drone cameras flying about. Organic citizens of many species, many wearing the sort of clothes off duty soldiers wear mingling with other Droids, many of whom were as human skeleton-like as the honor guard currently escorting her and Maldor Mecetti , but also clearly distinct models (Some were bulkier, others slimmer) covered in various ribbons and warpaints, their walking and physical gestures disturbingly fluid and human as they were seen moving about the ship streets. Still others were completely human looking, albeit they had supermodel quality looks, covered in skintight catsuits of various colors denoting their function.

There were other Cultists, garbed in complete white, all women, and where they walked, people gave a wide berth and didn't look at them.

"The Nuetralizers were created to fight The Bryn'adul. To be better, more complex, more competent, and more dangerous than any other Droid Army..." She said as she walked through pristine streets with House Io's blue and black triangle banners draped at security checkpoints. Some of the Skeleton Droids even wore cowboy hats with the lever action rifles slung over their shoulder.

That was another thing. Everyone was armed. You could see people at shops, check out lines, stalls, even just casually walking about, armed to the teeth with everything from everything from submachine guns to *wrist mounted flamethrowers. Even the most lightly armed citizen had at least a Sonic Disruptor Pistol to their name.

"Each are born soldiers, battle hardened. Learning from every failure and defeat. To be the best. To fight the best. They were directly responsible for inflicting critical defeats on their forces, and if they didn't inflict defeats, they inflicted mass casualties that were difficult to recover from..."

A Nuetralizer Droid could be seen juggling chainsaws in the distance.

"They were essential in the Victory of the Battle of Sarka. If Sarka had fallen then Kashyyyk which was then the home of the Silver Jedi, would have been under direct threat of invasion. They stalled the Alliance and its allied governments from ending the war against the tenth Sith Empire quickly. Over time, their creator begin to fight the Jedi as much as they fought the Bryn'adul..." The Battalion added as she reached a private open air table at one of her favorite restaurants on the ship. Every organic citizen also eating there went pale with fear when they saw her enter the area. Sure, The Battalion had never and wouldn't harm a law abiding citizen, but everyone knew how absolutely fethed up her Cult was. Only the Droids didn't exhibit any fear.

"We're a society of warriors. We like to make an impact..." she said, ignoring how the Narrator started playing BFG Division for a few seconds OOC as she uttered her last sentence. She heroically kept her mind focused on Maldor. The Honor Guard stood silent by the entrance.

"Their creator knows what it's like to rebel against a backwards system. As you now do. That is another part of what got us interested in educating you." she said as the waiter, a beautiful looking woman in a skintight chromium green catsuit walked up and asked them what they would like.

"Aldera Pie." The Battalion answered politely towards the Vong based HRD.

The female Nuetralizer turned to him. "And you?"

 

[Maldor Mecetti]

​

Maldor listened as she narrated the story of her 'citizenry,' including its bizarre biomechanical membership in their strange costumes.

Everything about this place and its people was incredibly creepy. And this was only the aspects of her society that were casually revealed over light conversation. Who knew what strange and heinous practices were undertaken by The Battalion's dark cult?

What was he turning his people over to?

She ordered a pie. Maldor's gaze roamed over the other organics at the restaurant.

Suddenly, one of them began to cough and choke after taking in a mouthful of soup.

Maldor got up, moving across to them. He probably seemed like a man who was glad of the interruption, so quickly did he jump into action.

Swiftly and expertly delivering the appropriate first-aid maneuver, the source of the choking was relieved and the patron sagged back into his chair, ashen and tremulous from the experience. It was as though a portion of his life had been drained away.

Excusing himself, Maldor returned to The Battalion's table. On his return, his movements were notably smoother and less constrained.

"Um, Candied Farwings, if you have them. It's a delicacy in the Mecetti province, but I'm not sure how far spread it is in the galaxy."

---

The Battalion