I have been reborn.
But I am always reborn, such is the nature of my existence. I am a creature of vats and tubes, the science and magic of fleshcrafting. A creature that is made and never could've been born.
But something has changed this time, under normal circumstances my reforging is under the pretense of near-death. Another bout to stave off the creeping fingers that wish to drag me back down into oblivion. No, I have been reborn because Carnifex has bid it so.
As it always comes down to, follow the bidding of the Butcher King. Such is the life of a peon, a minion, a hound. A lash. His Lash, the Lash of the Kainite: as he has so bid me.
It is an agonizing rebirth, but such is the price for power. Power flows through me the likes of which I have never felt before, not since I awoke on Kamino. Our marriage has allowed me access to that which I had never thought possible, he is now I, and I am now him.
It is a bond primal and deep, the blood of two has mixed in the gestalt of my being to become one, slinking through my veins like vile ichor. Does it not make us kin? Am I not evolved into something greater, a slave that has broken the chains?
Before me lay the shards of my helm, the helm that had become Lirka Ka: not the face underneath. Pieces of Mandalorian "Beskar", plundered in His name and a reward for my service. Reduced to useless shards under his touch…did I possess such power now? I gaze upon my reflection in the metallic gleam, the brand upon my forehead red and raw as if it had just been pressed.
I frown.
Or have I simply evolved into a slave whose chains have been secured for eternity. Yet, the power is undeniable. So the impasse of my existence is reached once more, in these dark and desolate places. Lirka Ka is the mask, and the mask lay shattered. Drive swells in my chest once more as I grab my tools, the flick of a handful of switches as my forge burns to life once more.
Yes, Carnifex had broken me. Shattered my being, but with it the tools of MY rebirth had been given to me. In the boundless wisdom of my lord, his hubris vast as the void outside my window: he has relinquished part of himself into I, and with it the path to my ascension is secured.
I grab my tools, things that had laid dormant for many years. I am a weaponsmith by trade, and the workings of my plundered beskar never shared. But I shall not be deterred. The metal Lirka Ka would be remade in that forge, as the flesh was remade in Kainite tower. Darkness swells in my heart as I watch the first batch of metal turn to molten goo, taking the first of the two shards into my hands as carefully I remake the weld, filling in the cracks His touch had given birth to.
I feel the Force around me once again, distant, but closer than it had ever been. It is a strange feeling, but familiar to a Different Face in a Different Time. I am reminded of my place, of what Lirka Ka is. A creature of twilight, that which has slipped in between the cracks of the world just like the metal that now slips between the cracks of these broken shards.
Not Sith, but not quite Imperial.
Not quite Force Sensitive, and not quite Force Dead.
Not quite Slave, and not quite Master.
But it is in twilight that the Dark had spoken to me, it is in twilight that the esoteric and foul things of our universe dwell. Otherspace. The Anti-Force. The monstrous Charon. The myths and legends that I had found fascination and comfort both in equal measure. We were the same, that which dwelled beyond, that which fell under purview of Primordial Dark.
The first pieces of my mask joined, the cracks still simmering and glowing with molten heat. Soon the next joined, and the next. It was remade as I have been remade, so many times. To rise again, when it should not be able to. Systems reattached, the many mechanisms of its being added till I could gaze upon a creation of comfort. To gaze upon the metallic face, blank and emotionless, that I knew as my own. With each metallic shard added, it turned closer to a mirror, the brand growing more visible the further I progressed. The sight only redoubles my efforts, the itch of the wound compels me to continue.
Carnifex and I are one now, even if he does not know it to be true. The bond of blood has run too deep for me to accept anything less, we are kin. There can be no other way. A bond too deep, too primordial, to be that of mere mortal lovers, like those of his great horde of wives and concubines. Ours shall be a bond of brother and sister, born atrocities and murders we have share rather than the womb.
He is their Eternal-Father, so shall I ascend as their monstrous Eternal-Mother! Radiant in my damnation! Till that glorious day shall come where we will share the eternal bond, Kin formed into one being in the jaws of gnashing teeth and writhing flesh. A creature of strength so great, I shall live till the End of All Things and watch the stars grow cold!
The mask, now repaired, sits before me. Its cracks gleaming with the light of the molten metal used in its repair: like staring upon a broken pane of glass. I take my newly repaired helmet into my hand once more, placing it over my head to hide the brand He has placed upon me.
Here, in this desolate and dark place lit only by the fires of recreation the dreams of Lirka Ka, obedient Lash of the Kainite, shall be born. They shall know my name and despair, they shall cry it out in exaltation and in fear. No matter how many years, no matter how many decades, even a century I will wait.
I shall rise.
An Eternal Mother! Monstrous and resplendent! She who was mighty enough to take in the power of our Lord of Black Iron and become his Kin! A mother to all those wretched creatures in the cracks of this Galaxy!
But for now, as the mask covers my face, and the lenses of my vision flare to life once more, turning upon my heels to exit I enter back into the realm of the Empire.
Till the day of glorious ascendancy comes, I shall be but Lirka Ka, slave to the Kainite.
But I am always reborn, such is the nature of my existence. I am a creature of vats and tubes, the science and magic of fleshcrafting. A creature that is made and never could've been born.
But something has changed this time, under normal circumstances my reforging is under the pretense of near-death. Another bout to stave off the creeping fingers that wish to drag me back down into oblivion. No, I have been reborn because Carnifex has bid it so.
As it always comes down to, follow the bidding of the Butcher King. Such is the life of a peon, a minion, a hound. A lash. His Lash, the Lash of the Kainite: as he has so bid me.
It is an agonizing rebirth, but such is the price for power. Power flows through me the likes of which I have never felt before, not since I awoke on Kamino. Our marriage has allowed me access to that which I had never thought possible, he is now I, and I am now him.
It is a bond primal and deep, the blood of two has mixed in the gestalt of my being to become one, slinking through my veins like vile ichor. Does it not make us kin? Am I not evolved into something greater, a slave that has broken the chains?
Before me lay the shards of my helm, the helm that had become Lirka Ka: not the face underneath. Pieces of Mandalorian "Beskar", plundered in His name and a reward for my service. Reduced to useless shards under his touch…did I possess such power now? I gaze upon my reflection in the metallic gleam, the brand upon my forehead red and raw as if it had just been pressed.
I frown.
Or have I simply evolved into a slave whose chains have been secured for eternity. Yet, the power is undeniable. So the impasse of my existence is reached once more, in these dark and desolate places. Lirka Ka is the mask, and the mask lay shattered. Drive swells in my chest once more as I grab my tools, the flick of a handful of switches as my forge burns to life once more.
Yes, Carnifex had broken me. Shattered my being, but with it the tools of MY rebirth had been given to me. In the boundless wisdom of my lord, his hubris vast as the void outside my window: he has relinquished part of himself into I, and with it the path to my ascension is secured.
I grab my tools, things that had laid dormant for many years. I am a weaponsmith by trade, and the workings of my plundered beskar never shared. But I shall not be deterred. The metal Lirka Ka would be remade in that forge, as the flesh was remade in Kainite tower. Darkness swells in my heart as I watch the first batch of metal turn to molten goo, taking the first of the two shards into my hands as carefully I remake the weld, filling in the cracks His touch had given birth to.
I feel the Force around me once again, distant, but closer than it had ever been. It is a strange feeling, but familiar to a Different Face in a Different Time. I am reminded of my place, of what Lirka Ka is. A creature of twilight, that which has slipped in between the cracks of the world just like the metal that now slips between the cracks of these broken shards.
Not Sith, but not quite Imperial.
Not quite Force Sensitive, and not quite Force Dead.
Not quite Slave, and not quite Master.
But it is in twilight that the Dark had spoken to me, it is in twilight that the esoteric and foul things of our universe dwell. Otherspace. The Anti-Force. The monstrous Charon. The myths and legends that I had found fascination and comfort both in equal measure. We were the same, that which dwelled beyond, that which fell under purview of Primordial Dark.
The first pieces of my mask joined, the cracks still simmering and glowing with molten heat. Soon the next joined, and the next. It was remade as I have been remade, so many times. To rise again, when it should not be able to. Systems reattached, the many mechanisms of its being added till I could gaze upon a creation of comfort. To gaze upon the metallic face, blank and emotionless, that I knew as my own. With each metallic shard added, it turned closer to a mirror, the brand growing more visible the further I progressed. The sight only redoubles my efforts, the itch of the wound compels me to continue.
Carnifex and I are one now, even if he does not know it to be true. The bond of blood has run too deep for me to accept anything less, we are kin. There can be no other way. A bond too deep, too primordial, to be that of mere mortal lovers, like those of his great horde of wives and concubines. Ours shall be a bond of brother and sister, born atrocities and murders we have share rather than the womb.
He is their Eternal-Father, so shall I ascend as their monstrous Eternal-Mother! Radiant in my damnation! Till that glorious day shall come where we will share the eternal bond, Kin formed into one being in the jaws of gnashing teeth and writhing flesh. A creature of strength so great, I shall live till the End of All Things and watch the stars grow cold!
The mask, now repaired, sits before me. Its cracks gleaming with the light of the molten metal used in its repair: like staring upon a broken pane of glass. I take my newly repaired helmet into my hand once more, placing it over my head to hide the brand He has placed upon me.
Here, in this desolate and dark place lit only by the fires of recreation the dreams of Lirka Ka, obedient Lash of the Kainite, shall be born. They shall know my name and despair, they shall cry it out in exaltation and in fear. No matter how many years, no matter how many decades, even a century I will wait.
I shall rise.
An Eternal Mother! Monstrous and resplendent! She who was mighty enough to take in the power of our Lord of Black Iron and become his Kin! A mother to all those wretched creatures in the cracks of this Galaxy!
But for now, as the mask covers my face, and the lenses of my vision flare to life once more, turning upon my heels to exit I enter back into the realm of the Empire.
Till the day of glorious ascendancy comes, I shall be but Lirka Ka, slave to the Kainite.
