And Together, We'll Make Such Vile, Rotten Things!

[Korog Zordaal]

The peregrination of Hyperspace for [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] was rather routine, uneventful, but not stodgy or monotonously boring. Sumiko, a Sith Lord herself, shared a common collaborator in [member="Matsu Xiangu"], which happened to be the very Master that had taken Korog under her brilliantly sadistic wing. Furthermore, Tanaka and Zordaal actually found a mutual interest in many things, as they would learn.

Both held an enduring adoration of all things Academic. They held a mutual lust for the complex measure and process of Alchemy. They were, in fact, both of the Adventuring Scholar-type, opposed to the thuggish-ly brazen sort that seemed to be the status quo of this Chaotic Galaxy.

On the moon of Khar Delba, they met and found a common ground to stand upon. She was his superior, in power and strength. But their equal efficacy of mind seemed to offer them a more devoted stance with which to cooperate with. So thus they had departed, the headless body of Darth Vitium, and the full corpse of her ineffective, inconsequential, daughter stowed safely away on Tanaka's Stealth Ship.

In the interim, as the Stars stretched on as infinite, brilliantly blue, lines through the black silk of space. They had taken to plucking and harvesting the knowledge of all things between them.

It started off with friendly congruence, that with her, he could stretch his legs and expand his intellect. So as they blazed down the Dragon's Trail, they did little more than speak and play. He was her better at the brilliant game of Dejarik, she absolutely paddled his rear end and left him scarred and traumatized at her incredible prowess in the game of Pazaak.

"Ouch," he'd said often during play, then the two would share a laugh before nerding out on the tiniest morsels of information that may be regarded as useless to the every day mind.

Less than two weeks and they had connected from the Dragon's Trail to the Hydian Way. That was when they finally awoke to the klaxon of Ship Alerts. Finally, they'd arrived in the Iseno Sector. Her residence on Denon was just a hop and skip away.

"At last, finally going to get some land beneath our feet again." The tall Muun noted, ducking under the upper ledge of an open door that led to the common area of [member="Sumiko Tanaka"]'s ship.

He'd been busy tucking and tying his robes around his repulsively thin frame. Needing to stand with head and shoulders stooped in the low clearance of the Ship's ceiling. He peered down upon the Atrisian woman, expression curled in to what appeared to be a snide sneer - the natural relaxation of his face, funny enough.

"You know, it's quite clever, Eidolon Supplies & Transport claiming this as their home - as your home." He began slowly, folding a silken red sash around his narrow waist, securing the folds of his top together beneath it's grasp. "The Sith and their Wars had fought and found themselves repelled here for so, so many centuries. Great Sith War, Jedi Civil War, New Sith Wars, the Galactic War!" His voice fractured in to a chuckle, it was a very vile thing to listen to. "Even the Galactic Civil War and the Vong Invasions. . . where the Old Galactic Alliance claimed it as base and home. . . it remained, untainted, mostly good."

He inspect her for but few moments longer, then turned and dragged his lank towards a starboard-side view port. Glaring with admiration upon the Globe of planet-sized Urban Centers. "Then the Denon-Ardru Mutual came along. . . and well, I happen to know a particular Droid Unit that witnessed the bloodletting first hand, should you ever wish to record it in your own words!" He offered graciously, though locating [member="Six-O"] had become more and more difficult now that the wonderfully murderous machine had thrown it's lots in with the new Galactic Alliance.

"Tell me again, Master Tanaka, how did you come to choose this as your center of operations?"

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


The tall, terribly thin Muun would find the comparatively dimunitive Lady lounging upon a couch in the Revenant's common area. Her posture seemed relaxed, but her eyes, which bore the taint of the Dark Side since she'd discarded the contact lenses that usually obscured it, showed her alertness.


Her bare feet rested upon the back of a Xioquo slave girl. The grey-skinned, ivory-haired beauty performed many functions for her Lady. Some of them more willing than others. The Atrisian's toenails were painted a fiery crimson. Sith seemed to have a fixation with the colour red.


She'd been engrossed in a leather-bound tome, but raised her chin when Korog entered. A porcelain cup of Atrisian tea stood upon a small table next to her. Through the view port, one could behold the globe that contained the sprawling mega-city of Denon as the stealth ship approached.


Sumiko chuckled slightly. The sound was more than a little vile and unpleasant. "Hahaha. Do inform me if you cross paths with that Drod Unit again. Hearing the tale firsthand would be exquisite," her voice was sweet. Less like honey and more like a cat's purr. A cat with sharp claws and teeth.


"As you say, Denon has an appealing history behind it. Moreover, it is easy to hide in plain sight and conduct your business unchecked in a megalopolis of billions. Opportunities abound, few Jedi meddle, no power dominates it...yet. Ideal for a Sith who has enough class to keep her corpses in the closet instead of mounting them on pikes for all to see, yes?" Her Atrisian accent was more pronounced as words left her lips. She did not mention Archangel or her history with them.


There was a gleam in her corrupted eyes. "It is also less untainted than most records show. During the Darkness, it was overwhelmned by a flood of zombies. Omega Pyre - still young and vigorous, the Pyre of Kerrigan, Alcori and Cira - launched a campaign to eradicate them." Ironically, these undead creatures had been spawned as part of an experiment to create a cure for the Rakghoul virus. It had worked, just not the way the scientists intended.


There was a pause as she gripped the cup with her delicate pianist fingers, brought it to her lips and drank, savouring the taste. "But some undead survived in the most decayed slums, where few outsiders dare to set foot in. They're fascinating creatures, far more intelligent and adaptable than the rotting corpses that populate the tombs of Korriban and Ziost.


The Muun had impressed her enough during the trip for her to share this piece of information. His Dejarik skills were one reason, his interesting ideas about how to recycle the sadly headless corpse of Darth Vitium and the pleasantly intact body of her daughter another.


"I wonder what effect the infection would have on a Force-sensitive. Would they still be able to muster enough control to manipulate the Force or be overcome by base desires? Perhaps I shall find a hapless Jedi and put it to the test some day," she wondered aloud.


"How'd you enter the services of [member="Matsu Xiangu"]?" The lovely, scary Witch-Necromancer shall be tagged for fangirling reasons. This one is an unrepentant fangirl and proud of it.

 

[Korog Zordaal]

"Yes, [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], I've heard of her. " Korog reacted, deep breath drawing slowly to lungs, expanding his taut chest forward. "So claim the prattle of the Galactic Underworld, " Began the Muun, his head tilted forward and shoulders hung; black eyes slicing through the Common Room as he swung around to tote gaze upon the relaxed Sith Lord. "she made effortless work of [member="Darth Carnifex"]." He laughed, a single close of his eyelids sagging laggardly before they were made to rise once more. "Bruit claims the God-King has lost nearly all credibility among actual villains." He chanced another blink, gliding back towards [member="Sumiko Tanaka"]. "I would say swelled head has returned to a more wield-y size, but I suppose when boastful self-praise is all one can cling upon, he will be as all-powerful and awe inspiring as he never once was."

Raw remarks of truth. Perhaps one day, meager birds may sing and Korog would be faced directly with the alleged Butcher Peasant and held accountable for his wagging tongue. Of course, however, the Edge Lord of Rubes would require more than his embryonic acumen. Korog, after all, did not find knuckle-dragging, and drool mouthing single syllables attractive at all. Fret not, however, the snide Muun would endow plenty of crayons and bare paper for The Black Plastic Tyrant to scribble upon while he and his betters carried on in a more instructed manner.

As Mistress Tanaka spoke on, at length, of the goings on of Denon and enlightened him of backstory and history he had been in the dark over. Korog took to eyeing over her hassock of flesh and bone. Very keen of her, he appreciated the simple gesture of power and dominance.

"Yes, yes I think you may be on to something there." Zordaal agreed, slender arms tucked neatly behind back. "But I would wager, such tests would require more than a single Jedi, well, or any Force-User. . . let us not forget Science and progress know not of discrimination. Remind us after inoculation to send out word of the idea. I know of a great many that could pursue this agenda, or some variation upon it." Of course, that was if they remembered after the battery of medical tests and needles that would beset them.

Well, him.

[member="Sumiko Tanaka"] was already immune and medically capable of surviving on Denon without further worry.

"[member="Matsu Xiangu"], Master, yes. . . " His words stooped with admiration and respect nearly as much as his body had just a moment prior when the Muun had been standing. Now, comfortably seated off to Tanaka's left, he continued. "Well, it wasn't entirely unlike our encounter -- chance of the Force. . . " He began, ready for the long-winded details of that encounter on Trismegis.

Their transport, a mere forty minutes from docking at the Orbital Station.

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


Sumiko did not like Siobhan Kerrigan much. Well, she didn't like her at all. This was a bit sad since both ladies were equally vain and probably shopped in the same clothing stores and visited the same spas.


Alas, they'd never be able to swap fashion tips since any encounter would almost definitely result in violence. Word of the fight between Kerrigan and Kaine had travelled down the grapevine. The outcome did not please Sumiko, but at the same time she didn't like the ex Sith Emperor either.


"I wager you wouldn't say that to his face, yes?" Sumiko said very, very dryly. "The irrepressible Kerrigan. The battering ram. She won the duel, but rumour says she faced betrayal in her own ranks and the larger battle went ill for her. It must gnaw at her ego immensely, if true, though the so called god-king being humiliated amuses me. He is a powerful brute, but clings to past, faded glory. Dark Lord and Emperor are hollow titles with no meaning today. Both he and Kerrigan are surrounded by so many sycophants who tell them they're gods that they've probably started to believe it. It will be her undoing one day, as it will his. Make her think there's a threat to her clan or use her own ego against her, and she loses all reason, " she commented.


Perhaps she was remembering an incident where her dead, unlamented Sith teacher had come very close to killing Kerrigan. In the light of the fact that the Atrisian had plenty of fawning sycophants whose main job was to stroke her ego and kiss her feet, her remarks about delusions of godhood were probably very hypocritical. Vanity, thy name is Sumiko.


She stretched her legs a bit and wiggled her cute toes, taking full advantage of her comfortable, drow-shaped hassock of flesh and bone. No sound save for a quiet sigh escaped the Xioquo's lips. If one were to remove her shirt, one would discover that the slave girl's back was scarred with nasty lashes.


Such punishment had been useful to make the poor lass realise that her owner appreciated her quiet time. In some cases, they were also the result of Sumiko having some rather extreme tastes for nocturnal activities that took place during fade to black scenes. This one cannot elaborate more.


"Oh, yes, one experiment would not suffice. Be it for Force-users or non-Force-users. Such discrimination would produce skewed results and disregard the scientific method. We'd need extensive tests, a control group and so on. Not to mention a vast laboratory entirely devoted to it and we'd have to utilise different viruses to compare the results. Finally, we'd need live field tests."


Her mind was already wandering as she went over the possibilities, but she trailed off. If she were to make a larger project out of it, it might be something to discuss with Matsu. It did not escape her that the Muun's voice was filled with admiration when he spoke of the Witch-Necromancer. She filed that information away.


"Oh, really? Serendipity must have been at work. Do continue," she purred, absent-mindedly reaching out to stroke the Xioquo's ears and pet her like a favourite pet, which was exactly what she was from Sumiko's perspective.


Presumably the Muun elaborating on the long-winded details of his encounter with the infamous Zombie Queen consumed most of the time that remained until their transport passed through the city-planet's atmosphere and passed through the sky towards the rather unassuming Eidolon Supplies & Transport HQ. It was a relatively small building spire in Denon's city-scape, just one tower among many. The transport's destination was a discreet, private landing pad.

 

[Korog Zordaal]

Black ink drenched the sky, latent lights of a million-billion towers, buildings and superstructures sponging the twinkle of distant Stars in to absolute obscurity. Absolutely, had Korog filled in [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] about his introduction to the Ghoul Queen of the Undead. Despite his disturbing voice, it was a tale that quite indeed did hold an engrossing value to it.

But, that had ended some hours ago.

In the time since their conversations on Kaine, Prazutis and Matsu - of their desirous pondering between two vast intellects. They had docked in her private hanger wing on the Denon Orbital Station. There they had been whisked away promptly, sitting, separated from each other in decontamination booths.

Now, as a resident, just as Korog had figured, Sumiko only received a small catalogue of immunity shots. Mostly for a few new disease and common cold strains that managed to sneak in off some Outer-Rim Smugglers that had illegally landed. Perhaps to her horror, one of the needles, that required injection directly in to her spine, looked as if it could pierce the hide of a Rancor.

But better a brief bite of pain and a foggy head, than bleeding from every orifice in your body before evacuating your innards through your bowels. Some of these sicknesses out there, they were more terrifying than any Faction or Individual could ever, and would ever be!

"Mistress Tanaka, so glad to see you returned." A Droid chimed melodically, it was a simple Protocol Unit, installed with a Greetings Package. Sort of worthless for anything else. "If you'll both follow me, I will escort you inside and have the Ship unloaded, my Queen."

"Directly to Cold Storage!" Korog hastily declaim, nudging the gliding repulsor sled that hover with Darth Vitium and her progeny upon it's support surface. "Directly." He repeated, palm rubbing his long forehead, one of his shots making him uncomfortably warm, even as a brisk breeze swept through the lowered landing ramp and in to the belly of the Stealth Vessel.

"So, my friend, if it was no bother. . . I'd prefer the tour directly from you." He requested of [member="Sumiko Tanaka"], there was always something more intimate listening to the actual Host nurture the coming and goings of their Property, opposed to the mechanical help.

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


After a brief stop at the Denon Orbital Stations to receive their cootie shots, the pair proceeded towards the corporate building on the surface. Take note, Sith Lords of the Galaxy, for there are manifold diseases that can even be the doom of a Master of the Force.


Come to think of it, that would be a rather poetic ending for a Sith Emperor if we ever get one: Conquers the entire Galaxy, exterminates the Jedi, crushes Siobhan Kerrigan...then dies because he thought he was above a simple inoculation.


Regardless, Sumiko braved the needles. Even the one that looked as if could pierce a Rancor's hide and was injected right into her spine. There was some nasty scarring around her spine that had never fully healed. Once, the Atrisian Inquisition's trademark control device had been implanted there.


Such a lovely toy that represented the Inquisition's philosophy in a nutshell: Total control and ruthless efficiency. Far more effective than something so crude as a shock collar or implanting someone's skull with a bomb.


But those days were long past. She'd broken her chains. The Empire's collapse had set her free. To be a Sith was to pursue the path of self-exaltation. Your power and your ability to use it wisely gave you the right to exalt yourself above others. With power came security and control. No one would ever be allowed to control her again. Sometimes, she used this device on troublesome minions or important captives.


"Bring the package to cold storage. Now," Sumiko confirmed in a chilly, authoritative voice, for the Protocol Droid had been looking to her for confirmation. The machine obeyed and began to convey the repulsor sled towards its destination with all due haste.


She glanced towards Korog. "Oh, it's no bother at all. Do follow me. This floor is devoted towards the company's...official business. Antiques and valuable art. It's profitable enough to support my real ventures. The real work gets done behind close doors, so to speak..."


And so the tour began. The antiques business was a facade, but the Atrisian was smart enough to make it genuine. Simple pride and professionalism also played a role. One could purchase works of art from Naboo and Onderon, sculptures from Dahomey, even the occasional ancient katana from Atrisia and so on and so forth. Here and there, one would be able to acquire a datacron or scroll that contained information about Force arcana and mysticism, but this was simple stuff that would not raise any red flags. For obvious reasons, few purchases actually took place here.


The deepest levels could only be accessed via a retinal scan and an arcanic combination - blood magic. This was the building's dark heart. Resin coating threw off Force senses, making it difficult to perceive what lay behind the veil. Of course, there were certain areas that Korog would not be shown. That was just common sense.


If someone were to use a commlink or a holocam device they'd snuck in, they would find that the signal was...disrupted. Perhaps this was caused by technology, Sith sorcery or a combination thereof. The Lady would lead him into what could be described as an arcanic workshop, complete with shelves filled with occult paraphernalia and various medical implements.

 

[Korog Zordaal]

Thus the tour began, [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] was a fine, exquisite, Hostess. It wrought little more than modest nod and gravelly "Aha. . . " when it had been announced that her Company, Eidolon Supplies & Transport, had deep transactions fed through the exceptional field of rare Antiques, Artifacts and alluring pieces of Art. For she conducted herself in the manner of a Museum Adviser, or an Auction Teller.

Truth be said of the matter, it was a rare and wonderfully noble role. So many fine pieces of history were floating around out there, just waiting to find themselves beheld again. But, even more pertinent, many objects of a more hideous and nefarious design often managed to breeze through the cracks of Customs, Jedi, Hoarders and other Siths. The world of Auctions and Antiques was one steeped in as much mystery and treasure as any adventure to Temple or Planet.

"Ah, a work of M'ria Schmi't, " Korog paused the expedition briefly. Several of Sumiko's Historian and Marketeers were hauling an Oil Painting that stood three meters high, and five meters across through a side entrance out towards a climate controlled lock room. "If you don't mind, " Said Korog, breaking free from her side for the most compressed of moments.

The tall Muun, with right palm clutching left elbow, and his fingers gently pulling upon his chin, scrutinized the work deeply. It was beautiful.

"This was a later work done by the woman, but it was of one of the earliest Inquisitions of the planet Ord Radama." He said, pulling fingers from chin as he turned his body to the side and pointed with large sweeping gestures, as if he were painting the piece of work himself. "She had been a Jedi Artisan, absolutely renown for her murals and works on Jedi Temples all around the Galaxy. Yes, I see you have another one of her pieces there. . . a fake, sad. . . " Clearly he had a well learned eye to decipher that, especially from the length of distance he stood.

Urged forward with another step, he let the backs of his fingers brush lightly upon the canvas, his eyes closed, lungs filling with a heavy breath drawn through the slits of his nose.

"Mm. . " He wheezed so lowly, "This is indeed an original, probably before the First Crusade, it definitely portrays the Torture and Bloodletting of De Luca. A Givin Inquisitor, a Herald. You see this here, " He pointed to the man with mallet and spike. "Among, many things, one of his favored methods was to crush the Tibia and Fibula with wood and metal vice." A putrid grin curled his sickly lips, matching his voice. "Then after bones had been rendered to splinters and shards, he would take a stone chisel and hammer, press the spike to the knees." He motioned with his hands, holding one aloft from his body, while the other struck down towards it repeatedly.

One, two, three, four, five times he made the motion while he returned to Sumiko's side.

"Needless to say, what was left didn't exactly fit well in to a cybernetic replacement. One of the most ruthless Inquisitions to have ever arose. But. . . you know all about that, don't you, my dear Master, Tanaka." His grin never faded, allowing her to lead onward with her tour. Already more intrigued by this woman than he had been even before. She had taste and style. She reminded him of [member="Matsu Xiangu"]. Or, at least shared what drew him towards the Necromancer, intellect.

By the time they had arrived in her workshop, Korog was drunk from the lovely surroundings and knowledge he was undoubtedly about to share and learn from this Sith Lady, an Inquisitor of Old Atrisia. Her workshop did not disappoint. Ancient and Evil, sodden with the wax and glow of a million candles. Instruments of all make and measure strewn over book stacked tables, and dusty wood shelves that held all manner of ingredient, some living -- some from the living.

He almost felt at home!

"Oh, my sweet, [member="Sumiko Tanaka"], you have been holding out on me this whole trip!"

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


Sumiko chuckled, clearly pleased by the Muun's evident enthusiasm when he elaborated on the marvellous painting while making sweeping gestures. "M'ria Schmidt was very talented. This is probably her greatest work. It's so vivid, visceral...and captures the essence of De Luca. Quite a character. We preferred the scalpel to the hammer, but his Compendium Maleficarium was required reading in the Citadel Inquisitorius on Atrisia," the lady commented.


Not all her memories of the old days were unpleasant. The time she'd spent under the yoke had moulded her into the woman she now was. Who would she have become of her if she'd never been identified as a Forceful being, almost burnt at the stake by an angry mob and then seized by the Inquisition? A very different woman. Probably a less exceptional one.


In that regard, [member="Matsu Xiangu"] was correct: Pain made you stronger. One must go through the flames of tribulation, be humbled and experience suffering in order to achieve greatness.


There was a cruel grin on her face when Korog seemed to nerdgasm all over the workshop. "Why, thank you. It is my pride and joy. So many hours spent here, all dedicated to the Art. Do take a look around. We shall be spending a lot of time here," she ran a reverent finger across one of the many tomes that were stacked in a book shelf.


Close inspection would reveal that the eldritch tome was covered by human skin. Likewise, similar investigation would yield the revelation that a chair was similarly covered and, moreover, made from human bone. However, a visitor would search in vain for a goblet made out of a human skull because Sumiko considered that a bit tacky. Yeah...right. Two disembodied eyeballs were stuck in a jar. Supposedly they'd once belonged to a seer.


"Have you given thought about how we should...recycle the corpses? So many possibilities, so little parts, alas. I feel like the teeth of Vitium's daughter could be part of a necklace or bracelet, imbued with the Dark Side." In a corner stood a bronzium statue of Wapoe, the Atrisian demigod of disguise. Maybe [member="Valiens Nantaris"] would like to write Souldrinker making snarky comments?

 

[Korog Zordaal]

One might consider the deportment of an individual and the catechism of words they provided, of a Muun especially, but of He, most all. Korog could appreciate a woman like She. It was funny then, that as she spoke consequent to the ever peeled ears and minute attention to even the lightest detail. Funny that he felt the blades edge of a memory trim his neck and sever throat, @Tirdarius. Yes, for a moment he would recall the smug dismissal of a invertebrate coward.

Even with words spoken directly upon ear, the man, the Lord, shuck him aside as if foul of worth. Someone, none of consequence. Quite humorous, given the exiguous valuation the cretin clutch to breast. If for moment this fellow believed himself above reprieve, sorely mistaken, would the dunce be.

"Yes, the methods he subjected upon the population of that World were quite breathtaking." Korog had replied.

But now he was quite content in probing the belly of her Workshop. Eyes alight with fervid lust, she was a woman of taste and artifice. He was equally jealous of the storage, collection and capabilities of her dungeon as he was astonished.

"Hmm, Master Xiangu has spoken of you, briefly, albeit, but she regarded you highly. So it is indeed an honor." He informed of [member="Matsu Xiangu"], but this compliment came as shield for his inquiry. "[member="Sumiko Tanaka"], tell me, do you recall the man I had stood beside, the. . . for lack of a better term, Lord?" Fascinated with her collection of salvaged body parts and dismembered limbs, he poked curiously upon the glass of floating eyeballs.

It was never wise, in the reality that the Sith lived in, to impolitely abuse those one may regard as lesser prospects. You never knew just whom they might become.

"I agree, in fact, I had thought of plucking those teeth for similar trinkets myself. I believe that to be a sign, if ever I've witnessed one." He concluded, buffering his prying with a thorough heap of frosting. Not that he meant to manipulate her, but that man could quite well have been a very close ally, he did not want to startle game from bush.

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


Compliments pleased the Sith Lady, though she saw past them. Sumiko raised a delicate, vaguely quizzical eyebrow. "Oh, yes, that Lord. Tirdarius. He's terribly fond of preaching, but is short on accomplishment. An old has been from the dead Sith Empire. Moves from one Sith or Imperial group to the next." Haughty, arrogant disdain was strong in her tone. She shrugged dismissively. The Muun's recycling ideas pleased her.


"Make sure those eyeballs don't fall out. They're quite precious. And do give Matsu my regards. She chooses her students well...but then she's a daughter of Atrisia, too. It's a pity we don't have Vitium's head with us, but the rest will do. I'm quite taken by the idea of bone wind chimes." Maybe enchanted, so that they'd whisper. Presumably the writers would have to word the gore politely.

 

[Korog Zordaal]

"All things, my dear, " Korog flounce briskly upon her, an unanticipated degree of haste carrying his lean limbs. "are Precious!" Elation grasp every letter that leaned from his lungs.

Korog stood a great range higher than she would find her height able to reach, and his hand, fingers long and slender, clasped strong upon her bicep. The way the alien leaned, it was something quite frightful, his bony stoop, that descend his eyes level to her gaze; head so strangely shaped, by human standards.

His grin was authentic, his black orbs debarking a sense of anticipation in their reflective gleam, the single, white dots of his pupils not once wavering from her. His behavior was of a peculiar sort. Something, perhaps, lost in translation between their two species.

"I know just what I shall craft you, [member="Sumiko Tanaka"], and where my hand fails. . . you will guide me." Trust, respect, but that voice. . . it was as sand paper upon eardrum. "Shall we begin?" He dropped the subject of the other Sith Lord nearly as quickly as it had find itself injected to the conversation, satisfied with the morsel of information he had received from the Sith Lady. It was more than enough to further draw his conclusion.

The man would receive visit from Korog one day. That was quite, quite, sure.

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


There was probably something deeply disturbing about two people getting terribly excited at the prospect of sniping, tripping and choping two corpses so that they could make jewellry, furniture, trinkets and other instruments out of them.


But respect for the dead was a quality Sumiko was thoroughly lacking in. Necromancy was the art of mugging Death and making away with the goods into the darkness of the night, after all. To be a Sith meant to free yourself from the shackles that the unenlightened referred to as morality.


Slave morality. Championed by the bovine, dignified by the weak to justify their weakness. Malignant Social Darwinism at its finest. "Indeed, let us begin. The cold storage should have preserved the bodies nicely. I should have all the required utensils here," she went about to gather the necessary tools.

 

[Korog Zordaal]

[member="Sumiko Tanaka"], oh how you knew quite, absolutely, how to make a Muun feel welcome. Her own Shop, her fervently collected ingredients and samples. Her Tools. How enchanting. Korog would require no further spur, to animate his gangling mass of bony limbs and taut brawn to life. From her he did dissolve, lost among shelves and tables.

"My patron, tell me first, " He paused, an episode that he oft repeated. Which at times was far more pleasant than hearing him prattle at length, poor heiritor of a voice that could split the ears of a Rancor. "You do, how divine, Lady Sumiko." From around four-sided stone pillar, the billowy titan of height rove to view of the Sith Lady.

Hands gingerly clutching the square sleeve of a very Ancient and magnificent medium of Audio Transcendence. Like he had labored here for a millennia or more, he located the device that would rotate life in to the Vinyl disc that so carefully slid in to fingers. It was actually a very rebarbative display of just how keen and aware he was of all things. Clearly he was a creature of deliberative observance; in, and of, all things!

Quoit fell to rest upon spinning table, fore finger slid, quite careful, a rectangular lever. Then finally, with loft of thumb, arm and needle touched vinyl, never even a scratch deriving.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7rxl5KsPjs[/youtube]

"Ah, yes, dear Sumiko." He turned towards her, arms tucked behind back for briefest of moments as the melody transformed her Workshop in to their own Canorour Emporium of Aversion. "Yes, what terrible. . . rotten things. . . we shall create." He concluded with chin held up, eyes pressed shut, a subtle sway bending his shoulders from side to side.

"The Chalk Board, love. Pull it near. . . " Again, how he'd already noticed it, tucked neatly between tight rows shelves that housed numerous sketches and schematics was quite awe inspiring.

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


Akuma was roused by the delightful music that he could hear coming from his Mistress' special room. He knew that his mistress was fond of playing what she called 'elegant, classical' music whenever she was working. Sometimes the grey-skinned, fragile looking females played for her.


Perhaps this meant that she had a weak-willed flesh bag for him to devour! So the huge, mutated Atrisian tiger trotted towards the workshop. His eyes gleamed with anticipation and excitement as he got closer.


He could smell his Mistress' dark, glorious scent and basked in it. However, he sensed that she was not alone. The tall, terribly thin, almost emaciated looking, masked alien had a similar scent. Did this mean he was another Darkfriend? Once his Mistress had brought a Darkfriend down to the secret chamber, but she'd disappointed her. So she'd allowed Akuma to devour the girl. To his ears, her screams had sounded like a choir of angels.


Akuma growled, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth, as he marched into the room and nudged the spindly looking Darkfriend. "Akuma, don't eat him," his Mistress spoke sharply. Her voice was like the crack of a whip.


"And don't eat those either," she added, absent-mindedly petting him, when suddenly freshly preserved corpses were being wheeled in by a grey-skinned, knife-eared girl, who was rank with fear. It was a pleasant smell, as far as the tiger was concerned. "You can have what we don't recycle. Girl, get him his meal."

 

[Korog Zordaal]

"So, " Began the Muun airily, his long head swaying slow and smooth from one side to the next. Eyes closed, single arm behind back--his right---while it's twin rose and fell lazily, Maestro of this atrocious routine. "Lady Sumiko. . "

Korog's eyes opened, carefully, his alien features lowering, just barely. As the large beast swept by his side. Gingerly he brought the tips of his right hand, unfolding from behind his thin frame, to strike the fiendishly terrible beast along it's side and hide quarter, palming clasping around the whipping tail, until finally Akuma had ventured beyond his reach, and to his rightful Master.

"Ah, a Tiger of Atrisia. I had thought the Galaxy would be robbed of them after the. . . you know." He whispered softly of the events that lead to the fall of that world and it's Empire. "You continue to impress, dear, I feel quite spoiled." He informed honestly, a smile as ghoulish as his look coiled his features.

He'd already found this woman to be remarkable, but it seemed every moment longer, she unfurled more and more of her macabre passion. A blossoming flower of death and delight. He understood why [member="Matsu Xiangu"] appreciated this woman so.

"Tell me, Love, " That patented pause befell his tongue once more, providing reprieve from his foul verse. "How many infants are at your call?"

The slate colored female had finally hoisted both bodies off from the repulsor sled she'd pulled them in upon. Struggling now with trying to single-handedly heave them up on to the operation table, the theatre proper, of this hideous dungeon alcove of suffering and monstrosity. But Korog would not have her blemish his prize.

"Allow me, " He growled, his voice slithering like vicious reptile.

With his left hand, fingers splayed, he loft bodies to sky. Maneuvering them with precision and grace. From the corpses the preservation bags peeled away, folding while hung there in the air, absent guiding hands. The headless corpse of Silara pressed first upon table, her body bare, and daughter soon joined. Her head resting safely upon her nude stomach, hands clasping it's lifeless skull.

The chalk sketch board, that Korog had requested, it too came wheeling forward. Narrowly dodging [member="Sumiko Tanaka"] and her prowling beastie.

"Children, my dear?" Korog repeated, remaining quite still, firmly rooted in the same spot he had been since the entry of her four-legged friend. "How many?"

 

[Darth Libertas]

[member="Korog Zordaal"]


The ashen faced drow girl, her skin grey as smoke, could not leave the laboratory of horrors quickly enough. The only thing that ensured her escape possessed some dignity and was not performed with undue haste was the knowledge that her mistress would not appreciate the noise.


Sumiko paid the girl no mind. Even the bloodthirsty beast was forgotten when her corrupted eyes raked over the two lovely corpses, drinking in the lovely sight as if it were the most precious thing ever.


"Yes, bone wind chimes," she purred. Having put on a pair of gloves, she ran a hand over Vitium's cold corpse, examining it. It was immaculately preserved, as was that of her offspring. "Pity she lacks a head. Otherwise I'd be make a mask out of the skull. Hmm. Maybe her daughter. Teeth bracelet and a ring. Hmmph. What to do with the skin," she muttered to herself, sounding like an absent-minded professor.


It was then that Korog's words registed with her. "Oh, infants? What could you possibly desire those for?" she drawled. Some rituals were most effective if you sacrificed innocent newborn. Akuma prowled across the room like a hungry, caged lion. When the slave girl returned, he all but tore the meat she was carrying out of her hands.