Private Great Elves Think Alike

[Akulak Mantacor]

Location: Zeta Zero Nine, Akulak's Research Lab


It was precious moments like this that the Sephi found himself to be rather irritable. The monitor for his subject beeped quickly as it's vitals began to drop off, indicating he was running out of time. Delicate hands were needed for delicate work, but the Forlorn Tempest ( Lirka Ka ) didn't seem to care for his art display. The subject was still laid across the table, it's organs and rib cage still exposed, as the Sith Scientist continued his work. His third eye lingered away from the work, looking to his honored guest instead. Very few came to his lair of their own volition, and yet here one stood. This one was rightious, it's posture indicating a simmering rage kept within, a burning zeal that it could hardly contain within its being. From what he could tell, it was a female of the Sephi variety, but it had been changed greatly; a embodiment of his beliefs if he was to be so bold.

The moment of distraction gave way to cascading events of failure, as the subject flatlined, the implant that Akulak had sought to install sat unused upon a medical tray, still kept safe inside it's storage unit. Seeing his attempt had failed yet again, a low growl escaped his lips. He took only a moment to remove the fruits of his labors from his body, staining the cloth he had used crimson. Pulling away from the subject, he scribbled notes about what went wrong, his third eye still studying the other Sephi. "Speak Forlorn Tempest. You earn my interest, and it is not given lighty." Questions rattled about in his wrapped mind, particularly of how this one had honed her form to such an extent. It was his life's work to achieve such a state, but those talks were not for here and now. He could wait to hear the details in due time.


Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Heavy metal footfalls filled the room as Lirka and her entourage entered the Sith's lab, it seemed her personal guard had been let loose once again: always a rare sight, they were some of the few beings in this Galaxy that Lirka actually cherished. And now, here she stood gazing upon another of her kindred: even if he is one of the Cultists, they shared a rare blood in this Galaxy.

One of her subjects.

But there were other things at hand, she looked to the broken and mangled corpse with a grim amusement: she had been torn apart like that more times than she'd like to admit, in fact, it had not been all that long ago she had herself entirely remade into what stood before them. She had desires to share such a similar gift to those special few mortal beings in the Galaxy, to form a new bulwark for the Empire's darkest days. But the important things needed to happen first.

"Even as a wayward child of Thustra. I am still your Queen, I demand the respect of such a title."

It held not much malice, as much as it was simply a firm statement as she stepped forward. Letting her helmet hiss as it was removed, being placed in the crook of her arm: Lirka was repulsive, in her own special way: the jagged and defined features of her face were much too perfect, two eyes like icy diamonds studied Akulak Mantacor: the removal of her helmet was an unassuming gesture, but Lirka's face was a well hidden secret to much of the Empire. Seems sharing species let him in on all kinds of little things.

 

[Akulak Mantacor]

Demands? Titles? Bah. There was no place here for such things. If one wished reapect, one made themselves worthy of such. Yes this one was mighty, her form was honed, truly spectacular as an entity; she was did not lord over him yet.


The Sephi cackled at what Forlorn Tempest spoke of, perhaps seeking to see what this being could do if he declined. "I give nor receive such respects, nor do I recognize any crown that claims to be lordship. If I seek the heart of a god and devour it, it does not make me divine, however enlightened I may become." Akulak explained, his form straightening as he strode to face the Sephi who demanded much of him. "I see things for what they are, Forlorn Tempest. A queen you seek to be, but in the heart you are rage incarnate. Form perfected. I envy your strength. Your adaptation is impressive indeed." He stared at her, his golden mask stained with blood droplets, but his eyes still looking upon her. He had cast aside mortal things such as titles and customs, preferring his own mindset of adaptations and evolutions in its place. He smiled, knowing what he was asking, but wished to see how this one would act. His loyalty was not so easily given. "If you seek my obedience, you need only show your strength is greater than my own." He was no warrior, the request was rather foolish.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Her face grew cold, those eyes filled with judgement. And here was the newest of the grim reminders of what must happen to all Sephi, what Lirka knew must happen: they would bend the knee, or it would break instead.

She snarled, her teeth long since modified now to be little more than a shining row of razor sharp knives within her mouth. But she looked to Akulak Mantacor with determination, the self-absorbed arrogance that none except Lirka could truly match: a being who deemed themselves a god amongst mortals, the end made manifest.

"You disappoint me. But I suppose I should expect nothing less from a Cultist."

Strength? Oh she knew strength, but strength had grown beyond it's simple meanings now.

"I could kill you, rend your meat from your bones before you even realized it. I could burn your pathetic excuse of a lab to little more than burning debris: but that is crude, that is not true strength. Do you wish to see true strength, Cultist? A world died at my hand, it's people once proud and honorable warriors scattered to the wind like rats, scampering and crawling to gain whatever footing they can. I stand amongst the highest positions of the Empire, and so many are willing to lick my boot for but the chance at my favor. Legions beckon to my call, the children of Mandalore are my army! I am the champion of Choah! Marshal, Traitor, Moff all the same! For even the void of Chaos could not claim me, for I have transcended death itself!"

She paused for a moment, before grim and sick satisfaction grew across her face.

"And I could burn a swathe through this empire with but a swipe of my hand."

Sometimes, strength needed to take on my abstract forms.

 

[Akulak Mantacor]

Her temper did not phase the deranged scientist, though her remarks of calling him a cultist was amusing. Did she think he cared? Mortal titles were flimsy attachments, they did nothing, they meant nothing, they were idiotic words slapped onto names to establish some sort of order against the chaos of the universe. "Words are not strength. If I disappoint, perhaps you do not see what I see, know what I know. Few do. The keyhole is small, and egos to large to witness the truth are everywhere. Forlorn Tempest has glimpsed the truth, but not grasped it. Nor has this vessel." Forlorn Tempest clung to these titles, it was an illusion of power, a way to shelter her fragile candle wick against the storms of chaos. She had the form of purity, but she lacked the will to form herself into something beyond imagining. Lamentable, but...there was something be gained here. If he could ascertain the pure form of Forlorn Tempest, he could perhaps reach the goal he had longed for. He took up a vibro saw from the table, looking to Forlorn Tempest for a moment, before nodding.

"A demonstration perhaps, for you, Forlorn Tempest. One you can understand." Taking the saw in hand, Akulak turned it on, and drew it down his chest, slicing open the skin between his rib cage, and spilling blood from the wound as he did so. He dropped the saw to the floor, as the shock and damage inflicted began to compromise his bodies functions; but it was under control. The pain was astonishing, exquisite even, though the Sephi merely accepted it, drew it in, and went to work mending the damage he had done. The muscles and skin pulsated, growing over the wicked gash, as the Sephi dropped to his knees, his body rearranging itself to withstand the damage.

He rose to his feet, his chest still pulsating and quivering as the flesh mended itself. The Sephi seemed to have shaken off the weakness that had crippled his body moments before. Forlorn Tempest saw his as an underling, as one of the other lesser beings from which cowered under her heel. He was not one of these, and if she sought his hands in her ploy, she would need to acknowledge such; though her form was far superior to his own. "Do not judge me for one of the lesser beings, Forlorn Tempest, for I care not for their squabbling. If they can acknowledge the purity of your form, then they only admit their own weakness and failings. You howl with rage, you scream with fury, your voice is a thunder bolt to the eyes and ears of the blind and dumb. Yet you burn wildly, no focus, no fervor. Queen you may be of the lesser beings, but of this vessel you are not Queen." Akulak tipped his head, removing the golden mask as he would reveal his true face to Forlorn Tempest. "This vessel still wishes to see what Forlorn Tempest can bring forth, to see the purity of form, the changes she brings. If Forlorn Tempest will have this vessel, then this vessel acknowledges the superiority of Forlorn Tempest." Akulak waited for the answer, curious what the Sephi opposite him would do. There was a method to his madness, though others could quite see it.

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka was a blizzard, filled with icy shards of pure and unadulterated disappointment. This degenerate was the first of her people she could finally see again? The universe had it's sick jokes it liked to play on her, for over a century now at this point. Fine. She would show the crude strength he desired.

"For saying you are not one of the insects, you are about as daft as one."

Lirka was a well-oiled machine, for so long had she utterly devoted herself to the art of murder: for it was truly her art, just as so many Sephi had merely taken up painting or sculpting back on her homeworld. Speed was her key now, where after her initial rebirth it had been a raw berserk rage and unnatural strength: she no longer needed the force to be a blur of motion, her helmet that had initially been resting in the crook of her arm fired out as it's own weapon: vicious horns pointed for the chest of Akulak Mantacor, such an action should've left the Dark Side pulsating: but there was nothing, a desert within the living force itself: Lirka was beyond such simple things now, she had sworn herself to darker powers.

With her hands free, the two blades that had been mag locked to her hips flew into her clawed hands: burning to life with an emerald flame from it's electro-plasma filament, they swung low in a viciously precise strike; Lirka liked to play dirty and it showed, her blades went for the man's knees in an attempt to force him down and in such an event where the maneuver succeeded the brutish Sephi would fire a low kick in an attempt to keep him down on his back prone. A vaguely serpentine tongue the crimson color of blood licking over her lips, oh that felt good.

"I should destroy you. But unfortunately, you and I are going to save the Empire."

 

[Akulak Mantacor]

Akulak was a bit taken aback by what Forlorn Tempest did next, baring with the pain that was inflicted upon him. He did nothing to stop the assault, letting her weapons tear into his flesh, the blade cleaving off his leg. She was every bit as magnificent a he suspected, a killing machine in flesh, though paired with clunky machines, the physical essence of the Sephi could not be denied however.

Having his chest torn in two and his leg severed from his body, the mutilated body of the scientist struck the ground, implanted on the weapon of his attacker. A wet cough sounded from his chest, blood spreading out from the wound in his chest charity in the process. The pain was exhilarating, a new level of agony that Akulak hadn't experienced in some time. In a way, it was almost delightful. He knew he wouldn't die, Forlorn Tempest would have killed him if she sought to do so; she needed him, unfortunate for her. As the wound began to mend around the chest, his legal began to reattach itself from where the flesh had been severed from the bone. Fixing himself, Akulak felt his body was nearing it's limit in healing for today. There was no need to tempt Forlorn Tempest, she had shown enough to her. Kneeling to the Sephi, Akulak weezed through the obstructions his lungs were experiencing, knowing his body would filter it out in time. "Even an insect has it's uses. I agree to be your instrument." He spoke, leaving his golden mask upon the floor. A smile stretched across his face, curious as to what this venture would entail.


Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

The pleasure of the action was passing, moving her foot away, grabbing her helm and giving it a sickly yank as the gore drenched horns splattered the blood of Akulak Mantacor to the floor once again. She looked down to the man with a equal parts pity and disgust. He would do well, or at least as well as a cultist could ever really do.

"The knee shall bend, or it shall break."

She turned to face him once again, her helmet returning onto her head with the hiss of pressurization: a garbling as the voice distorter returned to life once more as the beastly Sephi continued to speak.

"I am the true Queen of Thustra, I am your ruler. I am peace. I am the way. I am the end. I am the light. And I am the Dark."

But, despite what one may have suspected when dealing with a being with an arrogance to eclipse even the brightest of stars, Lirka reached down a clawed gauntlet to help the man to his feet once more. Loyalty was always rewarded greatly by the Moff.

"I require an army, made away from the many prying eyes of the Empire. But a gaggle shall know, no more. We shall make new-men, men forged in our own godly images to smite the foes of the Empire when our darkest days come. Be honored, my kin."