Private In the Belly of the Beast

[Lirka Ka]

Hellish.

That is the one word that described the Kainite Dungeon Ship Shackles of Ambition. A disordered microcosm of the Empire compared to the regulation and rules more commonly seen among Sith-Imperial military forces. All the worst impulses and desires of its crew encouraged by their dark overlord, Lirka Ka.

Raiders and marauders more than honest and true soldiers of the Empire. The place felt more like Nar Shadda at times than it did a real warship. Nothing was given, all was earned by strength. To fight and kill for what you desired, like the deepest pits of the Underworld.

And the Once Sephi wouldn’t have it any other way. This was her element, and she intended to share her element with as many people as possible: willing or otherwise.

But there was a newcomer to Lirka’s hellish domain, Alana Calloway a soldier of the Empire whose shadowed history had drawn the eye of the Once Sephi. Gifted the mark of the Kainate, Lirka had welcomed the girl into her band of marauders with open arms: an opportunity to see just what could make the Private into.

Misery hung in the air of the Shackles today, more slaves had been acquired to feed the hunger of Kainite labor needs. Blood had been spilt raiding. And with it, Lirka had deemed her new warrior christened in the way of her Warship. So did history repeat.

Much as had happened during their first meeting, Lirka made the summons. Calling to the Private to one of the chambers of the ship. A dark and dingy place, Lirka kept most of them unadorned. All that sat there today was Lirka’s monstrous form, and a suit of Kainate Taral-1 armor. So did the Sephi wait for her newest could-be murderer, it was time to share her lessons.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

"Slavemaster General."

Alana spoke the title without hesitation, without a flicker of emotion betraying her thoughts. It was what Lirka was, what this place demanded she acknowledge.

She remained on one knee, still as the cold metal beneath her palm, eyes locked forward but carefully avoiding direct challenge. Shackles of Ambition had its own laws—ones written in blood and brutality, in strength and submission. Alana had learned them fast. Or at least, she thought she did. Her memories still blurred together now and again.

There was no room for defiance here. No room for hesitation. Only survival.

She had been called, and so she had come.

The air in the chamber was thick with something unspoken, the weight of expectation pressing down like a predator's gaze. Before her, the monstrous form of Lirka Ka loomed, every inch of her a living embodiment of the cruelty that ruled this ship. Beside her, the Taral-1 armor stood waiting—silent, heavy with purpose.

A test. A lesson. A challenge.

Alana knew better than to assume kindness.

"I am here," She said, voice steady. "What do you require?"

Obedience. Precision. Strength.

She would be all three.

 

[Lirka Ka]

No emotion was betrayed by the powersuit of the Sephi, it was as she intended. Did she simmer with rage, cool with indifference? It was like talking to a droid. Lirka turned to acknowledge the private, lenses looking down at the kneeling form of Alana Calloway

“Rise, warrior.”

Warrior. Lirka ignored rank in this place, it was a meaningless thing. All were warriors under her purview, was it a promotion? Or a demotion? Such was the difficulty when dealing with the alien mind.

Her words were casual, an oddity for her. But she had little desire to be worshipped today, she was not a Sith. Hands clasped behind her back, the clawed gauntlets clicking with the sound of metal on metal.

“I require my curiosity satisfied. Have you adjusted well to this place, my palace of meritocracy? I understand it is rather…foreign compared to the rigid structure of the Legions.”

Lirka didn’t really care if she was comfortable. It was a measure on adaptation, if the scum was slowly breaking through. Or if Lirka had brought aboard a soul no better than a strand-cast peon.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana rose at the words of Lirka, looking to the Slavemaster General with admiration. She knew not what her rank was, her place of being within the order, precious little in fact of what her new status was exactly.

“I find no issue with my current station, Slavemaster General.” She responded firmly, keeping herself firmly in place, pondering what the uses that Lirka may have for her, and the purposes of the armor. She would remain in her at attention pose, waiting for Lirka to give further orders or perhaps an assignment.

Whatever it may entail, Alana was ready to serve.

 

[Lirka Ka]

The admiration in the eyes of Alana Calloway brought some bemusement to the beastly once Sephi. Perhaps she had made the right call about this imperial convert. But…a convert was still a convert, what laid below of the woman she once was?

Lirka spoke with a voice like that of a mechanical hum, perhaps kind, but there was no warmth behind her words.

“I am glad. When I had read your files, I had assumed you would find yourself at home among the entourage. The heart of a murderer.”

Lirka took a step closer to the girl, almost leering over her. And she spoke again, words like being put to the blade of a knife.

“Yes. I have learned quite a bit about you, I know what you are. Perhaps I know even better than you in your sorry state.”

In an instant, the menace disappeared as Lirka presented her open hand to her: as if surprising a child with candy. In her hand, appearing from somewhere on that suit, was a single death stick.

“Warrior Calloway, can you tell me what this is?”

A test. Lirka had known many addicts in her day, now it was time to see if Imperial conditioning was stronger than the loving call of hallucinogenics.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana let out a slow breath through her nose, her gaze locked on the death stick as if it were a relic of another life. In a way, it was.

A thousand memories surfaced at once—smoke curling in dim-lit cantinas, the rush of a high just before a job, the sting of betrayal, the weight of credits that never felt like enough. The laughter of people she barely remembered, the faces of those who had died at her hand, some too quickly to learn their names.

She had lived a dozen lives before the Empire got their claws into her, before they scraped her raw and carved something new from what was left.

But no matter how deep they dug, they never reached the core, did they?

She exhaled, shaking her head.

"With all due respect, ma’am. You know what this is," Alana said, her voice quiet but steady. "You wouldn't be showing it to me if you didn't."

Her hand twitched again, this time with something deeper than withdrawal—instinct, muscle memory, the part of her that had once taken what she wanted without hesitation.

"But since you're asking, ma’am, it's a leash. One I wore gladly for a long time." Her gaze flicked back to Lirka, unreadable. "Didn't even realize how tight it was until I woke up choking."

She shifted her stance, rolling one shoulder, jaw tightening.

"Thing about a leash, though? Take it off, and you start wondering if you're free… or just waiting for someone else to grab hold."

Alana finally looked down at the death stick, lips pressing into a thin line.

"This some kind of reward? Or just another collar, ma’am?"

 

[Lirka Ka]

As Alana Calloway spoke, Lirka stood there unmoving. Was she angered by her words? Was the Once Sephi about to lash out? Destroy her now that it had become obvious the Empire’s conditioning had not purged her down to a mindless drone?

But she did no such things, and Lirka grinned beneath that mask. Yes, this girl was falling right into what she had expected.

“I know what it is. It is carnality of the mind, that Primordial Dark mocks us for. A useless thing, a thing that scum knows.”

Lirka’s gauntlet squeezed, and the thing shattered in her iron grip. Letting chemicals dribble and leak through her fingers to the floor. Tossing the thing aside with disgust. Her lenses never once leaving their gaze at Warrior Calloway.

“Perhaps that answers your question, Warrior. I have no need for a mind-addled fool too high to hold a blaster.”

She paused for a moment, letting her words hang in the air before Lirka did one of those surprising things she so rarely did: she joked.

“That’s why Booster Blue is better.”

The Slavemaster General of the Kainate a spice head? She offered the banter as an olive branch, she understood

“Your leash is gone, Warrior. You are in my domain now. But I know what you are, in your soul. You are scum. As am I.”

Lirka took a step back, her hands returning behind her back. Who knows what other little trinkets she might have had hidden back there…

“We who understand the Galaxy better than anyone else. I have grown tired of spoon fed nobles and Sith children with egos brighter than stars. We know the truth of this Galaxy, the truth I have brought alive in this warship. That the strong rule, to fight, and to scrap, and that if you are mighty enough you may take whatever you want!”

As Lirka spoke, she grew more animated. There was a passion there, a philosophy that had dictated her entire life. A desire to share, to have someone else understand her ways. And perhaps, a mixture of nostalgia: from a different time, and a different face.

“I was like you, girl. Drifting my way along, free as the wind. I was scum. But scum is aimless. Scum is hedonistic. Now, as an old woman, I have but one desire in this world, Warrior Calloway. To see the Strong rise, to pick out the worthy from the weak. Tell me, Warrior, are you strong? Do you have the mettle!? Do you have the might to take what you want!?”

Fire burned within her, she would test this girl. And perhaps, she would find a kindred spirit within in. Or she would crumble, whatever came first.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana stood quiet for a moment, watching Lirka with something unreadable in her crimson gaze.

It wasn’t wariness, not exactly.

It wasn’t fear, either.

No—if anything, there was something like amusement glinting in the way she tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement, as if she were studying a rare creature pacing behind the bars of its own self-made cage.

And yet…

There was something in those words.

Something in the fire of them, in the raw, unapologetic weight of belief.

Something Alana understood.

Something she had lived.

The weak were nothing. The strong took what they wanted.

She had learned that young, before she had even known the name Calloway, before she had ever been anything other than a rat scurrying between the cracks of Nar Shaddaa, stealing, scraping, surviving.

And even after, when Dantooine had given her peace—however brief—she had never truly forgotten the truth of it.

The strong ruled.

But strength…

Strength wasn’t just power.

Strength was knowing when to play the game.

She let a slow breath slip through her nose, the corner of her mouth tugging up into something almost like a grin.

"Do I have the mettle?" she echoed, voice light, almost mocking.

And then—without warning—she moved.

Not an attack. Not aggression.

But a test.

A blur of motion as she stepped into Lirka’s space, close enough that a lesser creature might have flinched, might have wavered, might have shown even the barest flicker of hesitation.

But she knew Lirka wouldn’t.

That wasn’t what this was about.

Alana didn’t touch her. Didn’t raise a weapon.

She just… leaned in, just slightly, just enough that the air between them burned with the weight of unspoken challenge.

"You ask if I have the mettle to be a warrior, and the question is fair."

She held her ground, her smirk widening just a fraction, just enough to make it unclear whether she was taunting or testing or simply playing the game in her own way.

Then, slow as molasses, she straightened, rolling her shoulders, as if the entire exchange had been nothing more than a casual thing, as if she hadn’t just stepped to the monster in her own den and dared to bite.

"I'm still here," She continued, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, "in spite of all the hardship I've undergone, I still live. I've survived Jedi, the Bryn, Mandalorians, and even rogue Sith. Yet, here I stand....all my fingers and toes attached.”

Her gaze darkened, just for a second, something sharp and knowing flickering behind her eyes.

"I would say, that anything that would denote me as weak, died a long time ago...and Alana Calloway, the one before you now, is what has been refined and presented before you."

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka studied the girl before her, every moment was like an answer. Lirka did not tolerate the meager, she did not tolerate those who backed down. Let the girl be amused by the truth, it did not become any less true.

As Alana Calloway approached Lirka, she did not strike the girl. Not yet at least. It was a bold move, and Lirka was forced to offer her a degree of respect. Evidently, the Empire had not hallowed her out completely.

Good. It meant there was still something thing for Lirka to mold into a form most suitable.

Patiently she listened to the girl speak, the challenge was bare. The response Lirka had hoped for after dealing with the many lickspittles that filled the Kainate, who didn’t understand their master like she did. Those who didn’t share the bond Lirka and Carnifex had been trust into. But…Lirka would make them understand.

Satisfied with Warrior Calloway’s answer, Lirka gave a response only suitable for those who lived by this savage creed: she gave her a swift punch to the gut to push her away. Thankfully unaugmented - she merely wanted her space, not to make the poor girl spill up her lunch. She spoke afterwards, uncaring of the violence.

“Yes, you are still here. But do not pride yourself for keeping all your bits-and-bobs, girl. It is by suffering we grow stronger, pain is our teacher. An ally. You may deem yourself refined, Warrior Calloway, but you still merely a girl. You are a blade unsharpened, and I am the whetstone upon which you shall be sharpened. I shall make you strong, or you shall die. That is the way of things, so declares primordial dark.”

Lirka turned away from her, now addressing the armor. Still utterly uncaring about whatever pain the girl may have been in: pain was a teacher, after all.

“Are you aware of the Taral armor, Warrior? Or would you like a history lesson, an example of why we bare the brand of our Eternal Father?”

If there was one thing Lirka loved, it was a chance to ramble and listen to the sound of her own voice.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana staggered a half step back, sucking in a breath as the force of the punch sent a sharp pain lancing through her gut. She gritted her teeth, swallowing down the instinctive snarl that threatened to rise. It wasn't the worst hit she'd taken, not by a long shot, but it was enough to remind her exactly where she stood.

And who she was standing before. She was almost certain, Lirka could have snapped her in two if she so wished.

Her hand twitched by her side, but she didn't reach for a weapon. Didn't react beyond the slight straightening of her spine, the slow, steadying breath through her nose. She was still here, and she was still standing. That was enough for now.

Alana lifted her gaze, red eyes glinting in the dim light as Lirka spoke. The words were expected, and yet they still grated against something deep within her. Pain is our teacher. Suffering makes us strong. She had heard variations of the same philosophy time and time again, from the Sith, from bounty hunters, from the dregs of the underworld who thought cruelty was the same as power. She felt her ribs ache in wake of the pain.

Ow.

But there was no challenge to throw back this time. No sharp-edged remark to bite at Lirka's heels.

Because in some twisted way, she knew it was true.

Alana exhaled, a breath of quiet resolve, before shifting her stance just enough to show she was listening. Not yielding. Just listening.

At the mention of Taral armor, her expression barely flickered. She had heard of it—vague mentions, whispers in the barracks, stories passed down with reverence and fear. But she wouldn't give Lirka the satisfaction of knowing just how little she truly understood.

She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck slightly as she met Lirka's gaze.

"No ma'am," She said, voice steady. "I can't...say I'm familiar with the armor, no."

The words were level, but there was a flicker of something underneath them. Not quite defiance.

But not submission, either.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka could have struck again, to some extent watching the girl stagger was like blood in the water. But she controlled herself, no reason to beat a newcomer senseless for no good reason: they weren’t in The Pit yet. Though Lirka was sure, if all went as she wished, they would end up in that place eventually.

Lirka was mighty pleased with herself, so maybe people didn’t get it, didn’t understand the embrace of pain and the grand lessons of suffering. But most of the Empire wasn’t scum, most of them hadn’t dug through the muck and mire like her and Alana Calloway had. Though admittedly, Lirka had done it all by choice.

Still not facing the girl again, Lirka approached the armor. Addressing it almost as if it were a person.

“Taral class armor, a fine piece of equipment for the Kainites among us who can prove their worth. It follows the usual formatting of military grade armor as to be expected in the Empire. What you wear to be one of us, one of the Eternal Father’s chosen warriors. But…that is not the lesson, armor is armor. It is no Powersuit.”

Of course she would a way to throw a barb, shocker that a Goliath in a suit of power armor didn’t care particularly much about the inner workings of a suit for “lesser beings”. A clawed finger reached out, clicking against the armored plates.

“Beskar electroplating. You are aware of the Mandalorians and their beloved Beskar, the mighty iron of a warrior-race able to defend against even a lightsaber! But. It is ours. It has been molded to our purpose, because the Eternal-Father is strong. We bled that world dry, him and I. Tore it apart because we could, because we were stronger than them. And we put it to use. Even my own plates are made of the stuff, albeit, in a more solid form.”

Finally she turned to address the warrior once more.

“You may wear it, one day, perhaps even today. You will become one of us because you will understand what I understand, it is Carnifex who gives our kind the opportunity to thrive: the chaos which allows the Strong to rule. This armor is mighty, greater than your own. But I will not give it to you, Alana Calloway. You will earn it, as is our way. All things taken, never given.”

And with her name, Lirka had beckoned a challenge. She had the spirit, but did she have the might?

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana's eyes remained steady, her posture relaxed, but her mind sharpened as Lirka spoke. There was a tinge of mockery in the woman's voice, a challenge woven through her words, a dare she could feel pressing against her like a weight.

The mention of the armor, the explanation of its significance—beskar, power, strength—struck something deep within Alana. She had seen it before. The concept of the strong ruling, the powerful thriving while the weak withered. It was a philosophy she understood better than most, having lived in the shadows of a broken past. Lirka was speaking her language, but she didn't need to follow her script. Alana had always been strong, but her strength for so long had been attempting to be the king of the rat race. Also happy to settle, to waste her potential for a handful of credits and warding off the cold for a little longer.

Never had she truly fostered, her power. It seemed something had gotten loose as the pairs spoke, as Alana’s formalities melted away.

"You talk about on strength," Alana's voice was a soft rasp, the kind of tone she used when she was working through her thoughts aloud. "But strength's not just about power. It's about what you do with it."

She stepped forward, eyes locking onto Lirka's towering figure, steady despite the intimidating presence. The challenge was clear, and Alana wasn't the kind of person to shy away from it, especially not when it felt like everything in her life had built to this exact moment.

"You're right. You earned that armor. And maybe one day, I will earn mine. But I don’t aim to just earn it. I'll own it. I'll earn it in a way that only someone who's been through hell can."

She didn't look away as she spoke, her voice steady despite the venom she could feel creeping under her skin, the adrenaline beginning to hum in her veins.

"If I'm going to wear that armor, it'll be because I've proved I'm worthy of it. Not because you decide I am.”

Alana's hand brushed against the side of her blaster, a gesture to let Lirka know that she wasn't just here for a lecture. She was here to prove herself.

"Give me the chance, and I'll prove it. I’ll fight for it, here and now.”

 

[Lirka Ka]

That was Lirka’s way. Rule of the strong, careless, merciless, meritocracy. And here, on this ship? The ship she had earned with the shackles and chains of a dying world: merit was judged by her, and her alone. But it was with sickly glee that Lirka heard the defiance of Alana Calloway for what better strength was there than to defy? As she had defied, all her life. Defied death, defied the force, defied Carnifex. To thrash against the tides till you overcame them.

With each drop of formality melting away, Lirka knew she was winning. The clay was there, now Lirka only needed to guide it. To set this woman on the same path she had taken on all those years. Damnation, for the chance to be Strong.

“Strength is power, and power is everything. To get what you want, that is strength!”

She was foolhardy, and Lirka commended her for it. She would reward for it, even. As Alana approached, the sickly pop of metal disgorging from flesh came from Lirka as her gauntlets clambered to the ground with the crash of metal on metal.

“And on this ship, I am the strongest, Warrior Calloway. Here, I decide who is worthy. The Mother’s guiding hand.”

More self aggrandizing philosophy. And a card revealed as Lirka showed her purpose, the guiding Eternal Mother that will lead the outcasts down the path of damnation till only the mightiest remain.

Lirka raised her fists, no metal, just writhing meat and unnatural musculature hidden underneath the skintight blackness of an undersuit. Yes, she would fight for it: and she would prove to Lirka her mettle.

“Yes, you will.”

Lirka shot out with a burst of speed, the mechanisms of her legs propelling her forward as Lirka swung a fist for the girl’s head. Blood would be spilt on the Shackles today, as it always would. And if she could draw the Metal Goliath’s blood? Well then she’d be more than worthy.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

The air crackled with tension as Lirka's challenge rang through the air, the power of her words and the might of her body both promising destruction and testing Alana's resolve. She had heard of strength like this before—had seen it in the underworld of Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta, and in the horror stories from the Occupation of Mandalore. For the Sith, barbaric fights aimed to test the mettle of those who survived. If they could survive at that.

But Lirka's strength wasn't just physical. It was the force of will, the belief that only the strongest were worth anything in this universe. It was the kind of power that had driven her own life, even when it had been shaped by the harshest of circumstances.

Alana didn't flinch, didn't retreat. The memory of her past training, the pain of her losses, and the defiance of her mind all surged through her as she locked her gaze onto Lirka. It felt strange, being where she was. She had faced down Sith before, she thought at least, memory was hazy at times. She had fought to survive if nothing else. If she had to face this challenge, then she would face it as she had always done: with grit and determination.

Lirka's fist came at her with the power of a storm. Alana's eyes flickered to the movement, anticipating the blow her body contorted sinking forward, and flowing out from between Lirka’s legs. Alana felt the time slow, her adrenaline pushing her to quicker reaction times. She had been shaped by the cruelty of the galaxy, yes, but she had learned to bend it to her will. She wasn't some piece of clay to be molded—she was her own weapon. Perhaps she was now molded from trauma and near death experiences, but she wouldn’t not fall apart from mere strain.

Her hand moved instinctively, thinking of drawing her pistol from its holster in one smooth motion as she spun away, but Lirka wished for this to be hand to hand. She might not be as physically formidable as Lirka, but Alana's strength came from her mind, her heart, and her ability to survive against all odds. She had to find vulnerabilities and exploit them, it was her only chance.

"Feth me…” Alana muttered, eyes narrowing as she braced for the next move, ready to give Lirka the fight she sought.

Lirka would feel the ebbing of the force about Alana, though the simple solider had no real idea of how to use the power. For now, it seemed to pulse and response to the combat stress, though Alana herself held little to no mastery over it.

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka was in her element again, and that element was chaos. The carnal battle of one warrior versus another, she had been raised in fighting pits and gladiatorial arenas. Albeit in a different time, and with a different face. But even a vat grown freak like Lirka couldn’t forget what had made her the monster she was today.

As Alana Calloway so gracefully dodged her wing and went between her legs. Lirka laughed, something between both humor and joy chortling out of that helmeted head. She had recognized that sort of speed before, the Force was a foreign thing to Lirka: alien to her entirely if not for the dark energies of Carnifex that coursed through her veins. She was thankful to have gotten her hands on her before this girl became another sniveling Acolyte.

“That’s right, warrior! Fight! Let it out, your rage, your anger, the Empire has broken you and in my palace I shall rebuild you!”

Lirka wasted no time, a mechanized leg shot out from behind her in an attempt to kick the girl before turning to face her once again. There was a gleeful madness in Lirka’s voice, but not a murderous one. No, this was another test. Always testing, always prodding.

“Let us spill blood in this act most holy! We will fight, we will bleed, and we shall see just how worthy you are Alana Calloway!”

It seemed fighting wasn’t enough to get Lirka to actually shut up for once. But, they were words of encouragement. She wanted this girl to give into every dark urge within her, to find the strength within. This Galaxy needed people like Lirka, for without the strong? What could their reality do but wither and decay under the inevitable tide of Primordial Darkness?

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
HG-88 Big Iron
SD-L1 Long Blaster
HESTIZO-201 "Silverrain" Vaccine
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade
Gear:
Slicing Glove
DS-102 "Aegis" Personal Energy Shield
Sentinel Tech Gloves
VKA-7J "Hurricane" Combat Stimulant
G1 Omni Link

Alana's heart raced with adrenaline as she danced away from Lirka's vicious kick. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, but there was no fear in her movements—only instinct. She could hear Lirka's laughter, a noise that set her teeth on edge, but there was something deeper there, something familiar. Challenge. The same kind of fight she'd seen in herself, in the people she had once fought alongside. And now, here it was again. The challenge of proving herself, of showing that she was more than a tool of the Empire.

The sound of Lirka's booming voice, full of manic energy, was only fuel to the fire that burned in Alana's chest. Fight. She had never been good at doing anything else. Fight and survive.

But Alana wasn't just surviving anymore. No, this time she was fighting back with everything she had.

"I'm not broken," she spat, her voice cold and steady, despite the chaos around her. She felt her blood hum with the rhythm of the fight, her every movement responding to the pulse of the challenge. She could feel the rage, the anger Lirka wanted her to unleash, but she held it back for now, letting it fuel her focus instead.

Lirka's words did nothing but sharpen her resolve. The act of bloodletting—of battle—was something Alana had come to know far too well in her life. But this fight… it wasn't like the others. This was different. Here, in this moment, the only thing that mattered was the strength in her own hands. And she would prove that she had it.

Alana dodged another swipe, her body moving with the grace of someone who had learned to rely on every inch of herself. She felt the hum of power deep within her, but she didn't let it consume her. Not yet. She was still in control. She had to be.

The metallic clang of Lirka's leg hitting the ground echoed through the space, but Alana didn't pause. She darted forward, using the moment of Lirka's strike to her advantage. Her foot lashed out, aiming for Lirka's midsection with a sharp, controlled kick. She wasn't looking for a direct hit—not yet. Instead, she was gauging Lirka's reaction, testing her. Letting the battle grow, letting it shape her.

The pain registered shortly after. Lirka hadn’t missed it seemed, her left knee had merely been dislocated by the strike. Which Alana soon learned as she struck the mechanical monster in the midsection with her foot. Her reflexes, the adrenaline, magic, whatever was keeping her going…her nervous system was still catching up.

She felt a scream of pain, falling, catching herself somehow, managing to tumble back as her weapons came loose, scattering across the floor. She felt the knee pop twice, her hands about it, something clamping around the damaged joint. It was a blur, her mind merely fixated on Lirka.

To Lirka, Alana soon crumbled after the strike, before rolling away, and rapidly using her blaster holster as an impromptu brace for her knee. Something between the conditioning, and the combat stimulation seemed to be taking over the young warrior.

Alana was already moving back to her feet, the pain thundered, blood lust began to settle in on the Echani, as she felt her jawline lock.

She was starting to plummet.

 

[Lirka Ka]

It was like a game of cat and mouse. Lirka knew she was hopeless, Alana Calloway was but a soldier and Lirka was a seasoned murderer. She’d been killing for over a century, and acts as holy as what they did were second nature now.

With every thump of poor Calloway’s heart, Lirka’s resolve grew. This is what it meant to scrabble and crawl through the muck, to dig your way up from mediocrity with nothing but the might in your possession. The girl could dance, Lirka would afford her that. But the Once-Sephi wasn’t bleeding yet. The hopelessness became apparent as the warrior’s foot made contact with Lirka’s body: it was like kicking a steel door.

In something perhaps resembling disappointment, Lirka shook her head. Breaking stance as the woman tumbled to the floor. Her words echoed out once more, a mixture of frustration and guidance all the same.

“You are a broken thing, look at yourself! You fight like a soldier, we are not soldiers Alana Calloway! We are scum! Fight like it!”

For that is what Lirka did. Encourage the worst. There was no honor in this place, only bloodshed. Lirka did not believe in honor, she believed in strength and victory: nothing more, nothing less. While her foe attempted to stand, Lirka walked over to her fallen vibroblade and with a kick she slid it over to the woman: Lirka wanted to bleed today.

“Fight.”

She raised her fists again, and she would see if she could awaken the scum from the soldier. Those who fought to win, no matter the cost.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade


Alana hit the floor hard, the impact jolting through her bones. For a moment, she just lay there, chest rising and falling in steady, measured breaths. The sting of her failed strike still lingered in her foot—Lirka hadn't even budged. It was like trying to knock over a durasteel pillar.

She gritted her teeth as Lirka's voice rang out again, sharp with disappointment. Broken.

It wasn't the first time she'd heard that word.

Her fingers twitched against the ground as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, her breath steady but sharp-edged. She could feel Lirka's eyes on her, expectant. Demanding. And then-clatter.

The vibroblade slid to a stop just inches from her fingers.

Alana looked at it, then up at Lirka. The challenge was clear.

Fight.

Her hand curled around the hilt, lifting the blade as she slowly got to her feet. Her grip tightened. She could feel the weight of it, the promise of blood it carried. It felt right. But Lirka's words burned just as much as the fight itself.

Not a soldier.

Scum.

She knew what Lirka wanted. She wanted Alana to stop thinking, to stop fighting like some trained recruit and start fighting like the people who raised her. Like the woman she had been before she was dragged into the Empire's grip.

Alana's red eyes flickered with something dangerous as she adjusted her stance.

She was Alana Calloway, and even that meaning was lost to her, she did have a point to prove.

If that's what Lirka wanted, then she'd give it to her.

She let out a slow breath, letting her mind drift back—back to the dark alleys of Corellia, back to the bloodstained streets where there were no rules, no training manuals, only instinct and survival.

And then she moved.

Fast.

The Echani art of war glorified movements, predictions, speed, but also optimization. Using the body, the user could hone themselves, attune themselves, overcome their limits.

It was why Echani were feared, respected, and for years Alana had hardly a reason to demonstrate why she deserved her birthright.

There was no measured strike, no careful positioning—she lunged, blade flashing as she went low, aiming not for power, but for pain. Her body twisted mid-motion, feinting toward Lirka's ribs before abruptly shifting her angle, slashing toward the soft space near her side, where armor had seams. A trick she had learned in places where honor didn't exist. Her dislocated knee only worked to rotate her body, everything went into the right, her body flipped, rolling off to Lirka’s side, her momentum sliding her towards the side of the room, using her left leg as a brake.

There was no hesitation.

There was no mercy.

Because Alana Calloway wasn't a soldier. She never had been.

She was fighting for herself, because that was all she had known.

 

[Lirka Ka]

For a moment she waited, would the girl back down? Would it be a soldier here today after all? But as those fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade, Lirka smiled. A toothy, joyous, smile.

She’d won.

Alana Calloway was all that Lirka could have hoped for. She was just like her, now all she needed was a guiding hand to point her in the right direction. This Empire ate people like them alive if they were foolish. It was only a shame that Lirka did not have a planetary genocide to offer as a teacher like she had been gifted with during the old Empire.

And now, all Lirka could do was laugh. She laughed as the girl charged her, she laughed as she moved like back alley pit-scum, and she laughed as the blade made contact with her skin. Blood, dark and thick dripped from the wound. The ichor of her body, the pain was exquisite. Lirka was alive, for that is what pain was there to remind her of.

“Good.”

With that, Lirka exploded after her: the guard rails had been taken off, and the monster unleashed. She charged Alana like a bull, intent on tackling her under her massive metal bulk. She would still not draw her blade, just to remind this newcomer just who was the commander of this ship, and who was but a Warrior.

 

[Alana Calloway]

.​

In the Belly of the Best ​

Tags: Lirka Ka​

Armor:
S-6 "Eclipse" Class Legion Combat Armor

Weapons:
1 x VB-113 "Tidefall" Class Vibroblade


Alana barely had time to brace before Lirka crashed into her like a landspeeder at full throttle. The sheer weight behind the impact sent her sprawling, her back slamming against the cold durasteel floor. The air rushed out of her lungs, and for a moment, she saw nothing but the flickering glow of overhead lights. She cut through Lirka, the blood gathered along the edge of the blade and formed at the hilt.

But then—pain.

Pain meant she was still in the fight.

But it also meant something was wrong.

Alana grit her teeth and moved on instinct. She twisted, using the momentum of her fall to roll with the impact rather than fight against it. Lirka was too damn strong for a head-on fight. She'd figured that out the moment her foot connected with that armored bulk and did nothing.

No, she had to fight smarter.

With her free hand, she brought the blade up, slashing low at Lirka's side. It wasn't a killing strike—she doubted anything short of a cannon would kill this woman—but it was meant to hurt. Meant to remind Lirka that Alana wasn't going to just lay down and take a beating.

It didn’t help when Lirka charged her, Alana’s damaged knee swelled, her limitations of movement were already being reached. All she could do, was hobble about on a worse-less leg, limiting her span of movements. She was in trouble, and she knew it.

Alana would not let up, her blade work showed that she had practice, but the situation she found herself in…gave the sword little practical use as Lirka closed in.

She wouldn’t die easily, though.

Not if she could help it.