Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Character Kka'srurur'rruru

Gree-UP.jpg


INFORMATION


Name : Kka'srurur'rruru
Faction : None
Species : Gree
Homeworld: Malanose
Known languages : Rakata, Kwa, Gree (mother tongue)
Voice : Here
Age : 36,258 years (according to Coruscant rotary cycle)
Sex : Sexually indeterminate (hermaphrodite)
Height: 4'2 (1.28 meters)
Weight: 142.2lbs (64.5kg)
Eyes : Ash gray
Hair : None
Skin : Copper
Force Sensitive : None







STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES


+ Gree Lore Keeper:
The Apogee of Gree Culture is so ancient that it has become a myth to its fellows. This happened long before the Old Republic came into being, and it has been in decline ever since. Unable to maintain their relics, the entire Gree society crumbled over time. Now, their most priceless gem: technology is nothing more than a heap of unusable objects, machines and megastructures whose knowledge that once animated them is forgotten. Kka'srurur'rruru is most likely the last repository of this knowledge before it disappears into the abyss of history.


+/- Nemesis of the Builders:
The debacle of his military campaign and the decades of conflict around the former border of the Gree Empire have left an indelible mark on his memory.
The shock of this meeting was so violent that the scientist has only one objective once out of stasis: to destroy the heritage of the Rakata, whether they have been defeated by the passage of time or that they remain at the time of his awakening. Just retribution for stealing the triumph that awaited him and the future of his people. Anything directly or indirectly related to the Rakata will therefore inevitably be the target of the extinction process.


+/- Rejection of cosmic energy:
Thorny concept to be established by the only means of science, the Force also called "the Power of the Cosmos" by the
Kwoth knew how to attract the wrath of Kka'srurur'rruru for its constant intangibility. This negated his research efforts to understand its nature, despite recognizable repercussions at the slightest of its appearances.
So strange is this "thing" that it will be responsible for his misfortune, only being able to engender ever more resentment towards it. Anyone who sees himself accompanied by the Force will risk waking up the mistrust of the Gree and his obsessive ardor to study it from every angle with the sole intention of making it disappear..



- Temporal Divergence:
As time inevitably passes, the Gree recently emerged from his torpor, finds himself confronted with an unrecognizable galaxy. Dialects, customs, technology and much more have changed; leaving him to sink into a reflection full of incomprehension in front of such a civilizational desynchronization. He obviously didn't expect to be woken up so late...


- Apparent phantasmagoria:
He is sporadically disconcerted by the constant flow of information that reaches his brain, glimpsing bits of an unlived existence, anathema that will pursue him wherever he goes, because...
Despite the incredible gift given to him, his spirit shattered, unable to endure the impact caused by his abrupt return to Malanose.
Torn apart during the collision between the material world and eons of daydreaming, his consciousness can no longer keep up with the passage of time. Millennia of dreams tortuously intertwine with past and present events, shaping a distorted conception of existence. Kka'srurur'rruru has become the victim of fate that has made him a prisoner of the reality that is his new life. That of not seeing the world as it is, while being able to perceive it from another aspect. To be at the crossroads of the truth without knowing which path to take.

- Psychic and bodily decay:
The supreme hourglass has done its work and unfortunately the patron of the starry expanses has not escaped it, this is the unshakeable decree of our reality. His mind seems to have preserved the full intensity of his convictions, despite everything, the elder is exhausted not less physically than mentally. No offense to his ego, he no longer has the vigor that once inflamed him, even if the latter would struggle to demonstrate the contrary. Aware of the decline that will lead him beyond the veil of death, the Gree gradually sees his faculties regress, reasoning becomes more complicated and the notion of detail is less tangible. As for his body imagine what thirty six thousand years of slump is capable of.








APPEARANCE


Kka'srurur'rruru is like the ancient creatures recounted in the dusty records of distant expeditions. Each centimeter of this being exults an infinite wisdom, like a hymn glorifying the majesty of an era now forgotten in the limbo of a buried past. Though corrupted for eons by millennial stasis, its appearance has remained unchanged despite the eras that have passed.

The cephalopod is animated by numerous flaccid but robust extremities with which it moves. The gait, however, is more like an octopus tearing itself from the depths of the sea than a biped traversing the lithosphere. Its protruding eyes are ash gray and, it is said, contain, if one gets lost in the middle of this ancient ocean, all the stars of the cosmos. However, the truth is very different, because, on the horizon of his gaze, looms only a desolate and soulless land. A demented landscape where there is no longer any life or any joy. The vent he carries to those who cross his path is circumspect, seeing in each of them the relics of a thousand and one faces, drowned in the meanders of the time frame itself.
Draped in an ancient tunic rendered obsolete during his almost eternal sleep, he observes in silence the New World which is offered to him. The innumerable folds struggle to hide under his heavy mass of clothing, the huge brain bags hanging from the back of his head. They seem all the more disproportionately disproportionate, when we know that its size does not exceed one meter.

On a heavily wrinkled forehead, hollowed out by years of toil and the pangs of immobility, lies a discolored exotic tattoo, attesting to his social status within Gree society. Lower, no mouth or jaw let draw the slightest grin, because its congeners do not have it. Instead, a thin nano-enhanced spongy tissue, wedged between cartilaginous growths, serves as a breathing mask, filtering particles and sorting out the chemical components of an atmosphere that is too rich in oxygen (Type I).
Gadget that Kka'srurur'rruru can do without in low gravity environments (Type II).

The location and appearance of the vocal orifice is a mystery that only he (including Gree) knows. Wacky theories and serious studies estimate that the multiple fleshy eyelids ensure the oratorical communication needs of the race, without further details... However, it is possible to listen to the timbre of its dark and melodious voice resonate, similar to the sounds emitted by the Wharlithian horns, plunging the audience, whoever it is, into a state of continuous appeasement.

The odd appearance of the Gree would probably not help him in official discussions, for his deformity would make the donkeys and ignoramuses laugh, unaware of the general anatomy of this species. " Sprawling sack of flesh " or " walking brain " would be some insulting and offensive titles for ordinary mortals, however, despite a background of aesthetic truth, the Gree does not care, preferring to ignore lesser beings. Finally, the mephitic smell that the alien constantly exudes is not due to a lack of hygiene, but to the slow and partial decomposition of unrenewed mechanical oils.







PSYCHOLOGY


Can we define exactly what time is?

Some concede that it is an abstract notion to which one should not pay attention, after all, the beings are tortured enough to condescend to dwell on such a question... Others on the other hand claim that it is an entity as old as the stars, the law which prevails over all that exists and which it will replace us. To endorse the opinion of both parties is futile, for its doctrine is inextricable to mortal being, even the most distinguished thinkers would not dare to tread the path of infinity. Whether the truth can agree with one of these torturous lucubrations or any other is hardly more important, it has been many centuries since those who engrave their beliefs on the great collections of our history are no more. Intuitively, we conceive of time as an adversary, it ages our body, tarnishes our love, leads to death and makes our mistakes irreversible. Yet its presence is also what allows life to develop, knowledge to exist. The fundamental ordinance is that time dominates without sharing over what was, what remains and what will be. The nascent civilization will be followed by its peak and finally its decline. Collectively, the smallest part of the universe succumbs to it with more or less pronounced vigor. Yet Malanose has a being who derogates from the hegemony of the supreme hourglass.

In the dark depths of the abandoned planet lies an ancient and forgotten being. There, he has been vegetating for millennia, unable to move, waiting to plunge into a chimerical sleep, the coming of a time more favorable to his return.
However, this anthological snub is not without consequences, because if the carnal envelope of the sleeper has remained intact, the machines that are busy keeping it as it is are in bad shape. The result of this traitorous blow, the progressive atrophy of the captive's mind. Finally, as a final lesson, everything stopped, urgently awakening the old being in the middle of a galaxy that would, for years to come, make him fully aware of his monumental mistake.

Floating in the void, Kka'srurur'rruru dreams, he dreams of the time when he was still the Great Operator, first among equals, unaware that the immense knowledge of his people melts like snow in the sun, flowing little by little from his mental palace, leaving only scattered information and hazy memories when he wakes up.

Long before this tragic event, the Gree was a stoic scientist, opening his many arms only to those worthy of leading the Empire into a new era.
He marked those around him with an icy and pale aura, as if all the warmth of the "social" bond evaporated on contact.
Truth be told it's painfully if civilians would label him as such, though he hasn't seen one in ages. Like a majority of Gree, he loathes community relations including those not of his species. The Last Precursors think highly of themselves, watching with barely concealed disgust the galaxy changed under the rule of beings who crawled the ground in their time.

Speculatively speaking, it is more than likely these days that people prefer to step aside to let him pass, unwilling to bear a moment longer the deformity of his appearance, and his suffocating presence imprinted with a truth that all seek to forget.
Formerly, he was fond of the well-being of his people, far from remaining deaf to the misfortune of others, he felt that it was his duty to allow these people to benefit from Gree's hyper-technological work. But the twisted mind that occupies this apathetic body cannot resemble the lovable being it once was.


Degraded by the unearthly pull of a failing Gree stasis, his calculating mentality mutated into wicked playfulness, his gelatinous vocal cords threatening to vomit snakes at the slightest stammered sentence, and his bulging eyes darting daggers at first sight. Swollen with envy at the thought of the pain he could inflict on the Rakata for their actions, the cephalopod is more aware than ever that words have meaning, and confer power on those who use them over those who listen to them. He will quickly know how to recognize people capable of amplifying his words, abusing his superior intellect to deceive and lie. Delighting in the spectacle of the "populace" under the influence of his discordant words.

Torn during the eternal collision between thousand-year-old dreamlike sleep and a brutal awakening, his thoughts can no longer keep up with the times. It would seem that despite the incredible technology at its disposal, the Gree machinery could not resist the ages, the energy declining from span to span, the inevitable happened. Thus, past memories are tortuously entangled with present manifestations, shaping a distorted conception of existence. Kka'srurur'rruru has become the victim of fate that has made him a prisoner of the reality that is his new life. That of not seeing the world as it is, while being able to perceive it from another aspect. To be at the crossroads of the truth without knowing which path to take.

It is trapped in the middle of this anthological duality that the Gree evolves socially and psychologically. Therefore, several entire eras of vegetating under the ground almost did not change the precursor. On the contrary, thirty-six thousand years after his awakening, the vestiges of ruin following Rakata's wake leave a bitter taste in the latter's mouth, who harbors a deep hatred for the Infinite Empire, responsible for "his imprisonment". Blind to the effects of the supreme hourglass on the nature that once surrounded him, he hopes to reconnect with the High Castes of his decaying homeland, unaware that it is no more.

Back in a deplorable state, he perpetually experiences the unconscious agony of contemplating the full extent of the gravity of Gree's bewilderment. Trust in his much adored people had failed to save him from the finitude that awaited him, and the ideal had failed to replace the too well oiled gears of the time frame. From now on, he was alone, the only spectator of the disappearance of his species...

Ironically, he ends up becoming the forgotten emissary of the implacable truth against which the Grees had fought for years, making themselves the instrument of the ruin of their own projects. Truthfully or not, Kka'srurur'rruru waits in morbid silence for the pleasant call of his divine masters, repairing the artifacts that were at the origin of his downfall and weaving in the darkness, the machinations of the conquest that will seal, once and for all, the fate of his race.







BIOGRAPHY


Cradle & Apogee

Surrounded by a nebulous veil, as dark as the limbo of omission, it is undecided, buried. The muffled, jerky whispers, eternally audible, for those who know where to look. However, the declamatory omen does not announce anything pleasant, indeed, it is the heartbreaking and flashy proof of an immutable truth. Founded eons ago by a species thought to be extinct, it owes its thousand-year-old survival only to the rare guardians, who still today preserve this formidable asset, whatever the cost. As such, it tries, despite it sextreme subtlety, to make the young races enjoy the precepts that she would be able to lavish on them. No offense to his peers, the origin of the Gree is made to be told.

It was in an infinitely remote time that Kka'srurur'rruru awoke to the world, on Malanose, his face not illuminated by the soft glow of the exalted star, but by a phosphorescent and nutritious gelatin living in a basin of birth. Coming from an ancestry distinguishing him from the working classes, he was dissociated from others from his conception. Vegetating thus in larval form and until its three years, in a genesis basin exclusively tested for the elites. As such, and once in full capacity of his duties, the young Gree had the honor of meeting his procreators. Exceptional event, since a large majority of the population, emanating from the minor ranks, is born from community reservoirs, ignorant by the same, the origin of the blood flowing in their veins. However, the mores of this breed do not enshrine parental love, but rather a reduced sympathy extended to all infants dependent on their group. Sad news if only Kka'srurur'rruru didn't share this belief. Attention to the good meshing of society is placed on the same level as other values considered by many extraterrestrials as common, strong and innate, including tenderness or empathy.

When he was old enough to study, he was placed under the aegis of the caste master, from whom his relatives both derived: the operators.
Once the least distinguished among its peers governing the Gree civilization, the organization cared about the operation of all devices. However, the didactic boom began a languid, but dazzling hegemony which still crushes the swept away vestiges of an Empire in ruins. Coming to value the ability to use the high technology at their disposal rather than to maintain it, the modernization of engineering knowledge took over from creative talent. They found themselves over the years with seasoned but tired machines, predicting at the same time the supplanting of an aristocracy more salutary than the others and the inexorable fall of a multi-millennial reign.
The assured future, this ease, did not make him avoid, however, collective psycho-indoctrination. Hammered tirelessly, and the only watchword: progress, guided the working masses in what was to be, the unexpected reprieve of the Gree Empire.
The society, cut into four main branches, was again subdivided into a multitude of congregations, reverberating the thousand and one facets, specialties which reflected the Gree genius at that time.

Initially an apprentice, he quickly became the personal assistant of his highly regarded master. The path was not that said, not easy, far from being the only native of an elite, he fought bitterly for many years, the rank he was eyeing, praising his actions, discrediting those of his competitors and wasting his resources to come to the "aid" of the little people grafted to his guild, not out of charity, but with a view to ransacking the work of the various suitors blocking his way. He even gained notoriety as a patron among the lower classes who candidly saw in him, the probable standard-bearer of a future granting equal opportunity to everyone. It also harmed Kka'srurur'rruru who was constantly discredited for his "displaced" interest in a nation in perpetual split.

But the few high masters who were not yet troubled by pride recognized that they were at the twilight of their time, the Empire had always depended on scientific innovation, without it it was nothing. For many centuries, they painfully noted, the erosion of the knowledge of the eminent masters, however expert in their field, reduced for the moment to a trickle, and the transmission of esoteric knowledge become theoretical and no longer practical, the dark details of some process, shamefully concealed under a stutter of paraphrased uncertainty. If a promising young being despite all the habits and customs was able to ensure the survival of society by an undeniable technological flight with the massive support of the population from even the lowest extraction, then the mutation would have been more than beneficial.

Also mistreated, he continued his work, preferring the approval of the greatest number to that of a small group which, amplifying false gratitude with one hand, would stab him once his back was turned with the other. Thus, by seeking the well-being of a destitute citizenship, he relieved for a moment at least the torment of those who had not been lucky enough to be born like him with a silver ladle in the spongy orifice.

From this secret consensus, emerged the triumph of Kka'srurur'rruru over his competitors. Having become an apprentice, he enjoyed as many freedoms as responsibility, one, and not the least, was to represent his master during the half-yearly local councils, assemblies which the masters could only rarely attend, protecting some from avoiding , that too much power does not rise to their cerebral bag and to guarantee the operation of the oldest machines.
Obviously, the interests of each were preserved in the person of their representative, carefully selected by the principals concerned. Kka'srurur'rruru's teacher and supervisor was not a mere master, but a grandmaster, by extension he sat on the committee governing the planet. Ultimately, the Gree was called upon to succeed his respected teacher, it was all just a matter of time.

But for the time being, he still had a lot to do before hoping to occupy such a position, because Malanose, the first and main production world of the Empire, was in perpetual effervescence. Veined at the ends of labyrinthine underground alleys, lined countless strong rooms, which welcomed night and day, neurotic researchers and fabricators, ready to disseminate to the four corners of the immense Gree territory, the new prototypes and replicas designed in the shelter looks. Jealous like all of his congeners, he ferociously guarded the property of his people, spreading out over kilometers, perimeters and defensive devices in order to guard against the arrival of any undesirables or bandits. Rare were the visitors allowed to cross the impermeable Gree system, even more exceptional were those who could briefly observe an artifact in operation and study it for a moment.

Fruit of this technological domination, the Gree drew a substantial financial benefit, hyperspace travel for example, still restricted to a few equally advanced species, was the subject of a lucrative nautical trade, travelers rushing to acquire the a few thousand places to embark in floating megalopolises called Rokak'k Baran. These capital ships periodically ferried tourists and seekers from one point of the Empire to another via hypergates, cyclopean arcades strewn across the many sectors of Gree Space. The masters, too, expensively exempted their expertise and advice, bartering services for exotic and unusual goods. As surprising as it may seem nowadays, the economy was based on a principle of exchange, good processes for some sacrifice, equivalent to the supply demanded, the currency therefore remained useless within the Gree territories, and the Constantly varying prices depended on the inclinations and appetites of each. So, one hundred thousand bantha hide credits doesn't sound impressive, when one thousand gemstone credits do.
At the center of this complex device, Malanose, the main world of development, worked night and day to produce refined scientific products, a role which Kka'srurur'rruru fulfilled well.

In the bowels of the planet, his team was busy making the xenoanalysis process work, allowing their battle droids to be more efficient than ever before. Fascinated by the constantly pushed back performances of the hypertechnological system and eager to know, he carried out alone and without anyone's agreement, parallel experiments on the " inferior species ", which were not lacking and could not defend themselves against the powerful Gree machines. .
Celestials alone know what atrocities he committed in the name of scientific progress, probing deep into pure-blooded Sith and Hutt in search of a superior understanding of the universe's fundamental concepts governing life. Probably he also took dark pleasure in seeing the dismay of his test subjects. This frenzy, however, was not unfounded, he was aware of the downfall of his people, and to this was added the territorial agitations and the resulting armed quarrel, when the edges of a major power equal to the Gree, the Exploitation Kwa, vigorously rammed its borders long before. The struggle had already lasted almost seventy thousand years, seriously exhausting the camps with the still uncertain outcome of a deadly conflict.

Determined to put a definitive end to the exactions of the Kwa, he strove to concentrate his forces and his thoughts on the incessant improvement of his war machines. Seeing beyond their high-performance sensors, a means of defeating an invisible opponent, who alongside their ancestral enemies from the beginning, crushed the droids, repelled the barrages of fire and dismembered their knuckles made of cortosis alloys with astounding ease. A scientific heresy, defying logic itself and overturning with each new confrontation, the forecasts, previously shaped.

But this was never enough, and despite the considerable resources he made available to his caste to restore his nation, it collapsed. Because the relentless aplomb of the Gree and its fabulous technology could not alone, according to their goodwill, change the thread of destiny.
And as the stars aligned after so many years, finally bestowing upon him the title of caste ruler, a dark eclipse, too distant to be seen, obscured the glorious painting, presaging at the embrasures of that perfect canvas, signs of advanced and particularly tough decompositions. Once fully aware of this abject defilement, Kka'srurur'rruru was going to be forced to struggle, more than he had done in his entire life. Because a single step back would signal the end of the confrontation, the annihilation of his great work and the obliteration of what he was, he and his people...


Infinite Empire Hegemony

Aeons ago there lived a scientist so certain he held the key to understanding the mysteries of existence that for a decade fate itself proved him wrong. Then materialized before his horrified eyes, the worst fears buried deep in his soul.

One day, as he wandered lonely through the alleys of a gigantic geometric city shrouded in an incandescent luminous halo, eclipsing by itself the weak presence of a rising star, Kka'srurur'rruru, his gaze haggard , fixed on a section of the sky obstructed by a majestic arcade in operation, never tired of seeing the Rokak'k Baran carrying the thousands of passengers through the hypergate for an unknown destination. There, a piercing noise came to pull him out of his stroll, unsettled by the impromptu arrival of a droid floating in the void, he grumbled darkly, fond of little but scrap unworthy of inclusion in the Gree legacy. can interrupt it. But the blinking green signal, as it illuminated the cephalopod, made every second that passed, a bud of misunderstanding bloom in the mind of its host.

Still unaware of the unfolding crisis, Kka'srurur'rruru mounted his self-propelled polyhedron and eagerly followed the messenger probe, understanding at this time only an ominous piece of information: a hostile entity had been spotted.
Spinning at a considerable speed, his vision lacerated by the impressive industrial frames, did not help him to polarize psychically on the source of this disturbance, he therefore activated the quantum communicator of his tunic, causing an appendage to hatch on his back. metal squealing quietly a priority emergency instruction, while the motorized platform guided its passenger independently through the city. Within the neural web, shared collegially by Malanose's highest echelons, debate raged, with administrators urging more intelligence on this enemy of undetermined firepower, while fabricators rushed sub- active programs to boost the production of war machines.

At the center of this unbridled clamor, Kka'srurur'rruru had no say, regardless of his title, the chief operator would be vested with applying repression, only his opinion on the optimization of a plan viable was required. Thought parasitized by so many messages, he inoculated himself with a psycho-regenerative tonic in order to curb the precipitous degradation of his synapses, succumbing under the burden of quantity. Already, several squadrons of drones were engulfed by the ventilation chimneys, vomiting endless amounts of poisonous wisps, in order to establish a complete and effective list of operational regiments.
Approaching the assembly tower, he swiftly descended from the levitating cylindrical film, escorted by Gree guards. Hastening to follow the bright beaconing galloping on the walls and floor, winding the edges of subtle chiseled patterns all around him, then he finally arrived in the conference room.

There, on several soft seats orbiting an electric blue three-dimensional table, stood the grand masters of Malanose, beside him, his tutor thoughtfully rubbing his prefrontal cortex in expectation of a speedy outcome. At the exceptional request of an advisor, one of his assistants could reside among his peers, Kka'srurur'rruru received the honor for having led with an iron fist the Gree offensive on the eastern border of the territory, victim of the Kwa.

It was precisely this distinctive ribbon, stretched several light-years apart connecting along its entire length Birgis and Dantooine, that was in question. The Gree detachments had inexplicably disappeared without leaving a trace. If at first it seemed obvious that it was an intervention sponsored by the Kwa, their sudden disappearance, agrained uncertainty and incomprehension in the minds of all.
Without forgetting that the worlds at the southwestern end of the Empire, they too were gradually disuniting with the Gree quantum data hyperfield. Uba, Wistril, Ord Cantrell, so many dominions vaporized, as if ingested by a powerful succubus.
By the Architects, which force was able to make half of a territory so powerfully guarded vanish in such a short time? The Columi remained safe on Columus, it was the same with the Sharu...

Buried in the memory of the Gree, there were only the Celestials capable of such a work of destruction, but for what reason? Why would they do such a thing? Why undertake to devastate the species they had guided for so long? A distress signal was indeed dispatched by means of a relay with the strange technology bequeathed by the Architects, but no return occurred since. Now only the Rakata remained, this primitive extraterrestrial species which had, according to some accounts, been formed by the Kwa, a short time ago. But the council of masters could not stand the idea of conceiving that such an imperfect race could discipline in such a short time, sciences as complex as space travel and the art of war.

However, the time was over for hesitation and a decision was made, Malanose was going to send all of his armies south of Gree territory, first of all to prevent any enemy from penetrating deeper into the inhabited regions, then to allow the other main worlds of the Gree System to prepare as best they could, based on tactical data coming directly from the front.

The revered professor would lead the Primus expedition force, while Kka'srurur'rruru and his followers would command the Secundus field force. One last day, the factories were running at full capacity, then when the time came, the world of production became as silent as nothingness. Tens of thousands of miles from the main city, the heavy footsteps of battle droids could be heard, the billions of robots boarding excessively large ships. As the earth itself quivered, and the celestial vault dulled as the legions of warships raced toward the hypergates, each inhabitant stared up at the firmament, hearts full of understated excitement, for though the demonstration of force was certain, what would happen if the fleets were defeated?

On the command bridge, the council of war elaborated scrupulous details, which would take over from the initial plan if the plot of fate were tied against them. There, the general operator was already viewing the reports of each battle barge, each carrying hundreds of thousands of xenoanalyst units and containing a miniaturized assembly line to restore and create new assault divisions in the event of losses. To defeat the enemy king, the Gree Empire had unleashed the big game, carefully placing its pieces on the galactic checkerboard and sending capital ships to the front so large they were like floating cities. However, the bet seemed daring, because the Gree had not come out of a thousand-year-old dispute without leaving feathers, the latter exclusively sclerotic by the temporary absence of their ancient enemy. The Gree system, amputated by half of its troops, could not suffer from the defeat of any expedition, otherwise the immense territory would be exposed for a moment to the pirates and Kwa if they resurfaced, unable to protect themselves properly.

The spangled exosphere of battleships and cruisers gradually decongested as the roaring cloud abandoned itself to nothingness, caught up in a flat, revolving facade. Aware of the imperative overwhelming his shoulders, Kka'srurur'rruru stared at the bovine gaze, his field of vision slowly diminishing as his flagship was overwhelmed by the hypergate. Again alongside reality, he made an exalted speech to enthuse his congeners, trumpeting loud and clear, that once he reached his destination, Dantooine would be the genesis of a glorious reconquest, which would survive forever sculpt in the memories.

Yet it was chance that brought war to Gravlex Med. The General Operator, commander-in-chief of his legion, assimilated by the relay of previously established digital readings, that the modest planet, colonized several centuries ago mainly for its low gravity, had remained from its osmosis to the Empire, a new space of quarrel with the Kwa, in accordance with the more than obvious promiscuity with an essential trade route for both sides.

Although weakly guarded in appearance, it housed a manufacturing complex buried deep underground. There, in the Gree lair, automated battalions, shielded from enemy consideration, fashioned their own sentry units, drawing the energy they needed directly from the planet's core. The mineral layer in continual liquefaction, embracing the holy of holies, used as raw material, hitherto inexhaustible.

In principle, such a configuration guaranteed the individual independence of the colony, but its current dissolution had had repercussions on the meeting plan fomented by the Gree to reduce to ashes the adversary he did not know. This is why Kka'srurur'rruru was forced to take more perilous measures, unable to ignore incidents that were too recent to be camouflaged in a campaign report. Blinded by the uncertainty of an ambush, the painful position in which he found himself was nevertheless temporary, once the hand was placed on the installations, he would be likely to sustain a siege until the end of time, in other words until 'when the planetary core gives way under its own mass. The Gree fleets thus rallied Gravlex Med and its phantom garrison, planning a lightning reoccupation expedition to regain the goods of their plundered heritage.

Kka'srurur'rruru struggled to identify what had happened to the worlds of the devastated galactic band. Still in orbit, the flagship's supercomputers restored corrupted files and erased databases, taken remotely via an information-gathering unit. But as hieroglyphic accounts spilled over the curved module, the logical explanation found by the artificial intelligence seemed implausible. A saturation of the flow of statistical data …

The Operator had perhaps, for a negligible moment, the desire to laugh, if, however, the caustic stagnant bile in the facial pockets did not irritate the nasal walls intensely. Unable to remain in place as it fumed stormily in a macabre silence, its tentacles whipped the air violently, lashing out at an unapparent evil. The administration of the mathematical data rate, he had nominally updated it, returning from his campaign against the Kwa, there could not be a failure of the systems. Particularly when strong in scientific understanding, Gree's technology remained far too advanced for its powerful machines to be able to sort without the greatest of facilities the slightest factor.

Kka'srurur'rruru harbored concerns that he did not know were unfounded for the time being, because the origin of the deficiencies stemmed from the disproportionate accumulation of analyzes during previous battles on Gravlex Med, or the optional implantations, aimed at singularly increasing the effectiveness of combat brigades and by extension the digital procedure came from a product of its own design. In the past, and on numerous occasions, in defiance of a clear foresight of Kwa actions, the implant granted within the span of a second to help droids adopt a response, measured and always appropriate to the action examined, being done, an army composed of thousands of perfected units was simply invincible, because the tiny gesture of a single metal soldier meant the elimination of his opponent, whoever he was.
But then, how could one explain their rout?
What criterion did his military genius take backwards? Was it quantitative preeminence? Or something else ? The questions remained unanswered…

His mind momentarily pacified by the transfusion of a powerful tranquilizer, Kka'srurur'rruru's bulging eyes stared at an informative window at the very bottom of his console, as his armada entered the mesosphere, the abnormal detection of life forms in the highly industrialized defensive complex heralded the start of hostilities, the place was already occupied.

Wishing to gauge the opponent's strengths by probing his deck of cards, he ordered the batteries of the nearest cruiser to be fired, to find out if the armed protocols of the Gree center would turn against him. As a few volleys slammed into the target, the incandescent plasma charges streaking the air in a sonic descent, nothing happened. Smiling at the realization that the subterranean outpost would not have to be dismantled from space to flush out the invaders, probably too uneducated to understand an ounce of Gree's immense knowledge, he decreed the deployment of the all the forces at his disposal.

Initiating the landing of the landing craft already darkening the sky, the automated artificial intelligence, arranged over an area of several tens of kilometers², the innumerable Gree machines and artillery on the chosen territory, there in the middle of its legion, Kka'srurur'rruru and his colleagues, mounted on command barges, took up positions surrounded by their respective guards, slightly elevated in order to have a general overview of everyone's position. Then, on the announcement of a dissonant musical symphony, a seismic bomb was dropped on the buried superstructure and surrounded by a distant army.

The impact blew and crumbled the ocher rock in a castling crackle, revealing to all eyes the shapes of a geometric gray building. It didn't take much longer for the regiments to storm the unveiled edifice, howitzers opening fire from a safe distance as Gree destroyers rushing towards the entrances burdened with oppressive targeting, penetrated the complex, the heavy gates yielding under the relentless burst of energy. It was then that the cowards appeared, emerging like a sea of ants from the concealed vents of the oppressed citadel. Far from being shocked by a rapid exit, the Master Operator activated the tactical improvement devices, thus granting his troops unparalleled responsiveness. Ahead, a downpour of energy assails the hordes of roaring brutes, smoking the air shivering, vaporizing moisture victimized by the localized incandescence of a continuous plasma barrage at chthonic temperature. While Xenoanalytical units shattered ever-revitalized waves of enemies, Gree Observer and Signal Squads compiled and exchanged extermination protocols between all branches of the Mechanical Army, accelerating the tempo of slaughter. But on the collective console distributed among the operators, a subtlety disconcerted the high command, the adversary losses. They were drastically weak, much lower than the predictions made in (the) presence of such a force assigned to harvest them. Losing himself in conjecture, Kka'srurur'rruru demanded descriptions of the resistance to establish the list of existing species, the membership of any force and thus readjust his armies accordingly. In response, the AI submitted holographic depictions of tattooed symbols directly on the faces of the remains lying on charred ground. The diverse and varied motives displayed slaves of various strains, all subject to the Rakata. This is the hostile entity he was looking for...

It was then that space yelped in pain, dislocating sickly as if seized with a divine affliction, the space-time web feverish at the growing approach of a newcomer. The builder ships had just licked the orbit of Gravlex Med, ready to take back, the Gree armada.
Raising his eyes to the sky, the sensors panicking at the return of the quantum echo, inventoried an impressive enemy fleet approaching, the alarmed general operator bellowed in an imprecise speech an order, at these words, the vast mechanical contingents cut themselves off half, to face the enemy. Technological superiority guaranteed them certain victory, but the battle now extended to two opposing fronts would spice up the company. Behind him, the helots still held firm, relieved by the early withdrawal of some of their torturers, while several hundred yards ahead, Lehon's warriors charged Kka'srurur'rruru and his machines.

The celestial vault was also not spared by the conflict, the vertical ships attacking the Gree cruisers to avoid an aerial bombardment on their fellows. All over Gravlex Med reigned the surrounding chaos and frenzied madness of battle, as the warring parties fought like bloodthirsty beasts, unwilling to yield an inch of land to the other, and never managing to pull off a clean victory.

Finally when Kka'srurur'rruru realized that the invisible ally of the Kwa had now sided with the Rakata, absorbing the incandescent projectiles and saving aliens branded with iron by the hundreds of thousands. He muttered through his spongy device, once again cursing the providential help of this intrusive patron. But this time it was too late. For the esoteric machines of the Builders, gorging themselves with the despair and hatred of their own slaves below, sacrificed like cattle, began second by second to take advantage of the Gree fleets stationed above them. Seeing the mastery of the sky slipping away from him, he couldn't do anything to stop it, because he had just come into contact with the opposing lines. Nearly having his right brain lobe severed, the operator activated his gray helix catalyst, generating a powerful energy field that atomized the rudimentary weapons of the aggressors who came to attack him.

His close guard pushing aside the alien fighters for a moment, Kka'srurur'rruru took advantage of the moment to urge his colleagues to concentrate their forces on the building still standing. If they didn't hurry, the sky was going to fall on their heads. An urgent withdrawal had to take place in the minutes to come, otherwise, not enjoying acceptable air cover and a lull granted by the Gree complexes, they would find themselves annihilated. Now alone against the Rakata, his nine other followers fighting to decimate the pockets of resistance having sealed themselves in the craters, he was going to lead a suicidal charge to gain as much time as possible. But incomprehension won over him, for the sight of the panicked censors, suffering to indicate coherent totals always increasing, he was dazzled by the annihilation of a heavy cuirassier, fragmented in fiery shrapnel preparing to crash. The supernatural strike force of the Rakata grew hour by hour without his being able to discover the source. It was the turn of his own troops to retreat, when the devices he had invented himself were powerless to update combat protocols, struggling to keep up with a lightning evolution of enemy firepower.

Technological genius Gree bent under the omnipotence of the Force, leaving the generals utterly overwhelmed by events, unsure of how to outclass a rival who stood out of reach, outclassing the slightest predictions and calculations aimed at bringing him down. Kka'srurur'rruru bewildered had to resolve to interrupt the statistical transfer device, because the readings of the debacle were transmitted in real time to the manufacturers of the Gree system who for the time being were manufacturing new machines based on the data collected, all erroneous, unable to transcribe the horror of the situation.
This time, a colossal laser fell on the Gree, blasting a third of the Master Operator's mechanized legions to dust and killing four of his men instantly.

Realizing that defeat seemed inevitable, he chose to beat a retreat, forcing the emergency landing of several of his warships, and abandoning tens of thousands of units fighting randomly without any clear directives except for cover his escape. The debacle was almost total, if martial rigidity and the large number of Gree troops had not made the difference at the most critical moment, when boarding the ships.

Once isolated from the Rakata, other frigates having had to be sacrificed as a diversion, the once colossal fleet advanced in the vacuum of space like a brainless body. The leaders were silent for days, constantly inoculating themselves with stimulants to lessen the mental burden on their shoulders. Kka'srurur'rruru feared for the safety of his admired curator, if the Rakata had divided their force evenly, then the grandmaster would in this case have to face the unleashed fury of their weaponry, if not worse...

Following the disaster on Gravlex Med, the iron fist Secundus released its once iron grip on the Raioballo sector and retreated inexorably towards the known borders.
The sector hypergate unfortunately was immolated under a massive bombardment to prevent the enemy from penetrating into the heart of the Gree civilization.
Undermined by the omnipotence of Rakata weapons, the mechanical legions threatened to collapse completely, yet the generals could not bring themselves to return defeated, bringing to the planetary council the sole recommendation that an armistice was the only hope that they were left.

So even unable to wrest this tactical hegemony from the enemy, Kka'srurur'rruru continued to fight with the energy of desperation against a force that no army could at any time defeat. For seventy years he waged war against Rakata's expansionist ambitions, pausing only briefly to wrest from the rocky mantle of countless worlds the resources he needed to rebuild his armies in tatters. Gradually, the abundant defeats, marked with a hot iron on his own body and painfully chiselled in his soul, the leaping indeclinability, but like any cornered creature knowing more than reason his destiny, he braced himself before the bonds of destiny called upon to hinder it. Then he seizes the full measure of his past pride, savoring at length, the miles and a flavor of bitterness, and noting inconsolably, the slow putrefaction of the Empire he served. Shelled by the unbearable truth, Kka'srurur'rruru renounced his mental stability in favor of a futile and transient convalescence for his people, reassuring himself only at the thought of the transitory and chimerical convalescence granted to his people who would enjoy a moment of calm before the storm. Then shortly, before the irrevocable disengagement of his splintered legions, since humiliation had transmuted his warlike convictions into masochistic languor, he no longer fought, contenting only to place, when he could, the remains of his synthetic battalions on the way to the Rakata, who then used it as an effective training module for the training of their new admirals. Observing from the deck of his ship, the AI maneuver armies in liquefaction, and experiencing the full extent of its weakness. Was this an act of penance for the affront to his species? No one will find out, as his heart, withered by this time, refuses to bleed once again in (the) memory coagulation of this souvenir.

Finally, he returned devitalized to Malanose, his bone frame arched with age. Accompanied by a crumbling vessel and two of his comrades, sole survivors of the enterprise they had led so long ago, all were able after all to draw the page, haunted by the sword of Damocles which was approaching them.

However, at home, he did not obtain the enthusiastic and warm welcome incumbent on all veterans of his temperament, on the contrary, at the announcement of his resurgence, cold and accusing looks watched him, as he slowly ascended the steps of the synod reserved to listen to his mournful words.

Standing hovering in the middle of the geometric room, the more than welcome support of his seat was curtly refused, the council voted unanimously, declaring Kka'srurur'rruru solely responsible for this military fiasco, guilty of the demise of the others officers under his command by his incompetence in the martial field. Despite warnings from the headmaster, who had only a few more data to give them, the rest of the information from the surveys being negligible by their accounts, the grand masters concluded that the lack of response from the Primus force meant a spectacular breakthrough Gree against the now identified enemy. Not trusting the apocalyptic rantings of this disgraced Gree, he lost all credibility in their eyes, and ended up becoming the laughing stock of his people, "fair return" for the being who had helped the lower castes to survive in this cruel society, much to the delight of the elite.

Having become apathetic and depressed, because he knew the end of civilization was approaching, he nestled like a Hermit in the antechambers of his laboratory, busying himself one last time to discover the remedy that would ensure the survival of a people who disdained him. For months, he analyzed and cross-referenced the information collected throughout his life, before finally finding the answer to this enigma.
So he brought together his followers on one last occasion, and explained to them what was going to happen to the galaxy in the years, centuries, millennia to come: the fall of the Gree, the supremacy of the Builders...

To face this dystopian future, the remedy presented itself, for if Kka'srurur'rruru had experienced it, the Rakata would soon do the same.
As a result, he specified that stasis in a highly secure complex to await the arrival of an era more favorable to their return remained the only viable choice aimed at guaranteeing the longevity of the species. The preliminaries already in progress, he had previously installed hundreds of secular caissons, designed to freeze in a concentrated deflecting arc, living matter, then immersed in a state of continual hibernation. Regulated arithmetically by the artificial intelligence having supplemented Kka'srurur'rruru during all its life, this one was not under any consideration to reopen the corridors of the research complex, ruling anyone coming into contact with the building and not not having a specific clearance level as a hostile entity. The thermal turbines, providing energy that would power the superstructure throughout their slumber, the Gree would be safe from Rakata's impetuosity. Sexually indeterminate, the difficulties associated with Gree copulation and the general indifference to the practice itself would resurrect their race, if it were to become extinct.

All then accepted without discussion, plunging into the bowels of the industrial world never to come out again. Patiently waiting, with his followers, for time to do its work and destroy those who had dared to tarnish the majesty of his species, but would the survivors also resist the secular affliction, while their mortal enemy falls? Before disappearing, Kka'srurur'rruru predestined that when he returned to life, the Gree Empire would be reborn with him.


Eternal Torpor

There is in each of us a desire for perpetuity, whether conscious or unconscious. That is to say, a desire for the permanence of the elements that constitute and surround us. It is from this principle that the living judge time and live its passage in the suffering of never being able to override it. Kingdoms dream of endless dominations while lovers swear eternal passion. But these impossible commitments are frivolous, for it is only by accepting one's own limitations that we mere mortals can act with the equal determination and success that immortal being buys at the cost of millennia.

Aware of this fact while repelling it to the highest degree, the general operator was aware that everything remained subject to a single and unique rule painted in three words: Ascension, Apogee, Decline. As such, he could predict the collapse of his friends, but also of his enemies, all victims of the supreme hourglass.

Thus, following the disastrous wake of the Kwa who had fallen asleep the sleep of the grave, decimated by their own disciples, the Gree could not fight a oh so superior adversary. Spreading death upon their predecessors through doomsday weapons, the Rakata quickly took the ancient place of the Precursors, as the ruling entity of the galaxy, crystallizing that icon of cursed dominance into the superweapon that would cause many millennia later, their own loss: The Star Forge.

The barely cordoned off Kka'srurur'rruru complex suffered extensive degradation, sealing off the main entrance and disabling the perimeters of synthetic defenses, when the nascent Infinite Empire confronted Athla'giroth, an entity of nameless dimensions and to the cosmic force, on the outskirts of the Veragi sector. The creature became known as the "World Razer" to them, as its inordinate appetite had already consumed thousands of worlds. Threatening the stability of the young Rakata territory, the Builders then had to mobilize their entire armies to put an end to the bloody excesses of the homunculus. The shock of the conflict was such that it caused a consequent shock wave in hyperspace, permanently damaging the artificial intelligence, thus losing the ability to communicate with the outside and to continue the countdown of time by means of the quantum clock. Defeated, the Destroyer of Worlds was sequestered in the heart of the planet Plawal, the Rakata transforming the glacial geosphere into a planetary prison complex.

Nearly ten thousand years after their uprising, the omnipotent Infinite Empire crumbled violently, martyrdom to the weapon that sparked their dazzling rise. Generation after generation, the battle station guaranteeing Rakata hegemony, had slowly aggravated the already evil instincts of its designers, fueled by their unspeakable abuses committed without moderation for eons. The repercussions, at first insignificant and not attributable to the subversive artefact, brought about their downfall, because by corrupting its masters, it disposed them to behave in an ever more radical way. Soon, the worlds under the control of the Infinite Empire rose up, one after another. Dislocated by a galactic civil war, the Builders could not intervene quickly, because, to this was added as final scars, the appearance of an unexplained syndrome disturbing the Rakata genetic heritage exclusively, disconnecting them from the Force. Unable to make use of advanced technology operating on the sole mastery of this power, now lost, they were overthrown by the slaves they had chained for so long. Thus fell, in minus twenty-five thousand two hundred, the greatest oppressor there was, renouncing his position which went from then on to the Old Republic.

Blind and deaf following a first complication, the artificial intelligence could not be kept informed of the fulfillment of the predictions of Kka'srurur'rruru concerning their ancient enemy, thus it maintained captive in spite of itself, the thousands of scientists dozing even though they had conquered the law of time. Perhaps fate had cleverly positioned its pawns in order to prevent the Grees from seeing their plans for eternity come to fruition. But still alive, the hope lives on, therefore, a new challenge was placed in their path.

This arose during the Cold War between the Second Sith Empire and the Old Republic. Near the end of the conflict, a sect of dark side fanatics, manipulated by dissident Sith, accomplish the feat of opening Asation's hypergate, conjuring up unholy swarms of beasts as varied as they are loathsome. There, lurking in a dimensional pocket within hyperspace connecting the Gree Arcade to an uncharted finality, lay Lotek'k, a massive abomination from beyond the known universe. Banished in omitted ages for disturbing, most likely justified, motives, the creature desired only one thing, to be free. However, an intervention group won after a bitter fight, the Terror from Beyond. Sent back to where it came from, the Gree system was spared its madness, but the badly dilapidated hypergate caused its closing, a burst of energy that was felt on every planet of the Gree Enclave.

As such, the energy regeneration mechanisms transmuting the heat capacity, emitted by the heart of Malanose to meet the needs of the complex became inoperative. The too diverse routines and sub-routines deteriorated, the rehabilitations appeared unrealizable. Now without a way to persist and watching the electrical reserves dry up from second to second, the central console had to make important decisions commensurate with the gravity of the situation. Its only priority remained the survival of the researchers, so it first turned off the lights, obsolete, only the biogenic beings had the need to move in space. She then disconnected non-essential maintenance units, and sentry droids tasked with defending the building soon followed, all draining the volatile contents of their capacitors to sustain the remaining batteries as long as possible. The AI even disassociated itself from its own overly voracious directives and cursives, only to find itself lonely with the abundant chambers still in operation.

Finally not being able to grasp the risk of immediately awakening all its occupants under penalty of seeing the stasis protocols tumble due to lack of energy and not being able to bring them back one after the other, because the reserves would also be lacking , the console resolved to gradually disassociate the "least useful" Gree survival modules, that is to say those at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Dying of starvation or thirst, they left serenely without even suspecting the deliquescence their bodies were undergoing. After all, at the end of the journey, and the solutions drying up, the central unit began emergency wake-up procedures, releasing the few hundred Gree operators from a weary sleep. However, the fears expressed previously by the AI took place, because the haste of the revocations of the arcs of isolations, succeeded a general conflagration of the nutritive reserves, sublimating the last survivors.

The only survivor, Kka'srurur'rruru, whose module was much better endowed by his social rank, only felt a marked heat wave around his miniature room, the sophisticated surfaces of the passenger compartment suffocating the sparks before they consumed their occupant.
At this unpleasant sensation, the tiny conscious fragment that remained, still intact, virgin of the secular butchers, awoke. The pseudopods of the still dormant Gree, caressing the intangible forms of an air charged with a flow of electrons losing its volatile properties as the geothermal energy disappeared. On the other side, the moribund artificial intelligence quivered in a final quantum jolt as the end approached, then the supreme digital instances coming to an end, ruined the multi-millennial quantum entity, disseminating its metaphysical mass through a distribution stable energy in the torrid air. There, poured out of the tank, a deformed and sticky mass, stirring feverishly on the obsolete ground, exuding a nauseating and gelatin-like humus.

This gross entity was none other than Kka'srurur'rruru, whose mind dismembered by eternal sleep was not yet fully aware of the situation. Exhausted by the distress release protocol of his stasis module, he vegetated there vulnerable, being still blind, only able to hear the singular silence reigning at his side and the omission of his artificial sentry. As the hours passed, the Gree pumped through a spongy device, the nutritious phosphorescent ice dripping from the cistern's orifices, which for eons had nourished it. Still numb from temporal immobility, but refreshed, his muscles quivered involuntarily, lubricating ancient bodily mechanisms.

Delirious in a state of quasi-consciousness, he monologued psychically, dreamily going to seek news from his congeners, who had also emerged from this soporific lethargy and already imagining the legions of Gree droids emerging from the depths of Malanose to annihilate a decrepit and rotting Rakata Empire. He could subsequently incarcerate and study without frames this famous invisible sympathizer who had so often skated between his tentacles. But, the harrowing journey did indeed have no regard for the incredible Gree technology, due to Kka'srurur'rruru. The carnal envelope, although safeguarded by the regulating arcs of the healing machine, was the only surface on which science was able to intervene, therefore, the psychic functions seriously affected by the corridor of time; his consciousness could no longer make sense of things, redeploying and inextricably intertwining past events in a web carding a distorted reality...
Finally on his feet, staggering clumsily away from the inferno behind him, his bulging eyes opened to the blackness of a galaxy once again inhabited by his presence.







INVENTORY


Ship: None

Weapon: Gray Helix Focus (heavily damaged)
Like Gree lore, the Gray Helix Focus is a unique xeno-technological marvel. The crackling ardor, the fruit of dark matter channeled in a hyperdense graviton cone, causes a field of thermodynamic non-light to run over the owner's skin of such intensity that it transmutes anyone who touches it, into a cloud of dust and atoms. Conventional weaponry is ineffective against such an artifact, which on contact reconditions the plasma into reusable energy. However, the Gree protective shield is not impenetrable (it is particularly sensitive to weaponization using a concentrated light beam for example), not to mention that the mechanism in its current form has been greatly damaged over time, generating for the instant than a simple barrier struggling to stop blaster fire. It will not find a second youth anytime soon.

Equipement : Operator Tunic (heavily damaged)
Reflecting the duty of a first-rate Operator, the caftan being associated with it, testifies to the respect due to its rank. Despite the over-the-top sophistication, the smart textile perfectly conducts the quantum fields inherent in Gree's sophisticated means of communication. Within it, nano-engineering increases transmission range and speed tenfold, greatly improving the speed of execution and responsiveness of interactive research link units. However, the chances of detecting the Operator are proportional to the amplification of the quantum emission. After eons of inaction, the get-up has become obsolete unless repaired, which turns out to be a most complex task.







OTHER


Kills: None

Bounties collected: None
 
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