Character Lirka Ka

[Lirka Ka]

Name:
Lirka Ka

Age:
202 years old

Sex:
Female, though after her “rebirth” sex has become more or less irrelevant.

Species:
Sephi, though has been spliced with many species now so she ofts refers to herself a “Once-Sephi”

Height:
1.9 Meters, 2.19 meters in her Powersuit

Weight:
113 Kilograms, much heavier in her Powersuit

Eyes:
They are an unnatural icy blue in coloration

Hair
While being something that is all but never seen due to Lirka staying in her helmet for 90 percent of her days, Lirka still decides to dye her hair a plethora of different colors as a reminder of her artistic instincts from being on Thustra

Skin
Deathly pale in coloration though still keeping the distinct pink hue of a Sephi

Appearance
Lirka is a monstrous thing only able to have been made, not born. She is a mass of sculpted muscle issue that seems to writhe under her unnatural creature, a thing longing for change. Her skin is impossibly smooth and features infinitely too symmetrical, an androgynous mass of muscle closer resembling a living statue than a person.

Personality
A horrible, wretched creature. That is what Lirka is truly deep down. Lirka is spurred on by a mixture of hatred for the living world and her own boundless self interest. A scheming weasel always scuttling between the dark cracks of the Galaxy hunting for who-knows-what to appease whatever deranged desires have taken grips of her addled mind this go around. A raging narcissist who will gladly taunt and bully any who she deems to be beneath her stature, but a pitiful dog brought to heel to any who she knows sit higher up in the totem pole of Sith existence. But Lirka’s mind is a weakened thing, and her many personas over her long life have taken their toll on her brain: her moods and demeanors can shift rapidly, from a sarcastic nuisance befitting her days of underworld scum, a dark and plodding schemer, or a raging inferno of rage and disdain for all living things.

Force sensitivity
Where once Lirka readily could call on the Force, the foul nature of her rebirth into the living world had left her cut off from the Force, totally dead to its touch. But as the years dragged on, piecemeal, her connection to the living force slowly dripped back into existence: a maddening thing driving the Once-Sephi even deeper into her depravity.

Weapons:
Lirka wields a new custom blade, after her former was taken by a Mandalorian warrior following their duel: dubbing the new weapon the Quarlani ath Keryth or “Soul of War”, the weapon is a long songsteel blade with electro-plasma filaments much in the same style as her former weapon, but unlike the former the blades can detach at the middle to form two smaller blades

Armor:
Lirka’s power suit is a mass of overlapped plates, with edges as sharp as razors. Formed of a mixture of duranium and a smattering of Beskar plundered from her time as the Governor of Sith-Imperial Mandalore, being used to form her breastplate, helmet, and gauntlets for the necessary edge in her many conflicts with both Sith and Jedi alike.

Strengths:
The Beast
Lirka is a wall of muscle and murderous intent. The almost entire “2” centuries of her existence have been entirely devoted to ending the lives of others, a savage thing in combat hacking and slashing with the desire to inflict maximum harm upon her foes. Often relying on her unnatural musculature to try and overpower a smaller opponent.

Survivor
The genetic slurry that makes up Lirka’s creation has given her many useful traits, most of which is a greatly increased healing factor: her flesh writhing to mend itself against minor wounds, and the ability to entirely reattach “replacement” versions of her destroyed limbs if the need arises: a thing grown in a vat that is plenty capable of being remade in a vat.

Weaponsmith
While most normal Sephi will devote their artistic craft to things like painting, sculpting, and weaving. Lirka has scorned such things entirely, the beauty of Durasteel over silk. Her art is the creation of traditional non-energy weapons, her own weapon being designed by her hands. A large collection of bizarre alien weapons at her beck and call for the purposes of cutting, bashing, and shattering.

Weaknesses:
A different life, a different face
As her years drag on, and the nature of her many deaths/near-deaths and rebirths, Lirkas mind has become a muddled thing. A curse of her recreation has made it incredibly difficult for her to remember certain aspects of her early life before her First-Death, much to the growing madness of the Slaver. Leading to the hunt to understand just how many of her memories are actually her own.

Supreme Cowardice
Lirka Ka is a survivor above all things. It is a holy endeavor for the Once-Sephi to make to what she calls “The End of All Days”, and as such: if a situation seems untenable she will gladly turn tail and run away at the first given opportunity.

Overcharged
All but living in a Powersuit has many benefits, and even after the modifications to her design gifted to her by the Kainite: Lirka is still very much susceptible to having her many systems and implants overcharged and shut down, leaving her a disheveled, weakened, mess


Kills:
None

Faction
(Formerly) Confederacy of Independent Systems
(Formerly) Carnifex’s Sith Empire
(Current) Kainite

Rank
(Formerly) Confederate Commander
(Formerly)Grand Moff of the Imperial Borderlands
(Current) Slavemaster General of the Kainite

Personality:
At the end of the day, Lirka Ka is a creature spurred on by a mixture of spite and gross selfishness. Through the trials and tribulations of a hundred battlefields across the Galaxy, Lirka has grown scornful and callous towards the lives of others in the Galaxy: this same disregard for others would lead her into worship of the Dark, and ultimately clinging to its ideals of destruction and nihilism: albeit, twisting the Way of the Dark to suit her own needs ultimately. Always a manipulator at heart

Biography:
Once, Lirka Ka was a princess. Sworn to the throne of Thustra, but that was a Different Time and a Different Face. A time so long ago so as to be irrelevant, the girl named Lirka Ka died long ago, and now only the monster remains. A gladiator that rose through the ranks in her craft to find herself a wretched part of the Underworld, a well trained killing machine offering her blade to whoever could pay her fee.

But a wandering killer never stays truly independent for long, and the much younger Lirka found herself in the service in the now defunct Confederacy of Independent systems as a military commander. But such a life is a fleeting thing, and this Lirka: once possessed by strict honor and a desire to never shirk from the frontline of combat was not long for this world. And she would die, lost to a forgotten war on a forgotten world. A pitiful end for a warrior such as her, but a fitting punishment for such a Dark Side Marauder to tumble into the netherworld and pay the price for all those she had murdered without so much as a care in the world.

Till she was pulled out of it.

Reborn.

Remade.

On Kamino the new Lirka would be made, a thing thrust into life for the sole purpose of being a savage killer. A hulking stim fueled monstrosity, pulsing with uncontained power: lashing out at the world like a scared animal before finally coming to her senses and serving the Confederacy for a time once again after being returned to them in her new sorry state. A living missile to be thrown at any issue that needed a blade to end it. But her ambitions went beyond such things now, for Lirka still clung to some parts of herself in these days: the desire to return home, to see herself upon the throne of Thustra. A desire to free her home from the rule of Mandalorians, a people whom she had deemed unbefitting of the grace of Sephi culture.

One day, the word reached her ears of the fall of the Mandalorians, their empire crumbling away under the might of the Sith. Opportunity presented itself, and so Lirka made the decision that would send her spiraling upon the dark path. The path in which she shall never leave. She left her fellows in the Confederacy, and fell before the Emperor Darth Carnifex and swore her blade in his service. And she was rewarded for her devotions with a dark purpose, to perpetuate the eradication of the Mandalorians as the Governor of Sith-Imperial Moridinae

And she took this work with wicked glee, all of her hatred and rage poured upon the planet as every dark impulse in her life was now unchecked. Their people hunted like animals, families shattered as the beast took the children to fuel her personal Legion. Mercy was only given to those greedy enough to sell out their fellows, and Lirka found out: she was damn good at being the oppressor. Her service would not go unnoted, and the Governor would see a stark rise in the former Empire. With each drop of blood spilt she would rise higher and higher into the governing body, joining the ranks of the Sith-Imperial Moffs, and in due time even becoming the Grand Moff of the lawless Sith-Imperial Borderlands. Becoming something closer to a brutalistic warlord than a Moff.

With each passing day, the Empire grew closer and closer to Thustra. Closer to Lirka’s dreams, and her ambition continued to grow. She would turn her people to an Empire, a thing to be respected, a fief in Carnifex’s rule. But such a thing could not be done alone, so Lirka followed in the footsteps of her Liege and sired children to carry the flame. Of course, unlike mighty Carnifex, Lirka is an infertile weapon of war. So, she simply grew them, as she was. They were 4, and they were her all of her desires poured into these clones that would be the paragons of this new age.

It failed spectacularly.

Life so quickly thrust into being, fueled by the experiences and memories of their mother who so violently fought against any attempt to be controlled would see bloodshed. Two would stand by their creator, and two would seek a life outside her clutches. And soon, Lirka was left with only one of her spawn by her side, the others dead or wayward. A son. A perfect thing for her to mold into the extension of her being. And so, he would be sent to the Sith-Imperial Officer Corp to cement herself as a loyal servant of the Empire.

A distraction for the great vastness of her dark dealings and fraud done with the privileges offered to her. For Lirka is, as always, selfish. Her own plans funded on the Imperial dime and their resources turned to fuel whatever selfish desires she could get away with. But, she did her duty all the same. And she would be rewarded for it once again.

Thustra, in reach. Her dreams to be realized. She would set foot on her home once again, and her blade would be raised to reclaim her home and reshape it into the beacon of perfection she so desired. But, for where she expected a warped and twisted culture broken under the rule of their occupiers: Thustra stood as it always was, in the throne: her father. Consumed by rage, Lirka would commit a great act of patricide and usurped the Throne promised to her by birth. Bringing about the short-lived Sephi Dominate. Greatly did Sephi-kind suffer under her tyrannical rule, her artistry of warfare forced upon them and those who resisted crushed with the same iron fist she had shown the Mandalorians. But this offered her no pleasure, a dream over a century in the making brought nothing to her heart.

She had been underwhelmed, the dark steps she had taken on this path had been for naught. But now, so far down this grim path it was impossible to step back. The first, and last, Empress of Thustra would suffer dearly for what she had inflicted upon the Galaxy, for what the Sith and all their peons at the time had done. For the Empire was not to last, and as the Imperial Civil War broke out the Empire would be consumed by flame and great conflict.

As would her son. Her last connection to her dream shattered. Lirka was left with only grief in her heart, the Empire she had sworn herself to crumbling around her, a people that despised her and plotted her downfall. This would not be the end though, no far from it. This was the catalyst that would send the monstrous Sephi further down her dark path, for in her misery she uncovered the truth, a new path, the Way of the Dark. A new dark obsession with Rhand grew in her grieving heart, in the failure of her dreams she understood their ways.

All things were fleeting.

All things crumbled before the Primordial Dark.

It would be rather ironic that as the Empire burned, Lirka would face the oblivion of near-death again. Her wretched form, stim infused, form would finally collapse and give in on itself. In this twilight state between life and death, while her body was reformed to resemble something much closer to what it is today. She was ordained by the Dark. Now, with all she had known crumbling around her Lirka did the only thing that seemed sensible with her new drive to undercover these grim galactic truths.

She left.

Abandoning the dying Empire, her fief, all she had gained. Traversing the paths mapped long before, she made her way to Rhand. For she desired to understand the planets vile sorcerers far more intimately. It was a precious irony that at the same time the Brotherhood of the Maw had began to rise in the same arm of the Galaxy. And so Lirka would trade one master for another and found herself in the service of the ravaging horde. Though admittedly, her time with them was far briefer than service under the Empire. Much of her time spent hiding away on Rhand consuming whatever knowledge she could, seeking a deeper understanding of primordial Dark. Earning of the ire of plenty. But Lirka found what she desired, and much more importantly: deemed the Sorcerers, and the Way of the Dark to be wrong. Their obsessions with death and scorn for all creation was shortsighted.

She knew the truth, she knew the way. For Lirka’s narcissism, boundless as it is, would never allow for her not to. She deemed the Dark to be the litmus test of survival, the determination of how the strong would rule over the weak, the cruel meritocracy of those worthy to stand at the end of all life at the End of All Things when the stars grow cold and dead and life withers away. Needless to say, Rhand had driven Lirka mad. Her madness made apparent as she was apart of the masses brought to bare for the destruction of Csilla, a day that Lirka still relishes even now as one of the best in her long life.

She would be ousted from that holy place once fire came to Rhand, cast out by the Brotherhood and maimed as she was once again sent out to wander the wider Galaxy and find purpose once again. The vile butcher finding herself down into lowly underworld scum once more to try and make due for herself as a wretched weakness in her form became apparent. Lirka had no right to exist, and her body would remind her that fact: she was unraveling, decaying at a rapid pace that only vast quantities of bacta could provide succor from. She was a walking cadaver staving off death as best she could. This desperation would take her to familiar territory as the Sith began to rise in the far reaches of the Galaxy once again.

So she would shamble into their presence, foul lords of darkness offering employment to scum such as herself. Distant warlords she had never heard of and unfamiliar faces that offered little comfort to the old veteran. But, she would serve, as she always did. Her decaying form demanded it to be so, at least until the time came and the Kainite came to power. Her master, the One-True-Emperor Carnifex had returned. And with her new understanding of the Galaxy, Lirka found herself drawn into the Butcher King’s employ once more. The great offerings needed to mend her wretched body and remake herself in totality once again, for her time as scum had taken into the most wicked of professions: that of a slaver. The Kainite warmachine had great need of such things, and so, Carnifex would dub his former Grand Moff his new Slavemaster General. For she would be tasked with procuring laborers from far and wide, the entire Galaxy an open hunting ground for all those deemed useful to be fed into the endless hunger of her Master.

This new work offered a great deal of freedom, for Lirka spent much of her time outside the Empire aboard Kainite dungeon ships. She was away from prying eyes, and so did she plot, and plan, and looked deeper into the same cracks of the Galaxy that had led her to the Way of the Dark. With it would be born a new, albeit hidden, obsession with the idea of Otherspace. The supposed of the mysterious, near-extinct, and omnicidal Charon. This place, a home to all things opposite of the Galaxy, a place where a force dead being like herself may have found a new life in the beauty of the Anti-Force. It was a tantalizing, but foreign, concept. And as Lirka does, she would obsess. She would dive, and she would hunt as far as she could. Gazing into the beyond into those sectors of space cold, dead, and without life. Otherspace and her beloved Dark, things that felt so similar. Only once had the Dark ever spoken to her, and in Otherspace she craved to hear the sound of its voice once again: for it seemed to be the only place in supposed existence that would bring her close to the twilight between life-and-death once again.

Lirka’s desire to ponder would be granted, for as the Sith toiled themselves in interpersonal conflict: the many factions of this new Sith Order brawling between themselves. Lirka would be sent out into the depths of Wild Space and the edges of the Galaxy to take a great many Slaves for the Kainite cause. Turmoil would strike, for in the conflict her vessel's ability to communicate back to the Empire was lost. Her and her minions were now stranded in the middle of nowhere, lost to the wider Galaxy for many many years as the great events of the Galaxy transpired and the ever-distant Sith now arose into a new and mighty Empire comparable to the one she had served before.

All Lirka could do was ponder and plunder. Ravaging these distant and alien worlds for their people and valuables as they desperately tried to repair their vessel as best they could under the constant stress of combat and supply raids. Deeper so did Lirka delve, in her old age the force slowly dripped back into her being to a maddening degree. Connected to the living force now in only whispers, like an itch in the back of her mind driving her even deeper into her insanity. She would not be lost to the Galaxy though, and soon with great luck from the minions she had collected on their crusade they were able to send communication back to the Empire just as their engines had gone all but cold and dead, fuel depleted.

A chance encounter with one Trayze Tesar had allowed Lirka and what remained of her force to be rescued and returned to the Sith, and the Kainite, an almost different world than the one she had left Lirka is now left to remake the power she had lost in her long absence, new schemes to create, and new atrocities to be committed in the name of her One-True-Emperor, whose great power Lirka had found a growing enamoration with. Perhaps, the Galaxy would have been better off had she been lost in space forever…