The Dead God
With every passing second of study, he grew more and more tired of his own form. The ideas of beauty he had grown up with, shattered in a few mere months of study under the Dread Lord’s Holocron. She gave much, but took just as much with little room to give; likely the reason so few were able to do what she had done.
From our wound, bleeds our memories;
She taught him various forms of lightsaber combat, ideas in melee combat he had never imagined. From dodging to striking, she brought him through the basics with ease and accelerated him directly into more combat orientated stylings; ones perhap she herself was more comfortable than the many others. No matter, the aggression in her style would fit The Slave perfectly; his training bolstered by not only their similar style, but his impressionable nature and surprising intelligence.
As such, their focus was almost entirely on Djem So. It fit him, perhaps, as the strength in his body grew so too did his connection to the force and his ability to focus; all of which are extreme necessities when utilizing it to the pinnacle of its ability. Counters, strikes, lashing out; all of it the exact embodiment of his very nature. He was to become the weapon many needed, with the capacity to retain his ground in whatever position he was.
But more than that, she taught him more about the force. First came the basics, things such as telekinesis, sensational checks on the surroundings, what it was capable of, and more. She was bringing him up as a child, but it was what he required to maintain control of his considerable power. Still, she never moved far outside of the beginning with him, likely to make sure he had complete control over the easier methods before expanding into even more…
No, she knew he couldn’t handle such a thing yet. However, there was something she continued to probe at him with, the theology of what a Dread Lord was, what it meant to be them, and what exactly made them different. She told him stories of her accomplishments, the various creatures she created, the alchemy and manipulation she had performed in innumerable subjects…
It enthralled him like nothing else had.
Her talks about what one could create or change made everything else seem so mundane. It seemed as though he could simply create the joy he wished to have, from the perfect experience to the perfect being, all he had to do was put the effort into it. More than that however, he saw a chance at power… Perhaps his newest trait, he was greedy; a man so hell bent on domination that he could hardly see what wrath he left behind.
In this, he began his experiments on the living. From slaves he captured on various planets, to ones he bought or traded for over the DarkNet, each would be the victim of his latest testing procedures. Replacing their bones, their very nature, even the most basic thing such as hair length or color of their skin. He left nothing untouched, changing everything down to the base soul of a person's makeup, and even then he didn’t stop. With new ideas, new limits to breech, he became the embodiment of Bestia’s disciple, one so capable of creating legions that it became exactly what he called it.
Legion.
But he wouldn’t stop there, he needed more room to expand, a stronger connection to what he wanted, and most importantly, he needed to change who he was to become stronger. There was nothing he could leave untouched in the future, and with credits coming in from his illicit drug trading, it was now the time to begin.
As The Slave lay on a cold metal slab, a number of female doctors surrounded him in wait. Others prepared IV’s, bacta tanks, and god knows foreign operational procedures. They seemed nervous, but despite their uncertainty there was he who lay with such confidence, shadowing their self confidence in outright dominating charisma.
He let loose a smile, his eyes wandering across all those attending before he spoke;
“Today we seek to change who I am.”
“From my bones to my muscles, to my very organs, we seek perfection. As such, I’d rather have no one than you, my trusted servants, performing the operation with my guidance than anyone else.”
He readjusted, forcing the cold metal to touch a different portion of his back.
“After studying Rybcoarse and its effectiveness in tripling performance amongst human subjects, I intend to follow its statement with a flavor I added myself. While bonemer will be used for much of the bones, the Rybcoarse has been decidedly altered to work with Gen’Dai genetics and density.”
“In short, I’ll become a new person in shape and form. Taller, stronger, more capable. I intend to feel what it means to be invincible… To touch the ceiling of prowess and talk to God himself of what it means to be perfect.”
His fingertips ran across the bare skin of his chest, almost tempting the idea of already being altered.
“I’ll be awake the entirety of this. I can’t risk a mistake, and will be guiding you through the process with each stroke of your scalpels, and each breath you take. You each have been chosen for your prior medical professions and the steadiness of your hands. If you do well, you’ll be freed from my control...“
“Although, I don’t know why you would want to.”, he grinned with a devilish malice.
“Now, to begin…”
--
Blades cut deep into his skin, but he retained his focus despite the blur in his vision. They’d gone through both his arms, even one of his legs, but while the last leg had been being altered through the Sith Alchemy he had already set up, and the biocybernetics he had helped customize, he could feel his limit coming close.
By far, this was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. He groaned and threw his head back as they began the incision in his stomach, bringing forth the altered organs in short order. His hands were wrapped as tight as they could around the edges of the table, completely strapped to his sides to prevent himself from lashing out.
And even so, he knew had to hold back the force he held. Already the group had experience two casualties from his carelessness, and if he intended to survive, he couldn’t afford to lose anymore. They were important, not like the other slaves who wandered around the warehouse he had ‘acquired’ for them. No… these ones were expensive.
As his liver was replaced, he couldn’t help but to let a tear run down his eye. Mostly because of the pain of having his organs taken from him while awake, but mostly in part of the fact that it had gotten him through so much. So many drinks, drugs, and who knows what else had gone in his body since they were together. In a sense, it was like losing a friend.
Was that really what he thought of it?
What was happening to his thought process?
He couldn’t be sure, but as the last of the bonemer was laid to his ribs and spine, while the rybcoarse based organic cybernetics were pressed to to his heart, he couldn’t help but lose himself slightly. Was this truly what he wanted? To be a creation of man, and not that of nature?
Of course it was.
Why would he doubt himself?
It didn’t matter, he knew it’d give him an advantage in the future. Though the physical therapy was going to be hell… Still, the idea of being natural teased at him. How far could he go with natural means? Was synthetic really the choice he needed to become all powerful? Did it really matter in the end?
Probably not.
So he began to hide the thought from himself, bury it in the abyss that was his mind. Whatever lay in front of him was his choice, to become a harmonized weapon with what he perceived to be righteous power. A tool for himself, that was all his body was. It didn’t matter what happened to it, so long as he survived.
So he’d continue edging closer to perfection with each passing day. With experience, he’d create the ultimate body… The ultimate form to explore the galaxy with. The immortality and perfection innumerable historical figures sought, but it was he who would achieve it. He alone that would rise above the challenges and grace himself with utter power. This wasn’t the perfection he sought, only a milestone to greatness…
Too bad it took a hefty chunk from his slowly amassing bank account.
From our wound, bleeds our memories;
She taught him various forms of lightsaber combat, ideas in melee combat he had never imagined. From dodging to striking, she brought him through the basics with ease and accelerated him directly into more combat orientated stylings; ones perhap she herself was more comfortable than the many others. No matter, the aggression in her style would fit The Slave perfectly; his training bolstered by not only their similar style, but his impressionable nature and surprising intelligence.
As such, their focus was almost entirely on Djem So. It fit him, perhaps, as the strength in his body grew so too did his connection to the force and his ability to focus; all of which are extreme necessities when utilizing it to the pinnacle of its ability. Counters, strikes, lashing out; all of it the exact embodiment of his very nature. He was to become the weapon many needed, with the capacity to retain his ground in whatever position he was.
But more than that, she taught him more about the force. First came the basics, things such as telekinesis, sensational checks on the surroundings, what it was capable of, and more. She was bringing him up as a child, but it was what he required to maintain control of his considerable power. Still, she never moved far outside of the beginning with him, likely to make sure he had complete control over the easier methods before expanding into even more…
No, she knew he couldn’t handle such a thing yet. However, there was something she continued to probe at him with, the theology of what a Dread Lord was, what it meant to be them, and what exactly made them different. She told him stories of her accomplishments, the various creatures she created, the alchemy and manipulation she had performed in innumerable subjects…
It enthralled him like nothing else had.
Her talks about what one could create or change made everything else seem so mundane. It seemed as though he could simply create the joy he wished to have, from the perfect experience to the perfect being, all he had to do was put the effort into it. More than that however, he saw a chance at power… Perhaps his newest trait, he was greedy; a man so hell bent on domination that he could hardly see what wrath he left behind.
In this, he began his experiments on the living. From slaves he captured on various planets, to ones he bought or traded for over the DarkNet, each would be the victim of his latest testing procedures. Replacing their bones, their very nature, even the most basic thing such as hair length or color of their skin. He left nothing untouched, changing everything down to the base soul of a person's makeup, and even then he didn’t stop. With new ideas, new limits to breech, he became the embodiment of Bestia’s disciple, one so capable of creating legions that it became exactly what he called it.
Legion.
But he wouldn’t stop there, he needed more room to expand, a stronger connection to what he wanted, and most importantly, he needed to change who he was to become stronger. There was nothing he could leave untouched in the future, and with credits coming in from his illicit drug trading, it was now the time to begin.
As The Slave lay on a cold metal slab, a number of female doctors surrounded him in wait. Others prepared IV’s, bacta tanks, and god knows foreign operational procedures. They seemed nervous, but despite their uncertainty there was he who lay with such confidence, shadowing their self confidence in outright dominating charisma.
He let loose a smile, his eyes wandering across all those attending before he spoke;
“Today we seek to change who I am.”
“From my bones to my muscles, to my very organs, we seek perfection. As such, I’d rather have no one than you, my trusted servants, performing the operation with my guidance than anyone else.”
He readjusted, forcing the cold metal to touch a different portion of his back.
“After studying Rybcoarse and its effectiveness in tripling performance amongst human subjects, I intend to follow its statement with a flavor I added myself. While bonemer will be used for much of the bones, the Rybcoarse has been decidedly altered to work with Gen’Dai genetics and density.”
“In short, I’ll become a new person in shape and form. Taller, stronger, more capable. I intend to feel what it means to be invincible… To touch the ceiling of prowess and talk to God himself of what it means to be perfect.”
His fingertips ran across the bare skin of his chest, almost tempting the idea of already being altered.
“I’ll be awake the entirety of this. I can’t risk a mistake, and will be guiding you through the process with each stroke of your scalpels, and each breath you take. You each have been chosen for your prior medical professions and the steadiness of your hands. If you do well, you’ll be freed from my control...“
“Although, I don’t know why you would want to.”, he grinned with a devilish malice.
“Now, to begin…”
--
Blades cut deep into his skin, but he retained his focus despite the blur in his vision. They’d gone through both his arms, even one of his legs, but while the last leg had been being altered through the Sith Alchemy he had already set up, and the biocybernetics he had helped customize, he could feel his limit coming close.
By far, this was the most painful thing he had ever experienced. He groaned and threw his head back as they began the incision in his stomach, bringing forth the altered organs in short order. His hands were wrapped as tight as they could around the edges of the table, completely strapped to his sides to prevent himself from lashing out.
And even so, he knew had to hold back the force he held. Already the group had experience two casualties from his carelessness, and if he intended to survive, he couldn’t afford to lose anymore. They were important, not like the other slaves who wandered around the warehouse he had ‘acquired’ for them. No… these ones were expensive.
As his liver was replaced, he couldn’t help but to let a tear run down his eye. Mostly because of the pain of having his organs taken from him while awake, but mostly in part of the fact that it had gotten him through so much. So many drinks, drugs, and who knows what else had gone in his body since they were together. In a sense, it was like losing a friend.
Was that really what he thought of it?
What was happening to his thought process?
He couldn’t be sure, but as the last of the bonemer was laid to his ribs and spine, while the rybcoarse based organic cybernetics were pressed to to his heart, he couldn’t help but lose himself slightly. Was this truly what he wanted? To be a creation of man, and not that of nature?
Of course it was.
Why would he doubt himself?
It didn’t matter, he knew it’d give him an advantage in the future. Though the physical therapy was going to be hell… Still, the idea of being natural teased at him. How far could he go with natural means? Was synthetic really the choice he needed to become all powerful? Did it really matter in the end?
Probably not.
So he began to hide the thought from himself, bury it in the abyss that was his mind. Whatever lay in front of him was his choice, to become a harmonized weapon with what he perceived to be righteous power. A tool for himself, that was all his body was. It didn’t matter what happened to it, so long as he survived.
So he’d continue edging closer to perfection with each passing day. With experience, he’d create the ultimate body… The ultimate form to explore the galaxy with. The immortality and perfection innumerable historical figures sought, but it was he who would achieve it. He alone that would rise above the challenges and grace himself with utter power. This wasn’t the perfection he sought, only a milestone to greatness…
Too bad it took a hefty chunk from his slowly amassing bank account.