Arthos Vynea
Character
With a series of blinks the cloned body started to activate and waken as Arthos' mind settled in. He'd been experimenting again with droids, and it hadn't gone well. He was making progress though, and the pain of physical mutilation and death seemed trivial next to real progress. With a wince a phantom pain flashed through him where he had just been dismembered, but a moment of focused will silenced it. He deserved it anyway, he thought he'd finally succeeded and his focus had slipped. The droid simply went haywire then and attacked him. Before his mind had snapped back properly he'd already received a rather mortal wound. At that point why he thought it best to simply end the experiment and move on to the next one.
Still it was distasteful.
Failure was not a chain though, it was simply a step along the road to shattering all chains.
He saw them everywhere now, always in flux. Changing, growing, falling and breaking; yet they remained on all. Even the greatest Sith Lord still wore chains, many of their own makings, and he knew he was no different. Many were even worse and sough to chain the galaxy to their will, as though they might be free by forging chains they were meant to break. There had even been a point he'd considered that perhaps it simply meant that everything must be unmade and destroyed to be free, but he'd never really thought that was the truth. No, the only way to truly be free was to break all chains, to enlighten all to break their own. It was akin to anarchy not an empire.
Flexing his fingers he slowly stretched his muscles and breathed in strength through the Force before sitting up. Irritation bloomed for a moment as the jelly like substance his bodies were packed in fell off in sticky clumps. He controlled it though and stood up slowly before walking into the nearby shower to clean off the jelly and slime. He slowed though for a moment as he passed a mirror and considered the youth of his form, and it's strength. He would never need feel the cold touch of age, but at times he wondered if that limited him as well. He suppose at some time he would have to let a body age enough to find out.
As he stepped under the water he closed his eyes and showered without thought for a moment, simply enjoying the moment of existence. Once upon a time he had never truly let himself experience such simple joys, but death changed much about a man. After several long minutes he washed up and stepped out of the shower into his chambers refreshed and cleaned. Pulling a robe to him as he walked towards his mediation chamber he did have to admit that there was much personal gain Empires had brought him though, and perhaps one day again there would be a purpose to joining one for a time. Like all Sith Lords though in truth it would be towards his own end, and like all Sith Empires it would tear apart under the weight of it's Sith Lords and their desires to stand at the top. It wasn't a throne that Arthos sought though, why bother with painting yourself as the target if you can be the power behind the ever rotating thrones.
For the moment though he was none of those things, he was simply a teacher at the Academy who enjoyed experimenting on the minds of droids with the Force. One day he would master the art, and then perhaps he could create a foundation that was beyond the weakness of flesh. Once he'd even thought the flesh so weak as to purge it all, but then who would there be left to free from chains?
Sitting on the floor as his robe clung to his wet body he moved into a relaxed position with his legs crossed. Before him sat the head of an old droid, chips still intact in it's head after who knew how many years. It could hold great secrets inside, or absolutely nothing. Either way it drove his curiosity and his studies into Mechu-deru. He had no teacher on the art, just a confirmation from another Sith Lord that it was real and could be done. In the end he hoped to meld flesh and machine and create something greater out of the two. Something that could be eternally free of chains.
It was a lofty goal as far as the Sith was concerned but he was still far off, yet he knew time was on his side. Time and patience would bring to heel any problem or divulge to him any knowledge no matter how secret. He recognized it as possible a self important thing, and ever a part of his great hatred of what lay beyond the mortal veil. Hatred and fear in truth, but both were a great source of strength. Besides what other point was eternal life if he did not strive for the impossible.
Still it was distasteful.
Failure was not a chain though, it was simply a step along the road to shattering all chains.
He saw them everywhere now, always in flux. Changing, growing, falling and breaking; yet they remained on all. Even the greatest Sith Lord still wore chains, many of their own makings, and he knew he was no different. Many were even worse and sough to chain the galaxy to their will, as though they might be free by forging chains they were meant to break. There had even been a point he'd considered that perhaps it simply meant that everything must be unmade and destroyed to be free, but he'd never really thought that was the truth. No, the only way to truly be free was to break all chains, to enlighten all to break their own. It was akin to anarchy not an empire.
Flexing his fingers he slowly stretched his muscles and breathed in strength through the Force before sitting up. Irritation bloomed for a moment as the jelly like substance his bodies were packed in fell off in sticky clumps. He controlled it though and stood up slowly before walking into the nearby shower to clean off the jelly and slime. He slowed though for a moment as he passed a mirror and considered the youth of his form, and it's strength. He would never need feel the cold touch of age, but at times he wondered if that limited him as well. He suppose at some time he would have to let a body age enough to find out.
As he stepped under the water he closed his eyes and showered without thought for a moment, simply enjoying the moment of existence. Once upon a time he had never truly let himself experience such simple joys, but death changed much about a man. After several long minutes he washed up and stepped out of the shower into his chambers refreshed and cleaned. Pulling a robe to him as he walked towards his mediation chamber he did have to admit that there was much personal gain Empires had brought him though, and perhaps one day again there would be a purpose to joining one for a time. Like all Sith Lords though in truth it would be towards his own end, and like all Sith Empires it would tear apart under the weight of it's Sith Lords and their desires to stand at the top. It wasn't a throne that Arthos sought though, why bother with painting yourself as the target if you can be the power behind the ever rotating thrones.
For the moment though he was none of those things, he was simply a teacher at the Academy who enjoyed experimenting on the minds of droids with the Force. One day he would master the art, and then perhaps he could create a foundation that was beyond the weakness of flesh. Once he'd even thought the flesh so weak as to purge it all, but then who would there be left to free from chains?
Sitting on the floor as his robe clung to his wet body he moved into a relaxed position with his legs crossed. Before him sat the head of an old droid, chips still intact in it's head after who knew how many years. It could hold great secrets inside, or absolutely nothing. Either way it drove his curiosity and his studies into Mechu-deru. He had no teacher on the art, just a confirmation from another Sith Lord that it was real and could be done. In the end he hoped to meld flesh and machine and create something greater out of the two. Something that could be eternally free of chains.
It was a lofty goal as far as the Sith was concerned but he was still far off, yet he knew time was on his side. Time and patience would bring to heel any problem or divulge to him any knowledge no matter how secret. He recognized it as possible a self important thing, and ever a part of his great hatred of what lay beyond the mortal veil. Hatred and fear in truth, but both were a great source of strength. Besides what other point was eternal life if he did not strive for the impossible.
