Private Necromechanical [Lirka]

[Darth Carnifex]

Tergamenion.

A world of bustling production and manufacturing, miles upon miles of factory sprawl beneath a blanket of perpetual smog. No light from Tergamenion's star ever reached the world below, all that there was existed in endless gloom; a dismal twilight illuminated only by the flames of industry. Those that dwelt within the factories and work yards knew nothing but a life of toil, children spending their entire short lives beneath a sunless sky. More flesh was carted in from off-world to maintain the high rate of production, prisoners and those captured by the Empire's incarceral fleets.

High above, towering spires loomed large like ancient edifices to long dead gods. It was here that the great and powerful wined and dined one another, credits flowing like water as they spent their evenings in hedonistic pleasure while the endless masses worked themselves to death for their profits. It was not uncommon for entire skyscrapers to be owned by a single company, the surrounding factory-scape tending to their specific needs. But the largest of these spires was the sole property of the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Carnifex, and His most trusted sycophants.

Tonight, there were very few beings occupying the hundreds of floors of the Kainate Tower. The structure was virtually empty save for the automated security that roamed each level, ruthlessly executing anything they came across that wasn't logged into their system. Fortunately for the towering Sephi, her credentials were marked executive and the combat droids paid her little notice as they stomped through the halls.

She had been summoned to the highest level, the penthouse. Her master waited for her there, dark cloak unspooling from broad shoulders as He looked out over Tergamenion's surface.

"It's been too long, has it not?" He partially turned to face her, His face still concealed in shadow. "My faithful Slavemaster?"

Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Fear. Lirka could only feel fear in her hearts for the first time in decades. She had been summoned, Darth Carnifex had deigned himself to speak to her once more. To other Kainites this may have been a moment of exaltation, but to Lirka it made her shudder. Had she finally overstepped? Had her machinations angered her master, her leash to be cut short and taut after so many years of freedom?

Had he decided his perfect Kainite did not have a place for a Force Dead freak like herself? That her prattling of Primordial Dark only had a place in the Long-Dead-Mawites and not the dominion of the Sith?

In her mind, she almost wished to run, to flee at the thought of finally gazing upon her master and all the possibilities it brought. But she was but a hound brought to heel, and like a hound, she would obey.

The boundless industry of Tergamenion left the Once-Sephi pondering as she made her way to Kainite Tower. Had many souls dwelled her because of her? How many shackles had been placed on generations of weaklings because Carnifex had deemed it so? It should have brought some comfort to her, to bring proof that she still had a grand purpose in his design.

But it offered none.

As ascended higher and higher up the great tower that seemed to pierce the heavens itself. Her hearts pounding in her chest.

Kainite property pounding in her chest.

The lack of life in this place only left her anxieties worsening, what better place to murder a servant than with only the company of machines? But still she ascended, as though her feet were not controlled by her mind anymore.

It was not hard to know Lirka drew near before she even entered the room, her presence in the Force was plenty to herald her arrival: or the lack thereof. Lirka’s presence had become a pathetic thing as the years dragged on, a void that had become something more akin to a puddle, a pitiful thing.

But the heavy footfalls of metal on metal before the doors to the penthouse hissed open was the final herald. Lirka was thankful for her blank-faced helm as she finally approached her Master. Keeping a healthy distance from him as she placed a metal fist to her heart and bowed to him.

She couldn’t bring herself to even look at him.

“Yes, master. Decades, I believe.”

It had become difficult to keep track of the years now, so long in space had left her connection to the outside galaxy a foggy thing.

Faithful, he had called her. Was she faithful? Truly? Or just a leech, a creature drawn to power like a moth to a flame, desperate for the possibilities he offered her?

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Thirty years."

The Dark Lord's eyes seem to glow in the dismal gloom that shrouded His face, beacons of hate that seemed to draw the eye against their volition. He stalked towards the Slavemaster through the shadows, shafts of light occasionally illuminating His powerful stature as He passed through them; only to be swallowed in shadow, the glow of His eyes all that remained. She would feel some malign force impress itself upon her, an authority so raw and primal that it left her little choice than to pay obeisance and fall to her armored knees.

This was to be in the presence of the Butcher King, the Black Iron Tyrant; Eternal Father of the Kainate. To bathe in His terrible majesty was to know submission, to feel it creep up your spine and worm inside of your mind. Lesser creatures were broken by His presence, made to serve in defiance of their own cognition. Lirka was stronger than most, but even she had to obey -- not the laws of reality, but the laws of Carnifex, which seemed to overwrite them in her mind.

"For thirty years I've heard your prayers," whispered the Dark Lord's voice from the darkness, hands emerging to cup her armored visage and draw her gaze towards His. "I've heard your hate, I've heard your fear, I've heard your love." With one hand clutching her cheek, the other rose and pressed itself against the face-plate of her mask. It cracked beneath His touch, breaking away into shards and falling down to the ground like autumn leaves.

"Long have you suffered in my name, your fidelity unwavering. I am that which gives your purpose, that which animates your body and sparks your mind with consciousness." His eyes never strayed from looking directly at her, unblinking.

"Are you still mine, Lirka Ka?"

Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Thirty years.

Thirty years trapped in that damnable ship. Her lifespan was long, such was the nature of Sephi. But 30 years was not an inconsiderable amount of time, even to her. She had already seen so many a new face within this Empire, how many of them were born while she butchered in his name? Lirka was an ancient soul already, but the news hit her like a wall regardless. Every scheme she had worked for, was gone, every alliance built, crumbled.

But such thoughts became secondary as Darth Carnifex approached. Lirka had only felt such power before, such strength that the force of it all crushed her under its weight. In the twilight realm between life and death, where Primordial Dark had spoken to her, taught her the truth of this Galaxy. And yet, it was Him who had brought her to enlightenment. His work that had led her to delve into the esoteric knowledge of the Galaxy, taken her mind to Holy Rhand.

In the end, everything came back to Carnifex. That was the only truth of her wretched existence.

From down here, so small, so feeble. His hand to the cold metal of her helm, beskar, plundered from Moridinae: a constant reminder of service, of the grand sins she had committed in his name. His hand felt like fire on her skin, his words like deafening thunder. Lirka's existence was to defy, her very existence spat in the face of nature, she wanted to rise, to stand proud in the face of nature. For what was He but a force of nature? The will of the Dark Side made manifest?

The true paragon of Primordial Dark.

How could he have heard!? So many lightyears away, a distant master commanding her every action, demanding every butchery. And it took but a moment for her to think, to dawn on her: the answer was simple.

It was a damn Kainite ship. Of course he heard, of course, he knew. How could he not know every single thing that happened? Every word spoken into her logs? The revelation came as the first shard of Beskar clattered to the floor. She should've been afraid, she should've been trembling at the thought of annihilation. So many statements made with only the company of the Void, so many heretical thoughts and desires unleashed by a Beast left alone with only her thoughts for company. So many years his senior and yet here, she felt like naught but a child.

Clank, a shard fell.

Clank, another.

Her skin was bare to the world again, pale from so many years trapped away from the light of any sun. As the metal gave way, an eye-lens shattered peppering her skin and leaving droplets of blood infinitely too dark to rise where they landed. She locked eyes with him again, and he would see.

Not love.

Not hate.

Obsession.

Her eyes, the unnatural icy blue only achievable by dye, looked not at him though. They looked past him, at everything he represented, everything his success would bring. The death, the chaos, the misery. She finally understood, she finally heard the sweet nectar of his words. She had chased the words of Primordial Dark across the Galaxy and back, to a hundred battlefields and a thousand murders.

Finally, she had heard them again.

The avatar of darkness, whose will would bring about the End of All Things. Her Master.

Her eyes gazed, a zealot's love behind them. Her words, no longer masked by any sort of voice modulation as the systems of her helmet crumbled and died under his touch. Words crazed, the unhinged devotion of a mad woman.

"For as long as there are stars in the sky, for as long as one being still draws breath, till the Universe grows cold and dead. Till it is you and I at the end of all things, throttling each other as Primordial Dark claims everything in pure obliteration! Till that day, when we are the last things alive!-"

Madness gripped her, and the nature of Lirka Ka rose. A nature to defy. She tried to rise, pushing herself to get closer to the avatar whom she obsessed. The key she required for every aliment that assailed her in this wretched body, she wanted to feel his flesh in her razor teeth, to feel his blood mix with hers in the gestalt of her being. To taste even a droplet of the power that dwelled within him.

-"I am yours Kaine Zambrano, Carnifex, Butcher King, Tyrant of Black Iron, Eternal Father, One-True-Emperor, whose will shall see Primordial Dark ascendant!"

Her body writhed, unnatural flesh contorting as it fought against his might. Her words were frantic, her breaths sparse as she barely took the time to breathe between her words. Blood dribbled from her mouth, pupils dilated to be but pin drops as she gazed upon the icon of her devotion, she saw the Dark before her once again.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

His power over her was absolute.

"The covenant is remade, we shall seal it."

He held her by her cheeks, despite how viciously she raged against His power she could not break free of it. By sharpened nail He cut into the meat of His palm, black blood welling up from the wound and pooling in His hand. Dipping a finger into the mass, the Dark Lord sanctified Lirka's forehead with a symbol of devotion. The blood burned upon contact with the skin, searing into the flesh like a hot brand.

Then He raised the wounded hand above Lirka's mouth and squeezed, sending a deluge of black blood across her face and into her awaiting mouth. It burned like fire all the way down, such agony that it would have made a lesser creature beg for death. "Drink of my blood, let your thirst be slaked by the power instilled within me." Slowly, the blood ceased to flow as the wound resealed itself, even the scar tissue fading as quickly as it formed.

Releasing His hold over Lirka, the Dark Lord began to disrobe; revealing His broad muscular chest criss-crossed with inky black tattoos. He again cut into His flesh, slicing a large gouge into His left flank adjacent to the kidney. He bade Lirka come forth, drawing her bloodied face to the wound. "Eat of my flesh, let it's sustenance invigorate you. I am the Shadow, and from me exudes all other darkness. Let my darkness pour into you, to fill up your cup, and runneth it over. Know of my power, Lirka. I am the master of body, mind, and spirit."

Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

To thrash hopelessly, that was her way. To struggle against inevitability, in an insane search for power that would lead Lirka down every dark, winding, path this Galaxy had to offer. Perhaps, in some reality, she would have made a wonderful Sith. And yet, for all she thrashed: what was Lirka but a slave to power, a slave to the boundless might of Darth Carnifex

The brand burned into the Sephi's pink-hued flesh, Lirka's pupils grew. But there was not agony behind those eyes, it was pure masochistic ecstasy. Pain coursed through her entire being, her body writhed and rejected his touch. But the mind, the mind that nestled in Lirka's twisted form was beyond the physical restrictions that this most current form provided. Her body wanted to reknit, to heal the wound her master had seared into her flesh. But it could not, she wouldn't allow it so.

Molten blood pouring down her throat, Lirka moved with eagerness. Could her hunger ever truly be satisfied? She did not know. The misery was excruciating, and emboldening all the same. Each fried nerve a reminder that Lirka still lived in this plane, that she had cheated death, no, that she was beyond death. That when the day came and the stars grew cold, she would be there to watch it all. As the wound closed, she could not help but try to consume more. The madness of obsession had taken grip over her being, the primal urges of her savage being had taken hold.

She needed more, to consume. More power. More strength.

He barely needed to even beckon her forth to the wound, Lirka already clambered to it like a shark drawn to fresh blood. Her maw unveiled, rows of razor teeth made for tearing apart meat, she buried herself in the wound. Chomping, tearing, ripping, like the rabid hound she truly was at heart. Letting her face be drenched in blood, letting his blood dribble down her face and catch upon her armor: filling the many intricate blood-catching runes she had carved into the plates decades ago. They were one.

Her body convulsed, rejecting his power, but she did not cease. She needed it, she needed his strength into her own. To take him into the gestalt of her being and free herself of the force thumping at the back of her skull wanting to enter into its child once more. So she gorged, and gorged, her hunger ravenous and unending.

Had she been allowed, she may have consumed him in his entirety right there atop the tower. For such was the boundless ambition of Lirka Ka.

Lirka ka, eternal slave of the Kainite.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The pain grew with every breath, but He welcomed it.

Pain was instructive, pain was euphoric; agonizing ecstasy. Her teeth bit into raw flesh, tearing away chunks with a serrated gnashing, blood rupturing out in projectile jet streams. His hand reached for the hair that fell about her face and shoulders, caressing it as a parent would a child; bidding the deranged Slavemaster to nurse at His open wound. She bit into His kidney, shredding it with her razor-sharp teeth before gulping it down alongside a torrent of hot black blood.

Together, they were one. Locked in a ritual more intimate than the most passionate coitus. She fed upon Him, and His power -- His essence -- became part of her, diffusing throughout her entire body as she fed. Before long, the power that now nestled within her would overtake her, throwing her back in the throes of orgasmic agony. She would fall back away from her Lord, her Master, body contorting from the pain that now danced along her every nerve.

It was excruciating.

Had she the wherewithal to do so, she would've taken her own life to bring an end to the pain.

But a dark compulsion demanded she ride its waves, lean into the agony. Let it become part of her just as the flesh and blood of her Lord had. The Dark Lord remained where He was, slipping to His knees as He spread His arms wide, breath misty with each sultry exhalation. Already, the wound began to close, knitting back together in an even more excruciating manner than what had torn it open.

"My Lirka, my barbarous lash. That which I am now dwells within you, for you have consumed the communion of your lording host. Asphyxiants and devourances."

Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

In a sense, this was where the Galaxy always wanted Lirka to be. Here, a broken down abomination feasting upon her master like a rabid hound. They were bonded by masochism, bonded by the boundless evil in their hearts. To the murders she had committed in his name, and the grand power he offered her in exchange.

But as she chomped, tore, ripped, and consumed. The marriage was formed, something primal and foul: not the marriage of another soul joining the grandiose harem of Darth Carnifex . Something deeper than a firing of synapses that weaker souls called love. It was a marriage of blood, and of flesh.

The Diarchy of the Kainite had been one of the Force, and in her wretched and deformed Lirka felt another form. They were bonded as one, an extension, a limb of the One-True-Emperor.

She landed to the floor with a heavy metallic thud, her body convulsing as she felt the twilight realm approach her once again. But she welcomed it, death wished to reach its fingers out and pull her into oblivion once again. But she was beyond such things, Lirka Ka would live till the end of days: she would allow nothing else. The pain would not allow her mind to rest, she was more alive than she had ever been before.

The dye that formed the icy blue of her eyes melted away as the red-orange of the dark side speckled itself within her vision. Something had been created her, in this ritual most foul.

Something that perhaps should not exist.

A dark communion had given birth to a creature of twilight, sitting between the Force and not. Lirka Ka, the abomination, had sunk deeper into her own damnation.

Her eyes to the ceiling, Lirka Ka saw a hundred battlefields flashing before her from so many a different lives, with so many a different faces. She could hear her Master’s words, calling her back to the present. The thunder of Primordial Dark behind them, and perhaps…it was only her that could hear its call.

And all she could do, after these acts most damnable, that would have seen a lesser being obliterated to nothing. Was laugh.

A weak, breathy laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. A laugh of power awoken, the primordial surge. Lirka Ka craved power above all things, her ambition compelled her so. And today she felt power like she had never felt before, the Force dimly swirled around her once again; as it did all those years ago, before she had died. It thumped and pounded at her. In communion she had evolved once more, and finally, she spoke: his dark blood dribbling out with each word, a toothy smile wide across her face.

“What would you have your Lash do?”

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I have but one commandment."

The Sith Lord rose, redressing Himself after the moment of communion had passed. His darker, more regal demeanor returned quickly, His shadow growing long and wide across the floor as He walked back to the viewport. Nothing changed beyond the glasteel pane, the same toil and misery trudged forward all the same. So long as the Dark Lord held sway, nothing would change for Tergamenion, a world doomed to produce nothing but what could be extracted from the blood of labor.

"Squeeze, Lirka. Squeeze each and every world beyond our borders. Wring them dry of their worth. Flesh and gold. Keep what you will for yourself, I care not what pleasures you derive from morsels, but the Empire will have what it demands."

New ships, new weapons, and new armor would be given to the Slavemaster. The forges of the Malsheem burned night and day, ceaselessly producing all that was required to wage a perpetual war. Lirka would never find herself wanting for new armaments and munitions.

"In my name shall you do this, Lirka Ka. Greater gifts await those who carry forth my bidding."

Lirka Ka ​

 

[Lirka Ka]

Her eyes gazed upon Darth Carnifex , deranged, obsessed, enamor. Every atrocity he had done, the Primordial Darkness that echoed behind him. The shards of her mask shattered across the floor, the face she had worn for decades nothing but fragments. It was the mark of rebirth, of a new face. A new purpose, dark and cruel. He had gifted her power, he had emblazoned the same mark he wore upon the purple-pink of her head.

They were kin now, if he believed it or not. Lirka knew it to be true, their blood was one, their flesh had joined. His words uttered out, divine and all consuming. A smile, cruel and wicked, teeth bared: still coated in his foul blood.

Greed. He demanded greed. And she was provide it in spades.

“I will drain this Galaxy dry in your name. I will wring it barren, I lead them to you in shackles. For I am your Lash, Carnifex, I am the shackles of the Sith.”

Lirka rose, pride bubbling within her. Her metal body crackling and whirring as the mechanisms awoke, her body subsided: for a soul without the innate healing of her wretched body would have surely died. But Lirka was not most people. Lirka was the freak that had fallen through the cracks. The monster who had look nature in the face, and spat.

He spoke of treasures, of grand prizes, all the pretty baubles and trinkets of a lord. All the promises of power, all the chances to become grand. But there was one prize Lirka wanted, the prize she could never truly have. To stand his equal, his peer, to be respected by the demon she loved with such savage obsession.

But could a freak ever truly stand as peer to a god?