Paradise Lost (Matsu Xiangu)

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


The facts. The Silver Jedi had retreated from the Stygian Caldera, capitulating on the entire front and leaving the Sith do as they pleased. One of their own, a Jedi Protector who'd been disavowed as a rogue, had torched Korriban City from orbit. It had been a massive blow to the Silver Jedi's public image. There was an element of hypocrisy involved because the Sith Lord Kaine had brutally subjugated Thule, restoring the old ways of tyranny and oppression, and the Sith had made substantial use of undead monstrosities on Korriban. However, the Silvers had been tarnished.


After the 'liberation', came the reconstruction. Today, Korriban City was a smoking ruin. Many buildings had collapsed or been vaporised when hellfire rained down upon them. Ten thousand locals were dead, many more displaced, in need of food, water and shelter. Their hearts were black with anger and hatred for their supposed Jedi protectors.


The air of the only population centre on the Sith's ancestral homeworld was thick with fear, anger, loss and desperation. Various companies and private organisations were pouring in aid, some for more benign motives than others. One of them was Archangel, which had unleashed construction and labour droids like a host of alien locusts to help make Korriban great again. The corporation had even set up a hospital to treat the wounded and the stick. Those in the know had reason to suspect less benevolent motives on the part of the machine cult, but the desperate, abandoned survivors of the Korriban Massacre could not be picky.


One of those who made their way through the rubble, throwing up and dust with every step, was a woman who'd been amongst the casualties of the battle. She walked slowly and more than a little sluggishly, as if encumbered and uncertain whether she might topple over, for she was still unused to her new limbs. It bore a strong resemblance to the gait of a zombie. Servos and gears hummed with every step.


A bandana shielded her from the sand and grit, but otherwise her scarred, hellfire-kissed face was exposed. Despite her scars, she would have still been considered beautiful, if not for the scowl on her face. Her mechanical arms gleamed in the bright sunlight. Enyo Typhos had returned to the place that had caused her such pain. Not far from where she stood, she could see a deep crater. Right now, children were playing with a football inside it.


There was a flash between her eyes when she remembered saving a little boy who'd been paralysed by fear when the bombs fell. Then, only a moment later, she'd been torn apart and broken by an explosion. The clone tensed and her mechanical fingers curled into a tight fist when she felt phantom pains. Coincidentally, the ball ended up being kicked straight towards her when one of the boys shot it too far.


It landed at her feet with a thud. The two children, a boy and a girl, ran towards it, but then stopped dead in their tracks, as if afraid of her. The clone cocked her head slightly, then slowly picked up the ball and tossed it back towards them. The girl caught the ball, giving her a look that verged from curious to afraid, then the game resumed. The clone watched them for a moment. She'd never had a childhood. She'd come into being as a full-fledged adult, but without all the life experience and memories. Ever since then, her life had been constant service towards a higher ideal.


She pushed these thoughts aside. Elsewhere, Archangel was busy 'helping the downtrodden'. Doubtless they had monitors watching her in form of wasp droids, but that was not her concern now. No, Enyo's thoughts lay elsewhere. She was here. The dark presence of the insidious spider called to her.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She hadn’t much cared for Korriban before part of its surface had been bombed to hell, and she preferred it even less now that it was full of the cries of the indignant. At first the downtrodden falling at her feet had been a novelty, but now it was simply annoying. Her presence was strategic and political, visibility important as the Sith Order pumped out propaganda at impressive speed. But she would be lying if she said she didn’t have her own motives for remaining on the planet on which she’d last seen Enyo Typhos.

Patience was one of Matsu’s strong suits and it hadn’t even been necessary. Time had passed but she’d filled it with obsession, something to tide her over until a promised conversation.

She walked through the streets, most of the people leaving her alone when they caught a glimpse of the determination on her face. Deeper and deeper she tracked that peculiar signature, now muted as if connected differently to the Force. Even still she was drawn like moth to flame, the sand roiling around her feet as she traversed to one of the most desolate remnants left of the city. Rebar reached for the sky out of the broken bones of Korriban City, tan bricks on tan sand under a tan sky. Children’s laughter among the ruins could almost be considered eerie if it wasn’t so much in their nature to accept atrocity and move on. Perhaps their time living under Silver rule had taught them to accept their fate.

She watched Enyo from afar, felt the ripple in the Force as she seemed to struggle with something when the children waited for the return of their ball.

Matsu waited until Enyo was once more ‘alone’ before moving to stand at her side. Rebuilt, the woman did not look so much like Siobhan anymore. Still beautiful to look at despite the scarring, Enyo was now Enyo and Matsu could almost easily separate her from the object of her obsession. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but it did make it easier to consider the tableau before her.

“What are you thinking about?” the Sith lady asked. Perhaps the answer would be obvious, a sudden backlash of sarcasm. Or maybe Enyo would surprise her.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


Suddenly, the insidious spider was at her side. A shiver ran down her spine when she noticed her...but unlike before, Enyo was not afraid. She knew that Xiangu was very dangerous and far surpassed her in power, but she was no longer freaked out.


Even the Atrisian's mutilated jaw no longer looked hideous to her. When the other side, the one that professed to be the embodiment of moral virtue, had shown itself to be inept and cowardly at best, monstrous at worst, your standards of morality shifted. Children's laughter could be heard among the ruins. She used to envy these ordinary people for their ordinary lives, but now she realised that they were leashed by all these things they treasured.


"Death, rebirth," she said quietly. Hearing the woman's voice in her head was a bit disconcerting, but her expression did not waver. There was no sarcasm to be found in Enyo's voice, her tone was matter-of-fact and cold. The look on her face could be described as pensive and broody. She clenched her fist, before slowly releasing it. The phantom pain seemed to be passing.


"Many died here. I should have as well, almost did, but I was born again. Reforged by fire and steel. It was a lesson. 'What does not kill me makes me stronger'. This scarred, burnt face is my own, no longer hers." The hatred was bubbling close to the surface. Now she turned and looked Matsu directly in the eye. Her aura radiated acceptance. "I knew you'd be here, waiting for me."

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

[member="Enyo Typhos"]

Once, Enyo was an exact replica of Siobhan. Matsu could understand how others failed to see the difference. (They don’t know her like I do. They haven’t watched her face, the way it rests, the way she looks when I pick at her scabs. Mine mine mine mineminemineminemine.) But after her initial startle at the meeting for the Sith Order, Matsu had realized that Enyo had always had a little more curiosity and dark hope in her expression. Siobhan always seemed harder to Matsu, closed. Now the girl’s face was just as different but also hardened - volatile, still miles removed from her ‘sister’. The bombing had changed her fundamentally.

Rebirth indeed.

It was the talk of pain and trial, growth through suffering, that sent a shiver down Matsu’s spine though. Death was a lost concept, a long forgotten primal fear that had evaporated in the light of day, the light of her art. But fire and steel. Yes. That she understood. Excitement, the kind of a wolf felt before its teeth sank in to flesh, would be evident in the flash of her eyes as they met Enyo’s.

“And when you face her, you will find yourself in the same position: crushed beneath rubble, suffocating as her power squeezes around your lungs. When you find yourself there remember, you did not die now, and you will not die then.” The second assertion was harder to answer. Once she might have said she wasn’t waiting for Enyo, but waiting for a way to get to Siobhan. But there were hundreds of ways for her to go after the Dark woman and none of them required Enyo. And yet there Matsu stood regardless, intrigued beyond the surface. “I was waiting. We should have that conversation,” she answered, turning to the side and starting a slow stroll through the refuse of thousands of lives. Her gait was halted too, matching Enyo’s as they both regained their footing after a difficult battle.

“If you’re her sister, how did you come to fight with The Sith Order?”
A question about Enyo, not Siobhan. Her attentions had shifted for the moment.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


In the old days, Enyo had sometimes impersonated her sister when on missions for Archangel. She'd performed well enough, playing up the stereotypical image she had of Siobhan, which proved surprisingly effective. However, deep-down she'd hated those assignments. Now, this would be very difficult. To her, it was a liberating feeling. She was no longer a copy. One day, she would not be in her shadow anymore.


There was a flash of excitement in the spider's eyes when her gaze met Enyo's. A chilling one, the sort a predator experienced ere it sank its teeth into its prey's throat and tore it apart. Enyo did not waver or avert her eyes. She could deal with predators, even those that toyed with their victims.


Once, the woman's words would have offended Enyo or made her defensive. Now she could see the wisdom in them. Matsu had faced Siobhan and hurt her grievously. Enyo had seen the ruined town with her own eyes. No one else she'd ever interacted with had that kind of experience. No one else she'd met had made her sister bleed. Somehow, this gave them a connection.


"I will remember. I survived hellfire, I shall survive to hurt her. You're speaking from personal experience. She unleashed her might upon you, but you made her bleed as well." There was no sarcasm in her words. Was this admiration? Perhaps.


She followed Matsu as the Zombie Queen strolled through the detritus of the massacre, the refuse of thousands of lives that had been extinquished in the blink of an eye by the press of a button. Around them, the ghosts wailed, whilst the living knew it would be wise to leave them alone.


"I am not her sister in the conventional sense," Enyo admitted. The whirr of gears and servos was audible as she walked. A harsh wind blew across the streets, gathering up columns of sand and dust along with debris. Her aura darkened, hatred swelling up inside her.


"I was spawned in a laboratory as a clone. Siobhan is as vain as she is powerful. She wanted a host to transfer her essence into when her youth fades so that she can continue deluding herself into thinking she's a demigoddess. Ironic that she hates Sith when she's no different, isn't it? Archangel rescued me."


Had they really? They'd lied to her before. Perhaps the clone did not care enough to question this. What did she have in her life, outside of hating Siobhan? There was [member="Amara Zarides"], but even she was tied to this, for she was the clone of Kaelin Isandros.


"She lives in wealth and splendour. She has legions of deluded lackeys who worship the ground she walks upon and fawn over her. She denied me everything, considering me a possession. So I want her to lose everything and know what it feels like to be weak, powerless and afraid. I want to pull her down from her pedestal and break her. If that means aligning with Sith, so be it."

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

It was more new information that Matsu had anticipated having to digest. Already she’d assumed much of what Enyo would know of Siobhan would be like fresh meat when Matsu had believed the girl her sister - and all this news was delicious. Clones? Vessels? Sith-like vanity in a woman who claimed so vehemently to be far removed from Matsu’s alignment? (I say I’m different too my Siobhan, but we’re all corrupted by the Dark, sinful and irredeemable.)

One hand reached up to clutch delicately at her own throat, reinforcing the constriction there as Enyo spoke of tearing Siobhan down. For her to be weak and powerless, afraid. Some part of her was violently protective of her own plans for Siobhan, but there was something to be said for this woman’s willingness to fall in with Sith to get the job done. Matsu was prepared to suffer any amount of agony for the ten seconds she fantasized over and over - that light going out, the slight widening of the red-head’s eyelids before her sight left her and Matsu felt her last breath rattle out from between her ribs. It would be so good, and if it meant sharing the path with someone else, Matsu thought she could find it within herself to work with another. That Enyo was not Sith didn’t bother the Atrisian; she’d grown up in the Fringe, and she had no express problem with Jedi, rogues, or any myriad moniker those with the Force used. She was merely protective of the focus of her obsession.

“It is my impression those around her see her as something of a god. I can understand why. Her power is the sort that flattens any who go against her, even those equally as powerful but unfortunate enough to have a skill set ill-equipped to counter her.” What was left of Matsu’s tongue pushed against the inside of her cheek as she thought, a grotesque roll of flesh revealed under a scarred cheek. “The benefit to me from working with you is obvious - I gain information I would not otherwise have. Perhaps satisfaction of my curiosity when it comes to you. What you seek from me is less obvious…”

The children playing in the crater once more lost their ball, this time sending it flying to Matsu’s feet along the lip of the crater as the two women walked along it. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands and looking down at the children who refused to come any closer to the woman with the hideous injury on her face. They had been through much in the last few weeks and they hardly saw the Sith as any better than the Jedi. And as Matsu knew better than most, neither side was good.

She threw the ball down to them.

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


Enyo might have fit in well amongst the Lords of the Fringe. She would have certainly had a jolly time butchering monsters in the Unknown Regions...and learning from those monsters the Fringe had no problem incorporating. By contrast, the Sith Order was a less apt fit.


She cared not for ancient and mystical Sith traditions or dusty tombs of long-dead Dark Lords and could only roll her eyes when the dark disciples prattled about reclaiming their 'unholy land'. It amused her that they did not realise they were just a dark parody of the sanctimonious Jedi they opposed. Both sides waged a pointless, archaic holy war that stretched back millennia and never yielded a lasting result. Their struggle was an atavistic, self-perpetuating cycle.


However, Matsu was...different. Truth be told, Enyo would not even categorise her as a Sith. She defied labels. Perhaps that was one of the things that drew Enyo to her like moth to a flame. "Yes, that sums it up. But even the most glittering reign must come to an end. For every deity, there's a Gotterdammerung...one day," Enyo responded.


The Dark Sorceress' reaction to the clone's desire to tear her template apart had not gone unnoticed. The girl was still inexperienced, but not blind. You don't just want to break her body, do you? What is it really? There was something Matsu felt that went beyond simple hatred for an she yearned to crush enemy...though Enyo could not place her finger on it. Matsu was interested in her because she wore Siobhan's face and was connected to her. Perhaps one day their desires would clash. It did not matter now.


Her eyes fell upon the children playing out there in the ruins. "Teach me. I'm willing to pay the price. I know it shall be a path of blood and iron. Show me how to be strong. Show me to hurt her," the words left her lips when Matsu threw the ball back. They came with little prompting, but they'd clearly been on her mind for a bit. "Archangel...droids do not understand the Force, and I'm still adjusting to this shell."

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

For every deity there’s a gotterdammerung.

Matsu was under no illusion that she would live forever. So many Sith chased after the holy grail of immortality. In her point of view it was a tremendous waste of the very thing they clung to so dearly. It was a life spent toiling to prevent its end, a snake swallowing its own tail in pursuit of futility. She found the same issue with Jedi, dedicating their life to the service of those who would never thank them for it and would only blame them when something went wrong. She would not live forever. And in the end she may not even have imparted anything lasting on a galaxy that in two-hundred years time would forget anyone walking the planets now even existed beyond the faint memory of a name. But she lived for herself. She followed her own whims, constructed personal glory. Responsible to no one, she lived her life in the service of the person she woke up with every morning and fell asleep with every night - herself.

Enyo’s prophecy struck a chord, something dark and fatal in Matsu.
It was pleasant.

She turned her head to Enyo when the woman asked for her teachings, the Sith Lord’s eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. She did not like taking apprentices. Highly solitary by nature, she found giving something of herself to another being to be a waste of valuable time when they would most likely turn out to be a disappointment, weak and unworthy. Even the clone of Siobhan Kerrigan would find her balking. But Enyo...she had proven that she had the potential to be anything but weak. The expression on her face and the determined shove of movement as she gained control of her new limbs spoke to possibilities that...tempted Matsu. Something felt like it was rotting in her gut, some insistence that the two women standing on the lip of the crater both wanted the same thing too much for their partnership to end in anything but struggle over the prize. And yet Matsu responded anyway.

“You are no fool, Enyo. I will teach you.”

And so it was done.
Matsu took a breath before continuing their stroll, already formulating ways to introduce Enyo to the power within herself.

“What do you know of Valiens Nantaris?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


How ironic that Archangel promised immortality. In a manner of speaking at least. One only needed to embrace the machine, forsaking flesh and emotions in favour of a mechanical shell that would never age, age or feel fear.


The two were an odd pair. So different, yet so close. There were no strings on Matsu Xiangu. She went where she pleased, lived for herself, spreading terror and suffering at her whim. She bore the title of Sith Lord, but was not shackled to an atavistic Code or archaic traditions. By contrast, Enyo was a creature of Archangel. For as long as she drew breath, she'd been moulded and monitored by the machine cult. Her life was supposed to dedicated to ceaseless service, to serve a supposed greater good.


When she almost perished, they remade her in their image. Perhaps this was one of the reasons that drew her to the Sorceress, beyond their shared hatred of Siobhan Kerrigan.


The clone stared into the dark brown, almost obsidian eyes of the Atrisian daemon. She sensed the hesitation, saw the gears moving inside the Witch's mind as Matsu pondered, as if weighing whether she was worthy or might just be an impediment. Those dark eyes held the promise of bloodshed, suffering and pain beyond imagination. They struck terror into the hearts of so many beings.


Enyo was ready. She knew that sacrifice was expected. "I know of [member="Valiens Nantaris"]. He used to be a Jedi. Now he and his merry men gallivate across the stars, crusading when they don't frequent the galaxy's sin pits." The clone was a bit prudish and had a far more formal way of speaking than Siobhan.


"He fought you on Kaas, along with Siobhan." The tale had travelled down the grapevine. Unconsciously, her gaze was drawn towards the mutilated bottom half of Matsu's face. Judging by the scar tissue, it looked like it had been shorn by a lightsabre.

 

[Valiens Nantaris]

[member="Enyo Typhos"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"]

Speak his name and he shall appear….

The scene was a bar on the new Ashira’s Light station above Tygara. The station was vast and had many such places, but Nantaris had chosen a spot near the docks. The ship was being fixed, the crew were on shore leave, and he was speaking animatedly to, you guessed it, a Twi’lek.

“So you know, I’m quite the adventurer,” he was saying.
“Oh really?” the Twi’lek asked, her purple lekku twitching slightly.
“Oh yes. Abolitionist, crusader, pathfinder. Sith are my speciality. I killed a Sith Lord once and crippled another,” he said.
“That must have been very exciting…” the Twi’lek said.
“Oh yes, and now my ship’s just getting ready to depart again. If you’d like a tour….”
The Twi’lek looked at her chrono. “Oh, I’m sorry, Master Jedi, I’ve got to…uhh…inventory my cargo. For the port officials, you know?”
Nantaris sighed. “Alright, nice to meet you Liera. Maybe see you around again sometime?”
“Maybe. Take care.”

Nantaris ordered another drink and was just starting it when another Twi’lek joined him. This one was smirking.
“How much did you see?” he asked.
“Everything.”
He sighed again. “You don’t need to brag, Myr.”
“Aww, it’s alright, Nanny, I know you didn’t get what you want.” She gently offered a lekku.
Nantaris grumped. “I don’t need your pity.” When she retracted he coughed. “But I’ll take it anyway…” he added quickly.
“Good boy. I’ve heard there’s a Twi’lek ‘dance club’ down on level 69.”
“I’m not that desperate,” he asserted, stroking her lekku. However, he did make a mental note to check out the station plan….

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

Siobhan Kerrigan was an obsession. Matsu couldn’t decide whether she loathed the woman or loved her. It was nothing like what she felt for Reverance or Vrag of course, but the Atrisian lady felt some kind of stirring - some need to keep the Dark Lady for herself. (Safe, safe, safe, mine. Safe, mine.) But Valiens Nantaris had been there that day on Kaas too, and he’d been the one to scar Matsu in a way that defined her. Siobhan had left her marks all over Matsu’s flesh and there was perhaps not an inch of her that hadn’t in some way felt the Dark woman’s wrath, but Matsu’s mangled jaw was now part of her descriptor.

It was interesting to hear Enyo’s assessment of the man. That he participated in debauchery didn’t irk Matsu - she’d never met a Jedi that didn’t harbor some sickness they tormented themselves in to hiding, to their detriment. At least Nantaris made it a point to indulge in his.

“He did. And he gave me this,” she said, motioning to the healed wound that Enyo was glancing at. “Someday I will see him again, just as I will see Siobhan. But until then…” She paused, taking a deep breath. Her eyes had gone wild, several of the rocks dotting Korriban’s landscape starting to lift from the ground in the wake of her anger until she allowed it to fly to the wind in the interest of continuing the conversation without burying them both under rubble.

“I have heard of creatures....rare, found almost nowhere in the galaxy except for here on Korriban and a select few other planets. They produce some sort of chemical that’s said to be even more regenerative than bacta, capable of regrowing tissue lost. It will never heal my scarring. But it would allow my surgeons to regenerate most of my jaw, teeth...a mouth.” Eating through supplementation and intravenous nutrient packets had sustained her for a time but she noticed her body wasting. She would not be made weak that way and so she’d searched and searched and searched until she’d found the obscure reference to floating creatures in the remote wilds of the ancient Sith planet.

What Nantaris had done to her face could not ever be hidden, and nor would she want it to. Scars were proof of her burden, of the path she walked to gain perfection through pain. But to speak aloud again…

“If you want me to teach you, this will be a good place to start. It’s also said these creatures are rather vicious.”

That was putting it mildly.

[member="Enyo Typhos"] | [member="Valiens Nantaris"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


Somehow, Enyo had the feeling that somewhere far away, [member="Valiens Nantaris"] was once again trying to satisfy his relentless appetite for debauchery. She did not understand what was so special about Twi'lek lekku. To her, those head tentacles just looked weird. Not to mention impractical, since causing them harm could paralyse the xenos or cause brain damage, if they sustained enough damage.


"I see," she remained calm in the face of Matsu's anger, while rocks lifted up into the air to give form to her wroth. She looked pensive when she pondered Matu's request - or rather order. Matsu would be able to rebuild her mutilated face a bit...and her potential student would be tested - and possibly perish in the process if she did not live up to expectations. That thought did not faze Enyo. There was no gain without pain. One did not show doubt or fear when in the presence of dangerous predators.


"Then I shall aid you. I was born to hunt. Gehenna taught me how to track. Tell me what you know of this beast." Size, weapons, habits and so and so forth. Was it resistant to the Force like some Sithspawn abominations? "I've been caged too long. It should be a good test for these," she stretched her cybernetic arms a bit, amidst the sound of whirring.


Soon they'd left the the city's ruins and its cowed populace behind them, and walked upon the seemingly endless dunes of Korriban. Sand crunched beneath Enyo's boots and her mechanical limbs gleamed in the bright sunlight. A strong, dry wind blew across the desert floor, lifting sand and using it to scour broken statues and obelisks that had been built to glorify ancient Dark Lords.


There were Sith who considered this sacred ground, and claimed the Jedi had desecrated it by their presence. Enyo lived in the present, and was indifferent to the legacy of the ancients. Thankfully, her time on Gehenna had prepared her for the blazing heat. Amidst the howl of the wind, the screeches and hisses of wild beasts could be heard. A few skeletons were sprawled across the ground, half-buried beneath the dunes.

 

[Matsu Xiangu]

She had little use for deserts. If there was anything that she and Siobhan truly shared it was a bone-deep vanity, and for Matsu that extended to displeasure as the coarse grains whipped over the delicate skin on her face. Pulling the fabric she’d wrapped artfully around her face and hair further up to cover her nose, she moved deeper in to the heat of the sands with Enyo.

Though her insistence that she cared nothing for Sith tradition or artifacts was true, she had nothing but awe for ancient landmarks of any kind and Korriban’s 5000 years of history was never more evident than there among fallen statues weathered by centuries of wind and sand. Eyes long stripped of their pupils stared at her nonetheless, lying on their sides and following her progress. She imagined that they were trying to decide whether to call her traitor for thinking so little of their ways, or praise her for following the ultimate sin in her selfishness.

She supposed it would be to each his own.

The loneliness of the desert plains meant the sounds of animals in the vicinity traveled far, and nothing was more strange and ethereal than the droning cry of the acaleph. They sang to each other seemingly all day, drifting along the sands. They were exceptionally rare,

found only in seemingly inhospitable landscapes like Korriban’s deserts. It was - perhaps - a mechanism of protection considering how they were hunted once the galaxy at large discovered just how useful they were.

They crested the hill and found themselves smack-dab in the center of a herd. Two males and three females, accompanied by two babies. They drifted peacefully around the two women, seemingly completely unbothered and almost welcoming of their presence.

“Acalephs. Peaceful, friendly...until you move to take the precious nectar hidden within their veins,” Matsu explained, looking up at the glowing blue underbelly of the female hovering over her head. She reached out tentatively, gripping a tentacle in her small hand. “Their blood is said to have regenerative properties ten times as strong as bacta. The only problem is that once provoked, these things are deadly. These tentacles are capable of sending attackers flying like bugs. I’ve read they’re capable of producing electric current when alarmed more than powerful enough to kill anyone that comes in to contact with them, and that their shells are hard as durasteel. Though I find it hard to believe, apparently they're capable of producing concussive shocks akin to telekinetic blastwaves with some sort of organ they possess near their mouths.” In truth, they possessed many of the dangers that Siobhan did when going against her on the battlefield, now that Matsu thought about it. Though at least with the acaleph there was none of the unrelenting intellect that pulled together the Dark Lady's crushing offensive.

She paused, turning her gaze from the rather magnificent creatures to Enyo. “All that being said, what do you suggest we do?”

[member="Enyo Typhos"]​

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Matsu Xiangu"]


As everyone knows, sand is coarse and gets everywhere. For her part, Enyo was considerably less vain than her mirror. Archangel had raised her in a monastic way, deprived of creature comforts. Gehenna, a hellish hothouse devoid of an atmosphere, had been her home for several months.


Her eyes swept across the seemingly endless dunes while the white hot sun rays slashed through the cloudless sky without mercy. The fallen statues of a bygone era did not command her attention. Vanity, vanity, all of this is vanity, she might have thought to herself when she saw a latter-day Ozymiandias.


No, her attention was focused upon the strange creatures far ahead of them. She heard their bizarre, ethereal cries before she saw them. These creatures were alien, unlike the primitive monstrosities she'd fought upon Gehenna. Their droning cries had an elegant, melodic quality and she could only describe the way they floated above the dune seas as graceful.


Soon Zombie Queen and Kerrigan's Mirror were in the centre of the herd. Enyo scanned the creatures with the trained eye of a predator as they drifted past and around the two humans, unbothered by their presence. Her initial supposition that these creatures might be weak and dangerously naive was disproved when Matsu elaborated on the formidable array of weapons they possessed.


"They are beautiful, formidable creatures. I could probably take on one of the adults, but a frontal attack would go poorly," Enyo commented. It was a tricky situation, but she liked a good challenge. Sometimes, a hunt called for cunning instead of battering ramming. Briefly, she gazed at the well-oiled Mark One Bolter strapped to her thigh.


"We need distance, out of range of their attacks. I can use this gun to snipe one of the creatures from the distance. The shot should be powerful, but not cause unacceptable damage to its body contents. I imagine the creature would regenerate the tissue damage...eventually, but we'd strike before it can," she spoke thoughtfully. Matsu's words echoed through her mind. The blood is said to have regenerative properties ten times as strong as bacta. Of course, it could not regrow lost limbs, but Matsu would be able to speak again.


I could breathe without implants, the incessant rasp of her breathing was heavy and possessed a distinct mechanical quality, for it was the sound of the iron lung she was forced to wear. For just a moment, Enyo felt a strange yearning. The clone had a vision of herself. Standing tall and proud in the sunlight, with a purely flesh and blood body. Free of phantom pains and of the whirring that echoed in her ears. No longer reliant on maintenance like a droid. It was such a tempting image, but she thrust it out of her mind.


This body, however broken, was hers. She would overcome its weaknesses and harness its strengths...and become something better than organic or droid. I shall surmount this challenge. It was the face of Enyo Typhos that stared back at her in the mirror, not Siobhan Kerrigan.


"In addition, I will set traps with grenades. You can lure them to the area and sow confusion with your mental powers, and I pull the pins. Concussion grenades would cause a sonic shockwave and weaken them. Then we can finish them off and take what we need."