Accept the Pain
Equipment: Laoth's Cybernetic Body | Double Vibroblade
Tags: Rhys Halcyon
Location: Empress Teta
Remembrance
New Body
Marking The Targets
Tags: Rhys Halcyon
Location: Empress Teta
Remembrance
New Body
Marking The Targets
Aboard the Raven's Heart
"What do we do when faced with pain, Naith'a?"
"What do we do when faced with pain, Naith'a?"
The voice had repeated the question every hour of every day since his fall to
Valery Noble
on Ponemah, and his subsequent consumption by the great sandworm of its vast dunes. For the longest time, until a time in which he felt it pointless to answer, Laoth had responded with the expected. The absolute. We Accept It. The adage of a family long lost to him, from a time before his ascension into Sithdom by his husband Xoc. And for that time in which he said it to the voice, he assumed it was the correct answer for it was what had allowed him to survive Jedha and
Ishida Ashina
, and more recently Selvaris when faced off against the same woman and her master
Michael Sardun
. But, when the voice kept repeating, Laoth lost hope and began thinking that perhaps it was no longer the right thing to say. And with no alternative making itself known, he fell silent whenever it spoke to him. Though truth be told, he had fallen quite graveyard-quiet ever since he had received his healing at the hands of the Brotherhood and
Spindle
, the latter keeping her reasoning hidden to both her subject and his subjects."What do we do when faced with pain, Naith'a?"
Laoth sighed and stepped down from the attachment platform, roughly adjusting the rotation of his left hand to not be so crooked. No matter how many times the technicians calibrated the machine, something would always be hooked on wrong. A backward foot, a crooked hand, an inverted arm. For all the advances of the Brotherhood, especially aboard this particular cruiser it sure seemed like the Devaronian was getting the short end of the stick for ensuring he at least functioned.
Walking across grated steel to the opposite side of the room, Laoth examined himself extensively in the mirror. Thankfully he himself had not been remade out of piss-poor products. Sturdy composite plating made up his new form, colored appropriately black and purple for his soul and newfound vigor in leading his tribe. Jagged ends and smooth rounded segments formed a cohesively chaotic body purposefully designed to invoke both terror and respect, though the myriad of stealth-based interfaces and software built into his new computer systems made him wonder why so much effort had gone into something his victims likely would not see until the last minute. However, it was not that which took his attention the most. It was that each part, even the internal systems that ran his new body, burst with Force as if alive and independent in their own way, the coils of his fibrewires and power supplies surging with malicious Dark Side energy practically begging him to kill. They very well could have been considering the methods of Mechu-deru and alchemy used to recreate the half-digested man. Biomechanical parts, at the very least, operating off of numerous programs coded to ensure he was at a killing efficiency far beyond what his once organic body could muster in the field.
"My Lord," said a timid voice after the hissing sound of sliding doors.
Laoth turned from the mirror to the right and gazed upon the small form of Caleb Myctediac standing in the open doorway. Dressed in simple grey robes passed down from his predecessor, Caleb Myctediac was a man in his thirties who appeared to be in his sixties. Wrinkled blotchy skin and grey patchy hair on a gaunt skeletal face cursed his youthful years as the consequence of his enslavement to the Maw. Servitude to the Devaronian...well, that would surely up his age quite a bit given the man's temperament and macabre visage.
"What?" Laoth asked after a long silence, his voice harsh and demanding.
Caleb flinched at the gravelly distortion of his master's voice, as well as the icy purple stare of his augmented eyes. As unnatural as Laoth had been before, his unfortunate injuries inflicted by the damnable Jedi had made him into something truly inhuman, perhaps even eldritch in some cases. "The ship is encroaching upon our destination and Darth Baladdun requests that all forces prepare for departure," Caleb said finally after silently regaining his composure. "You are...included in that request..."
Laoth grimaced with fleshless lips at the mention of the Darth's name. Baladdun. The human warlord who had become a thorn in the side of the Devaronian ever since his repairs, refusing to let him deploy to any place of note to test his new abilities. Why he had elected to become such a bastard to the Devaronian, not even his closest compatriots knew for sure. Some would whisper in the darkened halls that it was some vendetta broiling in the background until Laoth was in a position to not immediately overpower his superior. Others suggested it was merely a powerplay to show all under him that weakness would not be rewarded with glory. Of course, those who said that kept it quite personal amongst themselves. Whatever the case, Laoth had grown to despise the upstart and longed for the day he could drive his blade into the man's neck.
"Inform Black Steel to make ready with the shuttle," Laoth grunted, clearing the violent desires from his brain and deleting their augmented recordings. "I would make landfall as soon as possible."
Objective 1B - The Royal Palace
Empress Teta - Capital City Cinnagar - Royal Palace District
Empress Teta - Capital City Cinnagar - Royal Palace District
"Pilot, touch us down here."
"Yes, My Lord."
Black Steel made a noise and stepped toward his master, "Master, are you sure this is wise? The Royal Palace is-"
A series of computations and variables flashed through the Devaronina's mind the instant his apprentice began talking, his combat interface reading off lists of possible outcomes for a myriad of decisions he wasn't even aware that he was thinking of making. After storing away the route that seemed most logical to his new brain, Laoth turned to Black Steel and said: "There are enough fools taking on the palace proper. I aim to deal with the rungs of the ladder, not the top. If a single House escapes our grasp, we will have to deal with reprisals of unknown size and strength, and I do not wish to remain on this world for any longer than I have to."
Black Steel said nothing but fidgeted almost uncomfortably with his bracers. He knew that the Devaronian was right, but it still irked him to a degree that he would not be able to choke the life from the Empress. Still, being able to do so to a number of Royals and Nobles...well, that was a suitable consolation. And so, his discomfort sifted into comfort and a touch of malicious glee most present in the wide grin on his face. A grin that spread almost as wide as what his master was once capable of as the shuttle touched down rapidly and harshly on top of a massive skyscraper, the gleam of its glass surface shining through the port windows of the compartment.
Black Steel stood at the hatchway with an eager bounce to his posture, his hands gripping the hilt of his double-bladed lightsaber almost so tightly as to snap it in half. Eyes darted greedily towards the Devaronian who stood near, wondering how there was almost no sense of passion erupting from the man who clearly was intent on slaughtering all in his path. More power for me then, he thought.
The hatchway slid open with a hiss of steam and screech of metal gears, and all souls evacuated the compartment to do war upon the Alliance once more.
"What do we do when faced with pain, Naith'a?"
