A Bleeding Sun Warlord

[Tyro'din]

Tyro'din sat piloting his ship, The Silent Shadow, towards the co-ordinates that he had been provided with that led to the location of a Warlord that had joined the Host as an ally. A Hutt named Zambrano had approuched the Host Lord for an alliance and one had been granted. He was now going to see the Warlord and his empire to evaluate how much use they could be.

A beep warned him as he came out of hyperspace close to the co-ordinates. As soon as he exited a giant ship filled up the view in front of him. Setting the ship on auto-pilot he got out of the chair and walked to the giant holoterminal. Inputting the codes given he was soon confronted with the image of an arrogant looking human. "This is Tyro'din, Delta Agent of the Bleeding Sun. Requestion permission to dock for my meeting with Zambrano." He barked out, tone neutral. He waited while the man in front of him ran the information and codes given through a check as well as scan his face. After a moment the man nodded, granted permission and disappeared from the terminal. Striding back into the cockpit he took control of the ship and guided it into landing. He reached to the side to picked up and strapped on the sheathe for his vibroknife and holsters for his two blasters and one rifle as well as the belt containing his slicing gear and ammunition. With a quick touch to the side of his neck his respirator mask snapped into place.

Striding down the ramp, he was met with the sight of an armed escort. Understanding that while it was to contain him if he wasn't meant to be there are acted out he also knew they were an act of dominance, even if a subconscious act. The bothan did not like bowing to the dominance of anyone but the Gods and decided that the guards needed to fear him.

With a mask of no expression he began to bark out orders. "If I find one scratch on my ship I will gladly kill whoever caused it. If my security systems alert me that someone entered my ship, I will first removed the culprit's skin before moving onto tearing away at the muscles, then I will start to remove limbs, arms then legs, before pulling out their innards, all the time keeping them alive before sending them to join the Great Balagoth by slashing their throats. I will then repeat the process with three others for not stopping the invasion of my privacy. Am. I Understood?" The whole time Tyro'din delivered his speech he kept the militaristic voice he had learnt as a Minister on Bothan.

Striding down the rest of the ramp he stopped in front of the guards sent to escort him to the Warlord, all of whom seemed to be looking at him in shock. "Well then, shall we go?" Tyro'din asked in false cheer as he began to walk towards the exit.


[member="Zambrano the Hutt"] (OOC: Please tell me what you think of this.)

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

That look of shock on their faces however, was not one of outright fear, that look of shock was finding someone with a similar tenacity for the desolation of human flesh to their notorious Warlord. The difference though, was in delivery. Zambrano did not announce what he might do, he spontaneously acted such violent acts as the ones described by Tyro, and it happened in no regular pattern or in response to anything you did. As such, he had a notoriously high turnover rate, yet at the same time there was incredible opportunity to be close to him. The ambitious Hutt delegated nearly all of his power and status as a Warlord through the chain of command, and sought to increase the size of his fleet. This meant two things: one, higher level positions were likely to turn up eventually if you could survive long enough whilst on The Thorn, and two, if all went to plan there would be other ships available to be stationed on. There would still be those on The Thorn though, but they all had a job to do, and a religious obligation to the leaders of the Primeval, even if they were new and ruthlessly insane.

Tyro'din would be lead unhampered by the troops aboard the Warlord's vong-ship. Since he was Bothan, it was entirely likely that this added a degree of irritation and deep rooted hatred while present in this place, given the Bothan races history with the Vong and their still unfulfilled promise to commit to their genocide. However, as a believer of the Primeval faith, this may not be entirely the case. Whatever the reason for this particular Bothan's irritation, Zambrano the Hutt was amused as ever. Connected to the ship through the cognition hood, the Hutt dangerously toyed with the Dovin Basals onboard, doing silly childish things like playing with space debris or generating micro black-holes for the hell of it.... though with the present events with the Rapture... it was hard to tell how amicable the Hutt would be during his meeting with the Bothan. To which of course he was blissfully unaware, and in all likelihood the Bleeding Sun agent would report to his latest aid that whispered things in his ears to bring him back from his state as a consciously organic ship.

As he approached, an officer would perform whatever Primeval greeting was suitable for navy personnel to do when saluting a Bleeding Sun Delta Agent, before he addressed him. "Sir, are you the one to inspect Zambrano the Hutt, Vile, and Diseased?"

[member="Tyro'din"]

 

[Tyro'din]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

As he approuched what looked to be a thrown room, the gilded double doors swung open. The inside of the room was done in a extravagant manner to show wealth and power, but Tyro'din's eyes spotted easily that most of the décor was done with the thought of not wasting resources, only using what was necessary to give the appearance reality. Servants milled around the room, all avoiding a seven foot space in front of the Hutt at the end of the hall. He was seated on a eye-catching yet basic throw that stretched out into a couch shape, allowing the Hutt to stretch out. The thrown was covered in dried blood stains. Upon the Hutt's person was an item he never expected to find on a Hutt, a weapon, a whip.

Tyro'din came to a stop six feet away from the Hutt, willing to take his chances to test the Hutt. As he stood there an officer ran over to him and executed a military salute before asking if he was the agent sent. The Bothan couldn't help but notice that the officer stayed outside of the avoided zone. "I am indeed the agent sent." He replied to the officer's question before turning to face the Hutt again. "And when will Zambrano "The Vile And Diseased" be aware enough of this meeting to reply?" He asked. When Tyro'din said the Hutt's titles he sneered them, he always disliked Hutt's by principle.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

"Perhaps never... though if you are asking of when he will stop being occupied, the aid can pull him out of the Cognition Hood. Be warned, with the present conditions of the galaxy, his temperament has been... extreme. Even for him." With that, knowing clear well what the Agent wanted, he nodded to the designated Aid of Zambrano the Hutt. He approached the Hutt, his face stern as ever, whispered to the side of Zambrano's head through the Cognition Hood, and placed his hand upon the shawl to assist its removal. The organic interface slowly rose from the slimy flesh of the gastropod, giving the Aid time to exit his attack radius. A random prisoner of war from the latest campaign, specifically captured for this sole purpose, was then thrust towards the villainous creature, whimpering as she accepted his confinement to this fate. As the organic device left his face, the muscles around his closed eyes and mouth began to contort as waves of pain assaulted his mind. The state of the force was in flux with the opening of Netherworld rifts, and it had caused the ancient spirit agony. He could no longer call on the force because of the painful distraction, which only served to increase his diseased-ness. A few welts appeared on his skin, and blood from his own body dried as it mingled with the misted blood of others. He had been coughing blood for awhile now.

Suddenly the eyes flared open, bloodshot and erratic as it looked for something to lash out against. Tyro was lucky he saw the slave first, as adrenaline rushed through his bloodstream, allowing him to lift the venomous whip and send it across the petite face of the woman, tearing open the side of her neck, lashing across her cheek, opening her lips, and removing her eye as it pulled through her flesh, ravaging a face that might have been beautiful, mutilating her nose. Immediately, a spray of blood misted through the air with the whip, sending it through the bridge, and likely over the face of the Bleeding Sun Agent. She let out a harrowing scream, that ended quickly for her to begin weeping out of her remaining eye. She was going to buckle over herself, if not for the Hutts return strike. The barbs first caught upon the measly grayish shirt that she had been provided to cover her breasts, before they lacerated through the fat the consisted of them. The shirt ripped open to bring out full exposure of the now, entirely mutilated breasts, with much of one almost entire ripped open and removed. The other sustained less damage, but the barbs had already put into numerous slices through the delicate flesh. Her once grayish shirt, was now deeply red in the gore of her vicious wounds. There was momentary pause from the Hutt, as the woman reeled her head back, trying to scream but her voice caught in her chest, tears and blood mingled upon her good side of her face. Although he was tired, he managed to find enough strength to send the barbs whipping across her thighs as she sat on her knees. Immediately she buckled over and laid upon the floor, crying silently as the poison keep her from controlling her damaged throat, face, chest, or thighs. With her back in full exposure, the Hutt meekly tried to whip her... but could not, as he was interrupted by a fit of coughing.

Just about finished, the exhausted gaze began to drift and settle upon the Bothan, who stood not far from the bloody mess he created. One could see that the Hutt tried to lift his weapon again, but his body language told all that his exhaustion was a clear combination of mental deficiency, and physical disease. Adrenaline left his body as his desires were satiated, and became slightly more coherent. Satisfied for the most part, though still pained, he opened up his mouth to speak amicably, as he always did.

"What do you want, pateesaaa..." He let out a sigh as he spoke.

[member="Tyro'din"]

 

[Tyro'din]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Tyro'din stared at the whimpering woman as he wiped blood off his face, slightly disgusted and distraught. He could understand violence as a job and punishment if a subordinate commits an error, but he hated it when it was directed towards slaves, a result of his narrow escape from becoming a slave with the help of an old friend and then watching his friend be beaten and whipped to death for daring to help the Bothan escape. Tyro'din was also someone to appreciate beauty, whether is be the beauty of nature, art or even women and he hated to see it ruined. As such the display he had just witnessed had played with a lot of the mental buttons Tyro'din kept hidden and had affected him deeply as well as cemented his general hatred of Hutts. He kept staring at the sobbing woman as he removed his blaster and fired once at her head, killing her instantly and granting her a quick death.

It was only now that Tyro'din looked up at the Hutt. Knowing that he couldn't reveal his true reasoning behind ending the woman's pain he quickly thought of an acceptable answer in a matter of seconds, all of it hidden behind the mask he had perfected from his time in the Primeval, the Nether and as a Bothawui Minister. "She got her blood in my fur. It's an annoyance to clean blood off of me." He said coldly, his official explanation for the killing he had just done.

Tyro'din then saluted the Hutt, understanding protocol must be obeyed. "I'm Tyro'din. Delta Agent of the Bleeding Sun, assassination, espionage, interrogation, investigation and manipulation subdivision of the Primeval. I've been sent to oversee you empire and help you build it up and secure it in anyway necessary." The Bothan settled into a military "At Ease" stance and stared at the Hut, waiting for it to respond. Preparing to conduct an analysis on anything said to find the Hutt's weak points as well as to hopefully discover what made it tick.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

The Hutt snorted at the funny Bothan, though this prompted a pain in the side of his temple, which he treated by pressing his stubby arms palm into it. This would have to be short, as already he felt droplets of adrenaline lacing through the blood in his whipping arms muscles. He wanted to make more blood, spread the crimson with his ashen body. The hand that held his temple, then moved to itch at a welt a ways below his eye, allowing some puss to ooze out slightly. The company of Zambrano could not be the faint of heart, or be at all squeamish, least they would become his target, even if he "liked" them. Hell, you could do everything perfectly by him, and you were still likely to be whipped to death. It was this unknown inevitability that made him such a frightening figure... you know, besides all the gore and corpses lying around at random. As such, anyone "lead" beneath the corpulent acolyte would almost immediately become desensitized to death, or find themselves joining their ranks... or worse yet, find themselves slowly on their way.

"Hello, Tyro! Are you my newessst friend, then? How wonderful! What gamesss shall we play today?" Bloodshot, golden orbs leaned forward in the Throne of Thorns, causing some prickles to graze his flesh, but his hide being so thick was unharmed by it. Flexing in the whipping hand was clearly visible as he said this, bring his gaze closer to the hairy creature. An aid stiffened 7 meters away, not sure what would happen next. It was clear the Hutt trusted the Bothan to do exactly what he said he would, and more... but that never stopped the Hutt from whipping someone he wanted to before. You could offer the Hutt everything beyond his wildest dreams, and he'd still whip you even if it meant he'd get nothing afterwards. He simply did not care, and could not control his bloody impulses. Basically, the Agent's immediate fate hinged on the mere whim of the Warlord, or by accepting the danger as a legitimate possibility and stepping out of range. He already had the Hutt's trust and didn't need to prove anything, though it would likely be a wound to the Agent's pride to step back into a safe distance.

Regardless, the Hutt remained to look at him, flexing his hand in desirous anticipation, licking his bloody lips, and fighting an uphill battle with mental pain; he could snap at any moment...

[member="Tyro'din"]

 

[Tyro'din]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Tyro'din held in his feelings of annoyance when the Hutt greeted him in a slightly childish tone, keeping his face blank. He didn't react to the crime lords twitching hand nor his obvious bloodlust, he stood still staring at the Hutt, never flinching, almost daring the Hutt to attack him.

"What games?" Tyro'din tilted his head, "Why the game of gaining more power, Zambrano. I have been sent to offer you any help you need in building your empire up and secure it, as already stated. I am to do this through the use of Assassination, Manipulation and Espionage. As of this moment forwards until I am dismissed as an Agent or recalled from the assignment you are allowed to order me to conduct any mission through your authority. Please understand that this is a branch of friendship and as such I have permission to decline any mission you give me if I feel that there is a need for it. Please understand that this arrangement is brought about by your alliance and cooperation with the Host and the Host Lord and as such if, for any reason, this stops I am no longer in your service. Please understand that if I find evidence of treachery towards the Host or Host Lord that I have permission to carry out a Hit on you. Please know that I have permission to fight back against you and yours if I feel is is necessary."

Tyro'din's feet snapped together and he saluted before returning to 'At Ease'. "Any questions sir?"

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

[member="Tyro'din"] (I apologize about the wait )

"Treachery? Oh no, I am not one betray my friends! I trust them with all my heart, and everyone I consider my friend." He said in response, having apparently completely ignored all the boring parts. Power was not an interest of the Hutt, but he held a considerable amount of it even still, much to the surprise and dismay of everyone who must deal with him. There has yet to be a being that has encountered the Hutt without some base level of disgust. That was merely his lot in lives, to be the most vile cretin in the land, and thus the most desired by the malevolent to harness his brutality. It was very difficult to harness his brutality.

Though the Primeval had so far done well in reigning in the sociopath's mind, mostly due to caution, offerings of flesh, and a means to calm his pained mind during these turbulent times. He suddenly smacked his meaty hand against one of the thorns of his throne, spurting bits of blood into the air. That was a benefit of being a Hutt, holding a body that regenerated so well after a period of time. It was very difficult to puncture or slash the skin, though Zambrano managed by applying greater force into the abrasions and other such wounds when he felt the impulse to injure himself. There was one thing clear: Tyro'den would get no where speaking to the Hutt himself.

The Aid at attention spoke up, "I would request it out of you dear Agent, that you would make your proposals to me. I am his personal aid in all things related to... well, decision making. It may not be clear to you yet," The aid disdainfully glanced at the crumbled corpse of the woman his Master had ravaged before returning his gaze to the Bothan, "Zambrano the Hutt's mental faculties are... not, up to par. I, speaking for the Warlord, can assure you that you will be well employed here, and there is much to be experienced for you, and much to be gained for us. Is this amenable?"

 

[Tyro'din]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

Tyro'din stared at the Hutt when he inflicted a wound on himself, afraid. Afraid for how having this being in charge of his empire would negatively influence the Host. After all, it was well and good to be able to control your people and inspire them to do their best, no matter what the method was, but if were to lead an empire, surely it would require a quick, calculative and sane leader. When the Aid spoke up he nodded in understanding before speaking up, "That is amenable. Should we adjoin to a different room to discuss where my services would be best applied." Tyro'din turned and walked towards the doors as he said this, in part because he would need to exit through them no matter what answer he received from Aid and also because he wanted to test the Hutt, to see if he would lash out at him.



(OOC: Sorry for the short post, I wasn't sure what else I could put)

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

(OOC: I sincerely apologize for the wait, once again. I honestly forgot, and then was subsequently distracted by many other event-y things, so I think I'll finish this up now, and perhaps we can pick this partnership later?)

"I believe, that would be for the best, yes. Let us leave our... Warlord, to rest within his own chambers." The Aid responded to the obviously distraught Bothan. The Aid glanced at the disgusting thing posing as a figure of leadership, noticing that it was now waving at the two of them like a deranged child. It made his stomach churn that something as vile as that could be considered the pilot of this ship, and his superior, when he was the captain! He turned, and motioned for the Agent to follow, into a more secure cavity of the biological ship... another thing that made his stomach churn, but not in the way the Hutt that love it, did. Once they were secure, he turned back to the Bleeding Sun Agent, who was inspecting this feeble yet growing domain, and with a breath he relaxed being out of the midst of the Warlord.

"I apologize if I speak too frankly, Agent [member="Tyro'din"], but that... thing, out there is not the one in control here!" He sent a pointed finger out the door to indicate the subject of the matter. Suppressing his outburst, the Captain regained his composure, and formality. "My name is Captain Slika, and the so called Warlord holds no rational faculties to support the Primeval... in all but one regard. Along with my colleagues, we have come to agree that although Zambrano the Hutt is no effective leader, his sheer brutality and reputation... his very name is an extremely effective mechanism of fear. Additionally, we recognize that he is an extremely hated target, which creates an excellent diversion to the more sane individuals within his domain." Glancing about now, not sure if this was treason, but hoping that the inspectors evaluation of the Warlord was enough reason to let them be, he passed a datapad to the Agent, containing a very short list of names.

"We've decided to call ourselves the Directory. A council of military individuals directly beneath the "authority" of the Hutt on paper, but being the close "advisers" we are, we are the ones that you should consider to be in charge of this venture. Should have need to, you will report to one of us when ordinarily you would report to the Warlord, for mission opportunities. We have great aspirations Agent, we desire to build an Armada... but we cannot do that alone without connections. We cannot do that without rivals... eliminated. Is that understood agent?" He sincerely hoped so.

"If so, I would ask that you would dismiss yourself, Agent."

 

[Tyro'din]

[member="Zambrano the Hutt"]

As Tyro'din followed the aid through the halls of what he had heard to be a biological ship, he observed the crew as they hurried past, judging how much effort they seemed to put into their work. However despite the obvious attempts to work at peak efficiency, the agent was still worried on backing the Hutt, lose and insane cannon that he/it was. It was for this reason that he felt relief when it was made clear that the Hutt was not the brains behind the operation but another group was, of course this relief was hidden behind a blank, emotionless mask. He stood there quietly, listening to the aid's, now revealed to be one Captain Slika, speech and presentation taking it all in. When the man finished he was quiet for a moment longer before speaking.

"I understand perfectly, Captain. As a Bothan that served in the political courts of my species and Bothawui, I feel like I must congratulate you on such a plan." He reached out to take the offered datapad, replaing it with the datapad that he had brought with him. It contained only one file and only had the memory to contain that one, plus a virus was written into it to corrupt the datapad if the file was deleted, sent, copied or removed. "That datapad contains the contact frequency and channels you are to use to contact me when you have jobs for me to do. During these times of contact you will refer to me as Shelf Tef'din and make no mention as to my true occupation."

With one final nod to the captain, Tyro'din turned on his heel to head back towards his ship, satisfied with what he had seen and ready to leave and go onto down time now that the job was done. He needed it to prevent himself from burning out.