Private A Galaxy to Burn

[Darth Nefaron]

Anoat was unremarkable from orbit.

The atmosphere is choked with seemingly endless storms and the spew of black smoke.

It was to be well avoided by those uninvited.

But Helix had been invited.

He was to see what lay within.
​

When Darth Nefaron extends an invitation to his home, a being is faced with two outcomes to their visit. Either that being never again saw the light of day, or they would make a compact with the Dark Lord that would see them complicit in the blackest of sins. Yet one such as the War Marshal did not fear the punishment that came with death, for he was a being of logic and facts. He had seen wisdom when they spoke on Dromund Kaas; he had seen that the future of the Sith was to be found in a campaign of terror that would choke the galaxy until the light of civilization dimmed forever. Together, the Droid War Marshal and the Corpse Lord would plot and scheme and unleash a great shadow upon all who would dare stand against the tide of dread that rushed forth from the darkness of Anaot.

Once breaching the atmosphere, the scope of what Darth Nefaron sought to accomplish on this world was made clear. Great columns of smoke arose from vast wounds in the surface, streams of torch-bearing Legionaries scoured the surface as the mutated tribes that once hid away from the Dread Lord now heeded his call. No more would they scramble over polluted water or rotten flesh, for they how served a Dark Lord who would see them unleashed upon the galaxy, to bring ruin and despair to those who inhabited the green worlds, those worlds who had remained unspolied and whose people knew not what it meant to truly suffer. Yet there was much to be done still, more equipment, more slaves, more was required for Nefaron's great work to truly begin. That is why Helix had been invited, why he was necessary to the continuation of not only the goals of the renvigorated Tsis'Kaar but also to the plans of the serpent who sought to make the once great organization his puppet. Helix could be a part of this great conspiracy, or he could fall like all those who dared to stand in Darth Nefaron's way.

From his fortress, the Corpse Lord watched as the surface practically bristled with life. The storms that raged endlessly ensured that blissful darkness, a darkness Nefaron enjoyed dearly, reigned forever. He had long focused on his Apprentices, and they were indeed developing well, but it had come time to plan for the future, how he would unleash his weapons and legion. As much as he wished to simply sweep the field clean of his rivals, they remained ascendant. That would change, but for the time being, he would need to bide his time, strike deals that would see the old order come crumbling down. Now that he was secure at home, the wider galaxy seemed to be but a ripe fruit ready to be plucked.

"Have my guest join me in my laboratory. Have wine prepared."

The droid at Nefaron's back, DD-421, offered a polite bow.

"As you wish, Master."

He had such sights to show his new ally. All that remained was to ensure his loyalty.

This was easily done. He needed only to show him what was being worked on.

Such wonderful suffering. Abominations of flesh and bone.

Then he would understand.

TAGS: Helix


​

 

[Helix]

Helix cast an appraising glance down at Anoat's nightmarish surface, subjecting it to the same mental vivisection he did all things. The Dreadhawk gunship's keen eyes were his own, when he wished them to be, and he had an eyeful as the lander tore across the sky.

He approved. Darth Nefaron was clearly not one to encourage idle visitation. If he ever held a planet (much against his own will and doctrine) he might do much the same. The less he was disturbed by various Sith personages, the better. Of course, he rarely had that problem nowadays. His assets never stayed in one place long.

He'd brought a gift, items that he thought the Corpse Lord might appreciate. Beside him sat a small, glistening metal case, inside which were four Helcyte eggs in cryo-suspension. Two breeding pairs. It would take little time for the four to become hundreds, then thousands, then millions. Provided, of course, that they had food. He suspected there was no shortage of fresh blood on Anoat for them to feast on.

The Dreadhawk gunship chattered uneasily at him, warning him of the weather. No matter. He reminded the machine that he had designed it to be battered by far worse things than rain.

Helix coiled his consciousness tighter around the gunship's, zooming in its vision. There were flashes of what he suspected were beasts in the driving tempest, but the dropship was moving too quickly to be sure.

It wasn't an attractive planet, he noted once more. Like something out of a story designed to scare children into behaving. Most beings might have been unsettled.

Most beings weren't Helix.

The Dreadhawk arrested its momentum, and Helix stepped from its magnetic clamps onto the rain-slick surface of a landing pad. Tucking the case under one arm, he presented himself at the door, favoring the attendant droid with a blood-freezing smile.

"I'm here to have words with your master. Kindly let him know I've arrived."

To his evident surprise, he was shown inside, and down a winding rat's nest of corridors. Nefaron must have been in a hurry to see him.

The Sith's patience wasn't strained long. Punctuality was perhaps the only virtue Helix adhered to. The lanky apparition strode to meet him, raising one claw in greeting.

"You've a lovely home, friend Nefaron." He rasped. "A commendable mix of form and function. Would that a decorator's eye were not so rare a gift in Sith space. I might make more house calls." He adjusted his grip on the case, causing two fingers to coil around it with a vice-like grip. It was small in his large claw, but it would hardly do to tarnish a first impression by introducing an infestation to his new colleague's home.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

"Unfortunate that my colleagues remain ever gaudy, but you are too kind my friend. Welcome."
​

The Dread Lord stood before a large tank, an orange colored liquid surrounded a writhing mass of flesh and bone. Long had Nefaron experimented with the remains of those taken by his Legion, but only recently had he succeeded in creating something useful from the dregs that society had cast aside. On Anoat, all were made useful, even if that meant they had to become something far more terrifying than any nightmare. Still, the creature in the tank was far from ready and required careful incubation. With a wave of his hand, a think durasteel covering descended from the ceiling to hide the beast in darkness once more, until his Master was once more ready to apply his cruel talents. a

"I appreciate you making the trip, my little corner of the galaxy is far removed from the hustle and bustle of Jutrand or the coming storm that will soon engulf the Holy Worlds. I promise the trip will be well worth your while."

Nefaron beckoned for the droid that had escorted Helix to the chamber to approach once more. Though both droids were of a similar model, DD-421 was a far simpler construct, brilliant to be sure but quite limited in his understanding. He would always obey the Dark Lord, unlike Helix who would need to be offered proper compensation for any work that Nefaron had to offer him.

"As requested, Corellian Red, dated approximately to the seventh Sith Empire."

"Excellent. You may leave the bottle and return to your duties. Sound the call to assemble."

"Yes, my Master."

DD-421 left the bottle on what appeared to be a freshly cleaned examination table before taking his leave of the pair of conspirators. Nefaron wasted little time in pouring the contents of the aged bottle into two metallic cups.

"You must forgive my inability to provide the traditional glasses, there was an incident in my kitchens that saw one of my more flawed creations manage to escape from captivity and find refuge in the storage. When discovered, it did not readily agree to be caged. Rest assured, this error will be rectified for our next meeting."

Nefaron took hold of his cup and swirled the red liquid within for a moment, enjoying the aroma before taking a short sip.

"Please, unburden yourself of that case. Unless of course it contains the weapon you will use to kill me."

The Corpse Lord chuckled at the thought, he did not believe such a thing to be true but he could not help but gest. It was far more likely that a rival would attempt assault his fortress or simply bombard it from orbit, personal assassins' were becoming ever rarer within the Empire's borders much to Nefarons displeasure.

"I must applaud your creativity if that is indeed true. There are far to many complicated assassination's these days, I always did prefer something more personal."

With a gentle wave of his hands, two mechanical chairs floated across the room to rest at the makeshift table the pair had taken to using. Though he doubted Helix minded standing, it was better to do business the old fashioned way.

"Am I take it you brought me a gift? Once more you have proven to be far too kind."

Helix ​

 

[Helix]

Helix caught only a glimpse of the thing in the tank as the protective barricade slid over it. It was enough. Here, truly, was a kindred spirit if ever there was one. He found the thought equal parts refreshing and concerning.

Taking a seat at the table, he took the proffered cup gratefully. "No apologies necessary. It is ever the misfortune of inquiring minds to be beset by such inconveniences. I had a similar incident occur on one of my mining facilities not long ago." A multi-jointed needle proboscis formed from the colony's blank faceplate, dipping cautiously into the cup and tasting. Helix had only recently become able to enjoy such tactile joys as the taste of a fine vintage. He gained no nourishment as such from food or drink, but the experience was often worth it. Just one of many little joys his original creators had denied him, when they'd built him with such narrow focus.

He glanced down at the box when Darth Nefaron commented on it, remembering that he was still clutching with a death grip. Obligingly, he placed it on the table and slid it over. "Nothing so crude, no. I do not require bombs or blades or blasters to kill, and I'd as soon destroy a stained glass window as an artist like yourself." He took another sip of the wine. "To kill you would be to do the universe a disservice. Genius only comes along once or twice in a generation." No hint of sarcasm here. He felt almost humbled by all he saw around him. Certainly, he'd built a little empire of his own, commanded endless legions of droids and far worse things, but much of that had been made while he was still shackled by the limitations that had been chosen for him. Only recently had he begun to take a look at his former bland tastes, and cringe inwardly.

Anoat was as much of a message as a planet. Artistry, of a sort, was woven into everything he saw around him. "Yes, a gift. Crude, perhaps, by your standards, but hopefully you may find some utility in it." As if by some unspoken command, the tiny box popped open, releasing a small flood of frozen vapor as four luminescent orange orbs were revealed therein, trapped in cryogenic stasis. "Helcytes. Two breeding pairs. In a year, maybe two million. I need hardly suggest to a man of your erudition that most humanoid species are hardwired to fear things that crawl."

"You need only deposit the eggs near a source of fresh prey, and they will do the rest. Left unchecked, they can threaten a planetary ecosystem. I've also found them a useful deterrent against disobedience. Becoming their prey is a... creatively unpleasant way to die."

"Again, crude, but sometimes the sledgehammer serves as well as the scalpel."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Nefaron was a man who enjoyed gifts. ​

He was quick to lean forward, to examine the contents of the case with what amounted to glee, for his rather limited facial muscles seemed to form a smile of sorts.

"Crude? I'd hardly say such a thing. You have brought me the end of the world, a weapon that would see countless eons of biological diversity and ecological masterpieces wiped away forever. That's not even to mention their effectiveness from a purely military perspective."

The Corpse Lord bowed his head in respect, his hands, those of a surgeon in a past life, gently allowed the case to close, and for the cryogenic stasis to resume. No doubt Nearon already had terrible plans in mind for this gift, but he could enlighten his companion with those plans another day. Silently, Nefaron retrieved a holodisk from within his robes and set it on the table, allowing a red projection of the local system surrounding Anoat to take shape before the pair.

"As I offered on Dromund Kaas, the Anoat system is largely devoid of life. Dead worlds and the moons and asteroids trapped within their orbit. All ripe for plucking, as large-scale mining has not resumed here since the days of the Clone Wars. I imagine you would find quite the treasure trove of raw materials, but I have one more prize to offer you, one that I have largely ignored for an occasion such as this."

Nefaron reached forward, keying in a command to the holodisk to have the map zoom to but a single world, removed from Anaot but still within the Dark Lord's grasp.

"Gentes, hardly a paradise, but it is unique in that it is the final remaining world in the Anoat System that is habitable naturally, and rest assured, it very much is. You are familiar with the Ugnaughts, are you not? A short and hardy species, one that contained many gifted craftsmen and technicians. They are quite strong servants as well, but they unfortunately do not survive long on Anoat, for the beasts that roam the lower levels tend to view them as prey."

The Dark Lord chuckled at the thought. He had witnessed just such a thing happen many times, and as much as he found joy in it, he was in the business of preparing for galactic war and could not afford such crude entertainment.

"This is what I offer to you, my friend. Though the population has been in decline for many decades, nearly a million capable bodies and their homeworld are to be your domain to do with as you see fit. All I ask is that we explore the vast resources of this system, construct facilities to produce starships, and that your technological expertise be at hand should I need it. For all the power the Dark Side has granted me, I cannot use it to create starships from thin air."

The gift of an entire world and its population was quite the thing. Nefaron wished to doom a vast population to servitude under the unblinking eye of the Droid Warlord, and he did so eagerly, for he knew the rewards from such a thing would be grand indeed.

"Let me assure you that you can, should you wish, maintain your status and independence, though I know you have other commitments. But here, secluded from major hyperspace routes and the eyes of both Jutrand and our allies in the Tsis'Kaar, we can build up our forces. In time, I might sway you to my side, but I am content with our current partnership for the time being."

The Corpse Lord took his cup and drank eagerly, savoring a rare vintage while allowing his companion a moment to consider everything he had said.

"That is, if you wish to enter into such a partnership." ​

 

[Helix]

Helix let out an unpleasant, gravelly sound of amusement. "You're a clever man, Nefaron, but you have much to learn about negotiation. You don't need to sweeten the pot further when I'm already sold." He sat up straighter in his chair.

"At first thought, it should pose no challenge. Ships will not be a problem. Infrastructure will not be a problem either. Provided, of course, that we can safely harvest the riches of these worlds undisturbed. I have long since mastered the art of extracting resources from a planet in a quick and efficient fashion."

It was a tempting offer, to be sure, and Helix was entirely inclined to take it. He could tug a few of his orbital mining stations away from their work for this sort of thing. Put down some self-replicating factories to clear away anything of use on the surface. The relative hostility of these worlds was not an issue either. His forces didn't need niceties like air, food, or rest.

Gentes itself was vaguely known to him. The CIS had conquered it once, many centuries ago. He'd not been a part of that operation, but had seen what industrious little buggers the natives could be. Under his iron grip, the planet could be made even greater.

No part of this deal was bad for him, as far as he could tell. It would enrich both of them enormously, but it would also give him much to do. His handful of mining stations, enormous as they were, wouldn't cut it for something of the scale that Darth Nefaron was proposing.

"Consider me interested." He responded evenly. "I'd be foolish to say no, when there is so much to gain. I'm sure the Ugnaughts can be made to... see the value of my leadership. I'm very persuasive when I need to be." His insectile mouthparts dipped into the wine, savoring it again. It mingled with the taste of accomplishment in his compound multi-consciousness.

"I will draw up some preliminary plans for your vessels in the near future. Along with any other technologies you'd like produced. I might as well put my industry to more entertaining uses than simply building more droids."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

"What is a world amongst friends?"
​

The Corpse Lord took a sip from his cup once more, a pleased grin taking shape on his deteriorated features as he allowed his new ally to elaborate on his capabilities. As the Dark Lord suspected, Helix was one of the most resourceful beings within the Sith Empire, one who had been overlooked as an abomination or a droid with a few loose wires. Malum and Strosious were shortsighted to see so little potential in one who could forge legions, one who could produce weapons of terror that would shake the galaxy to its core. Nefaron would make no such mistake, for he sought to give the War Marshal everything he could ever want.

And so much more.
​

"You warm my dead heart, my friend. I am certain your creativity will shine ever brighter with access to the untapped resources of our humble little system."

Nefaron raised his glass in a sort of toast to the Droid before consuming its contents. He returned the empty glass to the makeshift table, but he did not refill his glass just yet. Now that their partnership was all but secure, they had another topic to discuss, one that would make or break their future cooperation. The Corpse Lord was not content with Anoat or bringing glory to the Tsis'Kaar. The Sith had grown stagnant in their ambition, content with slow expansion in the Outer Rim and bickering over internal politics and law. Every day, the Empire began to appear more and more like the decadent and corrupt Republic that had existed during the time of the Rule of Two, except now the Sith suffered the detrimental effects of such lethargy.

"Helix, allow me to speak to you of the Sith for a moment. I do not wish to insult your intelligence, so do not take this lecture as anything more than context. I am certain that you have noticed the state of our realm as of late, how we bicker amongst ourselves, how we have allowed upstarts like the false Empire in the Core and the Imperial Confederation to rise. The Alliance is on the backfoot, the Mandalorians are seemingly content, and Black Sun surges forward into networks that previously belonged to us."

Rising from his chair, the Corpse Lord paced away for a moment, examining a console and its various readings as his mind continued to swirl with possibilities and schemes.

"Are we an Empire? With a largely silent Emperor? A Dark Council that can hardly agree on anything? Tell me, is there even a grand design for our galaxy once we triumph? Or will we descend into infighting and chaos and fall like so many empires before us?"

The answer was, of course, yes. The way things stood, the Sith Empire would collapse the moment a good reason arose for that to be so. Nefaron was not opposed to that situation, of course, for the Sith would again arise as they always did, but the rest of the galaxy cannot be in a position to clamp down on that rising power. The other powers must be weakened or outright destroyed first.

"There can be but one guiding vision. Terror must take center stage, the galaxy must again know that to oppose us is to suffer a fate worse than death."

Nefaron turned then, hands folded behind his back as he returned to his companion.

"I do not seek to be Emperor, such a title implies bureaucracy and a return to the old failings. No, I will retain the title of Dark Lord, the one true Dark Lord of the Sith. I will ensure that the board is made clean, that the thousands of Sith who roam the galaxy are exterminated along with the Jedi and any other groups who claim to know the forces will. But I do not seek an end to existence as others do, I simply wish to enact a new regime."

Nefaron remained standing, filling his cup once more before offering the bottle to Helix, his previously milky white eyes now shown the sickly yellow that was the hallmark of one who had fully embraced the Dark Side.

"Every world, every sentient being, will know terror each second they draw breath. They will know the chains of slavery. They will know that, at long last, the Sith have had their revenge. I want you to be alive to see that day, my friend, for you will be amongst a select few who share my vision. That amount of power has never been achieved before in galactic history, but sacrifices will have to be made to see that vision brought to life."

How much was Helix willing to sacrifice to achieve that sort of power?

Nefaron believed nothing was sacred.

He believed Helix knew that as well.

TAGS: Helix ​

 

[Helix]

Helix, fortunately, wasn't born yesterday. He knew there must be some ulterior motive for a creature like this. Perhaps having a fleet of his own to spread his unique brand of horror across the galaxy was motive enough. Helix suspected, with or without reason, that there was more than this.

As with most everyone in Sith space, he suspected Darth Nefaron wanted leverage. Influence. Nothing was more valuable. Leverage was the one commodity one couldn't steal. It had to be purchased or occasionally forced, often at considerable cost.

Nefaron already enjoyed one advantage in this little chat: he saw the universe in much the same way as Helix. The ghoul bluntly pointed out flaws and failures that most others danced around or simply refused to acknowledge.

Helix let him say his piece, then answered.

"No insult taken. It's refreshing to hear the Order's failings laid out in such a clinical, realistic fashion. If more shared your objectivity, we very likely wouldn't be in the current situation." He allowed himself a small, quiet shake of the head, then dipped into his wine anew, accepting the bottle when offered.

"I've said for some time that the Alliance's visible crumbling is a grim reflection of the Order's own future, if things continue on their current course. Failure to adapt will be what kills them, and the Sith Order as it now stands. We should learn from it, even as we profit from it. More importantly, we should strive not to emulate it."

"They were done the moment they suffered rival states to grow fat off the fruit of their own borders. One of these seems poised to consign them to history's garbage compactor for good, while the rest take advantage of the chaos. How distressing, then, that our wise leaders seem intent on making the same blunders." He didn't seem all that distressed. Helix's ties to the Sith stemmed more from the people in it than any value he saw in the state itself.

Originally, he'd been a neutral party, before the Order had sucked him in, and given him an official position. The Sith did that to all things that fell into their event horizon. Devour, destroy, consume. It took much effort and guile to maintain one's sense of self amidst that ravening void. A canny being stood to gain much, if they could retain a means to scurry off the ship when it inevitably sank.

Helix had been planning for the dissolution for some time before Nefaron had approached him on Dromund Kaas, and given him a new angle to look at. A view that the sinking ship's death throes might be just a little more violent then Helix had anticipated.

No, Helix would shed no tears when the Sith state came down in flames. He had outlived several previous incarnations of its "majesty" and would likely outlive many more. He only cared that anyone of value, as he defined it, wasn't caught up in the fall.

That was where Helix and Nefaron parted ways. Helix did care, however slightly and transiently, about a few others than himself. Nonetheless, if it was them or himself, there was only ever one choice. He was no hero, and would take a fall for no one. Ever.

The nanocolony didn't let that minor disagreement distract him from the virtues of Nefaron's ideals. Virtues they did indeed possess, though well-hidden.

"Of course, that is just the cycle of history, dear Nefaron. Everything in the universe marches ever toward its end. It is particularly the nature of states to self-cannibalize, when they have grown too fat to pursue and eat anything else. I do not speak from perusal of history books, though I have read most of them. I speak from experience. I know a dying beast when I see one, and the carrion birds circle closer and closer to our borders every day. An eye for weakness isn't a gift unique to me. Before our chat on Kaas, I believed I was the only one to see it. It is a relief, for once, to be wrong."

"The Sith, as I see it, are long due a correction. Trim the fat, burn the chaff, however you like to phrase it. It must happen, or someone else will do it. Likely one of these new Imperial states, glutted on the euphoria of their victories. Historically, the Sith emerge from internal power struggles mightier than before, purged of weaker elements and sporting renewed focus. External invasions are less generous, less surgical in their cleansing."

Helix's mountainous ego was tickled by the idea of being party to exclusive access to Nefaron's little vision of the future, as well as access to his worlds' mineral wealth. That rasping, guttural chirrup of amusement once again emanated from his form.

"I like to make others sacrifice for me, when possible. I have a feeling you do too. The universe only consists of two components, when you get right down to it. The knife, and the altar. Either wield the one, or you will be made to lie upon the other." Helix knew which one he preferred.

 

[Darth Nefaron]

Nefaron laughed. He actually laughed.
​

"Helix, we really should add you to the vaunted texts of the Sith of old. For one who cannot wield the force, you have perfectly captured the fundamental struggle of our order."

Nefaron took up his cup in a toast to his ally before consuming it in one great gulp. Normally, he would savor his wine, but this was a day to celebrate, and there was a need for such gestures of joy amongst those who might be considered friends.

"In the end, you need only shake off dead weight, allies, and comrades who will continue to drag our Order down and prevent our ultimate triumph. However, there is no need to take any hasty action just yet. All I ask is that you consider my argument when the time comes for radical change to be made."

Instead of returning to his seat, the Dark Lord gestured to the other side of the room, to the mysterious vat that had been sealed when Helix had arrived in the room.

"Let us dispense with politics; there will be time enough for that in the future. You and I are creators, after all, would we not better use our time by discussing our unique talents? I have to admit I am rather excited by this latest creation."

Crossing the room, Nefaron simply waved his hand, and the thick shielding of the container began to retract to reveal a creature of sorts, though it remained vague as it seemed to retreat away from the light that once again flooded into its containment unit. The Corpse Lord set to work at a console connected to the vat as he made a few final tweaks to the beast's gestation conditions and perhaps coax it closer so that Heilx might get a better glimpse at the latest monstrosity born of Anoat.

"You see, slaves come in all shapes and sizes, and while many are fit for service in the pits or in technical positions, there will always be those who are infirm, old, or have mentally collapsed due to the stress of their initial capture. While unfortunate, I have long tested many methods to turn these useless bags of flesh into something that might be of interest to you and me."

After a few more inputs, the creature within the vat began to writhe and groan, but it did begin to approach the glass to provide the pair with a real glimpse at its flesh.

It was horrible

But Nefaron found beauty in his creation.
​

"At first, I considered allowing those unfortunate enough to be molded into the creature to maintain some level of sentience, but early tests proved such a horror to be unsustainable. Eventually, the creature would simply seek to end its own life, and that would not do. I am pleased with its current form, strong enough to rip a full-grown man in two with little effort and durable enough to withstand several blows from a lightsaber. The real coup de grâce is its speed despite its great size. It can easily outrun most troopers and even keep up with force users' enhanced speed, though it isn't quite able to maintain such speed for very long. Excellent for close-quarters combat, especially aboard ships."

Nefaron turned to his companion with genuine interest in his dead eyes.

"Your thoughts? Naturally, I would like input from one of the finest minds in the Sith Empire."

TAGS: Helix ​

 

[Helix]

Helix stood, approaching the glass to get a better look. A saner being might well have hastened in the opposite direction; unfortunately, Helix was anything at all but sane. His metallic claw-feet clicked rapidly across the ancient floors, crossing the distance in an eyeblink.

He'd been very curious as to what was inside, having only caught a brief glance when first entering the room. He'd also been tempted, many times, to ask what it was directly. Nonetheless, Helix could not begrudge Nefaron his weakness for showmanship. It was one they both shared.

His eyes catalogued a parade of horrors. The sagging, malformed jaw. The staring, animal gaze. The seemingly randomly-placed humanoid heads. An anatomy assembled with no reason in mind but to disgust and terrify. Such a thing could only have come from a truly diseased imagination.

He noted Nefaron's shameless flattery, asking for his opinion like it mattered. Was it still flattery if it was true? It wasn't like much else happened in the way of innovation in the Empire, or what he considered innovation. He decided to consider the request for feedback a genuine one. After all, Nefaron had earned the benefit of a little honesty.

Being a monster himself, Helix was an appreciator of the art of making them. Most leaned too far into pure practicality or pure artistry. Nefaron seemed to remember that a monster's existence was traditionally not a happy one. He could almost smell the creature's own misery radiating from it.

"It's wonderful." He assessed honestly. "A blend of form and function. Transforming the useless into the utilitarian, but not without a flourish of personal vision." Helix felt a mingled twinge of admiration and jealousy. Would that he had figured out how to turn the occasional detritus he gathered on raids into something useful, as his colleague had.

"A remarkable achievement, to be sure." He said, pacing around the tank to take in the entire macabre vision. "Particularly if you've the means to repeat the process. Seamlessly turning a slave into a soldier is no small feat."

He took his seat again, finishing off his wine and never taking his gaze off the thing in the tank.

"You know, there's a certain finesse that goes into making a monster, in my mind. We've certainly no shortage of flesh-smiths in this glorious empire, but a monster is far more than a militarized war beast." He ran a sickle-bladed finger along the inside of his wine glass, tasting that last hint of the beverage.

"A monster is a statement of ethics. Deadliness is only part of the picture, and one that too many seem to stop at. I must confess I myself stumble upon this block more often than not. A machine's weakness for efficiency, I'm afraid. Though I'm only a machine when I wish to be these days, some old habits die hard."

"In any case, a monster should prompt questions in the eye of all who behold it, like any good piece of art. Make a statement of some sort. Were I some underpaid, simple-minded stooge of the sort that die by the millions defending a planet, I would be very reluctant to risk capture from the one who will do this to his own property."

"'If he will do this to his slaves, what then would he do to me, his enemy?' would be the question boiling in one's mind. If a monster is a statement of ethics, I'd say you've quite succeeded in yelling yours out loud and clear."

"Simple in its elegance, and elegant in its simplicity. One can ask for no more than that. Would that a little artistic panache wasn't such a rare treat to behold in these benighted times, but that is what fate has saddled us with."

A moment's pause.

"Of course, it could always use more guns."

 

[Darth Nefaron]

"What are ethics if not the chains of creativity?"
​

Many might argue that ethics are in place to ensure creativity does not stray into the realm of madness, but Nefaron had long fallen into the dark pit, and now he was crawling his way out at the head of a tide of terror. Nothing was off limits to him; he would destroy cultures and civilizations for the sake of his own enjoyment, and he knew Helix might find that to be rather entertaining. Truly, they were masters of their craft, and this meeting had turned into a mutual appreciation for each other's work.

"You have truly captured my thoughts, my friend. I applaud your ability to glimpse my vision for this newest creation. There are few in this galaxy who understand what I am doing here aside from you."

Nefaron removed a blade from his cloak, a simple thing that had seen many dissections and vivisections in its time, but it was to prove a rather interesting point for the Dark Lord.

"I do believe weapons such as blasters and slug throwers have their place, but I find the blade to be a far more effective tool. Take this humble thing, simple and long-lasting. Let us say I approach a slave with a blaster in hand, certainly the slave fears death, but the blaster carries with it a certain... peace. One quick shot and it's over. Depending on where the blast strikes, it may even end the slave without him even realizing. But a blade?"

Nefaron turns the blade around, offering it to Helix as a sort of memento of this first meeting.

"The blade is terror. The blade is pain and suffering, and the fear of endless torment. It can kill, but quickly? Unlikely. The being will feel it drive its way into their flesh, it will feel the terrible pain of their flesh splitting, and the horrid chill that comes with blood loss. But you know me better than that. I rarely let a being die so quickly."

Nefaron chuckled at the thought, perhaps imagining his past deeds with terrible glee in his dead eyes. He knew Helix would have many stories himself, and perhaps they could swap a few. But for now, Nefaron limited himself to one for the sake of his argument.

"Once, a Mandalorian warrior found himself under my blade. It was to be an interrogation, but truthfully, the information he had was of little interest to me. Oh, was he so proud, so brave, even in the face of death, he had that fire in his eyes."

Turning his head to look at Helix, the Corpse Lord's terrible smile could no longer be hidden as he revealed the fate of the poor man.

"I cut the tendons in his legs first. Then I released his restraints and watched him writhe on the floor in pain as he desperately tried to stand and fight. Yet even then, he was defiant, cursing me in his native tongue and demanding an honorable death. That tongue was next to be removed, then fingers, and then I severed his spine."

The cloaked Sith turned his gaze back toward the creature in the tank and watched as it writhed and its flesh continued to mold into new shapes.

"He was the first to be turned into something more useful in this laboratory. As you imagine, a Mandalorian who cannot walk, talk, or hold a weapon was rather useless, and so I sought a new use for his flesh. I believe he continues to wander the lower levels of the fortress to this day, consuming the occasional escaped slave and feasting on the vermin who gather in the slave pits."

If it was not obvious before, Darth Nefaron was truly mad. Behind his civility and smooth talking was a serial killer who reveled in suffering and pain. Perhaps his torture at the hands of his first "master" had made him this way, perhaps this darkness had always lurked within the man's soul. It no longer mattered, for this creature had plans for the entire galaxy, and they were firmly rooted in the same terror he delivered to that Mandalorian so long ago,

"Forgive me, I lost track of myself there. But suffice to say, I prefer the blade over the blaster in most cases. That being said, I take your point, perhaps I might provide this beast with weaponry more suitable to eliminate enemy armored vehicles? Just a thought."

TAG: Helix ​

 

[Helix]

"Ethics are in the eye of the beholder, my friend." Said Helix. "Like anything else, they are a tool, and tools are amoral. Some would say it is unethical to allow the weak to dictate to the powerful, yet that sin is at pandemic proportions the galaxy over. It has even poisoned the very heart of this Order."

"I was quick to grasp your vision because it is simple common sense. If the rest bothered to think about it for a few moments, I'm certain they'd arrive at the same conclusion. It is only logical. I do not mean to convey that it makes your creative genius any less stunning to behold. Only to say that in an age of dullards, the man who espouses a little basic truth appears to be speaking madness. I find myself convinced that it is a refusal to understand that addles most out there, not an inability."

"It simply stands to reason that fear is the foundation of any ideology. The presupposition that all others are built upon. One cannot even have a state at all without the fear of punishment for disruptive behavior."

Helix took the metal flensing knife when offered, deftly spinning it between his fingers. It was a simple but well-balanced thing. Nefaron clearly took good care of it, but his inhumanly-keen vision and fine sense of touch registered decades of wear and tear. It was difficult to estimate how many hundreds, if not thousands of lives this one object had taken. This would be yet another signal to a saner being to make a hasty exit. Helix was in his element, however. Enjoying a nice glass of wine with another creature as depraved and as utterly divorced from reality as he.

"I quite agree." He said after a moment, listening to Nefaron explain his preference for blades. "There's a certain intimacy to simple sharpened metal." As if to illustrate, he held up one hand, the one not occupied with the knife. The fingers melded together along with the palm, almost flowing like liquid. In their place was a glittering, incredibly sharp cutting implement. "I would know. I'm made entirely out of sharpened metal. Serina once called me a 'hive of living knives' or something similarly florid. I was a little offended at first, but if the descriptor works, it works." He shrugged.

"In fact, it was with her that I got one of my first tastes of blood since becoming what I am now. Some scavver on Geonosis got the worst of it. Not all of us come into the universe with power such as yours, so we must make do. I made do by being free at the molecular level. Flensed the poor fellow cell by cell down to nothing"

He leaned forward a bit. "I hardly need to ask this to a man of your medical skill, but did you know that the brain's perception of time is a malleable one?" A brief pause. "I didn't. Until I discovered it as a means to explore further. To drag the fine micro-needles of my consciousness further into every neuron. To him, I'm certain the experience spanned eons. To me, it was only a few moments." He seemed almost disappointed.

"It was around that time that I first began to understand what hunger felt like. Not exactly the same thing, of course. You humanoids eat because you must, so you have made the experience an enjoyable one." He motioned to the wine. "No, hunger for me is a little different, but no less imperative. A desire to know. Not even to know anything of use, either. I want to hear the melodies of a thousand strummed nerves. To swim in the joined bloodstream of a city. To explore every last cell of every last being in creation."

"With that, I too came to appreciate killing with my hands. It's a teaching moment. You inevitably learn something from it, even if only a little. A blaster or whatever else teaches nothing, except maybe how to make a better blaster."

"In any case, you're correct. I could argue that such dalliances are the privilege of rulers, not servants. As time goes on, I find myself carrying the weapons I designed less and less. Both out of a lack of need, and a lack of motivation. My servants' purpose is to remove obstacles, however, and ideally to do it as quickly as possible. A fourth-degree chemical burn does that in a hurry while also making for a difficult exit from life."

Helix's gaze returned to the golem, even as he continued to idly make Darth Nefaron 's knife dance between his fingers. "My only regret is that it makes me feel selfish. Would that I could share such wonders with others, but they never seem to understand." Another disappointed shrug. "What can you do. You can lead a bantha to water, but you can't make it drink, as I believe the saying goes. One day perhaps I will hold their eyes open and make them stare at the marvels I have in store. Stare for age upon age upon neverending age."

A ripple passed over the colony's iridescent skin, and several spine-like growths reared up before relaxing again. It was hard to tell if this was an expression of exasperation or exuberance.

He placed Nefaron's knife down carefully upon the table, fixing his attention on it now.

"Well. Such is the way of the universe, Nefaron. One is either enlightened, or one is not. I still hold out some hope that more out there might see reason, in time. The rest, well. The only dignified destination for cattle is the processing plant. Like I said earlier, all existence consists of but two components. The knife, and the altar. Or in your case, the operating table, I suppose." A quiet, infinitely malevolent hum-buzz of amusement emitted from his surface.

"To do anything else is a waste, and at the risk of bringing up ethics again, to waste is unethical."