Begging on Broken knees [Kaine]

[Lucien Cordel]

It had been 2 months 3 weeks 4 days 6 hours and 22 minutes since Cryax had hugged him and walked out of their apartment to go to work.

It had been 2 months 3 weeks 4 days 3 hours and 11 minutes since malcom was hit with such unimaginable pain, the likes of which he'd never felt before. It was as if his heart had exploded and taken all his other organs with it. When it subsided he was left with the familiar pain that came from being far from Cryax.

Cryax had never come home , The pain he felt told Malcom he was dead, That put the man in a quandary. Part of him hoped Cryax was dead after all the alternatives were very painful; Cryax may well have simply left; been kidnaped ; been stranded somewhere. All far more painful eventualities. Malcom had looked desperately for Cryax , spending endless days trawling Nar Shaddaa and endless nights on the holo looking for signs. Heck he'd even contacted Crix Meriet one of Cry's best friends.

He had been unsuccessful.

As the days went by the pain in his chest grew and with it came other pain. Malcom couldn't sleep , he was barely strong enough to move and his hands had grew incredibly shaky. pretty soon he was practically bedridden. He had held out for a while though after all what else could he do, he had no real desire to see the sith lord who had done this to him ever again ... over time however as the pain worsened he conceded that he had no other choice. So with the help of 'Pinkie' His Zeletron servant, a gift from the Meriet fellow, he had dragged himself to coruscant.

It was odd to be back on coruscant, Malcom had grown up on it's streets and once it had been all he'd ever known. He gazed up at the 'Black pyramid' it's jagged top cutting the skyline and casting a shadow far more sinister than that of it's predecessor. When he was a child on the street he had thought that monsters lived in the justice centre .... monsters who took little children like him away. The monster he was going to see now made all those others look like kittens by comparison.

A splutter then he pulled his hood down and continued on his walk to hell. His steps were slow and haggered and every so often he was consumed by a coughing fit or light headed spell, remaining upright only by virtue of Pinkie holding him up. He pulled his hood down as he reached the outer guards, were his heart not already beating unsustainably fast it would likly have done so as the sight of the guards filled him with dread at the memory of his torture.

"My Name is Malcom Langly" He began hands white as he gripped his cane, even mere standing being agony on his knee "I need to see [member="Darth Vornskr"] I think he will remember me" He hoped he did after all that sith had changed Malcom drastically "If not reminding him of the man he bound Cryax Bane to might refresh his memory"

He stepped back then not wishing to seem aggressive "I understand that should his lordship allow me an audience that I may need to be restrained but I am unable to walk or stand without my cane so I may require assistance if my hands are bound"

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The checkpoint leading up to the ground floor entry of the Black Pyramid was barricaded by a series of reinforced permacrete barriers, guard towers armed with life-form scanners and automated turret emplacements on a constant swivel. Of course when [member="Malcom Langly"] neared the perimeter of the checkpoint they instantly fixated on him, and while they did not immediately light him up they did track his movements before an automated warning was declared through a system of speakers built into the surrounding structures.

HALT CIVILIAN. YOU ARE ENCROACHING ON SANCTIFIED IMPERIAL PROPERTY, TURN BACK NOW OR BE ANNIHILATED.

It wasn't all that uncommon to witness many disillusioned and wayward souls to walk towards the checkpoint, arms outstretched in resignation, and willingly be torn apart by the automated cannons. Although whether this was their way of committing suicide or a vain attempt to become a martyr was unclear, but on a weekly basis the guardsmen had to send out the Z3s to scrape the gore off of the permacrete walkway that led up to the gargantuan pyramid that gutted from the misshapen skyline of decaying skyscrapers and slums all the while the daily patriotic procession of repulsorlift vehicles rumbled by spewing out pro-Imperialistic propaganda through a mixture of holographic images and repetitive rhetoric.

Malcom was a fortunate man than Darth Vornskr was actually at his blasphemous edifice on this rather lazy afternoon, wrapped in silks and fine linen at the apex of the pyramid sipping wine from a goblet fashioned from a Human's skull. So when he heard that another malcontent had approached the fortified barriers protecting one of the four entryways on the street level he had assumed that he'd be torn apart by the same cannons that slaughtered so many before him. However; his curiosity was piqued when the man identified himself as Malcom Langley, and that name sent off a spark of memories of his former sycophantic servant [member="Cryax Bane"], who had gone missing in the past couple of months and was presumed dead by anyone who actually cared. Vornskr didn't, of course, but he was fickle about the finality of things and wanted such rumors of his whereabouts to be put to bed whether the Chiss was actually dead or not.

So when Vornskr gave the order to let Malcom into the pyramid, a pair of guardsmen emerged from behind the barrier to escort the haggard man and his escort into the structure. While the vast majority of the building's levels were wholesomely dedicated to serving as a prison for some of the most despised enemies of the Imperial state, the highest levels were converted into a penthouse specifically to house Darth Vornskr and any of his family that happened to be on the Imperial capital at any given time. And unlike those lower levels it was spectacularly furnished with the most expensive and exquisite furniture, pieces of art, and other items that really drilled home the debauched tastes of the Epicanthix Sith Lord.

Malcom would be guided to one of the smaller living areas in the multi-storied penthouse where Lord Vornskr himself was waiting for him, and despite the more casual surroundings that Malcom found himself in it would be hard to look upon the amalgamation of darkness that seethed beneath Vornskr's very skin. His piercing eyes bore into Malcom's soul just like they had on that day that he came to punish Cryax for his perceived transgressions against the Empire, and they held that same cruelty and malice that had sparkled when he sadistically carved Sith runes into Malcolm's flesh that bound him and Cryax together in the most horrific of ways.

"Pain too much to bear?"

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Malcom stopped dead as the voice rang out. It had shocked him , he was unused to talking to people. He had looked around for the source eyes flicking over the blood stained permacrete, the urge to just walk forward to be ripped apart by the hail of bullets was more compelling than Malcom had thought possible. Just three steps and some few seconds of pain and he'd be with his Cry again. He resisted though, Cryax would not be happy if he did that and an eternity with his lover sulking was not a prospect that excited Malcom.

He looked up at the nearest tower and identified himself.

The blearing robotic voice stopped and two guards emerged. Helmets just as daunting as the day he'd been tortured, They reduced the guards into somthing less than human. There was no way to know whether these 'people' enjoyed their role as deliverers of pain or whether they were just as terrified as Malcom. The guards didn't say a word to him just beckoned him to follow he nodded and limped forward accompanied by the pink slave who had supported him thus far. Malcom was glad he wasn't alone , atleast if he was to die today he would not be doing it alone.

A chill shot up Malcom's spine as he crossed the threshold of the prison, maybe it was the chill of the suffering this place represented or perhaps it was the fear of seeing the sith lord who dominated his nightmares again. As the shuttle that was to take him to the penthouse set off Malcom glanced out of the window over the decaying coruscanti skyline. He could see the towering lights of the cream and crop and the throbbing lights of the entertainment district. He missed his days there ... it felt like an eternity ago. He'd been cocky and brash then he had his own club , no scars and a whole world of vice to play in. He'd felt he was invincible when he had lived among those lights. [member="Darth Vornskr"] changed all that. He knew just how small he was when he left the siths torture chamber and he'd become docile as if that would keep him safe. It seemed that whatever he did pain found him all the same.

"Thank you for coming ... " He mumbled at his pink companion. It occurred to him then that neither he nor Cryax knew their slaves name. He suppose he ought to find it out if they were going to die , a real possibility considering who he was going to see. "What is your name?"

The pink slave shuffled a little "Master Meriet named me Remi at Birth sir, Master Bane just called me Pinkie .... is this unsatisfactory master?" Malcom shook his head "No , Don't worry I just thought I ought to know your real name"

Then the shuttle had landed and the walk into the unknown had continued. Malcom was surprised by the penthouse. Malcom hadn't put his torturer down as a man who would appreciate such decadence. He supposed all people could suprise even people so seemingly devoid of humanity as the sith lord he had come to visit. He was led into a cozy living room. Malcom longed to sit down on one of the comfortable looking chairs in the room but he dared not limping instead to stand in the middle of the room. Pushing his shoulders back and trying to remember how he'd stood when he'd thought himself important. Back straight , eyes forward by the core this was harder than he remembered.

Ofcourse the minute those cruel eyes were on him he wilted again. shrinking back into the haggard wreck he truly was now. Malcom looked down , perhaps he was meant to kneel. Truthfully if he could he would but his wounded knee had grown worse the longer Cryax stayed away. he quivered as the sith spoke.

"Yes My lord" He replied trying desperately to sound just a little strong. "It hurts so much I fear it will kill me if I can't make it end ... I was hoping you might be able to help my lord" he added slowly dreading each word. He had come to have the curse lifted but a small part of him hoped that it would transpire that Cryax had been with the sith all this time . Malcom had no purpose without Cryax and while the pain continued to grow he couldn't go out and get a new one.

"I'm sorry I'm not kneeling my lord but if I do I will never get up" He ventured the compulsion brought on by the siths dark stare finally getting to him.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

He took a sip from his goblet, letting the fine wine run over his tongue before trickling down his throat. "I believe that was the whole point, little Malcom. That little mongrel Cryax needed to be taught a lesson, and what better lesson than by tethering his soul to yours?" He chortled derisively as if the whole thing was amusing to him, and truthfully it was now that he had been reminded of it. It was the little things in life that gave the more amusement. "I could remove it, but would you be willing to pay that price? Pain is one thing, but what you're begging me to do will involve a lot more than pain to undo. The magics I used to bind you with Cryax have seeped into your soul, blackened your spirit, and tainted your core. The runes are irremovable, they will always blemish your flesh, but I can detach the vines that have grown inside you from your soul through only one method."

He rose up from his seat, sitting the skull goblet on a small side table before walking up to the comparatively shorter man who continued to wilt by the Sith's very presence alone. He reached out to gently stroke the side of his face, making sure that even if his eyes wanted to wander his face was always looking up into his. "You'll have to die."

[member="Malcom Langly"]​

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Malcom shivered as [member="Darth Vornskr"] eyed over him as he drank . Malcom just wanted to get this over with, he wanted the pain lifted then he wanted to go home and sleep. He had nothing to say to the Sith's taunting although the sith was far gentler than Malcom had expected. He was awfully cruel to Cryax but Malcom had expected far worse than 'Little Malcom' that was almost affectionate. Ofcourse Malcom still loved Cryax so hearing the sith belittle him was not pleasant this sith chuckled and Malcom could only squirm. He brightened when the sith said he could release him but that vanished as quickly as it came when the sith stated that it would be hard " I will pay whatever price is required" He said before the cost was even stated "and I have learnt to live with the scars I'll manage"

Then the sith rose and gently lifted malcoms face gently, forcing the broken human to stare into the eyes of the sith lord. He didn't shrink back but he most definitely looked like a deer in the headlights. Malcom felt like he'd been hit with a freight train as the sith made clear what he expected from Malcom. His life ... he had to die? He fell a little against his cane hissing in pain. "How will that work my lord?" He asked weakly ... he didn't understand.

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"I'll have to separate your soul from your body, detach it from my magic, but in doing so you will die for but a moment." he explained it with such casual grace that it seemed more like that he was talking about the weather rather than the eldritch ritual to separate soul from body. He had worked this foul magic several times before on people like [member="Cryax Bane"] and [member="Sochi Ru"], although the latter involved reaching deep into the eternal void to fish up Sochi's soul from where it languished in frigid limbo after her untimely demise. He suspected that [member="Malcom Langly"]'s soul would be just as easy to control and detach as Cryax's had been, but then again the act of soul-manipulation was more of an art than it was a science.

"Follow me to my lab, and we'll get you set up." He gestured for Malcom to follow, and then he turned and strode with bold, confident steps out of the recreation area and into a wing of his penthouse that more closely resembled the lower levels of the pyramid than they did of the luxurious penthouse. Occasionally one of the guards that shadowed Malcom and his pink slave would give one of them a not-so-gentle prod with the tip of their vibro-axes if any of them began to slow in the wake of their master's pace. Eventually the group would reach a lab that was all too eerily similar to the one on board the Ruination where Vornskr first inflicted those heinous wounds upon Malcom's flesh in the first place, and in the center of the chamber was a surgical slab caked with dried blood with a tray of various instruments jutting out from the side on an adjustable metallic arm while a multi-limbed apparatus loomed in the darkness of the high ceiling.

Vornskr pointed his index finger at the slab and commanded; "Lay upon it, and we will soon begin."