For Services Rendered [Sam Rodarch]

[Darth Imperia]

Rhelg​

Zarsidna iv Dzara, Sorcery Lab​

​

---

The Sorcery Lab of Zarsidna iv Dzara was dimly lit, as always - too much light, Imperia found, ruined the mood - only a minor issue in most situations, but to use Sorcery, one needed to be immersed in the Dark Side. Bright lights and cheerful decor were not likely to interfere, but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially when channeling such massive amounts of Power. And Power she'd need, for she couldn't afford for today's subject to die.

That subject was Mjolnir, formerly the Shockboxer known as Samantha Rodarch. Mjolnir had needed an...attitude adjustment, when first the two met, but after a few mental corrections and physical enhancements, the bloodthirsty brute had become Imperia's most reliable servant. Unshakably loyal, frighteningly vicious, brutally effective. Such things were to be expected, of course, from the Attack Dog of a Sith - but Mjolnir had exceeded Imperia's expectations in most every regard. For that, she deserved a reward.

And so Imperia awaited her faithful servant's arrival, surrounded by crates which reeked of gore, a variety of cruel, primitive steel tools, and a few dark metal thuribles. Heady incense spilled from those, filling the room with a smell much like wood smoke - save a bit sweeter. Tonight, Mjolnir would become a creature of flesh once more.

The fact that said flesh would be infused with Darkness was an added bonus.

---

[member="Sam Rodarch"]

 

[Sam Rodarch]

It wasn't exactly what one would define as a pleasant atmosphere.

Even Mjolnir in all her limited sense of decor could fathom that one out. Sith were hardly famed for their interior decoration choices after all. All a bit grim and moody for her tastes. Although her tastes were gun metal grey and punching bags, so really the woman had no room to talk. It could be settled then, that both the cyborg and her Mistress would not pursue careers in home decoration.

Well, unless Darth Imperia asked it of her.

This was a strange train of thought.

Apprehension was the word of the day, brought about almost entirely by prior mentioned surroundings. An ominous lack of lighting. Mysterious crates with frankly unpleasant stenches, slightly masked by whatever was burning in the...hanging metal things (as Mjolnir would have described them).

Then there were the tools. A variety of instruments that could have only held a gruesome purpose.

Still, she had been summoned and whether it was the foreboding laboratory or the very pits of Chaos the servant would appear. Trepidation was nothing in the face of her loyalty after all, all it meant was that she still held some sense of self-preservation.

Arriving in all of her black metallic glory, the woman stood. An imposing figure that struck chords of cold and emotionless with the exception of her eyes. Not organic, but one of the few parts of her face that still held a frame of expression.

An eyebrow flexed.

“Mistress?”

---

[member="Darth Imperia"]

 

[Darth Imperia]

"Ah, Mjolnir. There you are." Both the Knight's tone and the smile upon her face could be described as warm, almost friendly - and not in the hypnotic, unnatural way that indicated her use of the Force; no, this was genuine, and it was entirely possible that that made it even more disturbing. Imperia's cold, metallic hand rested itself on Mjolnir's cold, metallic shoulder after the former approached the latter, and then the Knight continued speaking. "I have something very special planned, my dear."

With a soft chuckle, the Sith gestured towards the room where the duo stood, then to a stone slab in the center of said room. The primitive piece of furniture looked like some odd mix between a medical table and a sacrificial altar, covered in dried blood and distressingly durable looking restraints. "You have served me faithfully, no matter how dangerous or odd the assignment seemed to be. You have exceeded my admittedly high expectations, and for that, I intend to reward you."

Once more Imperia gestured to that blood splattered table, a grin forming on her face. "You will become a creature of pure flesh again, tonight."

---

[member="Sam Rodarch"]

 

[Sam Rodarch]

The contrast was horrific. Genial, friendly...well, as much as her mistress could offer. Sith weren't exactly experts in the realm of warm emotions, although quite frankly Mjolnir herself had no leg to stand upon in this area either.

Still, the relative kindness held in her tones and upon her face did not mingle well with the general atmosphere and appearance of the room. If anything it actually added a sinister edge. After all, who wants a Sith stood before them, displaying an array of barbaric tools while talking of something special being planned.

A reward.

Self-preservation caused eyebrows to furrow at the blood-stained table, complete with restraints that brought back certain memories of lost limbs and black metal.

Then it was revealed. Become flesh again? Was that even possible? In a fashion typical for the cyborg she had assumed that this was her existence now, and well, it wasn't even that bad. It turned out that having hulking metal arms was quite an advantage when violent urges spilled forth and straight into the centre of somebody else's face.

All the better to serve you with.

Mjolnir looked to her master, eyebrows now decidedly risen as her surprise was, and could only be expressed from that part of her face.

“Are you sure, Mistress?” her robotic-hued voice asked, a small notion of guilt rising at the very act of questioning her reward, “If you prefer me this way you don't have to.”

---

[member="Darth Imperia"]