Like to Like

[Zemi Madstone]

Hunger. Hunger and hunger gnawing away. None of the snakes had wriggled into her grasp, not even when she ventured far outside her usual territory. No drops from above had contained anything even remotely edible. Just one little snake, one little creepy crawly slithery hisser, let it talk and plead it didn't matter so long as it filled her belly. All she'd found so far though were Junker tracks. You shouldn't eat your own shape, this was obvious. Devouring a shadow of self. Diminishing. No, no good. Besides they were rarely alone, often armed and half device.

She knew from experience though that soon she would begin to get weak. Soon she would falter, and then hunting and scavenging would be exponentially more difficult. So desperation had her following the Junker tracks. As they got fresher she stopped near an old Speeder. Dipping her hand into the grease oozing and puddling at the base of it, she smeared it on her exposed skin.

"Silent."

She whispered as she did each time she implored the darkness to hide her and the slick material to make her glide as noiselessly as it did the devices. She drew a tooth, a fang from within her ragged clothes and dipped it too on the grease, before returning it to a spot next to her skin that the silence of the dead should be hers.

Raising her rough blade, a twisted piece of metal, sharp and jagged with a cloth handle wrapped about it, she held it stiff armed in firing of her for a moment, solemnly, before bringing it in a quick movement across her left shoulder. The scars said this had happened before. She dipped the fingers of her right hand into the blood, touching it to her lips and both eyelids.

"Blood paid, blood to be saved."

She could feel the protection settling into place around her. It was not much, she had paid only once and she and therefor her blood were currently weak, but it might be enough to keep her alive, it had been in the past.

Rituals enacted, she picked up her tracking. Before long she heard voices, though she did not know what they were saying. Two she saw as she cautiously peered around a pile of refuse. Two was not so bad. Perhaps they would have supplies. Speed. She had to be quick, they would be stronger. Plus the rituals didn't last forever, and they were draining. With a burst of speed she was in the makeshift camp, wicked knife drawing across the throat of the junker who'd had his back to her. The other raised his blaster rifle and got a shot off, his aim was true and he knew it, so he made the mistake of not immediately firing again. The blood she had shed in order to buy protection in the future had a faint ripple visible for a moment as it's affects were dispelled, it's covenant fulfilled and then she was on him, knife finding eye socket. A scream was cut short as she twisted, scrambling his brains. Safer to go for the head on a Junker, that was less likely to be a device.

Eagerly, the scent of blood in her nostrils, she searched through their belongings.

"No!"

There was nothing. Some water. Necessary but easier to find. She needed food. Her eyes fell on the bodies again, not even cool yet. It was wrong. Perhaps there was another way.. Yes. Yes!

Could not devour like, but like called to like. Blood to blood and meat to meat. It just needed a little encouragement. She stripped her ragged top off and set it aside, looking particularly undernourished and bony in only her well worn leggings, many times patched. Knife in one hand she started moving the bodies, cutting away robes to reveal pale flesh married to machine.

What signs? What sigils? Her mind became blank, looking into the other as she started to carve into the bodies, using the blood to draw on both herself and any surrounding surface. Much of it was likely gibberish, but some would have made the skin crawl and the eye wither if there had been anyone else there to see.

"Call, I call, like to like I call."

She mumbled feverishly under her breath as she worked.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The darkness of the void called to the dark spirit, and thus the spirit found himself frequently coasting along it's slow-turning rivers of vast nothingness in deep contemplation. It was unlike anything he had experienced during his tenure as one of the living, he was so much receptive to the tiniest twangs in the Living Force, and while many were nothing of note, there were a choice few that called to him incessantly. Acts of kindness, acts of violence, all such things were made aware to him, but he pushed them away from his mind and kept his thoughts clear and uncluttered as he continued to further his understanding of the Force, specifically the Dark Side of the Force to which he owes his allegiance. But there, a far distant tremor in the Force that spoke of violence, murder, and ritual deprecation, and it drew the Sith Spirit to it's source like a moth to an open flame, as his curiosity was now peaked.

While the spirit preferred to stay incorporeal and otherwise invisible to the inhabitants of the living world, he could; with extreme effort, manifest himself visibly as a haunting specter that would send even the most battle hardy of men into a terrified flight. His mind was assaulted with dulled sensations as he willed himself to appear on the junk world of Lotho Minor, a truly despicable world in every sense of the word, and although the spirit was disgusted by the landscape, it was the small creature in front of him that drew his attention.

Well, it wasn't a creature exactly, but the woman's body was so thin and frail that she might have well been just that.

A creature.

Still, she put enough effort into her primitive ritual to attract his attention, so he saw no reason to deny her what she sought. So, with great effort on his part he collected his will and psyche, and projected himself as a great hooded specter that hovered menacingly above the small woman and her sacrifice.

"And for whom do you call?"

[member="Zemi Madstone"]

 

[Zemi Madstone]

She drew back in surprise and not some small amount of fear at the sudden appearance of the hooded spectre. One did not stay alive alone for so long without learning caution and wariness. Still, for all the odd things she'd seen on the Junk Planet, she'd never seen anything like this and she gaped up at him for a moment before she acted. She threw herself down, prostrate upon the filthy ground, though it was made of more garbage than dirt.

Warding.. What did she have for warding? Obviously the grease and tooth of the dead was not enough. It saw her. It saw her. Even the blood spell might not be enough. It was likely not her blood it was after, but her soul. How did one ward a soul? She'd never thought about it, it had not arisen as an issue.

"The snakes.. The slitherers, the crawlers.. The little talkers, Anacondans say they, food say I."

She glanced up uncertain, had her killing of the Junkers angered the spectre? She hadn't eaten them. Not a bite. Not even a little sip of blood.

"I know like must not eat like. I did not, this swear I. But blood should call to blood yes? I just.. There is no food you see? Nothing of use drops from above, and hunger I. My spells, they are not for feeding, they are for hunting. Call I prey to the hunt. A hunter I did not mean to call. No offence meant, this I did not mean to intrude on your territory, only hunger I."

She could not think of a way to banish him. Not with what was on hand. Perhaps he would be content to take her kill and leave it at that. For now she returned her gaze to the ground scant inches from her face and waited.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Of course his appearance produced the desired effect of fear and awe, although with someone as primitive as she appeared the spirit didn't believe it to be overly difficult to do such. Still, she was quite an interesting character, covered in dirt and grime from her surroundings, and the blood of her recent kill. It reminded him so much of the practices of his ancient people, who believed that blood held the power of an individual, and ancient shamans uses blood frequently to perform dark and esoteric rituals that could warp flesh and enchant items. Nowadays it is wildly accepted that those ancient arts was something like the alchemy used by the ancient Sith of Korriban, but how they managed to develop something so similar to a science that was practiced all the way on the other end of the galaxy still eluded scholars today, but the spirit has his own theory on that matter, and it was all too simple.

It was just the will of the Force.

Just like it was the will of the Force that brought these two dark spirit together in the wastes of Lotho Minor, a being who used components to channel the power of the Force like some Dathomiri witch. It was all very amusing, but behind the grime and grit that covered her body he could see the spark of something greater, a potential yet untapped that could transform this lowly cretin into something terrifying... A champion of the darkness, but the spark needed to be fed and fanned for it to grow, and the spirit was a master of fanning the flames.

"Yet a hunter you did summon, child. But, you have nothing to fear, I am not offended... Merely curious, my child... I am wondering why a creature such as you is wasting away on this forgotten hunk of jagged metal and brimstone?"

The specter delivered his inquiries with a great booming rumble that was laced with several different voices of various tones and pitches, a voice that grated against the mind, froze the blood, and caused goosepimples to erupt all over the bare flesh as if a cold draft had suddenly picked up and brushed against her. The specter loomed closer, a swirling mass of darkness beneath the incorporeal hood, and long spindly fingers reached out from gaping sleeves as if to touch her, but they never got too close. Not that he could actually touch her anyways, as he was incapable of affecting physical change in the living world, but there were other methods of interaction.

"Who are you?"

[member="Zemi Madstone"]

 

[Zemi Madstone]

The hairs on her body all rose as a chill descended upon her. The spectre said it took no offence and this was good, and yet still it came closer, reaching those long thing fingers out towards her. What would happen if it touched her? Would she die? Would it take and rend her soul? Or would she see something? She wasn't certain she wanted to see what it had to show her. She flattened herself closer to the ground, feeling miscellaneous junk digging into her skin. Best to answer it, and smartly, it would not do to anger it.

"Where else would this I be? Forgotten? This I remembers, Junkers remember, slitherers remember. Sometimes others, though not for long."

It was the others that might be the key she decided. Sometimes beings more like to her in form than even the Junkers descended in great metal containers. She knew the names of same of them, had read them from their resting places as they rusted into Lotho Minor. An interaction that had left her with a blaster bolt scar along one thigh as a child ensured she never approached these interlopers, but they must come from somewhere and they must go to somewhere. Perhaps the places and things she sometimes saw when she was scavenging were not just odd dreams being communicated by inanimate objects, but memories of places they had once been. This seemed to make sense, and gave her much to think on, but now with the chill of the damned in the air was not the time.

She was loathe to give her name, names held meaning but.. The spectre could surely kill her anyway. At least if she answered she might have a chance. Grudgingly she bit out her name.

"Zemi Madstone."

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

"Zemi Madstone."

The spirit seemed to hang there for a moment or two as if mulling over the name, letting the syllables roll over a tongue that no longer existed, but I suppose the habits of living were hard to let go of once they no longer existed. His form then seemed to ripple with mirth as a haunting cacophony of bubbling laughter erupted from where his mouth should had been, but only the swirling darkness moved ever so slightly in response. His long scrawny digits retracted back an inch from Zemi's flesh, recoiling back into the darkness of the spirit's form until he was nothing but an amalgamation of darkness and underlying seething hatred not directed at anyone specific, but rather an all-encompassing outward pouring putrid malice. The darkness swirled for a moment before slinking down to envelope the ruined corpse of the junker, blood and sinew giving way under the darkness' touch until there was nothing left but burnt bones and whatever cybernetics the creature had grafted to it's body.

"You please me, Zemi Madstone. A name for a name, yes? Well, they once called me Vornskr, and they called me the Butcher King, and they even once called me the God-King! Such vain titles that no longer held any meaning in the Land of the Dead, ah... But were they incorrect? Inaccurate? Nay! I was a warrior with few peers, entire armies buckled and bent before the power I commanded, and in such my followers called me a Living God. Now I am spirit, eternal and hateful, but for so long I have not been unable to mingle with the living... Until now, that is." He spoke mostly truth, but he lied about the last part. He had mingled plenty with other Sith who he desired to reveal himself to, but saying that she was the first to call upon his spirit gave more grandeur to who he was.

"You have power, Zemi Madstone. I want to teach you how to harness it."

[member="Zemi Madstone"]

 

[Zemi Madstone]

She did not like the way he drew out her name. Suspected that he was imbuing it with his dark magics. Could a person throw away their name and claim a new one if they knew the right ritual? But so much was in a name, who would she be if she was not Zemi Madstone? What would remain? Would the magics still work? Best to leave that as a last resort.

The laughter was fairly terrifying, but seeing as she couldn't sink any further into the ground, there was not much that could be done about it save wait it out. At least he withdrew those long pale fingers without touching her. Instead he turned and let loose his destruction upon one of the corpses of the Junkers. Enveloping, devouring without teeth. Zemi's eyes grew wide but she did not look away, entranced by this.

What could cause such a thing? What magics would invoke such a response? Rust.. Rust would be a good starting point. Eating away at that which might be forever, flaking, decaying, destroying, twisting and corrupting.. Yes. The rest she would need to work out, but Rust would be the basis for this magic, and that at least was plentiful in her world.

Musings were cut short by the Spectre, who spoke again. At least the Junker had been judged an adequate sacrifice, unintentional as it had been, she would not like to displease this dark being. The idea of a trade in names was greeted eagerly, though other than a slight tensing in her arms, a flash in her eyes one might not have known it. As she listened though, she caught a secret within the secrets he kept. This was a trick, a trap. A name for a name he said, and then gave her they-called-me's. This was not an exchange then, he still had her in his power. As long as she remembered this, was wary, she should be all right. Some of the things he spoke of she had no context to understand, to fit within her experiences. God-King and powers she understood. He must have had truly incomprehensible powers in life if he was this strong now. She made a note to be careful, oh so careful of the calling spell in the future if it was what had allowed him to manifest. If she hadn't been so desperate. If she wasn't starving.

She could not refuse him. Wary as she still was. He had her name, and she did not have his. Besides.. He was very strong. If she could learn from him, perhaps she would not need to hide and sneak as much. Perhaps there would be less hunger in her future.

She drew her hands together on the ground before her, thumb to thumb, and index to index, forming a triangle which her forehead was pressed to the ground within the confines of.

"This one is yours. Teach as you will."

There, that should satisfy it.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The formless specter shimmered with something akin to pleasure, and then reached out with it's greatest tool to scour the nearby regions for anything of value. The world, while barren and covered with mountains of useless junk, was teeming with life both microscopic and something more along the lines of what he was used to dealing with. Creatures slithered in and out of tight spaces and devoured small rodents and insects that had been hiding beneath the wreckage, obviously what Zemi referred to as the "slitherers". Wretched little creatures they were, hardly satisfying for someone like Zemi to survive, but then again the other alternatives were not all that appealing either. The Junkers were more machine than creature, and there wasn't anything else on this planet to...

Wait.

There, the flickering of souls in the distance, followed by the unearthly hum of sublight engines on idle. This was good, yes... Far off junkers coming to either scavenge the unending wastes or deposit whatever garbage they had loaded into their cargo bays, but whichever it was did not matter. The specter once again turned it's attention back to Zemi:

"To the east there will be two men of your likeness, they have a way for you to escape this place, but they will not give it up lightly. You must prove yourself and end their lives and take what was once theirs. I cannot help you, but I will be watching. When you have done as I have asked, I will reveal to you the next step."

[member="Zemi Madstone"]

 

[Zemi Madstone]

"This I hears."

East. At least this was a concept she was familiar with. She had seen many compasses, though most were broken. Enough had functioned however for her to note the pattern in where they pointed.

She gave the Spectre another speculative wary look, but when nothing more seemed to be forthcoming, she leapt to her feet and was gone in the direction indicated at a dead sprint, manoeuvring the oft jagged piles of debris and sometimes almost vertical piles with the ease of one who had been doing it all her life. She couldn't keep the speed up of course, particularly not in her weakening state, but it would be a lie to say she did not want to gain a little distance between herself and the Spectre. Enough so that her makeshift shirt had been left behind, leaving a filthy, scrawny girl covered in grease and blood, clad in leggings and clutching her blade moving to fight at least two individuals.

Judging that enough space had been gained, she dropped down into a ground covering trot that under better conditions she could maintain all day. As it was, by the time the sound of the ships engines reached her ears her calves ached and each leg seemed to be made of lead, every breath burning her throat.

She stopped, sheltering in the lee of a pile of twisted and rusted metal. She curled up in the shadows, taking long slow breaths and massaging her calves. The Spectre had implied it would be difficult, and she was tired already, both from starvation and from the earlier fight with the Junkers. Still, he had commanded it and better to fight the two-like than to anger the Spectre that had her true name.

Breath under control, the girl found more of the ever present grease and ichor, smearing it anywhere not already covered by grease or blood, muttering as she did.

"Silent, slick, slide, no noise, no light, no glint, no gleam. Slipping through the cracks, dripping unseen, sinking in."

She checked to make sure she still had the Slitherer fang, good.

Knife came down to uncut upper arm, parting flesh and loosing previous blood which was once again moved the eyes and lips. Ritual phrase was uttered.

"Blood paid, blood saved."

She could feel already low energy resources fading. She swayed slightly on her feet, though the stinging of the cut on her arm kept her grounded. Shaking her head to clear it, she dropped low to the ground and crept, slunk forward towards the sound.

There.

One man, rough and grizzled stood outside an open ramp, back to her as he stood, relieving himself. The sad part was that the contents of his bladder likely made the planet on a whole a little bit cleaner. Though she didn't see the promised second figure, the opportunity was too great for Zemi to resist. Streaking across the open space she launched herself on his back, legs wrapping around him as knife flashed in for throat. He was obviously more used to brawls than the Junkers had been however, because he dropped his chin, so the gash she gave him while deep and vicious was not lethal.

Bellowing like an angry bull he grabbed her arms, trying to pull her over his head. Though he was easily twice her weight, her adrenaline was flowing and her wiry strength was dedicated to hanging on. His grip meant she couldn't use her knife however. With a snarl teeth found his now unprotected neck and ripped a chunk out. The iron rich blood, sin or not was invigorating, and the wound was not yet enough to kill him. She brought her teeth into play again, ripping, tearing, ensuring the wound was enough that his life would bleed out of it.

All of this attracted the second man however, who came running down the ramp at the sounds of his partners yells. He pulled his slug thrower and squeezed off two shots at her unprotected back. The first was deflected by but shattered her barrier, the second buried itself in her shoulder.

She dropped off the first man, rolling away, face contorted with rage but still silent, silent. The slugthrower was being aimed at her again, a didn't whisp of smoke riding from its muzzle.

Fire.

Fire lived in there, her hand snapped up towards it, and the slugthrower exploded in his hands, shrapnel blinding him.

A shapeless melted hunk of metal was picked up, scrawny arms straining to raise it. Kicking the blinded mans knees out from under him she brought the metal down into his head, again and again, until there was no chance he would rise again.

The metal fell from her hands. She swayed, bleeding and exhausted. Looking over at the first man she saw he was still moving, though sluggishly. He would be dead soon enough.

Legs seeming to weigh a hundred pounds each, she dragged herself over to the ramp and collapsed, leaning against one of the support struts.

Just a short rest.. The Spectre wasn't here yet..

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The man, whose head had been so violently torn to bloody ribbons, began to stir in a most peculiar manner. His body convulsing and flailing about on the filth-covered ground, blood splattering from the wound as the body was suddenly wrenched up into the air by some unnatural force, a darkness coalescing around the corpse until it was eventually obscured from view. The darkness swirled, ever faster, around the levitating cadaver, a sickly power filling the air with the polluted, greasy smell of hatred, anger, despair, sorrow, and again back to unbridled hatred that was so palpable it could make one sick to their stomachs. Then, as quickly as it came, the darkness disappeared into the ruined body, entering through any and all orifices either natural or made by Zemi, until nothing of the darkness remained. The corpse then tumbled back down to the ground with a sickening dull flop, and then remained still for a few moments longer.

Then it began to rise from where it had fallen, and turned it's head to stare at Zemi with unnatural violet-hued eyes. It shakily, awkwardly, stood on both of it's legs, testing it's arms and stumbling towards where Zemi was resting. The darkness radiating from it was choking, and very familiar all the same, and with a devious rictus grin it spoke in a garbled voice: "Excellent, Zemi. You did better than I had thought, and the death of these two vagrants have proven your worth."

[member="Zemi Madstone"]

 

[Zemi Madstone]

The convulsing corpse was watched with wariness that was just starting to edge over into enough aggression to drive back exhaustion. She'd thought him proper dead, but this was a day when the dead didn't seem to understand what was expected of them. She wasn't sure how you took away a things second life, but supposed she was going to have to figure it out. she pushed herself wearily to her knees and rocked up onto her heels, gathering the will to move to leap, to attack. Until the mixed essence swung back fully to hatred and she recognized the touch of the Spectre. She'd not thought that one would have despair or sorrow in him, but then she'd never met a Spectre before, so what would she know? Some of the effect of his presence was lost on her simply because of how worn out her slight body was. She did not have very much more to give, in either reactions or actions.

Still, when it stood up and moved towards her, she couldn't help but shrink away slightly. Was this better or worse than it's Spectre form? She couldn't quite decide. At least she had pleased it? Of course perhaps that just meant her soul was worthy of being devoured or something. Who knew.

Still, she largely held her ground and her silence, head slightly lowered and eyes cast downward though she watched him out of the corner of her eyes, deciding to err on the side of caution.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

The gangly creature, awkward and unnatural, stumbled forward in a fervent haze to clamor up the loading ramp of the now recently vacated ship, and since there was no one about to blow the whistle on stealing a perfectly good ship from a bunch of corpses, the dead Sith Lord helped himself to the bounty. The corpse leaked a trail of blood and other bodily fluids that had begun to leak from the body, which was visibly rotting with each passing second as the wholly evil soul inhabiting it began to feed on the body through the Dark Side of the Force. With each step, however; the body began to respond more easily to the spirit's commands, and his movements became less artificial and more like an actual person, but still the stiff movements in the limbs was disturbingly unnatural. The corpse looked over the ship's innards before coming to a rest in the vessel's cockpit, his violet-hued eyes gazing over the controls and settings before he nodded with a satisfied grunt.

"This will do. This will do just fine."

With a wave of his hand the specter called upon the Force to enact his bidding, despite his own ability to interact with the physical world woefully weak, but through the body he inhabited he could assert some control. The ship began all of it's pre-flight sequences with slight adjustments of his hands, and the engines roared to life with such suddenness that many of the nearby vermin scurried away in fright. Then with another movement of his fingers and wrist, he beckoned for the urchin [member="Zemi Madstone"] to approach him.

"Through my power I have activated this vessel, and through my will you shall take it to the world of my order. A world of towering spires and bottomless abysses... you shall go to the world known as 'Coruscant', and it is there I will fulfill your destiny."

 

[Zemi Madstone]

The Spectre in its stolen body walked past her, up the ramp and into the ship. Out of curiosity, and because one never knew, there might be supplies on there, she followed, though at a distance. The bodily fluids were barely noticed. They were a usual background flavour of Lotho Minor, and not something that concerned her. They way the body he had taken was decaying was however. Like he was burning it up be being within it, but with time instead of flames. Rust and fire perhaps? The spell was slowly solidifying in her mind.

The metal floor beneath her feet was given a fairly dark look when it decided that what it would like to do was to start humming and vibrating. This was exacerbated by the rising of the ramp she'd walked in over, sealing her in with the Spectre in his rapidly decaying body. Still, she came when he beckoned.

"Coruscant."

She repeated uncertainly. She'd seen the dreams of many things, and supposed some of them were other worlds. She'd never been off of hers, and quite frankly getting her head around that was enough without any of this destiny business. As long as her destiny involved a meal sometime soon she didn't much care.

Her interest was slightly piqued by the idea of bottomless abysses. You couldn't have bottomless things, obviously people just hadn't gone deep enough. Likely they had been afraid. She would venture into the deep darks, if no one had been there were probably interesting things to be found.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Satisfied that Zemi's curiosity of the world, and it's endless labyrinthine underbelly, was now stroked he turned his wrist again and the launch sequence had been activated. The engines roared even louder, flames spurting forth to char the world below them black as the ship hauled itself up from the muck and began to rise higher and higher into the air. The cabin shook violently as the effects of gravity pulled against the metal frame as it tried to wrench itself free of the planet's gravitational pull, and soon enough once they had broken through the turbulence disappeared and only the hum of the engines quietly vibrated the cabin. "Welcome to the cold darkness of outer space, Zemi... A truly endless abyss." The spirit said cryptically, as he gazed out from the cockpit's viewport to look at the distance stars and nebulae that rested gently against a background of pitch black.

With quick movements he plotted a course for Coruscant, and activated the ship's hyperdrive. The stars suddenly exploded into streaks of pure light, and the ship lurched out from realspace and into the blinding webways of hyperspace. The specter turned to face Zemi, "Your journey has just begun, young Zemi. In a few days time you will reach the planet Coruscant, and upon arrival you will be taken care of by my servants. They have already been notified of your arrival, and await you eagerly... Sadly, this is where my participation in your journey comes to an end, for now, this body cannot sustain my power, and in a few moments time it will crumble. So for now I leave you, but remember... I will always be watching you, do not forget."

And with that the body he inhabited crumbled in a pile of sludged flesh and melted bone, leaving a rather horrible mess on the floor of the cockpit. Luckily for Zemi, she did not have to do anything with the ship, and the hold was stocked with plenty of food, all she had to do was find it.

[member="Zemi Madstone"]