When Lirka had first been placed into her job at the Ministry of Order, she had been less than enthused - insulted even. Being a seasoned veteran like herself, the very notion of subsuming her grand work as the Slavemaster General into the pretty veneer of legal "policework" brought a shudder to her wretched form. Yet, times had changed. Transience was an important aspect of the eternal struggle and as much as Lirka had a penchant to mope and seethe, she had come to enjoy one aspect of her new position quite a lot: access to files on the various people populating this Empire. What good was a police-state if they couldn't have accurate predictors for could-be-criminals?
Really, Lirka just used to feed her rather unfortunate habit of stalking anyone or anything she found interesting.
Few things were more interesting, and dangerous, to Lirka than wayward dark-siders. Which one
Vakhari Korden
had fallen right into that category. The girl had plenty going for her even without that fact. Lirka always enjoyed fleshcrafters, those monsters who created their own beasts. Too much time around the Sith alchemists had made her long for the simpler things in science, the twisting of genetics, the mutation of flesh into a form most suitable, none of this...sorcerous gibberish that the Force Dead brute could only minorly grasp.
Lirka had kept a cautious, yet uncharacteristically kind, approach to this newest of potential allies. After her last bout on Anoth with
Serina Calis
when she had made an attempt to figuring out a wayward dark-sider - it had ended rather poorly. She kept a knife close this time, and a tone infinitely more casual. For the inklings of Rhand existed in this Arkanian, and while by most metrics Lirka loathed the Sorcerers and their wretched ilk - anyone with an inkling of interest towards the Dark was a rare thing in this Empire. Biases would have to be cast aside for once in Lirka's long, hateful, life.
She had picked a meeting place most discreet, the looming black brick that was her dungeon ship
Shackles of Ambition Lirka's base of operations as much as it was her mobile laboratory for all the miserable matters of keeping her foul form from dissolving. It was a miserable, chaotic, place. The air hung heavy with the sorrow of "prisoners" tossed in cells for the mere crime of existing, or looking like suitable meatstock for Lirka's own ventures into fleshcraft. Yet, the meeting chamber itself was a pitifully dull thing of black iron. Merely a desk, some almost humorously large chairs for the two of them, and drab, clinical lighting.
Lirka kept herself as the focus of the room, the metal goliath sat herself down. Glowing slit lenses locked towards the door as she eagerly awaited the arrival of this Vakhari girl. Already strumming over the possibilities in her mind...Rhandites, such a horrible thing. And yet perhaps they were just what this Empire needed...