Private The Devil Demands Her Due

[Zenva Vrotoa]

Zenva's plump lips curled in a cruel smirk behind her mask. She watched Sarla's heartbeat accelerate and noted what caused it each time. Proximity, and touch at the lease, she mused to herself. For a moment she wondered if the Sith had developed actual feelings for her, or perhaps the illusion of them. She had heard of such things, but had never knowingly gotten a captive to devote themselves to her fully. Perhaps this one was special.

An amused little sound escaped the Zabrak, distorted oddly by her helmet. "I look forward to your worship, my Sarla. First, I want to test your oath. Of late, I have become concerned about Sith assassins. Perhaps you can sympathize with this concern." She said harshly before she rose from her seat, drawing out one of her swords. The blade was laid across her armored thighs once she returned to her seat a moment later.

"You're test will be simple. Stop the assassin from reaching me. Use whatever means and methods come to mind. She will play my assassin." Zenva's claw came up to gesture towards the far end of the room. A small, lithe figure stood with its back to the chamber doors. It's small arms folded across the chest of its unusual armor. "That is Zee Vee Cee Alpha Zero Zero One. She is a perfect clone of myself, grown from my very own ovum. Of course her genetic code has been augmented with DNA from a certain Sith creature I recently defeated. She's even starting to develop abilities, isn't that splendid?"

At the far end of the hall, the nearly child sized figure took a step forward. As her arms unfolded, a lavender Saber snapped to life with a hiss of energy and heat. "Oh, and Sarla. This clone is like my own daughter. You are forbidden from killing or dismemberment in any form. As for you, Alpha Zero Zero One, if you take my hand, I will grant you the greatest reward I have, a proper name. Show me you are a child of the Vrotoa. You may begin."


Darth Sarlaac

 

[Darth Sarla]

Sarla seeing the Clone, reached for her lightsaber at Zenva Vrotoa , using her hand since she was cut off from The Force. She snapped the ruby blade to life and then charged to meet This Seed of her Domo. The Slave kicked off a wall and ran across the table in fromt of the Zabrak, her each step carefully avoiding each dish and utensil as she dropped in front of the Clone, holding her blade ready to face this augmented Daughter of the Domo. The challenge was it had Force Sensitivity, Sarla had Severance. The Heart stood against The Seed, and it was then that Sarla contemplated something. With a lack of proximity to Zenva, she deactivated her blade and stopped with her hands pointed at The Clone and at Zenva.

“Wait! Hear me Domo Vrotoa! You have pitted your Bond Servant you have rebuilt by your grace against your Daughter and Mirror Image! We are armed with lethals.. the chances of fatal wounds is high. I beseech you to fashion us with Electro weapons or call this off.. I will prove myself in another sphere that does not risk your Flesh, nor mine which you took great pains to mend.”

She suspected an outcry from the kinsmen at table, to contravene The Domo publicly was not wise, however, the intent of Sarla’s objection was to protect the two fleshes Zenva owned, one her own forged in cloning methods and the other she had restored in surgeries that Sarla could never pay back. Besides The Zeltron was not asking to go against the wishes of her Domo, rather to mitigate injury which Zenva had made a demand regarding The Daughter.

The Sith Lady had made her plea and if if meant a whipping, or isolation or forfeiting favor then so be it, she was considering all involved, most of all that Zenva not having to repair her again at great expense and time, and possible premature filiacide.

The Zeltron was standing there, risking all, and yet ehat a dramatic reversal! She had brought down the Domo’s palace and tried to harm her, now she was endeavoring to protect Zenva’s property at the cost of her reputation and chances of rising in favor. Sarla instinctively bowed a knee between Domo and Daughter, entreating that the terms change to non-lethals. She looked at the Clone which bore a striking resemblance to her Savior, and Devil. How was she going to even tilt with her? She had such an aversion to hurting her Liege Lady and Domo. Only with the certainty of weapons that had restraints would she even be able to muster the courage to fight the face of her Master.

 

[Zenva Vrotoa]

The Sith snatched up her saber, snapped it to life, and changed towards the side of the chamber. At the far end of the hall Zenva's clone surged into motion, mirroring the choice to move toward the side of the room. Sarla lept onto one of the long tables, skillfully dancing her way across it's surface without disturbing a single utensil. Zenva's clone mimicked the action, jumping on a table on the opposite side of the room. The two ran approximately to the middle of the space before Sarla stopped to plead with the Matron. Confused momentarily, Zenva's clone slowly came to a stop opposite the Sith Lady, watching her opponent carefully.

As Sarla spoke, Zenva's screaming death mask slowly tilled to one side, seemingly growing confused by the Sith's words. "I don't understand what the issue is, Sarla. If you were concerned about killing her, you should have taken my sword." Her now empty hand gestured to the blade laying across her legs. "At least then you could have tried to beat her unconscious with the flat of the blade. Furthermore, her blade isn't deadly. It's set to a training power level. I couldn't risk her accidentally cutting me, now could I?" An odd mechanical laughter boiled from the bone white helmet.

Zenva's clone looked back and forth between the two women speaking before she slowly began walking along the tabletop, inching her way towards the Zabrak at the far end. Zenva herself continued to speak, "I would also remind you that Alpha Zero Zero One's mission is to reach me. She is not required to actually fight you. But I can understand that you might feel you are at too severe a disadvantage. I'll level the field some."

One clawed digit reached across to press a button on the opposite gauntlet. A moment later a high pitch buzz sounded from the collar around Sarla neck before the device landed on the table at her feet. The rush of Force energies was instantaneous, Zenva's mind screaming a warning to her as the Sith breathed in her power for the first time in months. "Maybe now you have a none lethal option available to you, Sarla." Zenva's clone, seemingly understanding what just happened wasted no further time, breaking into a sprint towards the Blood Matron's throne.

Darth Sarlaac

 

[Darth Sarla]

TAG: Zenva Vrotoa

The Devil’s Handmaiden felt the circlet around her neck unclasp, and fall. The rush of the power that had been kept at bay by the device, flooded upon her as a wave unseen, and felt only by Force Sensitives. The weight of the Darkness pulled her to her knees, her eyes burning yellow once more with that crust of blood orange accenting the edge of the pupils in circles.

The Sith Lady felt the invisible hands at her disposal; those sweeping winds that allowed Force Sensitives to grab a weapon, or the throat of an enemy. She reached out in the Realm of Her Power to grab Alpha Zero Zero One, the result was rather excessive…
Having beem cut off from The Force for so many months, The Devil’s Handmaiden did not have the control she had once had; the Force Grip she had engaged nearly snapped the throat of Alpha; forcing Sarla to let go of her briefly and then try again to establish a better grip with her power. Sarla then in same motion, levitated Zenva’s sword to her hand, the blade reflecting her ruby Face and fine black hair as if it were a mirror. The Sith Lady looked at her eyes, transformed once more to the state of One wielding the dark side. The pupils crackled even, like two pits of embers and fresh wood thrown on. She turned them, those burning circles to Apha Zero Zero One as she released the Clone from her Invisible Grip.

“I could render you defeated Daughter of my Domo with a snap of my fingers. Instead I shall give you a chance.”

Sarla gripped the handle of the sword with her cardinal red fingers, and arched the blade around her head in a sweep; she then pointed the edge at Alpha Zero Zero One with one hand, and with her left hand she formed her fingers into wing and motioned the tips towards herself in a wave, beckoning The Clone to attack.