Private The King and I

[Delsin Shaw]

M A L S H E E M
Quinn's Passion​

Landing into one of the various shuttle bays of the Malsheem, a unique station that was one of the greatest technological constructions of the Kainate. More over, it was a great asset to the Sith who were privy to step foot upon its floors, and walk its halls. Since my meeting with Darth Prazutis and acceptance to become an ally to the Kainate, I had been requested by the very man himself to show face.

Darth Carnifex

Entire volumes of tomes, Datapads, Holocrons and other forms of media had documented his life well. Of course my father did have writings of him on the few chances he met him back during some of the older versions of the Sith Empire. Namely when he had been a neophyte under the reign of Empress Varanin. However, over the years, Lord Carnifex had done much to formulate and populate the various orders of the Sith. Including his own time as Emperor of the Empire. Holding the Order of Rule as its tenants. As such, I knew enough about him that reputation was a powerful tool for the man.

Nervousness was not held within me. Already being in the presence of Darth Prazutis was a dip of the toes into the darkness that these two men wielded. Not just as a powerful influence on the galaxy at large, but through the force itself. The Power that was built over generations, but funneled into one man. It was a high respect to be able to do something such as that. It takes a dedication that few had. All I had was respect for what I was about to face. My boots hitting the interceptor brought me back to reality.

A man in darkened robes approached me. Bowing head softly, to which I returned. Turning around, he was wordless and spoke nothing. Just walking off. As the only individual who had come to meet me here. I followed. My eyes playing over the walls and the various soldiers, acolytes or others who were here running the day to day functions of the facility. Each having their own job or task to perform. Each one staying very locked into the task at hand. I sped up my pace to catch up with the robed individual. Leading me through various halls and through the sections. Each step forward, I could almost feel the presence of what was being done here. When finally, bringing me to a set of doors. Tall and imposing figures stood in front. Wielding weapons and still as stone. Clearly they were the Blackguard. Once having been a task force of the Sith Empire, not the Elite force of the Kainate.

Door opening, the robed man moved out of the path. Letting me proceed. A few steps inside before the doors were shut behind me. My eyes looked about for a moment, before falling upon the man. Moving forward, I provided the pleasantries of custom. A bow of the head, hand across the sash belt I wore before rising to look at him directly.

"Darth Carnifex, I have come as requested."

 

[Darth Carnifex]

Beyond the doors of the sanctum, Delsin would find himself set amidst a vast abattoir. Ribbed walls, like the ribcage of a great beast, curved high into a ceiling veiled by endless night. Towering vats of transparent duraglass was inset into each curve, their interiors awash with bright, viridian liquid. Shapes drifted behind the glass; half-formed flesh, discarded organs, and skeletal frames caught between animation and decay. Long tubes the color of beet-red veins connected the vats to the wall, pulsing faintly as the alchemical mixture was siphoned away in great, greedy gulps.

The air was hot and heavy with the coppery twang of blood and the sharp, acrid bite of chemicals. Holo-glyphs swam above truncated dissection plinths, illuminating diagrams of twisted anatomies: Sithspawn hybrids, gene-forged soldiers, and things not yet destined for creation. Apertures of articulated mechanical limbs hung limp from the ceiling, each one ending in a bladed or serrated instrument both surgical and ritualistic at once. Some yet bore the wetness of recent use.

Beneath Delsin's feet was an obsidian floor polished to a mirror shine, cut through by veins of glimmering gold that traced complex geometric patterns across the chamber. They caught the sickly green glow from the vats and refracted it into strange lattices that danced over the walls and over the still figures of the Blackblade Guards who flanked the dais at the far end. The light gave them the appearance of statues gilded in veins of gold, until the subtle rise and fall of their chests betrayed life beneath the armor.

At the raised dais, the Dark Lord of the Kainate did not sit upon a gilded throne. Rather, He loomed large and imperious over the body of a hulking Sithspawn monstrosity, the beast raised up upon an altar of blackened stone. His massive frame bent slightly forward, bare arms sunk elbow-deep into the gored cavity of the creature. The Sithspawn's chest had been split wide open, ribs pried back like shutters to expose it's steaming innards. With careful movements, the Dark Lord cut away the ligaments anchoring a quivering length of luminous organ that pulsed faintly with dark potency.

"Indeed you have," rumbled the velvety baritone of the Dark Lord's voice, "The Lord Mortarch speaks quite highly of you. But hearing is not seeing." Threads of grotesque ichor ran down the Dark Lord's exposed skin as He turned the organ over in His hands, inspecting every square inch, His molten eyes narrowing slightly in grim satisfaction. A hooked blade from one of the aperture arms dipped down and carved away a second organ, Carnifex's other hand reaching forward to pluck it free with the surety of a man as much of a butcher as He was a surgeon.

Nearby, crystalline jars already brimmed with harvested viscera; hearts blackened with alchemical infusion, sacs of marrow glowing faint green, and coils of blood-heavy tissue preserved for later experiments. With a gentle hand, Carnifex slipped both organs into their own requisite jars. He then turned to face Delsin, arms still caked in gore up to the elbow, droplets of ichor falling and hissing as they met the floor.

"You look like him."

Delsin Shaw ​

 

[Delsin Shaw]

​

Lord Carnifex was continuing his work. Even as I stood there. The room felt alive and breathing with every moment. His movements deliberate and to the point. No extra energy wasted. Calculated and poignant. Operating on the creature and withdrawing an organ. It looked to be one of vital importance with the way he cared for it. Displaying it within the crystalline structure of the vessel. All of this formed and manipulated over years and years of trial and error. Research and dedication to the craft. I stood well over many people of similar species. Yet I dwarfed in comparison to him in the current state. His stature clearly augmented to be that of a proper lord of the Sith. Even the modifications to his hands and body were taken note. A viable tool that could likely be used later should I learn of its function.

However, the dark and sultry tone of his voice spoke out. Drawing me from his hands and work, to his face and eyes. Noting that while I was spoken highly of, mere words mean nothing at the end of the day. Its actions, and what one does with them that determines how well they could be useful within the kainate. And more so, to the Lords of such degree. I did not speak. As was his domain to be here. Interrupting his work was enough of a slight on my timing should he deem it. Yet, the piercing yellow eyes, his face molded to perfection looked directly at me. Feeling not daggers, but swords piercing to my own eyes. My vision could see all of the shrouds and violent aura he had. His presence magnitudes greater than others I had seen before. And all of it, was directed at me with those last words. The enunciation of "him" to stab at me.

"Only in outward features."

I replied to him. My own monotone voice spoke out. Seemingly quiet compared to his. However, this was not an act of nervousness or fear. Merely, letting myself lower to his presence. If he saw it fit to fight, or to destroy me, there would be little recourse in my current state. Maybe give him a good once over, but it would not last long. He had generations of wealth within his mind and strength. I barely held mine in check. A voice screaming in my head to turn around and to leave. Knowing who that voice was did not concern me. As another spoke of taking his throne and to up him. Show him I mean who I am. That I am not my fathers Sins.

"I am sure the Lord Mortarch spoke to you of my creation and history. To be a perfect legacy of the man who made me. Yet failed to complete the process."

I took a couple steps forward. Moving closer to the creature enough to see inside its cavity he had created. Held open by tools and natural weight of its flesh. bones cut cleanly to retrieve organs from within. However, my hands held behind my back as to not touch. Nor to disturb the sterile field he may have made for this particular project.

"His sins are not mine, Lord. Yet passed to me all the same. Which I will rectify."

Darth Carnifex