Obsidian
Character
A battered old bulk transport drifted over the windswept storms of Kamino. Since centuries past, the cloning facilities here had been renowned for their professional discretion and quality work. Directed into one of the larger hangars, the vessel appeared to be a standard supply drop and pick-up. Indeed the manifests indicated imported goods to the planet's inhabitants as well as the scheduled export of notable local delicacies. Sheltered from the rain and the storm outside, the main cargo access of the transport opened its maws casting a dim shadow over the pristine white halls of the Kaminoan architecture.
A Kaminoan delegate greeted the figures walking down the excessive ramp. Its figure showed a sense of polite reverence to a valued customer, while the arrogance of the figure walking down the ramp would have been obvious to any onlooker familiar with human body-language. The young man was short for a male human, perhaps somewhere around five feet and five inches high, slender to the point of gaunt and frail in appearance to boot, his amethyst eyes appeared to look down on anyone regardless of social status or power. Flanking the man dressed in a pure black suit with pristine white shirt was a pair of children similarly dressed for a funeral. The twins were identical in all but hair and attire and no older than ten years old in appearance. The boy with short bangs reaching only as low as his eyebrows wore a black coat over his black blazer, tie and white shirt, his black shorts barely reaching his knees. The girl's hair was straight and flowed down to her knees, she wore a gothic lolita styled dress that covered everything above her ankles up to her neck with white frills on black cloth, only her hands and head were visible. Both children had silvery white hair and their innocent looks were only undermined by the girl's heavy burden of a package she carried wrapped in a giant picnic cloth as well as the eyes that seemed to glow with a maddening spark.
"My Lord, so wonderful for you to return to us after so long. I trust that your business is booming as always."
"Skip the pleasantries, Khar Ma. I trust the shipment is ready."
Walking past the far taller alien, the young man barely acknowledged the Kaminoan he referred to as Khar Ma. The hangar crew looked quizzically at the exchange but remained silent on the matter. It was not their place to understand the dealings of the various clients to this colony. Under the directive gaze of black clad men who followed their leader off the transport as well as the local ground foremen, they began to refuel, resupply and unload the goods brought into the planet. Trivial and perfectly legal delicacies and luxury items to make life here on the ocean filled planet of storms that much warmer, the crates of trinkets and knick knacks were unloaded to be replaced with unmarked crates of equally mundane...or so they believed...goods.
None could ignore the fourth individual who was not one of the faceless drones that broke their backs in their work. A tall, lean man just as pale, perhaps even paler than the client that came down the ramp first, only a half head shorter than the average Kaminoan that remained in the hangar bay. His raven black hair was straight as it flowed down past his waist to below his knees. Leather soled, metal reinforced cavalier boots clattered against the metal decks and resounded through the hangar. In a rhythmic, almost hypnotic addition, the metal cane he wielded also added the extra step to the tempo of the man's march. He was adorned in a militaristic trench coat, black as his hair and adorned with silver borders, he wore his white shirt as crisp as his pathfinder but also a matching black tie. None dared look the man in the eyes, the void black eyes that seemed to suck in every detail, every minute information that seemed to also hunger for the souls of any who looked at them.
The taller man in the trench coat followed the trio before them and Khar Ma made no effort to discourage. None of the guards seemed willing to stand in their way.
It was not long before they were seated in a conference chamber. There, the host fiddled with a device that seemed to emit electric waves and a noise cancelling wave. After setting up the defence against eavesdropping, they entered a second, inner layer of the chamber where they could discuss their business in peace.
"It must be the first time your excellency have graced us with your presence, my Lord Benefactor. My clan has been in your debt these past one thousand years."
Waving off the courtesy of his host who dared not look him in the face, the Benefactor looked down at the kneeling figure. Looking over to the shorter human, he raised his eyebrow in a silent query.
"My Liege. Khar Ma is the latest head of his clan, a small but dedicated sect of Kaminoans who sought to improve themselves to become superior Kaminoans. They have been most helpful these past centuries in rebuilding your power-base in your absence. Khar Ma, what of the special shipment I asked of you?"
"Lord Rahven. They have been prepared as requested. Cloning cylinders and support machinery to start off your very own cloning facility over time."
The sound of laughter was never heard outside the small bubble within this small chamber. The path to Galactic domination would begin anew. Khar Ma and his descendants would be privy to any and all scientific progress towards the betterment of the flesh. In return, the Order would benefit from the rebirth of their clone army. This partnership of scientific minded individuals had survived the tests of time this past one thousand years. Meanwhile, the banners of the Benefactor would take time to assemble. Days, weeks, months, years was a matter of course. This was an undertaking of a long path that would go on for decades, centuries...even millennia. But the Benefactor was ancient. He was patient. His minions even more so. Rahven looked to his escorting twins, Tiferet and Chesed and the trio nodded. They would become the new foundation for the Obsidian Lord's banner.
A Kaminoan delegate greeted the figures walking down the excessive ramp. Its figure showed a sense of polite reverence to a valued customer, while the arrogance of the figure walking down the ramp would have been obvious to any onlooker familiar with human body-language. The young man was short for a male human, perhaps somewhere around five feet and five inches high, slender to the point of gaunt and frail in appearance to boot, his amethyst eyes appeared to look down on anyone regardless of social status or power. Flanking the man dressed in a pure black suit with pristine white shirt was a pair of children similarly dressed for a funeral. The twins were identical in all but hair and attire and no older than ten years old in appearance. The boy with short bangs reaching only as low as his eyebrows wore a black coat over his black blazer, tie and white shirt, his black shorts barely reaching his knees. The girl's hair was straight and flowed down to her knees, she wore a gothic lolita styled dress that covered everything above her ankles up to her neck with white frills on black cloth, only her hands and head were visible. Both children had silvery white hair and their innocent looks were only undermined by the girl's heavy burden of a package she carried wrapped in a giant picnic cloth as well as the eyes that seemed to glow with a maddening spark.
"My Lord, so wonderful for you to return to us after so long. I trust that your business is booming as always."
"Skip the pleasantries, Khar Ma. I trust the shipment is ready."
Walking past the far taller alien, the young man barely acknowledged the Kaminoan he referred to as Khar Ma. The hangar crew looked quizzically at the exchange but remained silent on the matter. It was not their place to understand the dealings of the various clients to this colony. Under the directive gaze of black clad men who followed their leader off the transport as well as the local ground foremen, they began to refuel, resupply and unload the goods brought into the planet. Trivial and perfectly legal delicacies and luxury items to make life here on the ocean filled planet of storms that much warmer, the crates of trinkets and knick knacks were unloaded to be replaced with unmarked crates of equally mundane...or so they believed...goods.
None could ignore the fourth individual who was not one of the faceless drones that broke their backs in their work. A tall, lean man just as pale, perhaps even paler than the client that came down the ramp first, only a half head shorter than the average Kaminoan that remained in the hangar bay. His raven black hair was straight as it flowed down past his waist to below his knees. Leather soled, metal reinforced cavalier boots clattered against the metal decks and resounded through the hangar. In a rhythmic, almost hypnotic addition, the metal cane he wielded also added the extra step to the tempo of the man's march. He was adorned in a militaristic trench coat, black as his hair and adorned with silver borders, he wore his white shirt as crisp as his pathfinder but also a matching black tie. None dared look the man in the eyes, the void black eyes that seemed to suck in every detail, every minute information that seemed to also hunger for the souls of any who looked at them.
The taller man in the trench coat followed the trio before them and Khar Ma made no effort to discourage. None of the guards seemed willing to stand in their way.
It was not long before they were seated in a conference chamber. There, the host fiddled with a device that seemed to emit electric waves and a noise cancelling wave. After setting up the defence against eavesdropping, they entered a second, inner layer of the chamber where they could discuss their business in peace.
"It must be the first time your excellency have graced us with your presence, my Lord Benefactor. My clan has been in your debt these past one thousand years."
Waving off the courtesy of his host who dared not look him in the face, the Benefactor looked down at the kneeling figure. Looking over to the shorter human, he raised his eyebrow in a silent query.
"My Liege. Khar Ma is the latest head of his clan, a small but dedicated sect of Kaminoans who sought to improve themselves to become superior Kaminoans. They have been most helpful these past centuries in rebuilding your power-base in your absence. Khar Ma, what of the special shipment I asked of you?"
"Lord Rahven. They have been prepared as requested. Cloning cylinders and support machinery to start off your very own cloning facility over time."
The sound of laughter was never heard outside the small bubble within this small chamber. The path to Galactic domination would begin anew. Khar Ma and his descendants would be privy to any and all scientific progress towards the betterment of the flesh. In return, the Order would benefit from the rebirth of their clone army. This partnership of scientific minded individuals had survived the tests of time this past one thousand years. Meanwhile, the banners of the Benefactor would take time to assemble. Days, weeks, months, years was a matter of course. This was an undertaking of a long path that would go on for decades, centuries...even millennia. But the Benefactor was ancient. He was patient. His minions even more so. Rahven looked to his escorting twins, Tiferet and Chesed and the trio nodded. They would become the new foundation for the Obsidian Lord's banner.