Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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To His will all flesh succumbs. From His kingdom, chaos comes! [Cryax]

While the madness and destruction of war raged throughout the center of the galaxy, things on the fringes of the galaxy were relatively quiet in comparison. However; shadows moved with dark intent even there, for the will of the Dark Lord was all encompassing, and his agents numerous beyond count. A darkness was beginning to stir in the galactic west, as the engines of devastation began to churn and howl with a furious hatred. The forges of the foul King Zambrano burned endlessly as his unholy servants toiled endlessly for his glory, crafting foul machines of destruction, and birthing untold horrors from the gestating slime and muck from which evil is given breath. The master looked down upon the creation of his monstrosities, and he found it to be worthy. However; that was not what occupied his mind, it was the arrival of his chief servant, the former Vong sealed within the flesh-armor of Vulcanus whose horrid name was Dredge, that had turned his thoughts to new horizons.

His servant had brought him a new tool, a new life to be broken upon the anvil of his malice, and reshaped by the hammer of his will. His name was Cryax Bane, the leader of the Red Raven crime syndicate that he had to deal with previously in regards to themselves and the Black Sun. The Red Ravens were a new player to the game the Sith played across the entirety of the galaxy, and despite the words of his compatriots, he did not have much belief in the Ravens. Thus, when Dredge brought forth their leader bound and gagged, the Sith Lord's mind was ablaze with new possibilities. Demanding that his new prize be left in his care, the monstrous Dredge complied to the will of his master, and departed Panatha to endlessly sew chaos in Vornskr's name.

Now the Sith turned his gaze away from his monstrous birthing pits, and began his descend into the rotten earth. Down through twisting corridors, through horrifying torture chambers of ever shape and size, and past the malignant screams of the damned as they burst forth from the lips of the suffered. His prize had been chained in the central dungeon chamber, bound to a massive stone slab surrounded by several hooded servants who analyzed his physique before their Lord arrived. When he did, they bowed low and scattered to the far corners of the chamber, where they would remain unless called upon. The Master looked down upon his captive, and his mouth split wide into a vile grin.

"Well, well, well. What a delightful treat my servant has left for me."

[member="Cryax Bane"]

The musical accompaniment to this post: Link
 
Cryax never saw it coming. One minute the Chiss President of the Red Ravens was in his office at the Dragon Palace Casino muttering Cheunh curses over his missing stapler, which he knew Logan of Little Coruscant kept stealing--he just needed proof! The next minute, Cryax had been kidnapped. Again.

The Yuuzhan Vong overlord, known far and wide across the worlds he terrorized as Dredge, using a Yorik-Kul the monster painfully implanted in the Chiss’s brain, had taken control of the crime boss’s muscles, exploiting and controlling the miserable Chiss like a hapless blue doll. First, Dredge-as-Cryax dismissed his large Magnaguard security detail, then the creature walked him outside the casino and down the bustling Antecedent streets using his own cybernetic legs. Once Cryax had gotten far enough away from the casino, what happened after that was anyone’s guess, as a cloth containing a noxious substance was forced over his mouth, rendering him unconscious.

Bane, groggy and disoriented, awoke to the most unpleasant sounds he'd ever heard. Dripping ooze. Howling beasts. Echoes of footsteps. And so much screaming. To his dismay, the Chiss found himself gagged and bound tightly to a cold stone slab with hooded creatures hunched over his unclothed body, inspecting it like a choice cut of Bantha steak. What. The. Actual. Frell.

He spied a figure entering the room, cloaked in darkness. As the dark visage drew closer, the stunned Chiss felt his stomach sink as he realized he recognized the man from diplomatic talks on Coruscant with the One Sith. Darth Vornskr, the Voice of the Dark Lord. Traitor. If Cryax weren’t restrained, he would have launched himself at the bearded Sith Lord and tried to rip out the man’s throat with his own teeth. Why was he breaking the treaty they’d signed with the Red Ravens? Cryax didn’t understand. He glared at Vornskr, his sunken, glowing red eyes full of rage, like pools of blood, his vindictive soul already yearning for revenge before the man even laid a hand on him.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
His smile became a devious, maniacal grin as he beheld the raw and naked hatred and betrayal burning brightly within the Chiss' crimson globes. "You're probably wondering why you are here, bound to a slab and staring a Voice of the Dark Lord in the face, most likely facing certain doom at the hands of someone you thought was an ally?" The Sith Lord chuckled, and then with a small twitch of his hand he unbound the gag that was slung over the Chiss' mouth, allowing him free reign of speech while the Sith turned away from him. He would pay no attention to whatever he said, but would rather move over to a large table filled with various surgical instruments and over devices of torture, and would begin to nonchalantly rummage through them. Finally, he settled for a large blood-letting dagger that was caked with dried blood, which he promptly began to clean off with a nearby rag as he turned and made his way back to Cryax.

He held the dagger above Cryax so that he could see it clearly, and then with a humorous demeanor he said: "Which arm should we start with?"

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Struggling against his bonds, Cryax kept his fiery alien orbs trained on the powerful Sith Lord. Muffled words were spewing forth from his mouth even before the other man removed his gag with a simple turn of his hand. Once the cloth was lifted from his lips, Cryax let loose a torrent of Cheuhn curse-words, then switched back to Basic. The Chiss apparently had a lot to say. Those who knew him were familiar with the crime boss's general response to an antagonist which was sarcasm first, regret later. This time was different. Cryax’s usual sarcasm was tempered and replaced with not only a mixture of rage and fear, but also confusion.

"We had a deal," he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice filled with outrage. "We signed a fething treaty to be allies in the coming war. Let me guess you're Dredge's queen?" he growled. Cryax couldn't figure out any other reason that the Sith Lord would turn on him. Perhaps he'd also undergone the Yorik-Kul treatment. When his protestations earned no response from his captor, his tone turned more sardonic. “Congratulations Darth Vornskr, you've managed to completely stump me as to what you could possibly want with me. I thought that you Sith were out to destroy the Jedi, not some underworld scum like me. What do you want with me, you chuff-sucking k'on'becsoi?"

As Darth Vornskr, turned around with the blade in his knotted fingers, Cryax's eyes widened in fear. At the sight of the knife, he could almost feel phantom throbbing in the still-healing scars on his bare chest, capital letters that spelled out the word "WRETCH" in ridges of blue flesh. The gift that kept on giving from dear old Dredge. He started to shake his head vehemently. Cryax had barely gotten over the post traumatic stress from his last torture session, and here he was about to have be tested again. No. He had to get out of this somehow. A few months ago, he would have been as stubborn as a Jedi Knight, but now, the Chiss's soul was weak and his will frail. Panting raggedly, he tried a different tactic, "Do you want information? I can give you information. I know things. Just let me go and I'll sing like a birdy, I swear."

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
Vornskr pressed the tip of his dagger against the underside of the Chiss' chin, and pushed against it with just enough force to draw a droplet of blood from his blue skin. Any further movement of his head would result in quite a nasty cut where you didn't want a nasty cut, and then Vornskr began to elaborate. "We did sign a treaty, and don't worry. It will not be broken. I never once believed in your organization, they were brash and untested, and your 'victory' at Barab I proved nothing. My colleagues may be more inclined to believe you and your rabble, but I am a pragmatic man, and I like to ensure that my investments give me the maximum benefit when it is time to collect." Vornskr slowly removed the blade away from his neck and chin, and instead lightly rested the blade's edge against the skin of his left forearm, the blade only cutting the very surface with a stinging pain, but not yet drawing blood.

"What Dredge started I will completely utterly, and then you will serve me until death as a extension of my will. A puppet to control the Red Ravens, and make them wholly mine in time." Then, Vornskr began to slowly slide the sharp edge of the dagger across his flesh, drawing blood and cutting through flesh like butter. His intention was to repeat this process all over Cryax's body, and torture him through bleeding. The body was the first thing needed to be broken down, and then he would start on Cryax's mind.

"And by the way, Dredge is my queen."

*Cutting intensifies.*

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
As the knife was held to his throat, Cryax froze. He squeezed his eyes shut as blade nicked skin, then opened them to face Darth Vornskr defiantly. So, Vornskr wanted make a power grab for control of the Red Ravens with his cold, twisted hands. Cryax had just gotten checkmated in a game he didn't even know he was playing. That double-crossing bastard. Feeling bile rising up in his throat, Cryax sucked back all of his saliva and spit right in the Sith Lord's face. "Every jungle has its serpents" he growled. "But I never knew you were the biggest snake of them all, Vornskr."

His glowing red eyes followed the edge of the blade as it grazed his forearm, pressing into his chilled flesh, his nerve endings singing out with pain. As Cryax heard what his torturer had in store for him, his fight suddenly returned to him and his eyes flashed with pure malice. The Chiss would be no one's vassal. "When Hoth melts, will I be your foul puppet, ch'un'rcsi. You can suck my big blue..." Suddenly the Sith Lord sunk the blade into his naked flesh and Cryax let out a deafening howl of pain. Cryax was shrieking so violently he barely heard the bearded demon's final revelation about who was the puppet and who was the master. Barely. His stomach sank as he realized that had been played like a fiddle by both Vornskr and Dredge, but the only music he would hear would be the sound of his own screaming.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
The wad of spittle collided with Vornskr's right cheek, to which the Sith Lord frowned and lightly scooped up the spit with his hand and then proceeded to wipe it roughly in Cryax's open wound. "I wouldn't be so disrespectful to the man who holds the total sum of your life in his hands." The Sith cut another long incision across the Chiss' bicep, an eruption of blood flowing from the wound to stain his blue skin purple, and the slab he was tied to a bright scarlet. It would only be so obvious now that the slab was not just a blank face, but was actually made up of many deep ridges that ran all over in intricate patterns. Cryax's blood seeped into the crevices, and as Vornskr cut the Chiss more and more, the crevices began to fill up with blood. "Then again, your life has been judged and found worthless, but your position is the only thing that makes you useful, otherwise I would not bother with you."

He carved another gash in the Chiss' body, this time digging in the knife in deep as he cut, prompting a great wealth of dark red, nearly black, blood to swell forth and drain into the already filling crevices. Through some dark magic, or perhaps the Chiss' own will he would not fade into unconsciousness throughout each cut, and each loss of blood. "Blood is the currency of life. My ancestors understood this exceptionally well, and with enough blood they could do marvelous things. They called it blood magic, but I know now that it is more like Sith Alchemy than anything, the same alchemy that the Exiles used over seven-thousand years ago. To take one's blood is to exert control over their body, and with your blood I shall bend you eternally to my will. The mind, however; is a more fragile thing, and will require more time and effort."

He chuckled, "But we have all the time in the world, now don't we?"

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Paroxysms of pain consumed the helpless body of the Chiss crime boss, and he bucked against his restraints as the blade sank deeper. Blood flowed down the side of his arm and underneath his torso, trickling through some kind of sluicegate connected to who knew what foul pit of hell. Although his chest was heaving in agony, Cryax managed to muster up a breathless tirade at the Sith Lord. “I hate to break it to you, but, I’ve been there, done that already with Dredge. Never thought you’d be the type to go for sloppy seconds, Vornskr.” He chuckled darkly. Then his laughter halted suddenly as the blade gouged his flesh, and Cryax let out another ragged scream. Realizing his mouthiness was only going to encourage deeper cuts, the Chiss tried another tactic.

“Your brother, Mordecai, has been to our casino many times. I’ve even given him permission to take some acolytes from our ranks. He lent his military prowess to our forces on Barab I and therefore, I’ve always considered him a trusted ally. Does he know you have me bound to a slab in your stinking dungeon?”

Then as Vornskr waxed poetic about Sith Alchemy and all that sorcery gibberish that Cryax didn’t understand, the bearded miscreant pushed the blade in deeper, and the howls of the Chiss echoed trhough the ancient chamber once again. Through gnashed teeth Cryax angrily continued. “You may deem my life worthless, but you’re right about my position of importance. Soon, the Red Ravens will come for you and there will be rivers of blood running through the Coruscant streets.” Even as he spoke it, Cryax knew there that, sadly, there was no one coming for him. The president hadn't been forthcoming to his staff about his capture on Teth. Things that were done to him and that he was forced to do, like being made to kill a small boy, were a mystery to even his closest Ravens. All they knew was that after he returned from his week in a Bacta tank, his behavior was erratic and that he would leave at odd hours in the middle of the night. It was likely that his departure would be seen as just another one of the crime boss’s bizarre disappearing acts, over which noone would bat an eyelash.

With grim awareness of the unlikeliness of a rescue, Cryax also knew his fortitude wouldn’t last forever. After his relentless torture on the Omen, the painful insertion of the Yorik-Kul into his brain and now this bloodletting, Cryax’s will was as thin as a wishbone and not too far from breaking.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
"My brother does not possess the same will and conviction as I do, and he does not need to know what I do with you." He carved another piece of flesh slowly, oh so slowly, blood covering his hands and arms as he meticulously carved a terrible, dark pattern into the flesh of his victim. For his cuts were not random, they were driven by a dark will, and as he continued to add another line, another cut, to the flesh they began to create a shape. These were ancient Sith runes inscribed by the forebearers of the Sith name thousands and thousands of years ago, and extensive research by Vornskr's own hand had unearthed these ghastly sigils from ages past. Now he was carving them into Cryax's body, for they soon would become conduits for the Dark Side to penetrate deep into the Chiss' body, allowing the Sith Lord to harness the infinite energies of the Force to control his body like a puppeteer would a puppet.

However; that was only the body, the mind would require a more delicate touch. He didn't want to scramble his mind, or make him into an invalid golem, but a thinking, intelligence creature enraptured by his dark will, and forced to serve him so long as he lived. He had a bounty of ways for him to twist the Chiss' mind, to mold it to his desires, but the only problem Vornskr faced was choosing which way to do it. "I wouldn't worry about your Raven friends. They cannot hold a candle to the might of the Sith, and soon they, and all others, will be brought to heel once our victory is total and complete. And you, my dear Cryax Bane, will be the instrument of their subjugation, and should perhaps I will keep you alive after your usefulness has run it's course should you perform satisfactory in your tasks." Another cut, another well of blood let loose upon the slab, and another piece of the gruesome puzzle creation.

"Perhaps as a pet to my daughter, if she doesn't decide to eat you, of course."

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
So Darth Vornskr was keeping this a secret from Mordecai. That bade well. If he got out of here somehow, Cryax could beseech Vornskr's brother for assistance. However, that was a big if, Cryax thought, as the Sith Lord carved into him with such deliberation and concentration that it seemed like he was carving a sculpture and not a bound blue alien. The Chiss let out another ear-piercing scream as more of his flesh was violated by the knife, the edge of the blade slipping into his muscle, nearly grazing the bone. He shook his head violently, desperate for the agony to stop. His body weakening from the loss of blood, Cryax wished he could sink into the blackness of unconsciousness, but through some foul twist of fate, he stayed alert and conscious through the blood-letting. His breath came in ragged sobs. So much pain. So little will to withstand it. As Dredge had found out back in his throne room on The Omen, Cryax wasn't above begging to get his torture to end.

"ENOUGH!" he screamed. "I've had enough. I'll be your servant," he lied. Anything to placate his Sith tormentor. "Just make it stop. Please. I'll do anything you say. Please. Just make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP! I BEG YOU! PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP! GODAMMIT MAKE IT STOP!"

Cryax went on like this for a few minutes until he stopped, as he heard the strangest sound. A hollow thumping echoed in his ears. Then he grimly realized it was the sound of his own beating heart, pumping the blood out of his body.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
Vornskr did nothing as Cryax begged, and squirmed for mercy from the tortures he was inflicting upon him. The Sith Lord looked down upon such pitiful displays like begging and groveling, for one who begged for mercy did not deserve it in the first place. "Scream all you want, little man. It will not change your fate, nor will anyone hear you miles below the earth. This is my realm, and my rule is supreme and absolute. You will find no mercy here." He carved the last piece of the grotesque mural across Cryax's left arm, and as he pulled his blade away to momentarily admire his work, he realized that it was time to seal up the wounds and replenish the blood that Cryax had lost. With a sharp command in his native tongue, the servants that had retreated earlier rushed back to their master, some of them carrying pieces of machinery outfitted with hydraulics and tubes.

They began to hook these machines into Cryax's body, and as several servants returned from outside of the room with vats of dark liquid, they began a blood transfusion. The blood that Cryax had spilled was being collected and used to create synthetic blood just for the purpose of prolonging Cryax's life during this horrific cutting and carving process. Now they began to work on Cryax, cycling out the blood left in his body and replacing it with the new blood. "Take heart, Cryax, and relish in your momentary respite. Once they're done, I'm starting on the other arm." While the servants began the transfusion, others would be working on Cryax's ruined arm by sealing up the wounds inflicted by Vornskr, leaving a terrible mishmash of scars adorning the entirety of his arm. This was only the barest beginning of what was in store for the Chiss crime-boss, for Vornskr planned to do the same to his entire body.

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Once Vornskr was finished with his carving, Cryax’s arm was tattered like a rag, ribbons of flesh hanging from it. The crime boss had to turn his head to the side, so that he didn’t risk catching a glimpse of his ruined limb. It was too upsetting a sight in his mental state. Once Vornskr’s servants returned, it sparked a fresh wave of panic in the Chiss and he squirmed and screamed once again. Although the Sith Lord had promised no mercy, Cryax still pleaded with him once the hooded men started hooking him up to some sort of medical apparatus. “Please. I will serve you, My Lord,” he said, laying it on as thick as he could. “Please. I’m ready. I’m ready to bow before you and serve you.” Then his repetitive pleas turned into quiet sobs. “Please. No more. Just make it stop. I’ll do anything. I’ll kill whoever you want. Just make it stop.”

As the Chiss was plugged into to a machine that infused some sort of liquid into him intravenously, he hitched a breath. The substance looked like blood but he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as painful a process as the cutting but still stung nonetheless, especially with no bacta or any other type of anesthesia to numb him. The hooded servants began to put stitches in his ruined arm, another agonizing process without drugs to ease the pain. As Vonskr informed Cryax of his plans for the other arm, he involuntarily bucked at his restraints and let out a whimper, his chest heaving with misery. He attempted to wheedle with his torturer once again. “Please, My Lord. You don’t have to do this. As I told you, I’m ready to be your liege. Why waste anymore time when I could be carrying out your dark wishes now?”

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
"Very well." Vornskr said with a haunting chuckle, but even as he said those words he was already positioning himself on the other side of the stone slab. He roughly grabbed Cryax's right arm, and began to examine the blue flesh. The sneer plastered across his face was absolutely repugnant as his nails bit into Cryax's flesh and he suddenly tightened his grip on the Chiss' arm, draw blood instantly. "As my first decree as your Lord and Master, I desire that you cease your nonsensical blubbering so that I may continue in my task." Vornskr then released his grip, and he drew the blade from his side and began to carve new rifts into his flesh. Meanwhile; the servants would have finished their task, and would begin to remove the machinery from Cryax's body, and once again slink away in the shadows that bordered the chamber.

"Don't quit screaming, I quite enjoy the wails of the tormented."

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
When Kaine acquiesced, or seemed to anyway, Cryax's blue-skinned chest rose and fell as he breathed out a long sigh of relief. Whatever plans the Sith Lord had in store for him, he would just carry out as a dark charade until he could get to [member="Mordecai Zambrano"] or [member="Reverance"], his Vice President's Master, and tell him what was going on. It was about time Cryax swallowed his pride and asked for help out of this situation. His hubris had ruled his life in far too detrimental a way, and even he could see that it had to stop.

Cryax was crestfallen when the Sith Lord grabbed his arm and sank his dirty claws into his skin. Then out came the blade once again, the light from Cryax's red eyes glinting off the surface. "Nonononononononononononononono! Please stop, please stop!" He had clearly been told not to beg, but desperation had taken hold of the Chiss and despite being given an order, continued to scream for mercy until his pleas deteriorated into long keening wails. The slow blood-letting was been agonizing, and his need to be free from it was critical. His despondency soon turned to white-hot rage. "Please stop! I told you I'll do anything. Goddamit you mother karker! You kriffing chuff-sucking lunatic! I will END you for this you Moactan Teel bastard!"

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
"Tsk tsk tsk. What language."

Vornskr had stopped long enough to waggle a blood-soaked finger at the bound Chiss, "I thought I had told you to quit babbling, Cryax, but it seems you just can't handle the most simple of directions. We'll have to remedy that." First, Vornskr firmly planted the blade of his dagger directly into Cryax's right hand, puncturing through the skin, flesh, and bones until the blade sunk deep into the stone underneath. Then he quickly turned to his silent servants in the darkness, and with a voice full of maniacal malice he commanded them:

"Fetch me a sewing needle and some thread, and restrain his head. I don't want him thrashing about and messing up my needlework."

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Darth Vornskr tutted at him as a father would to a small disobedient child. It made the Chiss almost sick with rage. Cryax took a deep breath, closed his eyes and imagined Kaine’s bloody head stuck to a pike, his face frozen in a death grin. There, that was better. Much better. Then the blade was stuck right in the middle of his hand with a revolting squish and a thunk as it dug all the way into the bone and through to the slab. The terrified Chiss howled, his back arching as he barely withstood the pain. As his screams echoed through the chamber, Kaine’s servants merely stood by with almost bored expressions, as if they were watching grass grow.

“Desecrate my body all you want, Vornskr.” Cryax hissed. “You’ll never foul my mind. Believe me, Dredge tried. He had to put a karking Yorik-Kul in there to control me, and even then, he still didn’t break my free will. If you think that you even stand a chance, you can ch'tra ravri'ihah ch'ahn!” Once again he launched into Cheuhn curses and punctuated his insult with a new projectile of spittle launched right towards the Sith Lord's face. Cryax had a sharp mind indeed. The Chiss might have made horrible mistakes in running the Red Ravens, letting his pride and emotion outweigh his strategic decision-making, but he was still one of the most brilliant slicers in Wildspace. Whether or not his intellectual prowess would help shield his mind from whatever Kaine had planned for it remained to be seen.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
Vornskr just laughed as his servants returned with his desired items, and then began to swarm Cryax as they began to hold down his head with a surprising amount of strength in their otherwise frail looking hands and arms. The spittle that the Chiss had launched at him missed by a few inches and instead plopped on the floor next to the imposing Lord. "Dredge is but a blundering novice when compared to my understanding of the mind." Holding both of his dastardly instruments close to him, Vornskr returned to Cryax, but this time positioned himself on the side of the slab where the Chiss' head rested. He loomed over the Chiss like some vile specter, and he brandished the razor-sharp needle attached to the roll of thread he held in his other hand. "Now, here's a simple task for you to perform, my servant. I wouldn't try and thrash around too much, or I might miss with my needlework and accidentally puncture something you don't want punctured." For emphasis he brought the tip of the needle dangerously close to Cryax's eye, and chuckled as he did.

"Do we have an understanding?"

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Cold fingers gripped the sides of his head, holding it down against the stone slab. He could feel their hot breath upon his body as Darth Vornskr's minions carried out his heinous wishes, and it turned his stomach. The bearded Sith Lord hovered over the Chiss's body like the grim reaper himself, bustling around him mysteriously, hiding something in the folds of his robes.

When Cryax saw what the those instruments were, he tried to stay still, but despite Kaine’s warnings, his body squirmed frantically. As the point of the needle moved closer into his vision, resting a mere centimeter or two from his red alien orb, Cryax gritted his teeth. Beads of sweat formed along the sides of his face. The crime boss abhorred needles. At Darth Vornskr’s question, he spoke up in a low shaky voice. “Yes, yes, My Lord, we have an understanding,” was all the panicky Chiss could muster.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 
"Very good. You're learning at last." Half-joked the sadistic torturer as he then roughly pinched the Chiss' lips shut between his index finger, middle finger, and the thumb of his left hand. He then lightly pressed the tip of the needle against the soft flesh of Cryax's upper lip, and then with added force began to puncture the flesh until it popped out the other side and began to dig through the flesh of the lower lip. With movements as fast as a blur, Vornskr pulled the needled through and began to work the same process, but starting from the lower lip rather than the top lip. He would begin to thrust his needle through both sets of lips over and over again, starting the foundations that would lead to sewing Cryax's mouth shut for the time being. Of course, this wouldn't cause any lasting damage except maybe for a little scarring above and below his lips, but compared to the mutilation done to the rest of his body he'd be fine.

Vornskr would continue until Cryax's lips had been sealed by the strong thread he had used to sew it shut. Vornskr would back away for a moment to gaze down upon his work, with a cruel smirk of satisfaction plastered across his grim face. "Ah. Much better."

[member="Cryax Bane"]
 
Cryax had heard many stories about the grotesque tortures the Sith were said to inflict on their enemies. Now he had the displeasure of finding out for himself that none of those stories were embellished. As the Chiss felt the needle perforate his lips over and over again with a slick popping sound that he wished he could drown out, he clenched and unclenched his fists. A few frustrated tears escaped out of the corner of his terrified eyes, trickling down onto the slab. Soon he would be mute and only able to murmur his indecipherable sounds through a cage of stitches.

Due to the oppressively claustrophobic feeling of being muzzled with bloody needle and thread, Cryax felt his stomach churn. With his mouth sewn shut, vomiting would lead to certain death, so he reluctantly swallowed back his bile. As he could no longer move or speak, the bound Chiss retreated deeply into his own mind where he pondered just how he’d gotten to this hellhole in the first place.

Cryax grimly wondered if this infliction was a just dessert for henious crimes he himself had committed during his time with the Red Ravens. The Orrazerus warlord he’d eviscerated in the dark, those goons on Syvris he’d mowed down simply for laughing at him, the innocent Barabel hunters the Red Ravens had slaughtered wholesale during their invasion of Barab I. Perhaps he even deserved to be made into a ruin of a man, carved into ribbons, his mouth stitched like a hideous ragdoll. His glowing red eyes lingered on Kaine who seemed profoundly amused by the act of stitching up his mouth, an inky blackness dancing in his eyes as he gazed down at Cryax like a satisfied cat. No. He himself wouldn’t shoulder the blame for these torments. He would not willingly give Vornskr that kind of supremacy over his fate. This attack was personal, and he would deal with it as such.

Roiling hatred filled his ribcage, spanning out into his bound frame, his body almost bursting with it. The crime boss would find a way to destroy this man and tear down everything he loved. If a man like Vornskr were even capable of love. Cryax would be patient and wait for his opportunity, but he vowed to get revenge one day, and he would pursue this task with the zealotry of a missionary.

[member="Darth Vornskr"]
 

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