Private What Lurks in the Shadows

[Irankir’as]

Imperial Palace of Bastion
Beast Menagerie
​

The Empire's menagerie on Bastion was one that, at first glance, filled the mind with wonder. The creatures contained within the sprawling halls and multiple levels varied wildly, and the enclosures that they occupied varied more still. The options for viewing were endless - especially when factoring in the aquatic exhibits and those that took visitors into what could only be described as a subterranean section, the halls dimmed to allow for easier viewing inside of the shadowy cells. As a result, it was rare indeed that any would venture deep enough into the menagerie to find those enclosures which were not yet occupied. Built specifically for the future usages of the Empire as their power swelled and overtook worlds with further oddities to be added to the collection.

It was in parts of the menagerie still sectioned off for future expansion where one cell had been made ready, set along a long corridor of empty exhibits staring in at plain, durasteel enclosures. The hall had the feeling of some of those that housed the creatures preferring underground biomes, as it was bathed in only the soft glow provided by the sub-lighting along the floors and walls, meant simply for any maintenance or cleaning staff. All with the exception of the final pane along the long corridor - the soft glow from within providing a pale pool of light across the floor and walls that surrounded the viewing port.

The creature had not been there long - though her ability to determine time would not stand up to any scrutiny. A week perhaps? Maybe more. In reality, it mattered not, because she didn't need to worry about how long she'd been there. Her life began the day she'd awoken in the belly of the Palace, tucked neatly into a cell far less luxurious than the one she now enjoyed and 'born' with shackles as her constant companion. For a time her life had been only tests; prodding and poking and self-congratulatory chatter from those who were her captors. Much as she could not follow the coming and going of days in this new enclosure, she'd been unable to cohesively follow the stream of time before.

She'd been created for a purpose, and that purpose was clear to her from the moment she'd taken her first breath. The first person she'd injured had been sent to provide her with food, perhaps not yet aware of what lay within the cage. Fingers with what amounted to bone spears for nails had dug into the poor being's arms as it had reached to slide her a tray. The creature had nearly bisected the arm it had caught, and from then on she'd been treated far less gently.

Lessons became the plan from that point forward. First, they taught her a name which she could answer to, and from there she was taught the most basic of communication. From then on it was made clear to her that she had been made with a purpose - and those who had given her the gift that was her life could just as easily snuff it should she forget her place. Obedience came easier then, and after a time she was slowly given more freedom... Slowly.

When her accommodations in the dungeons the Palace became ill-suited for their needs, her handlers had an enclosure in the menagerie prepared for her and set the creature there instead. A location where they could easily monitor her, while still allowing her a sense of comfort. The exhibit was the only one on the entire block that had been made up, and it was large enough to be considered a finely appointed suite... If one could overlook the fact that the items it had been furnished with were of a military-grade, and all bolted firmly to the ground. Other than the size of the enclosure itself, there was nothing luxurious about it - though knowing no better, the creature seemed pleased enough to have space and all that it encompassed.

It allowed her room to prowl unmolested, and though she still wore a collar securely around her throat that could deliver a nasty and debilitating shock should she get out of hand, this was as close to freedom as she'd known. This was, simply put, nirvana. So, though she may have paced the room like the caged animal that she was, it was with a sense of pride in what her good behaviour had earned her - no resentment to those who had placed her there.

If this was to be home, what a fine home it was.

Darth Carnifex​

 

[Darth Carnifex]

​

The Emperor's Meditation Chamber

The only sounds the Emperor could hear was that of his own heartbeat and the deep purposeful breaths he took from the crisp recycled air pumped into his lungs by the mechanical apparatus affixed to his face. His entire body was submerged in a thick stew of Bacta and other medicinal liquids, soothing his burnt skin and the scars which still plagued his body. He could see very little beyond the milky opaque bath which surrounded him, but he could sense each and every little thing that happened just outside. ​

​

He could sense the trepidation in the small woman's body as she approached, a tremor moving across her skin as the guards set aside their poled weapons to grant her entry, and the perspiration of fear that wetted her brow and the pits of her arms. She walked towards a small raised circular platform about a meter out from the bacta tank, falling to one knee as she bent her head low in subservience. Though she herself knew that she was observing all of the protocol and reverence that was owed to the Emperor of the Sith, she still feared that her own life could be snuffed out like a candle in a gentle breeze.​

​

It could very well have if the Emperor had so desired it. Fortunately for her, he did not. Instead, the waterline began to descend over the Emperor's body, revealing his face, his torso, and then the liquid drained into the pipe situated at the very bottom of the tank. No longer submerged, the Emperor removed the breathing apparatus from his face to reveal the deep scar tissue that marred his jawline, the grotesque visage of bone and teeth unhidden by flesh peering out from scarred cheek. ​

​

To her credit, there was only a little fear creeping into her voice as she spoke directly to the Emperor. "My Lord, the creature is ready."​

​

For a time, the Emperor was silent as the glass walls of the tank retreated up into the ceiling. Now free, the Emperor strode across the chamber to a raised shelf upon which sat several articles of clothing and began to dress. When he did finally speak, it was only after he had been clothed. "Very good, Doctor."​

​

And that was all, the Doctor again bowed and quickly retreated from the chamber. The Emperor did not even so much as glance at her as she did, his hands wrapped around a dark and angular respirator which connected to a supply of Bacta-treated oxygen concealed within his robe. Once it had been attached around his jaw did he depart the meditation chamber, letting the bacta-rich oxygen cycle into and out of his lungs during his journey deeper into the Palace. ​

​

Irankir’as ​

 

[Irankir’as]

There was little to be done with regards to marking the passage of time - though, the delivery of her meals had become a staple by which she could at least guess at the time. This day, however, had been different.

Her final meal from the previous day had come, and the enclosure's lights had dimmed as they normally did when they'd come to collect what was left of it - but when the lights had blazed to life the following morning, no meal had arrived. The creature's first assumption was that perhaps the lights were out of sync, though as the hours melted away and her stomach began to give the tell-tale growls of hunger, she suspected that the lights were not what was amiss.

The gentle whirl of the forced air as it circulated inside of the chamber and the gentle hum of the lights, recessed into the ceiling above her, where the only sounds to be heard each time that her pacing slowed. Otherwise, it was the measured slap of her bare feet against the durasteel which lined the floor of the cell, accompanied by the occasional scrape as the leathery tail that normally coiled and bounced around her ankles grazed the floor. It seemed to happen most frequently as she turned, the appendage swishing and bobbing to keep her balanced as all that mass swung around sharply on the balls of her feet to prowl back towards the opposite end of the cell.

While the minutes bled on, a rhythm began to form with those gentle steps and the soft scraping - and as it did, a sound began to emanate from the demon's form as it paced to the far side of the enclosure then back. It started soft enough that it was lost among the quiet patter of feet, but as the pacing continued the sound rose, and the cacophony that was the creature's song was... Terrible. There was a rhythm there, and the sounds that radiated from a broken place within her throat could have, perhaps in some other life, been lovely... Hypnotic even. But this? No.

Though the progenitors of her messy genetics may, in some form, have been able to create such sounds as would soothe and coax those who heard them, this creature could produce only hideously shrill wails - none of which seemed to hit her own ears in the way it did others. So while she paced the cell, her eyes downturned to watch as the balls of her feet came to land upon the floor, the sound of her 'singing' reverberated endlessly against the walls and bounced back to her, making her lips curl up tightly at the corners.

The beast continued on this way, pacing and humming, spinning on the balls of her feet as the weight of her tail trailed along behind her to keep her steady, for quite some time. Until the sound of heavy booted feet could be heard, causing her to freeze. The humming died in her throat as her eyes snapped upwards, darting between the only entrance into the chamber and the hall with the windows looking into the enclosure. Whatever this was, it was not the diminutive woman that had been visiting her of late, providing her food and lessons, taking samples of her blood and whatever else she'd fancied.

With a soft flick of her tail, the creature moved to put her back towards one of the bland white walls of the cell, allowing her to keep eyes on both the window and the door. One hand rose to gently trace the ends of the dagger-like claws that tipped three of her fingers along the collar at her throat, anticipating that whatever it was that approached would have the same access to the small black box that provided her with shocks in the past... She didn't like new visitors.

Darth Carnifex​