Andreus Makaryk
SWRP Writer
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- Jun 28, 2010
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The assassin had made Kai into a freak.
Few dared stare. Fear of the assassin kept most in line. Yet, there were few more conspicuous new arrivals to the Dark Jedi Temple than the assassin's new project. Kai knew he was little more than a pet, a slave at best. The assassin had told him otherwise, yet Kai did not believe those assurances. His bones crunched as he walked, emanating sickly crunching and cracking sounds with each step. LOUD crunching and cracking sounds, that drew the notice of those near, even if those near knew not to stare and draw attention to it for fear and/or respect for the assassin. Yet, with each step, dark energy seared through Kai's skeleton, all but searing it and glazing it back together again. A wonder his bone had not slagged, melted, re-slagged, re-melted into obsidian by now. Perhaps because obsidian was more brittle than the strength of the Dark Side would allow. Nevertheless, each footfall burned, hurt like walking through the caldera of an actively erupting volcano. Most of his hair follicles had begun to burn away from the mold of the Dark Side that held him together and prevented his body from simply falling apart due to the stresses placed upon it by walking. The pain sustained him; without the pain, he would have not the rage to tap into the fell energy that swirled around him, the fell energy that held his body together, the only force that prevented his organs from shutting down and his bone from splintering apart under the stress. Each step was a searing struggle, a monumental undertaking. His nimble speed as a seventeen-year-old boy was completely gone, having been sacrificed by the pain he now endured. Who could have known that one so weak could be made to endure so much? The pain that seared his body also meant he had the Force signature roughly equivalent to the size of a small moon. Another attribute that tended to attract notice, if not overtly.
Dark energy. This place was rife with it. Kai knew not what this place was, and he didn't ask. He had not spoken to the assassin that abducted him, crushed him, since he had first suggested that the two leave his former home. There was no point. His black speech was not worth the pain it caused. Occasionally, very rarely, the assassin had possibly seen fit to speak to his freak on the journey to whatever this place was, mostly for purposes of instruction, but Kai had never answered, at least not verbally. Any acknowledgment that the assassin had received had been more by physical act than verbal. Kai simply drew upon the dark energy that bound this place, allowed it to feed him. He was hungry, and he drank his fill from the aura of this place, whatever it was. Pain that should have sent a normal sentient at least into seizure spiked through Kai's body, partly from walking, and partly from the aura of this place. The pain kept Kai alive, awake, aware.
Still, however, Kai was clueless. He still did not know why the assassin preferred to torture, rather than kill him. It made no sense; he had never fought in his life. Though pain gave him strength, he was utterly defenseless; a mere slave trained here could crush him easily, and splatter his blackened remains all over the walls, though the assassin had already done so (though he seemed to have been content with splattering his family all over the place, not him). The question burned through Kai's mind, though for hours he had refused to ask it. But refusing to ask simply made it burn through his shell of a mind even more. Though he drew upon the Dark Side for sustenance and survival, the pursuit of raw power seemed pointless on its face to him. Entering random households to kill people for fun seemed pointless to him. He had never needed such power, and even if he had it, he still would have been completely crushed by the assassin's random crime spree. To him, the only point of his continued existence was to serve as the assassin's pet project, nothing more. It still did not seem like a highly desirable existence.
He must know.
The freak strained; the dark energies of this place funneled through him in such a manner as to draw the attention of a couple insolent, rubbernecking slaves. His jaw practically melted in searing pain as he began to open it, courtesy of the tortures inflicted upon him by the assassin (and this was just the beginning; the freak suspected the future held far, far worse). Yet, through pain, strength. The fell energies of this unknown place funneled through his glazed-over vocal chords, seared them again. Rot and death welled up in the freak's throat. The energy he drew for his sustenance amplified the expenditure required to speak; he drew a deep breath of air into his lungs, only to feel like he had doused his diaphragm in kerosene and lit it ablaze. The fresh oxygen was...anathema. He forced the air, tainted by entering his body, back out through the mouth; so fouled had it become that lesions formed on the inside of his mouth that blistered and burst, splattering thickened, half-coagulated, fully-blackened blood on the insides of his mouth. A few drops thereof dribbled out of his mouth, down his cracked lips, as he uttered his black speech. Though those who were present were better trained to resist its effects, if there were any weak-minded slaves around, they probably went running unless they feared the assassin more. The local wildlife did not know better. Birds scattered, snakes slithered, and insects skittered to escape the black, fell speech. The smell of rot permeated the air as a single raspy, yet powerfully uttered, word reverberated throughout the environment. The detritus of the Force that was the freak must know.
"Why?"
Few dared stare. Fear of the assassin kept most in line. Yet, there were few more conspicuous new arrivals to the Dark Jedi Temple than the assassin's new project. Kai knew he was little more than a pet, a slave at best. The assassin had told him otherwise, yet Kai did not believe those assurances. His bones crunched as he walked, emanating sickly crunching and cracking sounds with each step. LOUD crunching and cracking sounds, that drew the notice of those near, even if those near knew not to stare and draw attention to it for fear and/or respect for the assassin. Yet, with each step, dark energy seared through Kai's skeleton, all but searing it and glazing it back together again. A wonder his bone had not slagged, melted, re-slagged, re-melted into obsidian by now. Perhaps because obsidian was more brittle than the strength of the Dark Side would allow. Nevertheless, each footfall burned, hurt like walking through the caldera of an actively erupting volcano. Most of his hair follicles had begun to burn away from the mold of the Dark Side that held him together and prevented his body from simply falling apart due to the stresses placed upon it by walking. The pain sustained him; without the pain, he would have not the rage to tap into the fell energy that swirled around him, the fell energy that held his body together, the only force that prevented his organs from shutting down and his bone from splintering apart under the stress. Each step was a searing struggle, a monumental undertaking. His nimble speed as a seventeen-year-old boy was completely gone, having been sacrificed by the pain he now endured. Who could have known that one so weak could be made to endure so much? The pain that seared his body also meant he had the Force signature roughly equivalent to the size of a small moon. Another attribute that tended to attract notice, if not overtly.
Dark energy. This place was rife with it. Kai knew not what this place was, and he didn't ask. He had not spoken to the assassin that abducted him, crushed him, since he had first suggested that the two leave his former home. There was no point. His black speech was not worth the pain it caused. Occasionally, very rarely, the assassin had possibly seen fit to speak to his freak on the journey to whatever this place was, mostly for purposes of instruction, but Kai had never answered, at least not verbally. Any acknowledgment that the assassin had received had been more by physical act than verbal. Kai simply drew upon the dark energy that bound this place, allowed it to feed him. He was hungry, and he drank his fill from the aura of this place, whatever it was. Pain that should have sent a normal sentient at least into seizure spiked through Kai's body, partly from walking, and partly from the aura of this place. The pain kept Kai alive, awake, aware.
Still, however, Kai was clueless. He still did not know why the assassin preferred to torture, rather than kill him. It made no sense; he had never fought in his life. Though pain gave him strength, he was utterly defenseless; a mere slave trained here could crush him easily, and splatter his blackened remains all over the walls, though the assassin had already done so (though he seemed to have been content with splattering his family all over the place, not him). The question burned through Kai's mind, though for hours he had refused to ask it. But refusing to ask simply made it burn through his shell of a mind even more. Though he drew upon the Dark Side for sustenance and survival, the pursuit of raw power seemed pointless on its face to him. Entering random households to kill people for fun seemed pointless to him. He had never needed such power, and even if he had it, he still would have been completely crushed by the assassin's random crime spree. To him, the only point of his continued existence was to serve as the assassin's pet project, nothing more. It still did not seem like a highly desirable existence.
He must know.
The freak strained; the dark energies of this place funneled through him in such a manner as to draw the attention of a couple insolent, rubbernecking slaves. His jaw practically melted in searing pain as he began to open it, courtesy of the tortures inflicted upon him by the assassin (and this was just the beginning; the freak suspected the future held far, far worse). Yet, through pain, strength. The fell energies of this unknown place funneled through his glazed-over vocal chords, seared them again. Rot and death welled up in the freak's throat. The energy he drew for his sustenance amplified the expenditure required to speak; he drew a deep breath of air into his lungs, only to feel like he had doused his diaphragm in kerosene and lit it ablaze. The fresh oxygen was...anathema. He forced the air, tainted by entering his body, back out through the mouth; so fouled had it become that lesions formed on the inside of his mouth that blistered and burst, splattering thickened, half-coagulated, fully-blackened blood on the insides of his mouth. A few drops thereof dribbled out of his mouth, down his cracked lips, as he uttered his black speech. Though those who were present were better trained to resist its effects, if there were any weak-minded slaves around, they probably went running unless they feared the assassin more. The local wildlife did not know better. Birds scattered, snakes slithered, and insects skittered to escape the black, fell speech. The smell of rot permeated the air as a single raspy, yet powerfully uttered, word reverberated throughout the environment. The detritus of the Force that was the freak must know.
"Why?"
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