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Author Topic: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)  (Read 673 times)

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Offline AndronicaTopic starter

Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« on: December 01, 2012, 02:54:42 PM »
« Last Edit: June 01, 2014, 09:05:56 PM by Andronica »

Offline PoetoftheFallen

Re: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« Reply #1 on: December 01, 2012, 05:15:26 PM »
Voices lingered in the distance. They slurred into the sound of the machines whirring and the sources of light giving of their dull white noise. The room was barely illuminated, keeping most shrouded faces simply the next foul sentient structure to enter and scan the restrained human in mixed judgement. With each one, the male's brow furrowed, ensuring that they all obtained their venomous glare for their condoning of this operation. His illustrious blue eyes that portrayed an augmented hatred had yet to give a sign of weakness to the figures that sought to cause him the most foul form of grievances. His physical state was worn, but his spirit and mind remained painfully sharp as it continued an inundating spunk toward his sadistic captures.

"Your ranks must be filled with womp rats for Sith if this terrifying torturer is supposed to persuade me of becoming unwiser." A sarcastic smirk consumed his face as he stared down the bringer of his torment. A grunt of disgust escaped the hooded figure as did an arc from the tool that he'd been wielding in his left hand the whole time as he flicked it to energize. The smooth silver pole with rings at a far end screeched to life and pressed into the man's abdomen. He roared as the shock circumvented his body and he violently convulsed against the near vertical table he had had been locked into. His fists fought the thick cuffs around his wrist as did his feet against the set on his calves. His head reared as close to the hooded figure as the restraints would allow so he could stare directly into the being with insuperable solidarity to his personal malice.

"You'll come around soon, you filth. The young ones always do." A grim tone followed the removal of the instrument as the human exhaled the breath he'd gritted his teeth around during the event. The man had been playing this rigorous game of headstrong behavior pitted against the assortment of tools at the torturer's disposal for what seemed like eons but may have boiled down to fifteen to seventeen hours. Time is difficult to pay attention to when testing one's pain tolerance at regular intervals. 

The suspended man was quite a wreck after everything he had been exposed to. His chiseled jaw marked the end of the length hair that fell unkempt, allowing the black locks of hair to find every which way across his face to settle by being caked on with sweat. His cheeks were riddled with the aftermath of fists and the blunt end of whatever instrument was readily useful, leaving large bruises that seemed to dodge the low tipped nose that extended easy up the center of is face and settled into a subtle bridge. A patch of facial hair extended from his bottom lip down to his chin that was divided by a scar diagonally across the center. His neck had shown signs of being compressed by an other worldly power, cutting off his air circulation for periods of time. His top had been removed, exposing a trimmed and built chest that had suffered the burn of electricity against his bare abs. He remained in a tan set of trouser and boots that reached his knee caps and cut off before it. Various other scars and markings had riddled his chest and arms that had obviously been prior to this session, including an abrupt skin change tone from his fore arm down to his hand.

The torture's gaze broke it's fixation as the voices in the distance were now behind the table. He developed a most pleasing grin as he greeted the newcomers into his domicile.

"He will be perfect for the job." A faceless set of male words rang from behind.

"Simply a few more words of encouragement and this one will be on his way." The robed man cackled as his fingers tangled about one another while the figures came around, a Sith Lord and Lady. "I'll see to it that the infamous Ralfio Sa'aith acts as a good padawan should and serve the Lady well."

"Does she prefer to be served quartered or filleted?" The tooth grin shined from the table again while a set of gazes found the source of the ill willed comment.

Offline AndronicaTopic starter

Re: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« Reply #2 on: December 05, 2012, 01:58:25 AM »
The corner of her mouth had to be suppressed from rising into a mischievous little grin. It was interesting to see a mere human try to test her patience - although she too was one of his species and they were the more pliable of all possible Sith or Jedi. Their warm, soft insides and nothing on the outside tough enough to protect them, except for their wit and words. Even then there was a chance that could entice an early death. So while an aspiring Sith, it was good of her to learn the art of speech craft. Once only her bright golden eyes lingered over her his pale, battered human form. Then, as if a switch had been hit, Lythia turned sharply on her heel and took a step toward the raised table.

The torturer visibly flinched, but that was more his cowardly nature than her commanding presence -after all, she was still learning to wield her power, not to mention reign in her anger to reserve it for the appropriate time. Such pent up rage from her life was a useful tool for Zerah; but it was precious and could not be wasted. As if he were the one to receive a verbal or physical reprimand, the torturer watched in suspended animation, rigid and waited with baited breath as she leaned closer to the human on the table.

"How did you find your sorry carcass on this table?" she asked him bitterly, eyeing him for a second time. From the side, she extended her hand to the torturer. It took him a few seconds to realize she wanted the electric prod, and he handed it over wordlessly. Suddenly, a nauseous feeling swept over the torturer, and even for Lythia who had so much time to prepare herself and grow accustomed to the macabre presence of her very corrupt Lord. Zerash reached out and, in what could be viewed as a tender movement, placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. He clucked his tongue at the young woman from behind his partial mask, only those glowing eyes and scarred lips were visible.

"Come now, you will have all the time to question and prod him later. For now," said her master, looking to the torturer, "Have him cleaned up immediately and administer a stim pack or two. She has to test his mettle somehow and I won't have him falling apart. Keep the shock collar on him, as well. Lythia will expect him at her chambers before the day is out." His instructions given, Lord Zerash promptly left the room but did not signal for Lythia to follow after him. The torturer looked toward the prisoner then back to Lythia, as if confused or disappointed that he couldn't continue torture... as far as the Sith Lords would be aware of while still in the room. Perhaps he would have a last hurrah.


In the mean, Lythia went with her master to her chambers. Although beyond his little recommendation in the torturer's chamber during their very brief visit, he didn't say much else. It perturbed her that he was like a spectre despite the robes and armour that bulked up his size. Zerash gave her a stiff nod and then vanished down the hall way, likely to walk by the training grounds and terrorize or inspire some fledgling Sith on the way. When she was alone, Lythia huffed a sigh of relief and sat at her desk - sleek and black like the silk robes she wore. One of the many officers in the Academy had the unfortunate pace to walk past her room just then, and he was called in promptly.

"Go to the torturer's room and remind him that I want to have my new guard here before the night is out. If he takes too long I'll go there myself. Remind him to leave the shock collar on, too," she hissed in warning. The sentiment was echoed by Khem Val's own guttural growl as he advanced toward the officer, spurning him into a quick jog down the hall without further command.

Offline PoetoftheFallen

Re: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« Reply #3 on: December 05, 2012, 02:49:08 PM »
His visitors finally came into view, Ralfio getting a good look at the Sith Lady who strolled close enough to for her breath to tear across his face. The torturer showed his colors and cowardly hobbled out of his superior's way while she scanned across the padawan. The torturer observed with a skittish demeanor, almost looking afraid to see the outcome of the fierce female's judgement on the captured man. Her eyes narrowed as she observed and so did the padawan's, They perused each other like a set of animals searching for a reason not to tear each other apart. All Ralfio could come up with was the hollow gaze of her eyes and a cold face that seemed to be emulating a professional ruse. The man could sense the Lady was playing the part to look good in front of company, she was almost too well composed and a set of golden eyes were easy to give away a bluff.

"How did you find your sorry carcass on this table?" She hissed out and locked eyes for only a moment more before scanning about his flesh more.

"One of your bounty hunters interested me in a vacation to the shit-hole of the universe with a net and a club to the back of the head. I couldn't refuse." A sarcastic smile with furrowed darted in the female's eyes, a response she hadn't taken too kindly to as she reached her and out and beckoned the most recent instrument of spiritual demoralization. The shock rod growled and a venomous laugh escaped Ralfio. "I usually go out to dinner before we do these kind's of things."

"Come now, you will have all the time to question and prod him later." A hand interrupted the Lady's cruel intentions with a most vile presence. The Lord emerged from the shadows, a face known all too well to the Jedi. Sith Lord Zerash had saw fit to pull off his compulsive apprentice from advancing in her twisted pleasure, then shot a look at the excuse for a lackey who had slunk into his fear of the grotesque presence of the the Sith Lord. "For now, have  him cleaned up immediately and administer a stim pack or two. She has to test his mettle somehow and I won't have him falling apart. Keep the shock collar on him, as well. Lythia will expect him at her chambers before the day is out." His voice was cold and only carried the unbearable weight of command. There was no farce in his authority, only purpose that needed to be concluded. The daunting figure immediately turned face and was confirmed out of the confined of the room by the sound of the doors whirring open and closed. The torturer confirmed the members of the room and attempted to gather himself to carry out his orders.

"You heard the man, patch me up, then put the collar on!" Ralfio barked mockingly at the foul creature. The man went to turn quick before stopping himself abruptly.

"You can't fool me with your mind tricks, Jedi slime! You want me to unharness you so you can overpower me!" He hissed as he turned back enough to glare at the prisoner. Ralfio rolled his eyes and feigned a sigh.

"Oh dear, it appears he does have a brain cell in there, how ever could I overlook that." The padawan cocked his head and looked to the ceiling with exaggerated downtrodden expressions. "I dunno', hot stuff," He gestured toward the Sith Lady. "Looks like this is going to be a tough nut to crack." His every word was laced with malcontent. The torturer came back with a more disgusted hunch to his posture and a black, metallic collar. It stemmed several short diodes was all fueled by a core that rested on the inside of the device toward it's wearer's neck, out of reach of being tampered with.  "Come on, big boy, snap my spiffy new toy on." The padawan tipped his head up and tightened his shoulders around his neck. The torturer grumbled, knowing that the victim was making it difficult on purpose to be obnoxious. Just as the torturer's hands floated behind Ralfio's neck, the padawan swung his head with all the force of it being reared back and landed the crown of his temple directly on the foul creature's nose, the ordeal being accented with a sickening crack as the cartilage gave way and the minion fumbled backwards, dropping the collar and running into a table of vile instruments that scattered all over him, prodding him with poisons an serums as well as a types of heavy blunt objects. The stunned being twitched but gave no further intimations of coming to his feet.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but your worthless peon seems to be laying down on the job, and the boss said I needed a collar."


Offline AndronicaTopic starter

Re: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« Reply #4 on: December 05, 2012, 11:06:55 PM »
As time progressed, the young woman finally lost patience. Although she was a Sith and as such common practice was to exercise their intense emotions, namely passions like blood lust, rage, and other more destructive feelings, she also knew the importance of patience. It might seem like a silly Jedi thing to imagine being calm, as many Sith Lords appeared to have a wraith-like presence in a room which was more frightening than someone who would yell and administer a physical punishment. But Lythia had some trouble with patience, a virtue of all things. Perhaps it was because she knew this new life was a way to avenge her family and show that she, once born into slavery on Korriban, could one day rise to bring her oppressors to their knees.

Only once she could grasp her true potential though. Zerash seemed to sense this innately as he never had punished her outside of those tender, almost fatherly pieces of advice spoken in a condescending way. It was far better than being used as a toy and pitted against other newly graduated apprentices and acolytes. But if this torturer took too long and she merely waited in her chambers, maybe he would think it was all right to take advantage of her lack of action and manipulate her, or worse, discuss it with the others behind her back. Nothing else would likely provide him with a slow and painful death in public, if only to bolster the identity she needed to foster as a means to an end.

Thus, Lythia strode back to the torturer's chamber alone - she had instructed Khem to stay put, likely to harass any students who thought it would be interesting and fun to sneak into her chambers and snoop about at the whimsy of her master's enemies. Whether those students would ever come back in one piece, or at all, would depend on Khem's appetite.

So, she rounded the corner toward the torturer's chamber, only to find the robed and hooded Sith on the floor. A streak of blood lingered on the silvery steel desk, practically upset from his stumbling earlier, with blood further smeared along the floor and his hand. He hissed and whispered obscenities as if he were a serpent, content to coil and flicker his tongue rather than strike when wounded. It was almost amusing to see that an upstart padawan chained to a vertical table had been able to do this... which mean her master Zerash had something up his sleeve. It unnerved her to wonder what it was, and why he hadn't outright told her this padawan had potential. Not that she would ever say that aloud to the dark haired man.

"I see you've made a mess of things already," commented Lythia dryly, looking down at the torturer as if scolding him with her swirling golden eyes, like precious ore at its melting point. Seeing how many stim packs and poisons had likely cut through his robes while the instruments fell on and around him, the Sith Lady huffed an exhausted sigh as the torturer tried to get up - there was quite a bit in his system trying to cancel out the various positive and negative concoctions, and she doubted he would be helpful. Motioning by the door to one of the wary apprentices of the torturer, she called the lanky young man in.

"Get him up and ready for duty by the morning. Until then, have his useless self carted out of my sight." Once she had dismissed the pair, she ignored the goings-on behind her as her will was carried out. Her gaze instead drifted toward the shock collar on the floor, which she promptly picked up and ran her fingers over, ensuring no debris from the floor or blood from the torturer's nose had gotten onto the rather beautiful black metal.

"If you want something done right you've got to do it yourself, I suppose," murmured Lythia to herself, stepping forward and snapping open the collar to put on the padawan. By now she was about a foot or two away from him, hands extended on either side of his neck. Her eyes drifted toward him briefly as if advising he didn't act in the same way to her as he did the torturer. The  voltage of her lightning would make him yearn for the shock of a prod, which paled in comparison to what she could produce.

Offline PoetoftheFallen

Re: Rogue Hearts (LadyNox & Poet)
« Reply #5 on: December 19, 2012, 01:24:15 PM »
Ralfio watched the wreckage he helped ignite ensue it's path until the Lady Sith decided she'd had enough of the waiting game. After his snide comments, she continued to be peeved with the lack of progress of the situation as she began taking matters in her own hands, or rather the extent of those she could control. Another set of half wit minions came to aid the situation, dragging the torturer out to be dealt with in some manner or another. Whether he would be returning tomorrow or relieved of his position permanently didn't weigh to heavily on the padawan's conscious in the least. The Lady Sith then went about getting her hands dirty as she reached down to obtain the collar that was destined to be placed on the retrained man. He looked over his options to either make more of mess of things and deal with someone as powerful as a Sith equivalent to a grade above him, or simply let things pan out and see what paths of remained for his future. Death was not as attractive as the latter option.

She snapped the whirring device with a certain amount of ease as he held back the urge to stir up more animosity in his current peers. It made contact and it's initial charge was released, a quick but reassuring pulse of energy that rolled through his body. He cringed and a grunt escaped as his face twists. A minion looking on confirmed with the Lady that Ralfio was clear for release and the restraints are abruptly propped open. The padawan caught himself on his knees and locked on to the collar with what his fingers could wrap around. It zapped him again as a defense mechanism and he lurched backwards.

"I hope this thing comes with ID tags, wouldn't want you to lose me." He scowled up at the Lady as the shocks finally subsided. He places a hand on his knee and support himself upward and rolls his shoulders before pulling back into a sarcastic bow. He had noticed something through the whole scenario that had just transpired. Her act of putting on his collar had happened, but not without a certain amount of hesitation, a slight fear after seeing the damage caused to her henchman. If she could be swayed so easily by such mundane acts of arbitrary rebellion, what else could he stir up on the Sith Lady. That was a matter to be worked out on another time though, he would have to play the game to get anywhere from here. If freedom cost a few hurrahs of being the court jester and being paraded as a pride, it was less finite then acting as the self righteous and compulsive hero that was buried in a shallow landfill in the outer rim.

"Sir Ralfio, squire of the mutts now apparently, at your service, my request your name, oh malevolent Lady of Sith?" His exaggerated posture of his hands tossed to one side and beaming of his eyes toward the female Sith's cloaked face allowed something else to come into view, a dangerous and almost alluring charm behind his captors foul veil. His thoughts were still on the path of discontent toward the Lady Sith, but the new found discovery had a twinge of curiousity spark in a deep recess of his mind.

What did she have to hide behind that cloak? Was she a beautiful maiden gone foul and stirred on a devious path? Or was she the pride and joy of Sith that was supposed to grow into the throne? He would seek out whatever flaw made this Lady tick and exploit it.