Post by Khaosraptor on Nov 12, 2021 18:22:58 GMT
There was an awkwardness to this space, like motion without movement, like direction without destination, just a nauseating plunge of the throat into the stomach. A voice? His own voice clawing its way through his throat like a feral raptorian that knew no mercy for its prey. His clenched teeth fought to release his bellow as his eyes forced themselves open in a desperate attempt to be free once more.
There was nothing; no substance or light for which to reach out to, just the vacuum that held his imprisoned body within its iron grasp.
Then suddenly, he was floating. Not above the surface, but below, suspended in a verdant ooze that seemed to cling to his form. His eyes opened wide, searching for signs of texture or substance beyond the murky green, but to no avail. He wanted to reach out, to slash away the clouded horizon and venture beyond its shackles but he could not.
His head swiveled to the right, gazing past the masses of tubes and monitoring gear that were correcting his vitals, past the viscous cell and down upon his mangled body.
Where there had once been strong, Echotian muscle, now festered with machinery and medical equipment. His severed arms, nowhere to be seen as limp stumps floated uselessly at his sides. His legs had met a similar fate, though he could not see beyond his knees, he could only assume the worst.
Thoughts of betrayal lingered on his memory, lurking in the shadows of his subconscious, just as those he had bested mere days before had done; preying on his honour, feasting on his faith. He had savoured their blood-choked screams even as he lay dying on the cold tile floors. The Echo surprised himself with a boiling chuckle, the noise from within his dreary tank causing strange reverberations.
---////-------------------/////---/////////////------------
Taox raised a brow at the sight before him; the large tank containing the newest addition to his corpse collection, its occupant laughing as if they had just told a joke. No stimuli had been provided, nor had he had a chance to interface with the so called ‘Drahn Varos’, and yet the Echotian seemed pleased with himself in some way.
“How long has he been here?”,Taox asked no one in particular, though his question carried throughout the dimly lit room to the others without issue.
One of the menials working nearby turned, medical tablet in hand, and approached the Exemplar, handing over the data without hesitation.
“Only a few days, Volras. Seems to have been a victor in some off-the-books duel. Carved up his attackers pretty good as well.”
The menial motioned to the tablet, and Taox inspected the photos taken from the scene. Drahn’s body; unrecognizable beneath the thick layer of blood that covered his nearly bisected torso, and the four others that lay around him, each with their own fatal wounds. Taox was impressed, the marks on Drahn's body had been clearly made by blade, but his adversaries had all been undone by hand. Throats, eyes, stomachs, all torn open and strewn about like some macabre piece of art.
“Come, lets see what our friend has to say for himself, shall we?”
---////----------////--------------////---------
Drahn’s attention was suddenly ushered forward as the glass before him cleared, revealing two Echotian figures standing before the tank. One stood dressed in white, a medic of some kind, though they kept their face hidden behind a surgical mask. This one's eyes studied him, tracing his features and making notes on a small pad they held in their lower hands. The other, taller than the first, wore a blue House of Valour cloak and warmail, a clear sign of his rank and status. His face was clear, unscarred and unblemished by war or strife, and his piercing blue eyes made Drahn’s spine tingle.
After a moment, Taox pressed a small node on the side of the tank, before speaking aloud.
“Greetings, Drahn’Va’Ra, my name is Taox Voll of House Valour. How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?”
The figure's voice cut through the cradling fluids, allowing Drahn to hear clearly, though he was unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t considered his situation, almost believing it to be a dream or hallucination before death, but he shook his head.
“No”.
The mechanical voice resonated from the base of the tank, cold and hollow, but allowing the suspended Echotian within to be heard.
Taox nodded, keeping his eyes trained on Drahn’s, never wavering or faltering. This was an important show of dominance, and Taox would not miss his chance.
“Do you know who you are?”
Drahn did not hesitate this time, simply speaking aloud and letting the machine answer for him.
“My name is Drahn Varos, Kallix’ra of House Wraith.”
“And do you know why you are here?”
Drahn’s vision flashed to the dark, blood-soaked room and then his vision snapped back to Taox.
“I was defeated.”
Taox smiled.
“You were victorious, Drahn. Those cowards should have made quick work of you; should have slit your throat and made off with your glory and titles but you, vicious and feral, Drahn, slew them all.”
“So they did not succeed?”
Taox turned the data-pad in his grasp and flicked the images onto the glass before Drahn, the holo-projections flashing against the glass before fading after a moment.
“You slew four of your fellow Wraiths without mercy, for they deserved none. But you, Drahn, where too stubborn to die.”
“So this is punishment then? Am I to be held hostage for my actions; meant to live in this space as penance for the crime of survival?”
“You think too harshly, Drahn. This is no jail, and you are no prisoner. You are my honoured guest, nothing more.”
Drahn watched for any signs of deceit, though he could find no lies on the Valour’s face; either Taox was telling the truth, or was an incredibly skilled liar. Either way, Drahn squinted inquisitively at the Echo beyond the glass.
“So why have you brought me here?”
Taox approached the cylindrical tank, his face only a few feet from Drahn’s, separated by only a few inches of glass.
“You represent a unique opportunity, Drahn. My team and I have been working day and night to engineer warriors born of science, with bodies manufactured by the most dangerous minds of the galaxy, and piloted by the minds of those whose journey ended too quickly. In your current state, you could be allowed to die; unplugged from your life support, you could be allowed to simply pass on. I can assure you there would be no pain, only a heavy dreariness that would settle over you until you simply died.”
Taox waited for a moment, ready to gauge the Echo’s reaction to what he was about to say
“Or, you could join me here, and become part of my undying Shikari. Warriors who persevered beyond the veil of death, and emerged ready to serve once more.”
Drahn’s face was likewise difficult to read, a side effect on the part of his training, combined with the circumstances of his situation. He had always known he had been born for greater things than House Wraith, and now was his chance to take fate into his own hands. Within the confines of his mind, a single phrase eagerly growled forth from the tank.
“When can we begin?”
There was nothing; no substance or light for which to reach out to, just the vacuum that held his imprisoned body within its iron grasp.
Then suddenly, he was floating. Not above the surface, but below, suspended in a verdant ooze that seemed to cling to his form. His eyes opened wide, searching for signs of texture or substance beyond the murky green, but to no avail. He wanted to reach out, to slash away the clouded horizon and venture beyond its shackles but he could not.
His head swiveled to the right, gazing past the masses of tubes and monitoring gear that were correcting his vitals, past the viscous cell and down upon his mangled body.
Where there had once been strong, Echotian muscle, now festered with machinery and medical equipment. His severed arms, nowhere to be seen as limp stumps floated uselessly at his sides. His legs had met a similar fate, though he could not see beyond his knees, he could only assume the worst.
Thoughts of betrayal lingered on his memory, lurking in the shadows of his subconscious, just as those he had bested mere days before had done; preying on his honour, feasting on his faith. He had savoured their blood-choked screams even as he lay dying on the cold tile floors. The Echo surprised himself with a boiling chuckle, the noise from within his dreary tank causing strange reverberations.
---////-------------------/////---/////////////------------
Taox raised a brow at the sight before him; the large tank containing the newest addition to his corpse collection, its occupant laughing as if they had just told a joke. No stimuli had been provided, nor had he had a chance to interface with the so called ‘Drahn Varos’, and yet the Echotian seemed pleased with himself in some way.
“How long has he been here?”,Taox asked no one in particular, though his question carried throughout the dimly lit room to the others without issue.
One of the menials working nearby turned, medical tablet in hand, and approached the Exemplar, handing over the data without hesitation.
“Only a few days, Volras. Seems to have been a victor in some off-the-books duel. Carved up his attackers pretty good as well.”
The menial motioned to the tablet, and Taox inspected the photos taken from the scene. Drahn’s body; unrecognizable beneath the thick layer of blood that covered his nearly bisected torso, and the four others that lay around him, each with their own fatal wounds. Taox was impressed, the marks on Drahn's body had been clearly made by blade, but his adversaries had all been undone by hand. Throats, eyes, stomachs, all torn open and strewn about like some macabre piece of art.
“Come, lets see what our friend has to say for himself, shall we?”
---////----------////--------------////---------
Drahn’s attention was suddenly ushered forward as the glass before him cleared, revealing two Echotian figures standing before the tank. One stood dressed in white, a medic of some kind, though they kept their face hidden behind a surgical mask. This one's eyes studied him, tracing his features and making notes on a small pad they held in their lower hands. The other, taller than the first, wore a blue House of Valour cloak and warmail, a clear sign of his rank and status. His face was clear, unscarred and unblemished by war or strife, and his piercing blue eyes made Drahn’s spine tingle.
After a moment, Taox pressed a small node on the side of the tank, before speaking aloud.
“Greetings, Drahn’Va’Ra, my name is Taox Voll of House Valour. How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?”
The figure's voice cut through the cradling fluids, allowing Drahn to hear clearly, though he was unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t considered his situation, almost believing it to be a dream or hallucination before death, but he shook his head.
“No”.
The mechanical voice resonated from the base of the tank, cold and hollow, but allowing the suspended Echotian within to be heard.
Taox nodded, keeping his eyes trained on Drahn’s, never wavering or faltering. This was an important show of dominance, and Taox would not miss his chance.
“Do you know who you are?”
Drahn did not hesitate this time, simply speaking aloud and letting the machine answer for him.
“My name is Drahn Varos, Kallix’ra of House Wraith.”
“And do you know why you are here?”
Drahn’s vision flashed to the dark, blood-soaked room and then his vision snapped back to Taox.
“I was defeated.”
Taox smiled.
“You were victorious, Drahn. Those cowards should have made quick work of you; should have slit your throat and made off with your glory and titles but you, vicious and feral, Drahn, slew them all.”
“So they did not succeed?”
Taox turned the data-pad in his grasp and flicked the images onto the glass before Drahn, the holo-projections flashing against the glass before fading after a moment.
“You slew four of your fellow Wraiths without mercy, for they deserved none. But you, Drahn, where too stubborn to die.”
“So this is punishment then? Am I to be held hostage for my actions; meant to live in this space as penance for the crime of survival?”
“You think too harshly, Drahn. This is no jail, and you are no prisoner. You are my honoured guest, nothing more.”
Drahn watched for any signs of deceit, though he could find no lies on the Valour’s face; either Taox was telling the truth, or was an incredibly skilled liar. Either way, Drahn squinted inquisitively at the Echo beyond the glass.
“So why have you brought me here?”
Taox approached the cylindrical tank, his face only a few feet from Drahn’s, separated by only a few inches of glass.
“You represent a unique opportunity, Drahn. My team and I have been working day and night to engineer warriors born of science, with bodies manufactured by the most dangerous minds of the galaxy, and piloted by the minds of those whose journey ended too quickly. In your current state, you could be allowed to die; unplugged from your life support, you could be allowed to simply pass on. I can assure you there would be no pain, only a heavy dreariness that would settle over you until you simply died.”
Taox waited for a moment, ready to gauge the Echo’s reaction to what he was about to say
“Or, you could join me here, and become part of my undying Shikari. Warriors who persevered beyond the veil of death, and emerged ready to serve once more.”
Drahn’s face was likewise difficult to read, a side effect on the part of his training, combined with the circumstances of his situation. He had always known he had been born for greater things than House Wraith, and now was his chance to take fate into his own hands. Within the confines of his mind, a single phrase eagerly growled forth from the tank.
“When can we begin?”