![[-]](https://www.horuset.com/images/igame/collapse.png "[-]")
Cruelty.
*The holo-image flickers to life, revealing the visage of a marred Twi'lek Sith, bearing a lightsaber scar that ran across his face from the bottom of his right cheek up to the top of his left brow. His expression was tense, carved in not anger but sheer frustration. His lips matched the rest as the recording came to life with a disgruntled growl.*
"Damn Zasa!"
*Roared, as something slams in the background. A sound of rock breaking followed suit.*
"This armor, this damned armor! I lost my leg for it and what? Not a scar, not a bruise, nothing! It's been weeks since we descended on this Gods forsaken world and what?! Thousand of my kin captured, barely so. Those who died? Less. Losses on our side? Dismal. Meanwhile I cast myself into this flesh-bound sarcophagus, not even allowed to feel the weight of a blaster bolt upon my body. And yet, I feel the pull...The rage, the sweet, sweet promise of slaughter. It's there, at the edge of my mind, calling me to rip into the enemy lines and annihiliate their lines. I can do it. And none can do it as I do. To flay their corpses, to break their wills...And yet..."
*Twi'lek strutted from left to right, his body was clad in a set of esotheric furs, scale and whatnot. It was truly an unbecoming attire for someone of his position, worse yet as he bore a visible hump on his back. His image becomng more feral with each passing word.*
"...Another Jedi, another death, none fell by my hand!" - his voice betrayed a level of accusation. - "For all the complaints, when moment requires we move in tandem, synchronised to bring death and yet these curs somehow manage to find a way to throw more shit on us. What is this? A cruel joke? I've survived Jenkusk, Atteno, Halloren and the madness of that cursed hag! And this? I have nothing to speak of. My Drakes? Viable. My speeders? Efficient. Everything works as intended. No hiccups, other than the utter slag of our momentum where we play with."
*Growled once more, his visage becoming static as he appears in the holo-feed.*
"I am...Unscathed. Nothing to speak of glory. Nothing to show for it. We do what we're supposed to and whatever these fools say, we're making moves. Reports? Written. Intel? Shared. The Council of Lords? Displeased, allegedly. There's only so much one man can't do while rest waits on doing nothing. Even that fop Rojarus is of use for once and here I thought that dog was bred for salons rather than warfare. Perhaps the Dark Lord treats his servants better than most would anticipate..."
*Mused. A moment of clarity pierced through the sleepless eyes of the Twi'lek. Yet, it was short lived as he sought to unwrap his chestplate.*
"This...Thing. This damned armor and that...That voice...The betrayer." - *muttered whlist the spiked shoulders came off, alongside fur collar.* - "I will hang any fool who'll suddenly feel empowered by Malgus' words. A ghost of the past that lingers over our future. Seven thousand. Seven thousand souls, that's what the Dark Council requires and I'll be damned to not see it done."
*An annoyed huff escaped his lips, as his armorweave finally came through. A second, two, three pass before he seems to regain composure.*
"Even in my Master's absence, I will not falter. I will not have the Echani, the Balmorran or that cracked blade of House Mharn take what is mine...Blood. The blood of the enemy. And I will drown the Republic in it, with their fleet or not. Their corpses will swing on the wind..."
*A roar finally escaped before the holo-recording came to an end by a violent telekinetic slam of the Twi'lek.*
