Topic: Restless Machines

HX-909-A

Date: 2008-06-22 12:49 EST
With every day that passed, and still no orders about the imminent war, both the Legion of Chains, and more importantly their commander, were becoming increasingly restless. It was only a matter of time before someone did something stupid, and today it appeared was that day.

The machine commander was sparring with two of it's Elites, blows of sword on scythe echoing across the Association compound. Hex brought it's scythes up, crossed to block the blows from both men, who by now were panting heavily.

Where Verishia selected her Elites for their power and ferocity, Hex had chosen it's personal guard for their ability to think calmly under fire, and they were pushing themselves to the limit to fend off Hex's increasingly furious sweeps of it's scythe-blades. One of the pair finally made a mistake, and ended up with the back of one of Hex's blades swept into his chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him flying.

Hex immediately called a halt to the fight, not because of the Elite however; his injury was minor, bruising to help remind him to react faster next time. No, Hex had stopped because a cordon of three soldiers had approached the training circle and waited to address their commander.

Insectoid eyes swung over and Hex nodded to the Elites, #See to your wounds, inform the others that we will be conducting another flight drill this afternoon.# The two men bowed, one holding his side gingerly, then both turned and moved off to the barracks.

Hex finally turned to the three waiting soldiers, at a nod from the machine, their leader strode forwards and saluted, "Sir! There's been an incident in the camp barracks. Four men are dead and eight wounded."

Hex's eyes flashed briefly and the machine stood taller, #Show me.# Hex spoke simply, it's patience was wearing thing lately, and it had already calculated the probability that something would happen, just not this quickly.

All three men saluted, then turned and led the machine out of the main compound and through the large camp of tents south of the compound, the main encampment of the Legion of Chain. Everywhere it looked, Hex could see the telltale signs of an army stirred for war, but forced into extended delays in camp. Sentries here were drunk or sleeping, over there a circle of soldiers played a gambling game, and there another circle indicated a sparring fight.

Hex and it's detail moved past these minor infractions and towards a new circle, this one held back by more alert soldiers. The area was roped off, and as soon as the crowd parted, Hex was beginning to theorize what had happened.

Within one of the larger mess tents, a fight had broken out. While this in itself might not attract notice in such a large encampment; in this fight someone must have drawn a weapon other than their fists. Broken furniture was smeared with blood here and there, and four corpses were lined up to the side of the tent. Another eight were being tended to by Suede's physicians, and from their expressions it seemed that the two most seriously wounded might not survive.

Hex paused for one moment to consider the scene, then turned to the guard captain. #Obtain statements from everyone involved, then bring those responsible to me. I must speak to Lord Brutin immediately, after which I will be waiting in the compound, at the punnishment circle.#

The machine spoke no other words, merely turned and strode quickly back towards the compound. When two drunken soldiers were slow to get out of it's way, Hex simply swung the back of it's scythe-limbs and knocked them out of the way. Thus far, noone had ever seen the machine act like this, and those who knew little about machines would swear that their commander was furious...

Verishia Duket

Date: 2008-06-25 17:33 EST
Verishia stepped quickly to the high guillotine set off to the side of the parade grounds, the assembly area was nearby. Behind her followed her score of warriors, three condemned criminals in tow. She stood by and waited patiently as the men were tied down to stocks, on display for the entire army and then she turned with her troops and started the Progress.

She stepped quickly, checking guards, passing groups of men beside fires or in the field training. Occasionally she would stop and point to a man who would then be grabbed and put in the middle of her warriors to stand numbly before starting off again at their brisk pace.

She halted beside two guards to the weapons locker for the fighting slaves and had both of them added to the group, replacement guards being found from those milling around nearby. She also found several officers, mostly drunk while on duty, laughing or gambling with their men.

Finally when the number in the middle of her men numbered fifty she set off and went back to the Guillotine, the men in the middle started to stir but Verishia never looked back over her shoulder and her men never allowed any of those in their charge escape or cause a problem.

Finally they were made to stand in a group as her men sectioned them off, Verishia herself remained silent and watched as the rest of the army, free and slave both, gathered to see what happened next.

HX-909-A

Date: 2008-06-26 04:15 EST
The mechanical praying mantis stepped out of it's lab, looking around the compound and the assembled soldiers. Hex's original frame was still undergoing refit and repairs, so Hex used the battle drone body constructed to fight Travanix, the dull silver and chrome glinting in the fading sun.

Hex strode over to the small dias where Verishia and the three condemmed waited. While Verishia and her Elites were rounding up prisoners, Hex's own men had distributed orders to the entire Legion's camps. Every soldier was to assemble in ranks before the various viewing stations which had been set up the night before. Hex would address the entire Legion, to ensure that every single soldier would witness what happened here.

The machine needed no microphone to amplify it's words to all assembled, #Soldiers of the Legion of Chain! No matter your origins, slave or mercenary, you are now all warriors of the Slaver's Association. Some of you fight for your freedom, and all of you fight for pay and glory. However, all of you must all fight with honor.#

Hex walked over in front of the three condemmed, two slaves and one merc. #These men discarded their honor, and because of their actions, eight of their comrades are now dead. This evening these three will join them.#

The machine turned to the first man, #Nevius, you are a slave warrior. You are charged with the murder of eight of your comrades. The sentence is death. You are permitted last words.#

Hex paused, but the man remained silent. The machine nodded, then raised it's scythe high, then in one motion beheaded the slave. A small spray of blood stained Hex's blade and thorax. Then the machine moved to the second slave. #Jenkis, you are a slave warrior. You are charged with the murder of eight of your comrades. The sentence is death. You are permitted last words.#

This man showed fear, his eyes tearing up as he faced his end. Hex spared no time and beheaded him instantly, then turned to address the waiting soldiers and visual pickups. #To every slave warrior of the homestone of Gor, I will say this but once. Cowardice will not be tolerated of you. Any man who faces death with fear, will be shown no mercy.#

Finally Hex stood before the last man, the merc. This man stared defiantly at the machine that would end his life. #Cerian, you are a free warrior. You are charged with the murder of eight of your comrades. The sentence is death. You are permitted last words.#

Cerian nodded and opened his mouth to speak, coughed once, then continued, "I want it known I acted foolishly. I regret this. I am ready to face my fate, but I want to ask that my wife and son be told I died in battle. I want them to remember me as a soldier, as a warrior." Finally he nodded and looked back to Hex, "I am ready."

The machine nodded, #Your wishes will be honored. You will be buried as a warrior.# Then the bloody scythe raised. As it came down, the man finally closed his eyes before his head was taken, an expression of peace etched permanently on his face.

Hex shook the blood from it's blade, then turned to face the crowd. #The sentences have been carried out for these. However, there is more to address. Tonight I wish to inform you that we have been given our orders. In two days we march for war.#

Hex moved to the center of the dias, glancing at Verishia. #In times of battle, discipline must be maintained, or all are lost. Any man who shirks his duty to every other member of this Legion must be made an example of. The men you see here are charged with dereliction of duty, from transgressions ranging from intoxication on duty, to leaving one's post without authorization. For these crimes there are to be no excuses, no appeals. For each man here, the sentence is five lashes, with the neural whip.#

Finally the machine turned to Verishia, #Commander Verishia, you and your Elites are asked to carry out these sentences.# The bloody limb gestured to a table where a cloth was pulled back to reveal twenty-one neural whips, a device similar in construction to the Gorean kurt; only when these whips touched flesh, every nerve in the body was stimulated with agonizing pain. No permanent physical damage, but anyone struck by one of these weapons would remember the event for the rest of their lives.

Hex watched and waited for the punnishment to be carried out.

Verishia Duket

Date: 2008-06-29 20:06 EST
Verishia stood mutely as the three men were executed, she let her mind wander since those fools did not deserve to be remembered in life or death and when Hex granted the last warrior's wishes of being hailed a war hero she silently sneered. He deserved no such thing but she had no illusions, Hex was commander for a reason, not her.

As Hex spoke of twenty one neural whips and fifty men to be punished she realized the entire Legion was watching them and she snapped a glance at her men who immediately snapped to attention and held themselves proudly. As the sentence was given out she motioned and watched as her men filed through to take whip and square off with their charges. As the last man grabbed his whip and looked at her she came out of her fog and saw the last whip lying there, waiting for her.

She had not whipped Nadine because she didn't know how, but Gun had been taught how to whip by Brutin himself and she had listened. She stepped forward and picked up the metallic handle, feeling the whip uncoil carelessly around her hand. She had only to spread this across the unwilling flesh of her prisoner and he would never again be derelict.

She turned to her two men, each one of her troops had two men to discipline but this left four pairs left over, her most energetic and rested men would finish them off. Five lashes each. She closed her eyes as the first lash fell on the criminals and suffering, despair and pain flowed over her. She staggered slightly but she held herself rigid. She had to control herself or risk getting drunk on the pure raw emotions flowing around her.

She raised her arm and threw her hip into the first lash, the unsuspecting man had seen what had happened to the other men but nothing had prepared him for her attentions, the blow cut into him and he screamed, her face lighting up in ecstasy, she was too close for this, it was heady.

She lifted her arm again and let it fall, the scream and then she moved her arm back for the next strike, she wanted more screams, more pain, more suffering, she needed more. She hit harder, merciless, uncaring, she needed it, deep inside her the pain and suffering bottled up and became a hard core within her, giving her strength.

It did not help she was an Empath, the emotions were so raw and thick you didn't have to be, not now, fifteen thousand men stood by and added their own emotions to the mix and suddenly her arm was immobilized. She became aware that one of her men was clutching her arm, he was taller than her, he used one hand but his face was grim, he had taken no pleasure in stopping her.

"That is the seventh stroke." He said calmly and she nodded, turning to the next man who was looking over his shoulder in a dead panic.

"Pick four men to finish off this lot." She heard herself say, barely aware of her own thoughts and feelings, she just wanted to lay snuggled in the pain and suffering. She had to have more, it was starting to recede. The Punishments were coming to a close, leaving her hollow inside, desiring more.

She put full effort into it, wringing out every last ounce of despair and suffering she could but it was small consequence, there just wasn't enough suffering to put it back where it had been minutes ago. Arm raised, and fallen, over and over again, pure joy on her face as she relished every stroke, the results coming after the strike.

Then suddenly she was hit from the side and she fell heavily to the ground, completely unprepared for the attack and she realized she had gone away again. She struggled to regain her breath as she looked up into the face of her lieutenant. "Garm! Get off of me!" She spat at him but his eyes blazed. He was committed.

"That was the seventh stroke, you are killing him!" He said fiercely and she froze. She had lost control twice now, and in front of the entire Legion. She looked over to the man she had been punishing, he was a quivering mess. So be it, he would never slack again. She looked up at Garm, he was still on top of her, she could feel his body, his breath and then suddenly she became angry.

"Get off of me!" She hissed and Garm got up. She let go of the whip, it was no longer necessary and she stood up, glancing about, everyone was watching her. She looked at them back, she would not back down to anyone, regardless of losing control or not.

Hex regarded her coolly but that meant nothing, he always regarded her coolly, functional, pragmatic. She couldn't help but feel like she had disgraced him. She resumed her post and scowled out over the assembled troops, daring any one of them to challenge her.

If they didn't do their jobs maybe Hex would give her someone else to play with.

HX-909-A

Date: 2008-06-30 13:57 EST
Hex watched impassively as Verishia's Elites carried out the order, but Hex watched a little more intently as Verishia herself took up the last neural whip and began.

When you thought like a machine, single events like this often took on multiple purposes, and this was no exception. Hex had been... concerned for a while now with the seeming ease that Verishia could loose herself int he wash of powerful emotions. Today Hex would find out what her limits were.

These limits soon became evident as Verishia continued past the fifth lash, the expression of joy on her face recorded by the machine along with everything else.

When the scene was finally over, Hex faced the audio/video pickup and addressed the Legion, #Remember what you have witnessed this day. I know what many of you believe me a simple machine, incapable of understanding or feeling as you do. This sentiment does not concern me. What concerns me is your performance, both on and off the battlefield. *I* command this Legion of Chain, and I expect nothing less than their best from every soldier or officer here. Serve well, and you will be rewarded richly. Serve poorly and without honor, and you will share the same fate as these.#

With that Hex gestured to both the headless corpses, as well as the fourty-nine men laying on the ground, still in pain from the neural whips, as well as the one man Verishia had nearly killed, being led to the infirmary on a streacher.

The lesson taught, Hex strode down from the dias and back to it's lab, there to consider a solution to the problem of one Verishia Duket, Sith apprentice...