(OOC: Force Level four app. Look for OOC comment below)
Deus Ex Machina, en route to Sith Space
As the giant colony ship hurtled through the multi-coloured tunnels of hyperspace, once again, a grotesque experiment was underway. The force sensitivity of the entity known as the Obsidian Lord, was based upon an already existing yet latent force sensitivity of the original, and the inefficient method of cloning large number of clones of the same body and then transfering the midi-chlorians that way by using nanomachines. The nanomachines would extract the symbionts from throughout the body and then bring them into the blood stream. They would then gather up inside one of the limbs and stay there until extracted. The Nanomachines had a collective will that resided within the Obsidian Lord's body, in essence, his heart was a second brain, and the one that needed to survive if he was to remain immortal.
The lab was one of the few locations that he could feel the force in the colony ship, the Deus Ex Machina. They had over the two thousand years researched the viability of the Ysalamiri and they had hidden away from the Jedi under their very noses because of this lizard creature. They thus knew the basic range of any number of Ysalamiri and thus they had designed this ship with this data in mind. The result was that Obsidian could now utilise the knowledge he had learned from his Sith Spirit master, to good use.
(OOC: Begin Force Level Four training. Word Requirement 400, words here: 746)
Obsidian sat himself down on the table as he always did and closed his eyes as the small pricks of the needles punctured his veins. The black ooze that his
blood had become was now replicated in all his clones as the nanomachines escaped their bodies into his. Closing his eyes firmly shut, he began to meditate.
Concentrating on the individual midi-chlorians that entered his body. He gave each and every one of them a place, with the nanomachines of his at his beck and
call, he manoevered each and every one to a cell. Planted he nurtured them to grow, to live and to reproduce. These new organisms were indeed foreign to him,
despite the same genetic structure, they did not belong in him. But those that they reproduced, had a good chance now of accepting him as their own host.
It would take hours at this rate to withdraw all the blood of his clones and one by one, they expired next to him, their life force stoilen from them. Funny
thing that they found was that without midi-chlorians, life could not continue. Thus they tended to reach a point when they could no longer be supported by
what meager little midi-chlorians that was left out, and the clone expired. Their deaths were like sweet wine to his thoughts as their fear of death and
innocence was shattered into a million pieces. They were him, but him without memory. They were mere children that was born into this world and their bodies
had grown faster than most. They had no knowledge and no sense of existence, and yet they biologically feared death. A fear that Obsidian no longer had. One
after another they began to expire and new donors were brought forward to be sacraficed in his name. They kept bringing the nanomachines and their captured
loot, and Obsidian kept allocating them to the blood cells and his own body. His blood no longer was blood, made mostly of nanomachines, and his different body
parts were also no longer proper bodies. He was filled with nanomachines and yet he remained human. As the Nanomachines made sure they did not overwhelm the
biological host.
He had two symbionts in his body then, the Midi-chlorians and the nanomachines. As he felt through the force the balance between these three entities, he felt
that his midi-chlorians were not only being reinvigorated by their new numbers, but that the number of living midi-chlorians in his body was increasing. This
by itself meant little if it wasn't for the fact that they communicated with him and his body. That was the key to the force sensitivity and while numbers
alone did not indicate the efficiency of this communication, they certainly helped. With more of them, he could hear them better and they understood him just
as well. While he did not have anger or fear as any normal Sith initiate would, he instead had an insatiable ambition, a thirst for power and his hatred for
all things that did not serve him in some shape or form. He was no saint, but he was no bloodthirsty thug enslaved to emotion. The teachings of the Jedi and
Sith both played out in his mind. He had a chance to stop, he could in theory go on to live in harmony with the force, rely upon it and use it for guidance.
But he was not swayed by such concepts as morality. It was beneath him. He would not waste himself to the life of some saviour. Instead, he planned genocide
and divinity.
With each meditation, with each of this process, he was given the choice, and for some reason, he thought this was going to be the last. The last time the
midi-chlorians would use his knowledge to place a choice before him. His ability to feel the force came from stealing it from his very self! But each time he
did this, he felt he could hear them better, as if they were getting used to shouting as a group, and that they were, rather than jumbled words and phrases,
melodically in tune with each other and thus rather than a cacophony of noise, they soke to him in perfect harmony.
And like always, the voice of Varz brought him back from his dream. A dream of death, fear, and the knowledge that there was an alternative, an alternative he did not take, did not even want to take.
(OOC: End Force Level Four training.)
