-W A R M O N G E R-

“Well let’s see, you could try inside, find a nice tree or cave, or maybe string up some of that shit ton of metal you’ve got on. I’m pretty sure that might help you out just a little bit.”

Adachi had seen many interesting people since coming to the city. What he had not seen was someone who willingly covered themselves in plates of metal when at a beach during a heatwave. Sure there were plenty here who lived by a real ‘warrior’s code’ but there was a limit to how stupid someone could get.

“Seriously though, you might want to take that off. You’re more than likely to die of heatstroke like that, and I really don’t want to have to file the paperwork.”

“......”

For a while, the cyborg simply stared at the man, as if gauging to see whether he actually meant what he was saying or was simply attempting to play some sick joke. The worst of it was that Grievous wasn’t actually certain which of the two would make him angrier. It didn’t actually matter. Either way, after the brief moment was over, the Kaleesh’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, his hulking form leaning down just a bit to allow his head to be level with this man’s.

“The interior is just as bad as the outside -- you should know this as well! And I would ask you something. Do you think, were I given the option, I wouldn’t remove this accursed steel myself?! Just how much of a fool do you think I am, human?!”

With every word, his rage grew, until his arms were arched at his sides in an entirely threatening posture. The way his lungs were heaving, it wasn’t long until -- ah, there it was. His eyes suddenly twitching, the general descended into a fit of coughing, loud, painful noises exuding from his neck’s piping.

“Rrrrrgh. Hot.”

The annoyed growling was not unusual coming from the pale carapace which stepped over the sand like some sort of bizarre two-legged crab. What was unusual was the fact that the figure looked legitimately cowed by something -- that something being the sun in this case.

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

So. Fucking. Many.

Grievous, above all, is aggressive. He’s aggressive about everything. As a Kaleesh, it is within his blood to be violent and territorial, but after secret modifications to his brain by Count Dooku, Grievous is essentially designed to be a tool of war and violence. Even when he’s passive, he’s aggressive to an almost unsettling point. He will not allow for argument, and considers almost everyone he talks to either an enemy or a nuisance, unless they seem to be strong or looking for power – in that case, he tends to encourage a growth in strength, as that is one of the few things he actually respects.

Other than that, he’s vain, he’s hypocritical (he considers himself a brave soldier and a front-line general, but tends to run away in a very cowardly style if the temperature gets too hot for him to handle), and he has a greedy desire to prove himself above others by collecting trophies from his victims. In a way, he’s a walking mass of complexes, all grown and developed in the maddening war he found himself in the middle of and the horrible modifications to his body he experienced. 

◌ Mother/Father

⌘ Guardian

▶ Sibling(s)

▣ Relatives

🔲 Best Friend

❥ Crush

◉ Dream(s)

◖ Ideal Partner

¡ Pet Peeves

☰ Occupation

✯ Perfect day

☂ Preferred weather

☢ Personality Flaw(s)

ツ - any pets?

tHIS IS NOT OKAY.

batibat: talk about the worst nightmare you have ever had.

Wake up, General.

My eyes flick open at the sound of the voice. It’s not the voice I am used to, waking me up. Normally, it’s the harsh vocalization of a battle droid – a puny instrument of war which I destroy for even daring to interrupt me while I sleep. But, no. This time, it’s a softer voice. A smooth one. A voice filled with strength – and kindness.

Wake up. The war’s over. You’ve won.

I’ve…won? Slowly, I lean up on the slab upon which I sleep. Cold, hard metal. It doesn’t matter. I do not feel a thing anymore, not physically. Nothing but the burning pain in my lungs. The burning pain…which is now gone. Gone? I look down. My body. My body. Two arms, covered in scars from the war, a different war. A war in which I led my people. A leathery, scaly chest, the chest of a powerful Kaleesh warrior.

And before me.

Kumm–

Do not speak, General. We need to leave. Quickly. If you take my hand, you can get out now. The war’s over. You’ve won. Come with me. Please.

Of course. I couldn’t be more certain about a decision in my life. Not now. Not ever. For her, I would gladly leave everything I ever believed. She is everything I’ve ever believed in. It’s a paradox. I’m a hypocrite. I stand, and take a step towards her flickering figure.

Where do you think you are going, General?

A voice behind me. A deep voice, filled with power, power and wisdom. I cannot help but turn, and be greeted by the visage of my Master. He looks upon me with stern eyes, eyes that beget his strength and disappointment. My body sinks low, instinctively. I am made of metal. I am Grievous. What does he want with me? The war is over. I’ve won. 

Why are you leaving, General? The war is not nearly over. The Jedi still live.

The Jedi – but I…

The Jedi still live, General. Is this not all you’ve left to exist for? Would you sacrifice all of the work you’ve put towards your goal for something so weak-minded as a single woman? 

….

…That is your decision to make, General. I have no say in what you do with your life. But I would be gravely disappointed in you if you decided to be weak, now of all times. This is not about what I think. What would your people think? What would you think?

…………..

I turn back to the flickering figure, and I am breathing, alive again. I turn to my Master, and I am a machine. I am strong. I am dead.

I turn my back on my past. Her voice haunts me no longer. I am a machine. I am strong. I am dead.

You’ve made the right decision, General.

My Master is smiling.

I am a machine. I am strong. I am dead.

The war is over.

tfw you realize cirno would probs be more incompetent than any of the battle droids already in the CIS

“I am a General!”

“A worthwhile skill -- and to be expected of something quite as small as you.”

“Rrrrrgghhhh...what nonsense are you spewing?! I remember my past! I remember my purpose! I remember everything I’ve struggled for, everything I’ve fought for my entire life, ever since I was a feeble youngling!”

Indeed, what in the world could she be talking about? The cyborg growled deeply, the sound reverberating through the pipes in his “throat.” Of course he remembered his past. Of course he remembered his formative years. Of course he remembered the invasion of the Huk, the hatred he felt for them, the hatred which moved his hand, which moved his soul.

He even remembered the reason he took on the name ‘Grievous.’ He remembered her soft touch, the only softness he’d ever allowed himself. He remembered her yellow eyes, the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen on a Kaleesh. He could even remember her--

--.......Name.

The sounds coming from his overburdened form became more and more animalistic as the General clawed at his mask, at his head. No! No! He couldn’t have forgotten, he couldn’t forget -- not the most important thing! What was it, what was it?! Every time he tried to reach out for it, it slipped away -- the feelings the memory of those eyes was always replaced with battle-scarred hatred, violent aggressiveness, and he couldn’t remember...

“......I............do......I, remember...............!”

You remember nothing. Nothing that truly matters.