The situation throughout the Empire had continued to destabilize ever so slightly. Every day brought with it new complications and a myriad of new political and logistical difficulties that would need to be sorted. The disappearance of the Titan had meant that the Ish'makra had needed to step into the role of primary leadership for the Bryn'adul, but that itself had been a problematic decision. Members of the council had previously rallied behind the strong figurehead of their progenitor, but now they squabbled among one another like vultures, each one fighting to guarantee that their vision of the future was followed.
There had been the subtlest shifts in ideology too... Osam himself had participated in one of them with the raid upon Nal Hutta and the subsequent dissemination of the Curse throughout the refugee populace. The Bryn'adul had never delved into such facets of biological warfare before, but without their father figure to keep them honorable, he along with many others had taken on a crueler disposition toward the extermination of the weak throughout the galaxy.
It was a mixture of this discontent and instability that had caused the Ish'makra to authorize the broadcast. The Bryn'adul rarely engaged in any kind of diplomacy with their neighbors or the rest of the galaxy: they were all vermin, and it was pointless to rattle one's sabers when extermination was the only plan for the future. Nevertheless, morale had been lower than expected as a result of recent losses against the Silver Jedi Concord, and a significant amount of espionage and subterfuge had revealed that their enemy was still celebrating their victories. The galaxy was filled with joy - the victory against the Bryn'adul, the victory against the Sith Empire, the victory against assorted criminals and conclaves of the corrupt.
The Ish'makra was ready to sour their mood. To remind all of them of the truth.
Clad in the Flesh, the Warlord struck an imposing and inhuman figure, even sitting down in front of the recording devices - a mixture of stolen electronic broadcasters and the archaic technology of the Bryn'adul - which would send the message both throughout the Empire's own space, and to that of their neighbors. They had gone through the effort of installing the most basic of encryptions on their sound files at the behest of the Warlord. Osam was of the mind that the lawless degenerates who broke through their files would believe themselves to have discovered something of significance. It was harder to believe one was being fed propaganda when steps were taken to prevent its dispersal... even poor and weak steps such as these.
He spoke, his voice guttural and garish with the tongue of the Draelvasier. A moment afterward, an equally unpleasant voice translated his message to the devices.
"This message is to be broadcast to each world under the dominion of the Bryn'adul. It is the will of the Ish'makra that all become familiar with its message."
"It is a time of celebration. A milestone has been reached, one that was thought incredibly far only a few years ago... but which is now reality." The Draelvasier paused, drawing his hand across a control stone upon his chair, and bringing a series of alien numbers to the view.
"As of today, we have successfully exterminated one-hundred billion weaklings. The carcasses of our enemies have been piled higher than the mountains of many worlds - we have created new rivers of their vermin blood."
"Congratulations are in order. Many of us have fought for over a decade for this bright future, and we are now one step closer to the end of all humanity. Please, join me in a moment of silence as we acknowledge all of the worlds and cosmic locations which have been completely cleansed, and as we acknowledge the loss of the brothers and sisters who have brought us this glorious reality."
Words filled the screen, each one inscribed both in the writing of the Draelvasier and Basic so that both their allies and their enemies would be able to read the name of every graveyard.
Worlds and Astronomical Objects Purified
Hast
Cholganna
Raxus
Florn
Rudrig
Abraxin
Jaminere
Munto Codru
Ruisto
Krinemonen III
Dellalt
Minntooine
New Alderaan
Cophrigin V
Chiron
Sanctuary
Atollon
Baros
Er'stacia
Targonn
Malagarr
Hurikane
Edemar
Caradim
Ankhypt
Kesh
Erilnar
Tund
Garn
Garel
Maldra IV
Lowick
Formos
Honoghr
Kegan
Kessel
Sriluur
Af'El
Saleucami
Ingo
Wobani
Danuta
Boz Pity
Sarka
Roche Asteroid Field
Lantillies
Charros IV
Alee
Yitabo
Kwenn
Dandoran
Orondia
Varl
Ylesia
Ziugen
Riileb
Barab I
Elyriat
Clantaano III
Rinn
Teth
Lirra
Saqqar
Groth
Mulatan
Sleheyron
Ulmatra
Glottal
Nadiem
Kubindi
"All of the weakling races who called these worlds home have either become extinct or else are now so fiercely endangered that they are protected as relics of a past age by their pathetic sponsor governments." The Warlord glared into the recorder, his face hidden, but the sheer satisfaction he felt expressed through a series of short nods.
"Brothers. Sisters. We are not near our final goal... but we have grown through this Crusade. We have learned and adapted. We have overcome whatever weaknesses might have plagued us, and turned them into strengths. Even the vermin have been sufficient in teaching us new... methods."
The image shifted to a Draelvasier in the process of death, suffering away at the touch of the Vengeance of the Sword and Sun, evidently having been afflicted by the xenophage at some point during one of the many campaigns where its use had been performed.
"In the past, we had never looked into such methods of biological warfare. Indeed, our Father had refined us into warriors... but times have changed. We have learned that snuffing out our most vicious opponents will require alternative attacks." The hybrid reached for his side, pulling a small vial of clear liquid from its resting place somewhere behind the chair, and lifting it for the appraisal of his audience. "We call it Mankind's Eternal Curse of Weakness. I was personally responsible for assisting in its fabrication." The Warlord gently settled the vial down on the chair's arm. "It is extremely lethal and highly contagious. In exactly three hours, it is expected to trigger in its first occupants... and soon enough after that, it will hit its next wave... and the next... and the next."
Another glance at the tiny vial of hatred. "It is the belief of many of the Seers that it will add another two billion lives to our sum over the course of the next few months. We are grateful for our enemies for showing us that we can kill you without being anywhere near."
A shift of image, this time a still-frame shot of the Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi Concord: Kiara Ayres evidently within a holding cell of some form or another. Whether the image was ripped from the mental image of a Draelvasier or from an actual piece of footage was difficult to ascertain, but the character in the corner of the cell was evident enough.
"We are also grateful for the Grandmaster of the Silver Jedi for so easily betraying the trust of her companions in an effort to save her own skin. Were it not for her willingness to provide us the names of her Council members, we would have not known where to dispatch our agents." The image remained, zooming in on the face of the Grandmaster. "Were it not for her desire to return to her people, many would be spared the touch of the Curse." The hybrid stood, stretching out his hand toward the screen. "If she lives even though the relatives of her people die, we wonder how they will react. Will they suspect that she has been favored by us? Will they suspect the presence of a weaker serum in her blood. Time will tell."
The hybrid nodded to an unseen being at the side of the screen.
"This is a time of celebration. We have many trials ahead of us... but look at all that we have accomplished, and all that we will bring to bear. We are myriad - billions upon billions of Draelvasier, Vaydralen, Ungulloi, Akhenaton, and Kraemonen. We will flood the galaxy with spilled blood, and then, at last, we will have our peace."
"Khaeus be with you, brethren." The Warlord slammed his palm against his chest, and the footage came to an end.
