Objective: Hunt Down Karidim, Yorunarr(Deposed Priest-King of Archais)
Tag: Yorunarr Ahan-Yan'Sharlim /
Ellayina L'lerim
Darth Keres stood before her kneeling Silencers, their heads collectively bowed in preparation of a torrent storm. The ancient chamber breathed around them, walls shuddering faintly with the residue of forgotten aeons, dust drifting in slow spirals as if stirred by restless ghosts. Her voice emerged in a low, velvety whisper that carried the weight of planets.
"There was once a race," she began, "older than the earliest starlight etched in our archives. They shaped the galaxies with hands that knew neither mercy nor hesitation, forging instruments of power that could coax suns into bloom or smother civilizations in silence."
The air thickened as if listening, as if remembering. "But brilliance," she added, "is a treacherous companion."
She moved among her Silencers like a shadow drifting through statues, her crimson gaze tracing symbols etched into the stone beneath their feet. "The Ancients believed themselves eternal," she continued, "yet eternity demands a toll that no living mind can survive."
"They sought to peel back the skin of reality, to see the raw, screaming machinery beneath. They devoured knowledge with a frenzy that gnawed at their souls. And when they finally understood what slumbered at the boundaries of creation, what answered when they tore too deeply, their civilization began to rot from within." She paused, smiling.
"They died," she said softly, "not from any foe, but from the slow unraveling of their own unbounded hunger. Their minds cracked like old ice. Their cities turned inward, cannibalizing their essence until only dust remained."
Her Silencers did not stir; they were trained to stillness, yet even they seemed to tense, as if some invisible wind had passed through them.
"Power without restraint becomes a mouth that eats its own master," she murmured, her voice threading through the cold stillness. "And so the Ancients vanished, victims of the very truths they had clawed open, truths no mortal consciousness was meant to bear."
Then, as though a distant thought had crept back through the corridors of her mind, her expression shifted. The image of the Priest-King came to her, the trembling wreck of a sovereign whose memories will become a labyrinth of horrors he could no longer escape.
A bitter smile ghosted across her lips, the realization he escaped her grasp settling in. "Yes… the Ancients perished for far less." Her voice dropped to a quiet, lethal murmur. "As for the Priest-King, his life is already forfeited, and his memories are a crueler cage than death itself."
{Exit Post}
- Melee Weapons
- XIII
- Armor
- Accessories
- k
- Ship
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