Bryn'adûl | An'shaernehm of Expansion

Crona'Tas · Aug 14, 2019

[SIZE=11pt]Heresy…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]There were heretics everywhere. Blood and gut littered the floor and all Crona could feel was rage and satisfaction. He was knocked back by a Shard that had crashed into a dining table. The mothers that had been so close to Tathra ,previously, were now running in histeria and confusion, clutching there children to their chests, eager to escape with their lives.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona arose from the rubble that covered him and looked around, chaos, destruction, and death. He drew his sword, “come now, Fickle Flesh. Let us reap once more.” with that Crona dashed into the fray, with an unrivaled hunger for death. He leaped to one of the brutes, raised his long sword, and sliced his juggler, a wound that would kill a normal brute, but this was no normal brute, this one belonged to an exiled commander that Crona had known all too well. He jumped atop of the brute and grabbed him by the lower jaw, claws sinking deep into the flesh. Practically riding the Heretic at this point, Crona raised his head to the sky.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Silence surrounded Crona, vivid. cold. Silence. Crona waited, anticipation filled his mind and lungs to the point that he couldn’t breath. And then suddenly a screech echoed through the air. There they were, a hundred Draeyde, if not more, flew through the sky on scorched wings.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Ten dive bombed toward Crona, going only slightly below him, burying themselves in the brute’s chest. Blood squirted from his chest as he struggled to hold his balance. Crona raised his sword once more and with one swift slice, he decapitated the brute.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona then proceeded to jump into the battled once more, slashing and thrusting with grace and savagery that was not common in an elder. He sent his Draeyde into the battle to distract and draw the attention of the bolts that flew over his head.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]As Crona came to the face of another brute. He swung, the brute dodged, he swung again. The brute dodged again. Crona raised his sword for an overhead strike but grabbed him by the throat, crona choked out a few words, “mongoloidis tongue chewer.” Crona plunged his hand into the brute’s mandibles, tearing and ripping the Heretic’s throat, with the distraction of pain, Crona was released to the floor. Crona arose and stepped back, raising his sword to a thrusting position, and then plunged it into the brute’s stomach.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona released his blade from his stomach as he collapsed to the floor.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona turned and sprinted off to find his next victim.[/SIZE]

[member="Ankshar Kha"] [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] @Tathra Khaeus [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] [member="Ehud"] [member="Krael Vizkla"] [member="Kyrim Tenebris"]

Ehud · Aug 15, 2019

Sometimes, silence is the best answer.

Ehud was known for being... outspoken in his beliefs. The only reason that behavior had never been corrected was because of his tempered worldview, and, dare he say, his wisdom. Some might call it arrogance. Perhaps they were right.

But even in his so-called arrogance, he knew when to be quiet. There was a time to prod those around him to action, and there were times to let others struggle. He could not coddle his people. That would be a disservice to his own abilities, and to their strength. So as [member="Ankshar Kha"] looked to him, and asked him about his rather vacant stare, he simply cocked his head at her, his eyes sputtering with gold.

"Not distant. Present."

And as the Hel Shards descended from the heavens, crashing into the crowd, discarding their soldiers, Ehud smiled, snapping his jaws. He watched as his self-imposed protector lept into the fray, thankful for her initial help. But, as she had thought, he had it covered from here.

All across the field of merriment, battle began to erupt. Between Drael and Drael. Both strong, in their own right. Ehud couldn't see the outcome. But he knew the part he had to play, as they all did. As a small squad of Baedurin heretics noticed the hunched seer, and began to stalk their way forward, Ehud turned his gaze to them. He snapped his jaws, and his eyes began to burn with an eye-watering gold, like liquid fire.

"We all play our part," Ehud muttered, reaching out a claw, and pressing into the space between them. His mind pounced toward them a moment later, a mental tidal wave, moving with a feral, intelligent recklessness. And he tore their minds to ribbons. He feasted on their memories, ripped apart the carcasses of their psyche, and discarded them like bones stripped of marrow.

The heretics around Ehud fell, clutching their heads for but one agonizing moment before going still. Even now, Ehud's eyes were distant, staring across the battlefield, toward his Chieftain.

We all must prove our worth, Sire.

[member="Ankshar Kha"] - [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] - [member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] - [member="Crona'Tas"]

Kyrim Tenebris · Aug 17, 2019

Kyrim had stood at the edge of the arena laughing as the shaman had brutally killed the reluctant brute. His laughter was caused by one simple fact: The Shaman did not know that the brutes were breed to never kill shamans. Of course this one wouldnt be any different, and because of this its head was caved in two. Oh well.

With that fight over and the next one about to begin, Kyrim took the first step towards his opponent, but his opponent did not move. He was looking up at the sky. Kyrim on the other hand, was so engrossed with the duel that he only realized that they were under attack when the hel shard landed on his former, now dead, opponent. this was a new fight, and a new threat. Twirling the Laevateinn Blades he jumped to the top of the hel shard and waited for it to open. As it opened, blaster bolts came flying out of it. Blasters were used by humans, but humans didnt have hel shards. They couldnt use them. Humans were to reliant on their technology that they wouldnt be able to even open the shard where they to somehow manage to get inside... This left only one possibility: Heretics.

The heretics stormed out of the hel shard, but none of them looked up. If they did, they would have seen the blades flying at their necks, slamming down hard into two brutes. Their screams were shortlived. Pulling the bloodied blades out of the broken necks, Kyrim twirled them intimidatingly about his hands, and then proceeded to lunge forwards towards the next grouping of heretics. These were just exiting from their shard. For these he stuffed a barad impact grenade into the closest one's mouth, and shoved him into the rest, and essentially blocking off their exit. This walking bomb had his throat torn open so that he wouldnt make any noise, but his eyes told Kyrim everything he needed to know. There was fear in the brutes eyes. Fear of dying. A fear of being wrong.

Of course the heretic was wrong, hence, the term heretic. True, as a zealot he was a fanatic assassin, but at least he enjoyed what he did and knew that he could change. Well he hoped he could, but in truth he didnt know, and he probably wouldnt know either until he had missed his chance to question it. But once more this didn't matter to Kyrim, as his mind was truly focused on one thing and one thing only: Death to the Heretics. Enveloping himself with the Force, the Force Void hid himself from sight, dissapearing right in the middle of the fighting. But he wasnt running away, he was doing something else entirely...

Running forwards to where some of the most recent deployments of the heretic's hel shards had dropped, Kyrim ran until he was nearly at their openings. Untraceable by users of the Force, he pushed his arms through the rocks and soil until he was halfway to his elbows deep into the ground where, in a few momements he launched jets of hot flame from his palms into the ground, causing it to buble and quake. Flames erupted from where the ground was weakest, engulfing those who were unlucky enough to be caught in the wrong palce at the right time. "Sulteldr Sulteldr Sulteldr" He cried, with each gush of flame from his hands to the surroundings. He would watch everything burn if it would mean having the Byrn'adul purging the galaxy of heresy and humanity, and bringing it back to the glory which it deserves. And if that meant burning some of his own kind, albeit heretics, to a crisp, he would do so without a seconds thought. And so he did...

Grosck Bah'azet · Aug 19, 2019

Grosck felt as the Hel shard descended towards the planet below. It rocked and quaked, shaking the six occupants within violently. He growled as the sweet smell of burnt ozone greeted his nostrils. The insides of the pod were darkened, but the warriors needn't see to know their destination was in the halls of glory. He pressed hand to heart and felt the beat of his chest.

He noticed it's pace had only quickened in the slightest. Their was a time when the thought of battle, riding Hel shards into it's maw brought a quickening to his pulse. No longer. Grosck had raided countless worlds with his troop and thus become a hardened veteran. He had learned to trust in the steel of his axe and the strength of his mass.

Grosck smiled as the pod plunged further towards the planet below. Then all at once the earth seemed to spring forth from all around them. The occupants within would've been jarred about like dolls had it not been for their safety harnesses. Stone and dirt sprayed from the impact point high into the air and cascaded back downwards in a plume of battle smoke.

The pings of the fallen rocks and the occasional shot fired could be heard from within rebounding off the shard. Grosck removed his great axe from back and swung towards the door with both arms, but axe kissed nothing but air. The sound of metal crumpling could be heard screeching from before him as an invisible wave of gravitational energy sprung forth from the tool and crashed into the pod door sending it flying outwards.

The door landed some ways away from the pod. Blaster fire emerged from the haze still surrounding the shard and out of the fog of war stepped Grosck. With gravity axe extended downwards with one arm he made a methodical pace onto the battlefield.

[member="Ehud"] | [member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"]

Tathra Khaeus · Aug 19, 2019

Tathra's Scourge swivelled in the grasp of the Heretic Brutes neck, a splatter of blood enveloping Tathra's wrist and bare forearm as its body toppled. Tathra quickly observed the surrounding area, his heart thumping in his chest as he turned to see Drael against Drael, weakness swelling under his very nose.

Another drove at him amidst the chaos, swinging in a downward arc for Tathra's head. The blade's met, Tathra's raised upward in defence - immediately reposting the strike with a simple maneuverer of the wrist, overpowering his opponent instantaneously; blood glittering blades as the Heretic rebounded, pain causing his left arm to fall limp. His defence was weak, Tathra relinquished his two-handed grip - using his right gauntlet to swipe the blade aside as the left plunged the blade into the Heretics gut.

He eased into death gently, his upper half leaning against Tathra's breastplate as his head sunk, dribbling blood down Tathra's abdomen. Pushing the corpse away with his off-hand, Tathra looked about himself; enraptured in the chaos of battle. Another heretic fell, and then another. His blade and armour both were sullied by blood, Drael blood.

They were lost to him, loyal Brutes lead astray by a singular insolent wretch. Tathra's eyes danced across the battlefield, searching. Finally. He immediately recognised the tall, physically impressive Brute Officer. Rage grasped him, a seething red encroaching his vision as the frame of Grosck became all Tathra could see. His form anchored to confront Grosck, his body lurching as an intense desire to see his former servant headless.

Tathra slammed his sword into the corpse of a fallen heretic, outstretching his left palm in the direction of the Throne. He would have Grosck's head, everything Grosck had - he owed to Tathra. He had armed him, led him. Grosck was birthed from his very flesh, a clone-spawn. He was nothing, his actions spat in the face of true Bryn'adûl ideals.

"GROSCK!" Tathra barked, anger radiating through his voice like a whirlwind. He called out to him, Grosck may have come here to kill him. But he would be the one to initiate the challenge, his people would see strength. Tathra would not be made a fool by the impunity of a Heretic.

In that moment, the Hraelk Axe answered its master's call; it glided through the air, landing firmly in the grasp of Tathra's left hand as he looked to Grosck. Not a moment was wasted, the titan would express no indecision; quickly he found a quickened pace, legs carrying himself at great speed toward Grosck.

The weakness of heresy would be expunged. Tathra would see to it personally.

Krael Vizkla · Aug 23, 2019

Krael had just started ripping the fleshy meat off of a second leg of meat when the Hel shards came crashing down. His brute buds were already rushing off, grabbing whatever they could to use as a weapon, then running off to where pods began landing. Krael simply grunted in annoyed anger, as a Hel shard landed all but fifteen feet in front of him, and a heretic brute kicked the door of, which the large, crimson scarred Brute named Krael threw his still-fresh leg of meat to the side, and caught the door with both hands. The heretic brutes gathered at their Hel shard exit, before piling out. As they rushed out to attack the lone, seemingly easy to kill Brute, whose scars were now glowing a white-red colour (something that should have been a great warning, considering his size and stature). One of the heretics swung a large hammer at him, which Krael blocked with the door of their Hel shard, not shifting an inch from his place at the impact of the hammer, wielded by a lesser, and weak, Heretic. He then took a step back, and began bending the door with slight difficulty, as the heretics stood back, waiting, and watching, amused by what he was doing.

After a brief moment, he had formed what could best be describe as a short and thick, albeit greatly misshapen, lance. He then raised it up like a shotgun, and roared, almost deafeningly, and charged forward, shoving the lance through the heretic infront of him, and kept going for a few seconds, before letting go of the lance, and momentum taking it's course, the heretic stumbling back. Krael then grabbed the head of some sabre-toothed animal, and ripped the two biggest teeth out, then three the head away, and whipped around, stabbing the teeth deep into another Heretic's eyes, before grabbing the Heretic by the torso, and lifting the brute up, and smashing him head first into the ground, snapping his neck and crushing his head after two more similar slams. He then let the body fall, and grabbed another brute by the jaw, and upper mouth, then pulled the two apart, ripping the Heretic's head in half, the golden eyes of the Vizkla brute once a shining amber, now a red-tainted orange.

He kicked the body back, then ducked under a sword swing, and whipped around again, smacking his hands together at brute head-level, in a rather successful attempt to discombobulate the heretic, he then blocked a blind upper cut, and [SIZE=13.3333px]then blocked a wild haymaker, then delivered his own brutal jab at the heretic's rib cage, the wonderful sound of cracking, snapping and popping louder than healthy, as the Brute fell over, with his near entire right rib cage broken or fractured, with massive amounts of internal bleeding, and a semi-collapsed lung. Krael then grabbed the brute's head, and slammed it down into his knee, he then delivered a hard blow to the back of the heretic's neck, causing it to snap, just enough to spare the brute's life, but keep him suffering, in paralysed pain. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=13.3333px]Out of nowhere, Krael was thrown to the side as the fifth and final brute charge-tackled him into the side of the Hel shard, causing it to rock slightly from the force of the impact. Both brutish brutes were left dazed for a moment, the heretic coming back first due to Krael absorbing most of the impact. The little time advantage the heretic had made no difference, for by the time the heretic had wedged his rather blunt parrying dagger into Krael's gut, Krael had already redirected it's course to miss his organs, even the non-vital ones. He groaned, faking a serious injury, then as the heretic straightened himself up, and turned around, and picked a hammer up off the ground, Krael was already behind him. He grabbed the hilt of the dagger, pulling it out of him, then grabbed the heretic by the nape of his neck, and threw him back against the Hel shard, and shoved the already-bloodied parrying dagger into the heretic's gullet, then pulled it out, and created a new wind pipe in the brute's throat, then stabbed into the brute's chest, pulling the knife downwards, bisecting the heresy-believer. [/SIZE]

Krael then shoved the knife into the brute's heart, and backed up, blood oozing slowly from the open wound in his gut. He opened his jaw, and growled a few grunts.

"Hng Ugh Ogh Hna Gmu Warface!"

Ehud · Aug 25, 2019

Ehud continued to watch his chieftain with predatory interest. Ehud would not pry into his mind again, that, at least, he had promised. But as Tathra Khaeus propelled himself toward his glorious opponent, the hunched seer had a sneaking suspicion that he preferred the chaos of battle to the the feast.

These thoughts played in the back of his head as he worked. He used the Force to begin to mentally reconstruct the broken bodies around him. It was tedious work, and he would have preferred more time, but in the absence of time, haste was a necessity. So he continued to piece together their broken consciousnesses into a more malleable form.

The broken traitors began to rise to their feet, eyes glowing the same gold as Ehud's. He instilled simple commands into their beings, he didn't have the time or power for anything else. He told them to attack the heretics, defend him. And that they did, with all their being. As more heretics rushed in, Ehud's makeshift guard blocked them with unthinking limbs, ripping into them with tooth, nail, and brute force.

It gave him time to watch the battle about to unfold, with only a few minor distractions here and there. What was going on down below was far more important than what he had to face.

That is, until he felt a mind approach. One he couldn't pierce.

[member="Krael Vizkla"] - [member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] - [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] - [member="Crona'Tas"]

Ankshar Kha · Aug 25, 2019

A heretic split down the middle before it collapsed to both knees and toppled to one side. Ankshar stood with a blade in both hands. Tathra's cry drew the Drael's gaze toward Grosck, the man responsible for this affront. Not that anyone was probably complaining, and Ankshar herself was actually a little grateful for the arrival of fresh meat to slaughter. Better to kill one's enemy than one another. Weak even among their own number earned their fate, but even the weak could be used in battle as fodder. Better they die on the enemy's sword. There was honor in that, even if it might not be worthy of song.

And on the matter of honor...

The Drael's foot caused the bench to crack, the table to stomp, and a heretic's neck to break as Ankshar leaped from one to the other. Her clawed feet found purchase along a wall to give her more lateral movement clear of the fighting below. Sword risen overhead, she let them know death was at hand with a roar. The blade plunged into the skull of a heretic that had taken high ground with a blaster; its offensive gaze directed at Tathra and Grosck's battle. No one interrupted their sire in the middle of a duel.

At this point the battle had taken a life of its own. Orders would be meaningless unless the enemy brought more than flesh to bear in this assault. Everyone would follow the outstanding order they didn't even need to be told -- kill the enemy. Kill every last one of them. A simple objective with simple tactics. Whether by blaster, blade, hand, claw, or fang render the flesh from your foe and paint the ground with their blood. It was a day where a Drael could show their artistic talents. It was a festive day.

Crona'Tas · Aug 25, 2019

[SIZE=11pt]CRACK… SCRAP… ARGHHH…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona torn himself through the back of another heretical brute. He stood there in the mess, his form tattered and bloody, his robe cut away for a more agile caste. Crona mask broke away, partially, to reveal a eyes the color midnight and vicious mandibles for a mouth… the Ivory Tower, now drenched in crimson, lurched forward, all the grace he held before transformed into a need to see whatever was in front of him die. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He turned his head to the left and grazed over the sea of corpses to where Tathra was, charging to an enemy out of his vision. Whomever Tathra sought to end, he certainly held a great anger towards them. An anger Crona had not seen since…[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona continued to stagger forward, a brute charged to him. Crona raised his sword once more, then sliced the brute’s arm off. The brute tumbled backwards then settled himself, eyes fixated where his arm once was. Crona slashed again, this time severing the brute’s leg, which led to the brute collapsing to the bloody ground.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona continued to calmly stagger towards the brute, who was crawling away from his torturer. Crona grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him to his face. Crona opened his mouth as wide as he could, and sunk his teeth into the brute’s head. Blood filled Crona’s mouth as he tore a piece from the back of the brute’s head. He then dropped the corpse and continued onward.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Brutes would continue to challenge him and he cut them down, he’d keep cutting and butchering his way through whatever he could find. Fighting for survival and pleasure.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He sliced the eyes of a heretic, “why do you fight? Why die for honor as pitiful as this?” Crona said with a raspy voice, [/SIZE]“Your not gaining anything from this.” Crona waved his hand and a swarm of draeyde surrounded the heretic and began to eat him alive.

[SIZE=11pt]Crona kept slaughtering, all other thoughts had dissipated. He was now in his own almost completely gone. All masters of the Force find their own way to connect to it, this was his way, his full connective meditation method, and it had been far too long since he had meditated.[/SIZE]

[member="Ankshar Kha"]-@Ehud-@Krael Vizkla-[member="Tathra Khaeus"]-[member="Grosck Bah'azet"]-[member="Kyrim Tenebris"]

Kyrim Tenebris · Aug 27, 2019

Kyrim was not disoriented. He was just picky. Picky when it came to targets. And his blades loved to find these targets and meet their flesh and internals. Looking around, he saw much that fueled him. There was fighting everywhere, with his brethren fighting those who had been misguided. But treason was treason, and Kyrim had a job to do. Kill the valuable targets.

Finding what seemed like a heretic commander, he charged him. His footwork was exquisitely silent as he sidestepped those locked in battle and strode towards the heretic commander from behind. Blades set in front of him, he pounced upon the brute. The brute swung wildly with one fist and tried to aim in the direction of Kyrim but before he could squeeze the trigger Kyrim had already managed to duck under the swinging fist, jam one knife between the finger and the trigger of the enemy, and push the remaining knife into an eye. The commander screamed violently as the kodashi viper venom touched his veins, and then he died as Kyrim twisted the blade further until he had cut out half of the brain. Pulling his blade out of the messy socket, he wiped off the gore , eye, and brain bits off on the commander's chest and then rushed on towards other heretic Drael. His thoughts were silenced, his focus unwavering. The only thing that came into his mind was who to kill and how to do it. Otherwise, he didn't notice the blaster shots that skimmed his left leg, not really hampering him but causing a burning sensation.

Kyrim was a Zealot, and there was only one thing that a Zealot did. Kill.

Grosck Bah'azet · Aug 29, 2019

A brute charged Grosck with lethal intent, hoping to catch the heretical chieftain off guard. But, Grosck was no easy prey. While the brute charged from Grosck side and he walked forth seemingly unawares as the battle raged on all around him, but the brute had not taken into account that Grosck was simply the better adversary.

The brute ran forward and upon being mere feet away from Grosck, the heretical chieftain turned to meet him with axe. He spun, twirling about with weapon and swung upwards in a baseball batting manner.

The axe embeded itself within the brutes stone chest and with all his strength brought the brute into the air. Blood rained down from his chest and the brute's maw fell agape in surprise. Upon reaching the height of swing the gravity projector pulsed and the brutes body went sprawling outwards till it landed broken and dying in a crowd of combatants.

Grosck strode casually forward once more, not changing direction once. He knew where he was headed and he knew who his target was.

"GROSCK!" Came the cry from his father and Grosck regarded him with a burning hatred.

His mandibles scrunched into a fowl sneer and he sprayed the name "TATHRA!" with all the anger he could muster.

Their was a burning hatred he felt in his chest and Grosck was sure to see it alleviated. The chieftain Tathra had sent Grosck and his Drael to die on the fields of Eshan! Their was no glory in a suicide mission and Grosck knew it. He fled the fields of that planet in order to save the lives of his Drael. Now he returned to defeat Tathra and free the rest of his people from the inept chieftain.

Grosck ran to meet the chieftain with axe. His legs carried him forth with powerful strides and the earth beneath his feet warped with each step.

He met Tathra in the middle of the killing field and sought to strike first. Bringing axe in a uppercut with all his strength behind it. He would strike a killing blow immediately, in hopes of cleaving the Drael king in two.

[member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] | [member="Ehud"] | [member="Krael Vizkla"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"]

Hrajlmak'Natok · Sep 1, 2019

Consumed in his violence, Hrajlmak tore through every Drael he didn't recognise. His staff of bones drenched in blood and sinew, his own flesh dotted with blaster burns and gashes. Since the initial shard impacts, he had not come across another brute, although he had seen plenty. Yet in all his savagery, he knew this was a good thing. He was at a disadvantage and he could feel it. He could see it. His face was ruined. His eyes choked in blood and his mouth contorted. Every few seconds he spat another cup-full of blood. Teeth often within the mix. As a Shaman, the best course of action would be to simply retreat. His ability to fight was diminishing rapidly and his importance to the Bryn'adul was undeniably significant.

But no.

Catching a Brute busy with his Blaster off guard, Hrajlmak rammed his staff into the hulking figure's back. He had aimed for his spine but his eyes, in the state that they were, granted him only rudimentary accuracy. The ethereal blade passed under the Brute's left shoulder blade and out his upper chest. With a furious roar, the Brute spun. Hrajlmak lost his grip on his staff and was left unarmed, facing a livid beast. The Brute sent forth a kick but the injured Aeravalin weaved out of the way, closing the gap and burying his claws into the Brute's face. Angered more than ever, the Brute took hold of Hrajlmak's wrist and swung him through the air. Landing gracelessly atop several Sraelvun, Hrajlmak clambered to his feet and looked up to the nearest Drael, silently hoping it was an ally. Through his torn and bloody eyes, he made out [member="Crona'Tas"]' figure.

"Oh save me, great Zealot"

Hrajlmak sarcastically joked with Crona. His mouth muffling the words as they came. He straightened himself, stretched and tried to ignore the copious amounts of blood oozing from every inch of his body.

[member="Grosck Bah'azet"] / [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] / [member="Ankshar Kha"] / [member="Ehud"] / [member="Krael Vizkla"] / [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

Tathra Khaeus · Sep 2, 2019

The Chieftain's advance faltered, stopping in place as Grosck turned to meet him.

The Titan's locked eyes, Grosck acknowledged his forbearer with disdain and hate. Born from his own making. This cadaver had been once of great potential, boundless vigour had created an incredible Warrior. All gone to waste, all for nought. Sadness shadowed Tathra's rage, embarrassment choked his will to act. The ex-Brute Commander had fled battle, acted as a coward.

Yet before then, Tathra had believed Grosck and his Company of Brutes to be some of the strongest bred Drael to mark the fields of Eshan.

Tathra's guard lowered for a moment, emotion overwhelmed; staggered as Grosck begun to charge toward him - Axe raised, great strides carried the Heretic towards him. Grosck had lost faith, he had seen the Galaxy for what it was and returned with hatred in his heart. Not for humans. But, for his creator. As Chieftain perhaps he had been blinded? But no more.

His anger rose once more, Grosck was a living embodiment of his folly. Tathra had been weak, too aloft in his duty as Chieftain. For he was not only leader but master. Grosck's arrogance, his belief he could return in such a manner and claim his title, his hatred for Tathra. It was Tathra's fault, he could feel it in his heart. Grosck was a Heretic of his making.

His guard rose once more, his face shook gently - rage rising as he bore his teeth. Two steps brought them within range of one another, Grosck swung strong and wildly, he wished to tear Tathra down quickly.

No. He, would stand. Grosck would fall! But not before Tathra had taken everything from him.

His upward arching Axe came fast, to Tathra's benefit - his slowed pace would grant him some small advantage. Tathra's right foot slid in the sand, a few inches back as Tathra speared his Axe under Grosck's not intending to meet Grosck's blow. He was precise, using his greater poise to catch the underside of Grosck's Axe with his own, manipulating the Heretic's momentum further upward and beyond Tathra.

Then, he would reply - with his right hand alone he swung his Axe at the hip, a horizontal swipe across Grosck's abdomen. Rage fuelled his strength. A savage, animal cry of blood-lust escaped him as his whole body moved with the sheer momentous strength of the swing. He would deal with the first blow.

Crona'Tas · Sep 5, 2019

[SIZE=9pt]Zealot? Crona may have been a fighter but he’d never let someone forget his place in the Bryn’adul. He spotted the source of Hrajlmak’s distress, a brute wielding a blaster as all the others were. Crona still had not been aseen by the hulking beast. He approached, silently, to the brute. He raised his sword and with all of his might, he slashed into the spine of the heretical beast.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“ You sir, look like the very brutes we’re fighting.” Crona said to Hrajlmak with a chuckle, watching as the brute tumbled for a moment only to rise again, angrier. Crona cleared his throat, “Hrajlmak, would be so kind and end this mistake’s life?” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]The brute raised his blaster like a club, bringing it down onto Crona, who managed to block it with his sword only after being knocked to the ground.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Sure just stand there and wait, I can totally handle this.” Crona said as he glanced to Hrajlmak’Natok.[/SIZE]

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] - [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] - [member="Ankshar Kha"] - [member="Krael Vizkla"] - [member="Ehud"] - [member="Kyrim Tenebris"]

Grosck Bah'azet · Sep 9, 2019

Grosck watched as the chieftains advance faltered for a moment and a small smile turned his lips. The Chieftain was scared of Grosck! His strength had truly faltered so much so that he was afraid of the challenge! Gosck thanked the new gods with a silent prayer and his charge towards Tathra redoubled. Bounded by the will of the gods and his own strength Grosck charged forth.

He brought his gravity upwards with all his might, but Tathra was not so inept as to be done in by such an easy attack. He forced Grosck's swing to over shoot and Grosck faltered in his hasty thoughts of victory. But Grosck used the gained momentum to counter Tathra's first blow. He spun with axe and thus Tathra's attack at his abdomen was but a small scratch on his flesh as he turned with the blade.

Grosck brought axe to bear in both hands and swiped in a short cutting motion left at Tathra's face. Seeking to cleave the Chieftains cranium in two.

Tathra Khaeus · Sep 9, 2019

As he remembered, Grosck would not relent so easily. Both had made the immediate mistake of believing the other would fall easily. Tathra allowed the momentum of his swing to carry his weapon back toward him, reigning it in. Even then, Grosck had the upper had; Axe raised and jabbing at his head. Tathra had little time to react, relying on instinct he moved on the balls on his feet, retreating backward a singular foot-step as the Axe held by his Heretic child moved to remove his head. Grosck's blow cut deep into the immediate bone-exterior of Tathra's left cheekbone, but not quite so deep that it marred his flesh severely.

The fight was only truly beginning. Both were aware of the other's skill. But, Grosck had forgotten his place. The betrayal sank deep, not only did Grosck threaten Tathra himself - but the foundations of their society. A fracture Tathra would have to put forth extreme measures to deal with.

The momentum of the strike caused Tathra to retreat further, eyes wincing as the Axe continued past. Tathra fell onto his left knee, Axe trailing behind him as he halted, pausing as he spun the Axe in his right hand - snapping the weapon's upper length into his left whilst the right held near the pommel. His rage mustered once more, ready to counter whatever the Heretic threw next.

Through the actions of his sickened and deluded mind, Grosck threatened their species. The Heretic stood challenged him, not for the glory of their people - but for his own. The Heretic would die. Screaming.

| [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] |

Grosck Bah'azet · Sep 9, 2019

Grosck's axe found flesh in the leaders cheek. Kissing face it tore bits of skin and muscle from bone Grosck snarled at the success of his attack. Tathra relented only in the slightest, falling to knee as he did so. Grosck would see to finish it, while Tathra was weakened and injured. Finally all would see the true nature of their false leader. Finally the truth of his fickle flesh would be shown to all!

He hefted his axe slightly higher and swung right downwards with it at Tathra's throat, a finessed strike to cut the false demi-god down. He would pay for every Brute that had fallen on Eshan. Tathra, would finally feel the blood on his hands when it gushed from his little throat. Should the strike be successful the chieftain would find himself lacking his vocal cords and jugular. A strike that would truly leave him speechless.

Tathra Khaeus · Sep 12, 2019

Grosck, eager as ever swung for his neck. He wanted the fight over, he wanted to show the Bryn'adûl just how strong he was in one powerful strike. He who had fled the field of battle wished redemption. Upon his return, spitting on everything his people stood for. If he'd been lucky, one of the Hel Shards would've crushed Tathra. But he had not, been lucky.

Tathra brought his left foot up, settling on the ball of his foot and launching himself up and toward Grosck; Axe raised. He moved close, catching Grosck's Axe just under the blade with the mid-length of his Axe's shaft. Tathra pulled the bottom length of his Axe back & downward, hooking the blade of Grosck's Axe with his own and pushing them both downward to the right.

Immediately, he disengaged - pulling back the pommel of the lower length of the shaft to shoulder height and quickly jabbing Grosck in the face with the pommel of his Axe and in the process, freeing his Axe from the lock with Groscks. Tathra did not relent, left hand held the upper length of the shaft - moving to the right and outward before bring the Axe in a curved downward strike to the left side of Grosck's collarbone.

| [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] |

Ankshar Kha · Sep 19, 2019

Kha leaped from the perch the sniper had chosen. She dropped on another traitor, her claws gouging down the flank as she struck the ground. As the Drael rocketed forth, her tail whipped to one side to narrowly avoid enemy fire. Her legs pumped as the claws of both hands flared open. If they had come here to die, then they would not be disappointed.

As Ankshar vaulted over the next obstacle, a sharp twist was given to their head as she sailed overhead. Her tail and legs swung through the air to maintain and restore her rotation as gravity took hold once more.

"Death to the heretics," Kha roared as the next in what might be a long line of prey was locked in.

Kyrim Tenebris · Sep 20, 2019

Kyrim was ecstatic. His blades drew blood with every slice and stab, and he knew not what was required of him. He was an assassin without a target, a true killer on the loose. A swirling, fluid, embodiment of death, this monstrosity only slowed down long enough to sink both of his blades to the hilt into the back of a Brute. Pulling them out in a swift motion, Kyrim then proceeded to duck out of the way as the dying brute swung around and let loose his final salvo of heretical blaster fire before falling to the ground as the poison completed its work.

He had been denied his fight earlier when the celebrations were still ongoing, but this, this exceeded almost everything which he had ever been allowed to do. No commands, no orders nothing. Just the silent call to protect the chieftain and to kill the heretic Drael. This had gone on too long, and so Kyrim decided to disbalance the odds. And thus the killings continued...

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