Bryn'adûl | An'shaernehm of Expansion

[Tathra Khaeus]

​

​Deep in the Kraldja Mountains of Caradim; lies a place of celebration crested upon the precipice of a series of waterfalls. An elaborate feat of pristine Aeravalin design. A semi-circular coliseum carved into the face of the mountain, its construction sprawling outward from the mountain to the earth beneath them alit with fires and parties. Its arena; the precipice over a four-hundred metre drop.

​Here, the Bryn'adûl would gather as part of an event known as the An'shaernehm. A celebratory gathering honouring combative accomplishments, in this case the expansion of Bryn'adûl borders. The festivity is alive with feasting, mating and dance. The Arena awaits those seeking honour, as the mighty Chieftain presides over the festivities, boasting a host of nearly twenty thousand Draelvasier.

​Select individuals under the eye of the Ish'Makra have been invited alongside their accompanying troops. Others have arrived of their own intuition.

​-

​Sat upon an elaborate bronze throne, the Chieftain of the Bryn'adûl; Tathra Khaeus watches over his subjects as the festivities proceed throughout the day. A variety of Zealots, Brutes were assisting himself and other members of the Ish'makra in overseeing the events. Drek'ma & Rohm both were overseeing various areas of the festivities. A long line of Draelvasier females stood in a diagonal to his left, behind him and to his right two Zealots stand adjacent to a small alcove. just beyond his reach the females wait, each bringing forth their newly born child for Tathra to inspect.

​Many blessings of strength are passed onto the pure born children of Drael, almost all. It was a long task, Tathra had not eaten in several hours, and his mood grew foul as his stomach began to turn on itself, chewing at the fat.

His grand paw pulled the babe from its Aeravalin mother, allowing its form to sink into the gaps of his anchoring fist. The small thing burped, wrestling with the descending calloused fingers that inspected its form. Its mandible like jaw instinctively nuzzled, tearing into the edge of his thumb.

​Bemused, the Chieftain returned the newborn with a blessing of strength; raising a hand to call for a halt of the next Drael's advance. His muscle-bound mass reclining slightly.

​Respite.

It was a clear amber sky, beautiful. But that same amber sky was the result of fierce and invasive storms, its colourful grace was granted by a far harsher environment than any human species would retain. The Brutal truth is all there is to this Galaxy. At least, that was what the sudden moment of reflection told him.

​​| [member="Ehud"] | [member="Naramphra"] | [member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] | [member="Zhar Xirces"] |​

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Fierce red eyes passed over the vast architecture of the cavern. A wonder of Aeravalin design. Wonder that was not lost on the violent Shaman. Draped in his armoured robes, Hrajlmak's thin, yet hulking figure rested in a seat near the arena's inner edge. Beyond that edge, a pair of Baedurin fought tooth and nail to prove their worth. A spectacle that had held the Shaman's interest before his mind fell into deep thought. Contemplation of change and future filled his shark-like head. His brow creased and relaxed as the various thoughts passed by. His species was seeing change. Fast and significant.

But he caught himself. This was no time for thought. Only enjoyment. Indeed there was change, but there had also been great success. The Bryn'adul were expanding with fierce determination. A subtle smile grew as Hrajlmak began to recall the battles he had seen. Most favourably, Lowick. Where he made his return and proved himself once again to be the Warrior he so indulged in. His clawed hands pushed against the seat and he brought himself to a stand, stretching and flexing his awoken frame.

He found himself wandering the hall. It was alive with life and celebration. The Bryn'adul's success was palpable among those who attended, and Hrajlmak could not help but revel in the feeling. Surrounded on all sides by those who drive the great conquest. By those who brought the beautiful vision to the Galaxy. As he wandered, he glanced toward the Chieftain. If Tathra were not occupied, he would have spoken to him. But as far as he could tell, he was busy. And disturbing the Chieftain was the last thing on Hrajlmak's mind.


[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Crona'Tas]

[SIZE=12pt]Crona stood next to a tall brooding warrior, both examining the fight of the two young Baedurin that processed before them. The tall warrior let out a sigh, “How long have they been fighting?” he said turning his head to Crona, “An hour, three, maybe four.” He said still facing the two fighters, “The Drael must be getting weaker if it’s taking this long.” The warrior said, jokingly. Crona turned his head to the sky, feeling a noticeable but light pain shoot down the back of his neck, a pain that came with age and many fought battles. “Maybe, or we’re just more experienced” Crona started to walk away to a different part of the festivities, “either way, it’s still fun to watch them struggle to find their place.” Crona[/SIZE] said to the warrior as a sort of “goodbye.”

[SIZE=12pt]Crona found the passing days to be quite strange, the Bryn’adul was changing, hopefully for the better. All the years Crona had spent in the Bryn’adul's brutal machine has lead up to these coming moments, he’d met the Shaman Hrajlmak, someone that shared his view, he’d planned to change the Shaman’s caste with him, something that’s troubled him for a very long time, he would try his best to see what he could accomplish but only time will tell, only time. Crona circled back to where the two Baedurin, there was a certain elegance to the savagery of the two. Crona turned his head to the sky again, this time closing his eyes, he remembered when he was that young, although it hadn’t been that long ago, it felt like an entirely different era. He missed those few years he had. It was a time where he was able to cleanse the systems of the Heretical Force-users that he found so grotesque. But that was the past and Crona was far from decomposing in the dirt.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Crona lowered his head from the sky and opened his eyes, he then proceeded to fold his arms. He sighed, “this is going to be a long day.”[/SIZE]

 

[Ankshar Kha]

Ankshar's head swiveled from the Drael on her right to the one on her left. "That's when the creatures threw themselves onto our blades. They finally knew their worth at the end," she roared with a hearty clap on both warriors' shoulders. What was an act of defiance to the small things slaughtered was just another pitiful display of their weakness to the Drael. The joke was ascribing any ounce of strength to the weaklings' idea that it was better they threw themselves on the blade of their enemy, rather than wait to be cut down as was inevitable at that point. Dead was dead in the end.

She straightened up and let them return to their drink. There were many gathered here today, and time enough to celebrate with them all.

Tathra was still in his throne with women anxious for his blessing. The female Drael only gazed upon the scene for a moment before she stepped aside to have a drink delivered into the Chieftain's hand. Perhaps he could do with food as well, but she would not force him to consume flesh; she was not his birther. Nevertheless, they could not have their leader sit in their presence unattended.

"And a long life, strength willing," Ankshar responded as she overheard Crona'Tas' comment. The contest between two Baedurin had drawn her attention, curious if they were struggling out of equality in strength, or from not taking it seriously enough. It was a celebration, but that was no excuse for two strong, clear-minded Drael to go 'easy' on one another.

Tag: [member="Tathra Khaeus"] | [member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"]​

 

[Ehud]

Ehud had never enjoyed the An'shaernehm. But even he could appreciate the view.

Ehud the Seer, back bowed by genetic malformation and responsibility, sat overlooking the series of waterfalls, feeling the cooling mist of expiring rivers touch his body. The cool was nearly painful to the Baedurin, but he didn't mind it. It kept his mind sharp and attentive as he fought back the throes of emotion.

His eyes were far too weak to watch the fighting and other more carnal activities from a safe distance, so he kept his back turned. His senses, however, were extended as far as they could go, as Ehud skimmed the minds of the participants. It was unobtrusive, only watching from a distance, even as a particularly astute individual or Force-sensitive being might pick up on it. He simply observed the rampant energy of the gathering. careful not to embody it.

He was a Seer of the Bryn'adûl. His Order would say that the An'shaernehm was the truest expression of what it meant to be Drael. To battle, to procreate, to celebrate one's strength and prowess in war, was to be Draelvasier. But things were changing, as things are wont to do. He could feel it in the crowd, as he scanned through emotions. There were those that held their doubts. They were few, one in a hundred, or a thousand, or ten-thousand, but they were there, amid the storm of celebrants.

The Chieftain, [member="Tathra Khaeus"] was hungry. It was a nipping feeling, that sent Ehud's own insides spinning. Of course, Ehud could never dwell long on the Chieftain's feelings. He preferred to give his leader his privacy. Still, there was something that could be done about that.

Ehud stood from his reclined position, and traveled into the crowd, careful to avoid where emotion ran thickest. He traversed the mob as quickly as one his speed could, before making it to the feasting tables. Beasts of all kinds had been hunted for this day, large grazing creatures and those of tooth and claw. With a little persuasion, Ehud was gifted a cage of ribs, each bent bone the size of his forearm. He quickly took his prize away, smiling, and approached the Chieftain on his throne.

Ehud stepped to the side as a group of Drael women with their children began dispersing. He simply bowed his head, and allowed them to pass. Child-rearing was just as an important task as war. He had always deeply respected those that could take the small lump of meat that was a child, and shape it like clay into a useful tool. Finally, he continued, until he was in the vicinity of the Chieftain.

Ehud stood tall as he approached, reaching his full height, before bowing his head in respect, as he had with the children. He extended his hands with the meat, waiting for a servant or guard to take, and check for poison. "My Chieftain. I have had a vision of great import. A king goes hungry at his own feasting table." He smiled, ironically.

"The An'shaernehm is no place for an empty stomach."

[member="Ankshar Kha"] - [member="Crona'Tas"] - [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] - [member="Tathra Khaeus"]​

 

[Kyrim Tenebris]

Kyrim looked at the two Zealots standing guard behind the Chieftain when the seer brought Tathra a small ribcage. He understood what they were feeling, as it was a boring job, and the only things to watch where the female drael presenting their newborns to the chieftain, or the slow ceremonial duel. They were literally itching for action. When the seer came towards the Chieftain with a small set of ribs, one stepped down out of his alcove and walked towards the Drael. Grabbing the small ribcage, he ripped off a select parts and let them dry momentarily, then he gnawed on one. Then the other. And then the next. Satisfied, he bowed his head towards the seer and presented the now slightly smaller small ribcage to the Chieftain. " Sire, your food awaits” said the Zealot guard.

Then a cry was heard. Such Commotion! The fight which had been going on for hours was coming to an end, with the one with less stamina quickly slowing down. In a matter of minutes, it was over. No casualties though. Today was a day of celebration, and Kyrim planned to do that the way which he enjoyed. Battle ran in his blood, having been genetically bred for it, and today Kyrim would gain more honor. Into the arena the Zealot went, pridefully and with purpose. He needed to continue to prove his worth, and today was the perfect day to do so.

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

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Tathra did not share the communal cheeriness carried by the Seer, his exterior was perturbed as fists clenched lightly into the surface of the bronze armrests. The Zealot behind him had acted without Command, coming forth without permission, and whilst Seer Ehud's telepathic skills were impressive, and had thus far gone unnoticed - but the tactful nature of his arrival had given him away.

​The Chieftain stirred quietly, raising an open palm as he clamped down on the Zealots wrist before he could pick up his food, his paw nearly snapping the bones of the Zealots wrist. Seer Ehud had become too comfortable, and forgot himself and so had the Zealot. Tathra would be more alert for his mental advances in the future, he would punish both.

​"Venture into my mind once more, and I will serve your head on a platter next." ​Tathra's voice thundered outward, controlled but tested. He had no qualms with openly threatening the Seer as his gaze remained affixed on the Seer, awaiting some form of retreat.

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

 

[Ehud]

Perhaps this was when he was supposed to feel scared? Frightened into submission?

No, perhaps not. Who could be frightened of such power? A clear show of force could only cow those who didn't respect it. But Ehud respected the source of this power, deeply. Therefore, he was not frightened. He was proud.

But he would be remiss to say that he was more proud in the fact that he could get away with such a slight with only a threat.

"Of course, Sire," Ehud rumbled, his tone unchanged, bur his head bowed, eyes planted on the ground. "I will turn my gaze elsewhere in the future."

Ehud had not ventured into his Chieftain's mind, merely watched as one might admire a creature from afar, but he doubted Tathra wanted to debate the distinction.

"Of course, I should have known you did not need my gift to find happiness," Ehud said, regarding [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] with some interest. "Of course, your people will see your merriment, and be inspired to greater heights." Ehud didn't look at the Chieftain, but he doubted the other's face was very 'merry'.

Ehud prodded. He always prodded. But he did it for a good purpose. A leader could not be bored and hungry at his own celebration. If he pretended to enjoy himself, at least, he would bolster the Drael much more than simply waiting on his throne, famished. Tathra and he were different in mind, but the former had to see that fact.

If not, perhaps Ehud would rather his head roll here. There was no use for an advisor who's advice was ignored. Besides, it would certainly lift the spirits of those that despised him.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Ankshar Kha"] - [member="Crona'Tas"] - [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"]​

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Cries from the arena caught Hrajlmak's attention. He turned his body toward the pit and felt nothing more than disappointment at the sight of the two living Drael. Hours had passed since the beginning, and the conclusion was nothing more than submission from one of two beaten and tired warriors. Pathetic Hrajlmak thought to himself. He wondered what pair of useless fools would enter the arena next, until it struck him.

Tathra had been sat on his throne since the moment of the gathering. Who better to watch the next fight than the Chieftain himself. Hrajlmak strode toward the arena, passing Crona'tas without a word. Not out of spite or disrespect, but he was in a hurry to bloody the arena before anyone else did. Quickly approaching the edge of the arena's seating, he leapt down into the pit just as another Baedurin made his way onto the sands.

The two locked eyes briefly before Hrajlmak's opponent recognised the robes that draped Hrajlmak's body. Confusion swept the hulking warrior and he began to look to the crowd with question in his eyes. This was no Baedurin. It wasn't even a drone thrown in for the entertainment. This was a Shaman. Hrajlmak grinned at the perplexed warrior as he threw his staff to the edges and tore his robes off. He pulled his arms back and stretched every fibre of his body, all while staring intently at the Baedurin opposite him.

Once it was certain that this was indeed no joke, the hulking Baedurin began moving toward the centre. Hrajlmak did the same and began a heavy, deliberate walk toward his opponent. Betraying no emotion in his face, Hrajlmak opened his hand into a claw, threw it in an uppercut motion and bowled a ball of red inferno at his opponent. As it left his hand, he charged. The flame smashed into his opponents face, warranting a roar and opening a moment of access. Hrajlmak ran full-speed and sent both claws into his opponent's chest and lower abdomen. Managing, but with visible strain, Hrajlmak lifted the rabid warrior into the air and slammed him back into the ground. He stepped back slightly as the Baedurin scrambled to his feet to give some space, then, just as his opponent composed himself, Hrajlmak threw himself forward head first. The sharp protrusion on his head buried itself into the Baedurin's chest. In his overconfidence, Hrajlmak had forgotten the thickness of the Bryn'adul's tanks.

The Baedurin grabbed Hrajlmak's head on both sides, ripped it out of his chest, and brought it crashing down to the floor. A crack sounded as Hrajlmak's comparatively weaker bones suffered the weight of the collision, the angular bones in his face almost shattering. Before he could get up, his opponent had dug his own claws into Hrajlmak's back and thrown him across the arena. With distance between them, Hrajlmak got to his feet and grinned a profusely bloody and beaten face.

"You are restricting yourself!" Hrajlmak roared across to his opponent in Drael muffled by the blood in his mouth. If Hrajlmak were just another Baedurin, his opponent would have crushed his skull when he was on the floor. But he didn't.

"You are afraid! You are afraid to kill a Shaman!" His bellowing voice echoed across the arena as he approached his opponent. His walk became a jog as they slowly closed the distance between each other. Before getting too close, Hrajlmak began sprinting toward the angered Baedurin. His opponent swung for Hrajlmak's head, but the agile Shaman dropped and slid across the sand, grabbing and wrenching his opponent's foot from under him. With a grip on the Baedurin's ankle, Hrajlmak clawed his way up the massive body until he was attached to his back and wrapped his sharp fingers around the Baedurin's head. Immediately he began lifting and slamming the head into the sand. Every impact spurted more blood as his opponent's face slowly gave to the trauma.

"Where are your customs" The Baedurin's faced crashed into the floor.

"Where is the Warrior". Another slam accompanied by the crackling of bones.

"Fight me! For I am worthy of the Battle". Hrajlmak roared the last word and the Baedurin saw his last of the sand as his ruined eyes came crashing into the floor. Hrajlmak was in another world at this point, bringing his opponent's head down with such force that it caved in, leaving only the rear half of his skull somewhat intact. Blood pooled around the ruined head. Hrajlmak stood on the head and tried to pull his claws out of the skull. With enough effort, they both tore out of the flesh and bone in a small display of flinging gore. The bloody Shaman stood straight. He had displayed an example. A proof of concept. He looked to those that had watched.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] / [member="Ankshar Kha"] / [member="Crona'Tas"] / [member="Ehud"] / [member="Kyrim Tenebris"]​

 

[Krael Vizkla]

The crimson red Baedurin Brute made his way through the crowd of Draelvasier, surprisingly gently for a being of his size and stature, and brutal nature. He then walked up to the Feast Table, pushing a smaller, less decisive Sraelvun out of his way as he met up with a group of his Battle-Buddy-Brutes, ones he'd fought with many a time before. He then reached over, taking a large leg of an avian beast, grabbing it by the exposed bone. He bit into it savagely, tearing the fleshy meat off of the leg, and swallowed it. He then let out a rumbling sound, laughing with his group over the literal punchline of a battle-joke. His jolly sound was interrupted when one of his brute buddies shook his shoulder, pointing down to about breast height, where a small, off-coloured Sraelvun was beating on his back weakly. He ripped off another bit of the food, then passed it off to his battle-buddy, and hit the Sraelvun hard, across his jaw, then gave a perfect example of an upper-cut.

The Sraelvun threw a punch into the Brute's gut, knocking the wind out of him. As he doubled over, the Sraelvun tried to kick his shins out, earning a wheezy laugh from the Brute, as he regained his breath. He then raised himself back up to his full height, and grabbed the Sraelvun by the head, slamming it into his knee. He pushed the Sraelvun backwards, making the servant fall on his back, he then lifted the creature back up, and snapped it's neck, dropping the body on the floor. He went back over, and continued to savagely tear at the leg of meat until all that was left was bone. Krael then looked around, distracted from his group of brutes/

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

 

[Crona'Tas]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona watched as the warrior’s head was smashed repeatedly into the floor, with the viciousness of a thousand screams of the dead. If Hrajlmak was attempting to make himself known, than he definitely did a good job. The young Baedurin’s head finally ceased it constant mangling and Hrajlmak stood victorious. Crona stepped forward, pushing people out of his way to get into the first row of people, and get a better view of his friend’s glorious battle.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]The other combatant was dead, or a vegetable by this point. His head had caved in and all the blood that was in it had spilled onto the sands, coating it in the deep crimson liquid that turned it’s consistency and color to that of clay. It was quite a sight to see. Crona admired the unseen elegance of these battles, he enjoyed it even more when the fight was won and executed with flawless precious. Although this battle had not been won with precious, it was won much quicker than the last one. Crona hope that this showed as an example of how your meant to fight The Bryn’adul and how fast [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]real [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]fights are supposed to last. Crona crossed his arms and looked the other Shaman in the eyes… this has [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]bean [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]a real treat, Crona thought to himself.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona took a few steps forward as to announce himself even more, and started to clap. With admiration and pride, for this was not only a victory for Hrajlmak, but a victory for all Shaman, including himself. Not only that, but an inspiration to most. Hopefully some Shaman would lead by the amazing show of power here today.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“Good, that was much more impressive than the last one.” Crona stop clapping, and turned to the crowd. “Well? Clap, show your appreciation to the true fighter that graced us with an actual fight.” suddenly people start to clap, its small at first and then more, until mostly everyone were pounding their hands together, some in unison others small and unnoticeable, some Baedurin stood in disbelief, refusing to believe a Shaman defeated one of their brothers. Crona turned back to Hrajlmak and said “ Okay, maybe too much clapping.” with that he sunk back into the crowd, disappearing, but in actuality he slid his to the grand feasting table to get something to drink.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Crona rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward, only pulling himself back for another drink from the bottle. His neck still hurt. Perhaps he’d find some other place to rest his mind. That said, he noticed a small bench behind him. He turned, walked to it, and planted himself. He leaned back and closed his eyes… no more pain.[/SIZE]



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

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

Tathra observed with a steely gaze as the Seer Ehud bowed, retreating from his overly comfortable position. Perhaps he was humbled, perhaps not - it mattered little. In the end, what mattered was that Ehud would hesitate to act on ignorant assumptions with such haste in the future.

Incompetence came in many forms and whilst Tathra was Chieftain due to his combative prowess, he was also a skilled politician and student of learning. He endeavoured to seek strength in every corner of the Bryn'adûl.

Strength.

Strength drew Tathra from the docile recline of his Throne to the rabble of the immediate feasting tables before the primary arena. Those who sat raised their cups or nodded, greeting their Chieftain with his due respect. Tathra's eyes shifted to the first arena for a moment, watching the familiar Shaman cave in the Baedurin skull. A meagre kill. He stopped opposite an almost full table, turning to them.

"May I eat with you, my brethren?" Tathra's strong baritone was as stringent and present as ever, but his tone was placid and casual.

The largest among them shifted to make room; "You honour us Sire!"

​| [member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Krael Vizkla"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Ehud"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] |​

 

[Grosck Bah'azet]

BUM​

​

BUM​

​

BUM, BUM,​

​

BUM​

​

[SIZE=11pt]The great war drums beat reverberated throughout the ancient ship. They were large kinetic generators that fueled the ships energy cores with each hammer of the drumsticks. Thousands of slaves had been collected and forced to power the ships generators for the once honored and now outcast brutes of Grosck's band. The ship they traveled in was a dilapidated white, border line khaki. Large holes had been punched into multiple decks of the massive vessel rendering much of it useless or in a state of disrepair. Grosck and his brutes were growing desperate... They needed resources, and while the plunder of other worlds had been rich, they lacked the man power to continue their tyrannical crusade forever. Slaves had been taken to free up warriors, but even so, Grosck's band of pirates was dwindling. He had lived as a king during his exile after Eshan. But, even so, he longed for the test of battle that only a true Draelvasier could provide. So, as the warship sailed on Grosck turned his raven's gaze to the navigational officer. [/SIZE]

​

[SIZE=11pt]"Chieftain... We have arrived home," The nav officer replied in a solemn voice as he turned to address Grosck[/SIZE]

​

[SIZE=11pt]Grosck steely gaze turned from the ship hand as he pushed himself out of his command chair. Great billowing clouds of dust clung tightly to the air and could be seen in a thick haze through the dim light. His large feet thudded on rusted durasteel hull as he marched along, his foot scrapping the metal only occasionally creating the slightest of screech. Grosck could not help but sigh as he traversed the deck towards the duraglass window. It would be a welcome sight, that of home, even if it was likely to be his last. He stared out the window at the broken world that was his and gave a wolfish grin crowned by two horns. He placed a hand to the transparisteel frame and felt the cool vacuum of space pawing at his palm. It was a time of festivities on the home world, this years would be more memorable than those before, Grosck would see to that.[/SIZE]

​

[SIZE=11pt]"Prepare my shuttle for landing," Grosck growled lowly without looking back from his station[/SIZE]

​

[SIZE=11pt]He was going to see to it that those who had followed him loyally since Eshan were able to return home. With the heroes honor that they deserved. Grosck made an about face turn and began marching his way towards the hangar. He was approached by a pair of brutes whom dipped their heads slightly in greeting. They were part of Grosck's honor guard and would accompany him to the surface. Grosck nodded in return. These were brutes who had been raised in the bedla'korum with himself. These brutes truly recognized him as their new chieftain and so, they would die besides Grosck. But, while their deaths were assured, Grosck hoped they were not in vain. He would see to it that those who had been exiled because of his failure would once more have a place among kin or he would die trying...[/SIZE]


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

 

[Ehud]

No response from the Chieftain was forthcoming. Thankfully, neither was one needed. Tathra left his throne, perhaps heeding Ehud's advice, perhaps doing what he was planning all along. If it was the former, Ehud could have felt some sort of pride. If the latter, his pride was not damaged. He didn't bother enough to find out.

Ah, yes, I said I wouldn't do that anymore.

Head kept low, Ehud moved for Tathra to pass, but as the dragging wind of the large form touched his face, he felt a stirring in the Force. Ehud was taken off-guard by this sudden insistence to look. It was as if all his instincts taunted him, petitioning him to gaze up. Ehud debated the feeling for a moment, mulling it over in his head, letting it ferment, until the stink was too intoxicating to ignore. He looked up.

The ship's pounding. There was something about it. Ehud knew it to be Drael, perhaps an older model. But each beat sent waves through his perception of the Force. With each beat, there was a flash of vision. Each one gruesome and fearsome, Draelvasier marauding across the galaxy, taking the people of it to use.

The drayde descends upon the carcass, prepared to feast. The behemoth rises up from it's kill, prepared to bite the wings off it's opponent. The Swarm watches.

The vision receded as Ehud blinked it away, only now hearing the drumbeat with his own ears. He watched the ship with interest, then let his gaze fall to Tathra, who was now feasting with his people. The Conquerer from above, the Conquerer from below.

This will be interesting.

Ehud hobbled slowly, following the wake of the chieftain at a distance. He overlooked everything, squinting against his bad eyesight. It was here, where there were few Drael, that he would wait. That he would watch. He didn't often enjoy death, but some things one couldn't miss.

He began to reach into the minds of the Drael around him, touching that savage part of their mind, whipping them into a fury. He continued to branch out, avoiding those with the mind or attentiveness to block him, as he stoked the fervent part of their mind, the Drael part, slowly but certainly heightening the mood.

It was important to have the right ambiance for what was to come.

[member="Grosck Bah'azet"] - [member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Crona'Tas"] - [member="Krael Vizkla"] - [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] - ​

 

[Ankshar Kha]

Ankshar's eye was drawn to the fighters where Hrajlmak began to make his booming way. What was the Shaman doing entering the ring with such ferocity in his eyes? Obviously, he intended to fight the Baedurin. Was this wise? Perhaps, perhaps not. But it was Drael. If he felt so confident in his abilities to take on one of the young ones in the ring that would be his decision. None would be foolish enough to kill the Shaman -- and those that might would find her claws at their throat before the fatal blow landed.

Such caused the Marauder's muscles to tense when Hrajlmak got himself thrown across the ring. His position was no hopeless, but neither was it one of sure footing.

A soft clicking was muffled by Ankshar's closed maw. They were afraid she would end them if they killed a Shaman, certainly. Such ability should not be discarded lightly; and while the thought 'if he was foolish enough to enter the ring, he would be so foolish in the field' was a consideration, it was not enough by itself to justify letting Hrajlmak pass. Though that did not explain the actions of his opponent. Ankshar was prepared to stop the fight--

She watched as Crona decided to stride forward rather than converse. He seemed pleased in Hrajlmak's victory. Quite pleased. A good showing for the Shaman.

After the clapping started and did not stop, Ankshar strode forward as Crona (and perhaps Hrajlmak) exited the ring. "Enough," she bellowed with one hand slicing through the air. "Are you warriors or politicians? Eat, drink, and prove your mettle this day," the Marauder cried to send the crowd back to the festivities. Clapping was...acceptable, but too much clapping reminded her of the little creatures of the galaxy. They were too preoccupied by self-congratulatory remarks and ego to notice the threat building at their door.

Once they had begun reorganizing themselves and even removed the corpse so others might fight, Ankshar left the ring herself content the order of things had been restored. A shame to lose a warrior, but the Brutes would learn from it and become stronger. They would not underestimate the Shaman in battle again. Some lessons were only learned through the shedding of blood.

Her gaze caught sight of Tathra having joined in with other Drael. Ankshar paused in stride for a moment to watch him interacting with his soldiers. His followers. Such thoughts were interrupted when the sight of Ehud loitering nearby was noticed. A soft snort followed. The Seer was always near. Ehud often found himself in trouble despite his efforts to please Tathra. They did not think alike, and so one did not always understand the other. As an Aeravalin, Ankshar could appreciate the strange interests Ehud had as long as they could bolster the military might of their people. Culture and frivolity of the outside were unwelcome, but Ehud did not strive to change who they were.

Ankshar strode through the crowd toward the hulk. He would even taller than she were he upright. "Seer Ehud," she declared, but not so loud that it would intrude on Tathra's assembly nearby, "your gaze seems distant." Had a vision come upon him, or was now truly the right time to peer into the future? Surely even a Seer should enjoy the celebration.

Tag: @​Crona'Tas | [member="Krael Vizkla"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Ehud"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Hrajlmak remained motionless as the clapping picked up. He was victorious and the corpse at his feet was the reminder. He began walking away from the centre towards his robes and staff. His angular maw opened in a stretch, the fractured bones clicking in his ears. He spat a handful of blood onto the sand as he donned his robes and gripped his weapon. There was a steady beating in his sense. Loud and strong. The Shaman's nerves buzzed, he could smell conflict in the air. Whoever was announcing themselves like this, was gagging to be noticed.

With tension in his bones, Hrajlmak sought to enjoy himself before anything happened. He strode from the ring near the Marauder, Ankshar and Crona. Ankshar separated to speak with the Hunchback, leaving just Hrajlmak and Crona at the feast table. The bloody Shaman tore at more than a handful of meat and began filling his ravenous stomach.

"He was a coward". Hrajlmak turned his head to Crona, his mouth almost full with a mixture of blood, bone and meat. Only the meat was not from his own body.

"They coddle us. They care for us like a protective Mother. The tension among the audience was as palpable to me as the blood in my mouth. They don't want to see us fight. They want us behind the battle out of fear."

Hrajlmak spat the product of his injuries onto the floor.

"It's not enough simply to engage in battle. They need to see us for what we are. Warriors. Not children to be protected."

Hrajlmak's eyes glanced toward Tathra, only to turn away as he spat more blood and bone onto the floor.

Tathra Khaeushttp://starwarsrp.net/user/2827-tathra-khaeus/ / Ankshar Kha / Crona'Tas / Ehud / Kyrim Tenebris​

 

[Grosck Bah'azet]

Grosck marched into the hangar accompanied by his honor guard of sixty brutes. While the beating of the ship's kinetic engines within atmosphere could surely be heard, Grosck was no fool. He would fly smaller craft to the surface below, leaving the large shuttle in the air in the event an avenue of retreat were needed. This was not to say he and his warriors were going to retreat. No, this was simply the tactful thinking of a strategist. Grosck and all of his warriors were gathered within the hangars. They would all meet on the battlefield of home and bring glory to their name or die trying... The slaves had been sacrificed to the gods of battle. Their blood ran through the ships drains and coalesced in pools within the hangars. Hel shards rested within the pools of gruel and the biot that covered the drop ships drank from the organic fluids greedily.

"We are the honored few!"

Grosck roared as he stepped within a pool of blood towards his own personal Hel shard.

"For we alone stood at the Hades of oblivion!"

Came the triumphant cry of his warriors

"We will purge the home world of the sinful whelps who call Tathra chieftain!"

Grosck roared as he was the first to mount a Hel shard.

"For we are the chosen few, the true god of war has blessed us brothers and now we stand in divined truth!"

Came the echoed reply from Grosck tribe as his warriors mounted their respective Hel shards.

"Weathered warriors, we stand as one! To kill, battle, destroy, is Draelvasier!"

Grosck spoke in finallity, his voice booming at first then deescalating as he strapped himself within his harness.

"And victory is our destiny, War our right of passage,"

Came the end reply, spoken upon bitter, but fierce tongue.

Grosck had ordered the ship to be put in autopilot. It's kinetic engines ceased as it went into low power mode and hovered directly above the main festival grounds. He was adorned in the barest of armor, leaving his flesh to take the brunt of any blow. As a true warrior should. His great war axe adorned his back. It's sheath, human hide, still wet from the tannery. He and all his warriors were prepared. While Grosck and his troops were ready, he had made plan in the event that Tathra or his followers suspect the coming invasion. He had had his own tribe infiltrate the surrounding area. Now they lie in wait near the enemies anti air defenses and prepared to strike.

It was all coming together perfectly. Grosck could not be more pleased with his cunning plan. Yes, change was indeed on the wind and he planned to be it. Already he imagined himself as the new Chieftain off all Drael. It would be glorious. All Grosck had to do was take it. Without word the signal was given by those planetside. Rocket flares disguised as fireworks were fired into the air as those on the ground prepared to lock down the air emplacements. Grosck nodded in assent and the green drop light began it's countdown.

The Hel shards were released from their respective chambers and began their descent with a rain of blood. The Hel shards would land among those in attendance. Kicking up great billows of earth, blood and gore as they were crushed beneath the drop pods weight. The doors hissed open, until finally ejecting themselves outward. This was shortly followed by the roars of the warrior within. Laser fire bounded outwards from the pods and the battle began.

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

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

The merriment was postponed as heads turned, Tathra already standing tall with freshly greased fists clenched, the absence of his Great Axe was felt; a phantom limb distorted by inerti a, generated in all in immediate company by confusion.

Before any of it could come to bare, Battlenet protocols kicked in as the Bryn'adûl attempted to contact the wayward vessel. How had they managed to arrive with no warning? There was little time to diagnose the situation as the vessel lowered into view.

A bold shadow lingered over the precipice of the mountain, darkening the surrounding area as the golden light of the sun became besmirched by the broad silhouette. It was quickly familiar, an older class of Decimus Battle Cruiser. Tathra recognised the battle damage, his mind flooded with memory.
On the scorched plains of Eshan, Brute Commander Grosck had sullied their impending victory with a heretical choice, he retreated to save himself. He had abandoned Tathra and their army to the undergrowth of Eshans ruin among the hundred-thousand corpses.

Grosck and his crew had never returned, their whereabouts but a whisper. Now, on the eve of victory the heretic revealed his ugly head.

Rage embalmed itself in his throat, lingering- pressed for time Tathra did what little he could to organise their immediate troops as seven Hel Shards leapt from the old ship, landing all about the arena and immediate festive area. Tathra was thrown from the earth as one of the Hel Shards crashed through the table beside him, taking him from his feet as the Bryn'adûl heretics within revealed themselves.

Clad in rags and with human weapons, blasters. Tathra's rage untethered itself from patience, the anvil that withheld him snapped as a fevered raging scream left the titan, charging at the group of six Heretic Brutes.

Tathra pursued the closest of the six first, blasters rounds cascading with little affect as he broke the weapon in two with one savage strike of his fist, hands clasping his meagre form as he pulled the Heretic close, maw gaping as he tore the throat and lower jaw from the first; a gush of flesh sprouting from his torn face, throwing the Heretic back half into the Shard as his body squirmed, pulling at his throat. The second moved to pass the titan, Tathra was bigger, stronger, faster.

He grasped the collar of the Heretics armour, yanking him backward and to the ground as Tathra's right foot crushed his skull, the impact causing a thunderclap as blood gushed out from either end. The third struck with a jagged bone-blade, attempting to slash across Tathra's lowered form as the titan pivoted, falling back on his left foot.
The blade skirted the edge of his breastplate, Tathra used his weight to dominate; right arm pushing the Heretics blade further right, his superior strength causing the Heretic to over-extend and break his guard. Tathra's left hand grasped the Brute, firmly raising him nearly two feet from the ground as slammed his right fist repeatedly into his face, turning to his right as he launched the Heretic into the dirt, neck collapsing under the weight of his own body.

​| [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Ankshar Kha"] | [member="Crona'Tas"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Ehud"] | [member="Krael Vizkla"] |​

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Chewing his hunk of flesh with great difficulty, Hrajlmak craned his neck upwards to watch as the old Decimus eclipsed the sun. Confusion washed his face as he tried to figure out what exactly he was looking at. Until it hit him. His mouth ceased chewing as recognition flooded his mind. Although he was occupied with battle.. and failure, Hrajlmak had still been privy to the betrayal on Eshan. Cowards led by a Brute Commander had abandoned the conquest in the interest of their own welfare. His head lowered and he quickly dropped his half-eaten meal. He reached for his Staff and gripped it the moment a Shard came crashing down in between himself and Tathra. Hrajlmak fell back, stunned. He clambered to his feet to see Tathra dispatching the third of six Brutes to emerge from the shard. He ran toward the fourth, ignited his staff and impaled the Brute through his upper chest with fresh adrenaline, pushing more than half the weapon through the hulking body. Not being enough to kill the Drael, Hrajlmak sent a stream of red inferno down the length of the buried shaft. The flames infected the Brute's diaphragm, immolating it from the inside out. Hrajlmak wrenched the staff out of the burning mass and turned toward his next opponent only to be uppercut back onto the floor. The attacking Brute lumbered toward a floored Hrajlmak and raised both his hands, preparing to bring them down upon the struggling Shaman.

Thump

A Drone came barreling into the Brute's side, interrupting his blow. The measly figure hardly shifted the hulking beast. The brute took hold of the Drone's head and was about to crush it without effort being another three drones came flying into the Brute's side, one after the other, sending the Brute to the floor. Hrajlmak quickly got to his feet, grabbed his staff and brought the pommel down upon the writhing Brute so hard, it passed straight through his skull. The final shard occupant had disappeared into the surrounding battle. Hrajlmak looked to Tathra briefly, his face beaten almost beyond recognition before turning away and throwing himself headfirst into battle.

​ [member="Grosck Bah'azet"] / [member="Ankshar Kha"] / [member="Crona'Tas"] / [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] / [member="Ehud"] / [member="Krael Vizkla"]

 

[Ankshar Kha]

A series of low clicks emanated from Ankshar as she stood on the festive grounds. She jabbed the commlink open on her forearm, seeking a private channel among Aeravalin. "Blacksun dawn." How had a ship gotten this close without being intercepted? It was not part of the event. Such arrangements would have been known. Tathra himself was in attendance and while undeniably strong they did not beg an enemy to throw entire fleets at them. Such a vessel should not have gone unnoticed, or at least not raised an alarm. Something was wrong, and she would have to rely on others elsewhere to take appropriate action to seek that out.

For now, her business was with the Hel Shards that began to rained down from above. "To arms," she bellowed. Let none be so consumed by drink or merriment they not notice what others had come to see. If they were to die, they would die ready to meet their enemy head-on.

Her first order of business was ensuring Ehud was not flattened by the fall of their enemy. Perhaps his Sight granted him the ability to tend himself, but despite how he clashed with Tathra his wisdom was a resource not so easily lost in battle. After that, she would expect the man capable of handling himself; for the Marauder had others to deal with this day.

As the enemy surged out of a nearby Shard, Ankshar bolted forward. She slid under the sweep of their blasters before bounding up and grappling with a brute. They wrestled with the weapon between them for a second. Her left hand released the weapon only to stab her thumb-claw into the creature's right eye, her fingers finding perch along side his head. With a violent tug, his pain wracked body provided cover from blaster fire on the left; while her right left lashed out to knock back the one on her right.

The brute lifted its left hand to bash the creature that had hold of it. Ankshar snarled as her tail whipped around to throw her body in the opposite direction she'd been moving; she went under the vertical strike and came out before another eager for combat. It got her claws embedded within the soft tissues of its throat; the mess a spray that garnered not a moment's attention. Instead her hands went to the blaster the dying had begun to release and ended the traitor that had been to her left earlier.

Plenty remain on the field, but they would all perish. They had come expecting their enemy to be soft of food and drink; weak and worthy for slaughter. They would find out this day how wrong they had been about a great many things.

Tag: @​Crona'Tas | [member="Krael Vizkla"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Ehud"] | [member="Kyrim Tenebris"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"]​