Bryn'adûl | Transmutation

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Locale: ​Xaeldrask | Alchemy & Mutagen Research Facility

​Mutations were the key to accelerated evolution, and spell bound mutagens were but an initial step in the progress the Bryn'adûl demanded. As such, more pliable forms were created; greater numbers of force sensitive Baedurin and Aeravalin would join the fray.

​Soon, hundreds of adepts toiled for the increase of mutagen accessibility such success leading to more successfully powerful individuals such as the Natok breed. A fine example of which, Hraljmak who now stood amongst the Shamans that flanked the sides of the High Shaman; Drek'ma, standing a head short of the Chieftain who now rested a top a marble surface, the Seers potion now allowing for his body to degrade.

​Opposite him, lay a body coiled from the very most prestigious of force based genetics and mutagens - a form reared and overseen personally by the Chieftain. Yet no matter what route they pursued, the prodigal son remained dormant. This was their last option.

​The Chieftain's mass lay bare, marred by a panoply of scars, some from beasts and others from the technologically terrors bore by men. Teeth-marks, scratches and acidic burns covered the entirety of his upper torso. Even still, the flesh was incredibly formidable - the century old carapace was tested and worn, but still gave as much resistance to the mutagens degradation as Baedurin hides many times over.

​The prowess of the Shamans were tested, as the two of the Seers oversaw the transmutation; guiding the process with their own esteemed abilities.

​The mutagens got to work, slowly degrading the molecular bonds that held Tathra together. The same process was applied to the lifeless form that rested on the adjacent marble surface.

​It was a strange sensation, tendrils of energy appeared to coat his form in a balm of soothing energy; for a century his body had worked tirelessly, old aches disappeared as each scar and bruise were enveloped in the energy.

​Yet much worse was to come.

​| [member="Bralor Azkaroth"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] |​

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Cloaked in his armoured Shaman Robes, Hrajlmak stood with his staff in hand with its pommel touching the floor. Hrajlmak's gaze passed over the dormant vessel before him. A growth of great importance, yet a persistent failure. The vessel had undergone several waking rituals, some observed by Hrajlmak, but none had worked. Hrajlmak had theorised this was due to a fundamental incompatibility between the artificial growth and the Force itself. This would now be addressed as Hrajlmak began to mutter Drael spells alongside the other Shamans.

Hrajlmak's gaze passed from the vessel to his Chieftain. A sight he had never expected to witness. The Chieftain lay bare and vulnerable. Hrajlmak's own influence breaking the hulking mass apart. To see the revered warrior on his back, bare and vulnerable was an image that was both alien and humbling to Hrajlmak. He had seen the Chieftain only in his most glorious battles, shrouded in the blood and despair of his enemies. And now here he lay. Slowly breaking apart and only a brief stab away from death.

But such thoughts lingered no more than moment. Hrajlmak had a task before him. One of great importance to himself, his Chieftain, and the greatest species in the Galaxy. One he would complete to the best of his ability. The spells he uttered gradually grew in intensity. He brought his hand from his side and reached out toward the roots of his Chieftain's force signature, and began the pull.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Bralor Azkaroth"]​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The degradation caused Tathra's blood to boil, an aching spasm engulfing his every sense as the very atomic bonds that held him together screamed in agony. Teeth clenched, the titan growled with enduring ferocity - barely able to stop himself from moving as the pain simply overwhelmed.

​There was nothing, no ambition. No pride, only pain. An unrelenting pain, felt a thousand fold in every corner of his consciousness. The maw unclenched, a guttural roar bellowing from the ruptured vocal cords, carrying the pain of a torn, guttural animalistic instinct to end the pain. The scream echoed through the chamber, filling every corner with its sound.

​Immediately, the Seers placed restraints on the Chieftain. Plasmatic rings of energy held his arms and legs as bile spilled from his maw, projectile gushes of bile spreading over the length of his form, his eyes diluting lost their glow and his form grew still.

​A numbness overwhelmed all senses, and for a moment he was no more. His essence was torn asunder, a miasma of energy warped and pulled towards the crystallised catalyst that rested betwixt the two motionless forms.

​Immediately, new mutagens were emplaced to fortify Tathra's constitution, allowing him to linger as his form was rejuvenated by the Seers.

​The task of the transmutation of the force energy to Bralor now rested on the Shamans.

​| [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Bralor Azkaroth"] |​

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Hrajlmak watched as his Chieftain writhed in pain. Every segment of his face contorted in response to the tearing of his molecules. The pain was immense, and one Hrajlmak aspired to endure. But it was not for him, it was for the warrior upon the slab. For now, Hrajlmak had only one task. Soon, his Chieftain's life force was ripped from him and imprisoned in the catalyst between himself and the cadaver. Hrajlmak's intense shouts faded as he began to cease his alchemical work. The echoes of myriad voices lingered still.

For now, the Chieftain would be left alone. His input had concluded and the Shaman's had only this portion of his being to contend with. Hrajlmak stepped up to the crystalline prison and placed his great clawed hands around it. Slowly, his spells fell from his mouth. The Catalyst was somewhat transparent and within it, a red, serpent-like light swirled and contorted within. As Hrajlmak's Drael infected the catalyst, the writhing energy became more energetic and violent. His scaly fingers gripped the catalyst tighter and his voice rose. Hrajlmak was coaxing the energy from its prison, trying to bring it to his own fingers.

Hrajlmak was shouting again, pouring his will into the catalyst. The energy within was a portion of the greatest Warrior in the Galaxy. It had a mind much like his Chieftain's. It refused, it fought back. Hrajlmak struggled to match it, every now and then pulling his fingers from the catalyst, only for the energy to snap back into the crystal. Finally, the Energy bonded with Hrajlmak's grip. He began to pull his hands away from the catalyst, threads of a glowing red attacked to his fingertips slowly tore away from the Crystal like a goo. The other Shaman's surrounded him now, pouring their own spells into the process in an effort to bolster Hrajlmak's efforts.

Hrajlmak carefully ripped with the writhing red from its crystalline prison. It whipped into his hands and flowed around them. Hrajlmak's eyes were focused and un-yielding as he slowly brought it to the dormant cadaver beside him. If this failed, and added to the growing list of fruitless efforts to awaken the Prodigy, Hrajlmak will have failed himself, and his Chieftain. His tension was palpable in his own mouth as the red serpent between his fingers slowly approached the lifeless cadaver. Slowly he brought it above the chest of the corpse

and

Thump

Hrajlmak drove both hand's claws into the cadaver's chest. The Chieftain's serpent dispersed rapidly into the holes made by Hrajlmak's claws and fed itself into its flesh. Hrajlmak waited as lifeless blood oozed from the punctures, staining Hrajlmak's own flesh. Waited. Hrajlmak was in tune with the Force and felt as conscious life began to spark into existence, the Cheiftain's own substance providing the fuel for the Cadaver's life. As the Cadaver slowly awoke from its comatose slumber, the Force unified with its life.

Hrajlmak and the Shaman's had succeeded, The Prodigy's eyes came to life.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Bralor Azkaroth"]​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Drek'ma watched as the adept performed the physical task of the revitalising, whilst the remainder assisted Hrajlmak with the process of moving the energy, Drek'ma in truth oversaw the cosmic transference. It was like catching lightning in a bottle, redirecting the energy from the catalyst into the prodigy was no small feat.

​Once the energy had physically transferred from the adept to the body, Drek'ma transposed tutanamis onto the body. This stopped the miasma of energy escaping into the lifeless form to be utilised effectively, otherwise it would've simply destroyed the body. This task proved all the more difficult as the assistance of the Seers became a deaf ear as they attended to their leader, Tathra.

​Drek'ma craved to assist, yet his concentration was required. Too many failures, and such a drastic sacrifice would be for nought if he did not hold.

​With the assistance of his adepts, the process was completed. The blink of life ushered energy into the cold form, a breath escaped the scaled features. Tall, sleek and blackened by continuous toil. Blue illuminated the form of Bralor as he came to sentience, his appearance in some respects a foil to their Chieftain. He was in all physical aspects, a descendant.

​The Seers shepherded around their sire, using the force to quickly move surgical equipment - expending a surplus of their energy into maintaining his life. The mutagens were applied, but they could not be rushed - they would grow in time. All that was needed, was for their Chieftain to remain amongst them. For without, they would be lost.

​Titian eyes grasped for life, a singular breath came. The mass shifted, upright and tumbling over itself as the Chieftain brushed past them. A singular hand grasping the wall as he emptied what remained of the destroyed sewage that clung to his stomach. His movements impish, clinging to his chest as his mind regained a clear, centred focus encompassing him. The Seers had gathered once more, examining the healing flesh.

​"Sire, you should not be moving."
All that was required was a gesture of the head, eyes fell on the one among them that spoke. It was immediate, a short bow was made as Tathra pushed past the Seers, observing the functioning form that sat on the adjacent table.

One of the Shamans approached, "The process is complete, Bralor lives." ​Gleaming as months of toil and failure had finally lead to success. Tathra's eyes shifted from the Shaman to the prodigal Bralor instead. Watching.

| [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] | [member="Bralor Azkaroth"] |​

 

[Bralor Azkaroth]

The creature cracked and stretched his carcase, his ichors and lifesblood oozed and secretad out of his wounds of creation. A shuddering breath was inhaled, followed by a coughing groan, as he rised from the slab upon which he was created. The creature let out a growl and roared as he was birthed into the new world.

The creature sent out its senses, instantly an influx of… waves of energy flooded his nerves, his cells his entire being. Grunting and growling, the figure let out another roar. It was flowing all around him through him through the others in the vascinity. Others… The creature registered the presence of other beings.

So he wasn’t alone. There were other beings in existence. The creature scanned the room curiously, extending his senses once more this time tentatively so as not to be overburdened by… by whatever that flowing, ebbing energy of.. of creation. The creature wasn’t sure how he knew that but he knew it instinctively.

“Bralor lives”

Bralor… he tested the sound on his tongue and breath. He liked the sound of that. “ I… am Bralor?” the creature asked in a guttural pronunciation. Bralor as he now thought of himself taking up the name as if it was a mantle or title representing who and what he was. Which now that he thought about Bralor wondered as to what exactly what he was, did he have a purpose, why was he created. Bralor endevered to find out.

“What am I?”

Bralor tasted ans smelled the almost living and unifying… force that seemed to spread throughout the room. In every particle, and every organism in the room.

“What is this.. sense?”

“I can feel all of you, feel everything in this room”

Bralor looked at his body, the body of creation that he was given. Blue spiralling veins containing the energy he felt, glowing. As he stretched and flexed his muscles, the blue lights glowed and buzzed along his nerves and veins. Bralor could feel his body responding to it.

As Bralor examined his own body closely, he noticed that he felt an emptiness at his mid centre, what he would later learn to be his stomach, which was aching to be filled. Bralor knew that the feeling was connected to the entrance from which he had been… making noise from, from which he had been gasping for breath, which he was tasting through.

“I feel empty… I need filling”



@Hrajlmak'Natok @Tathra Khaeus

 

[Hrajlmak'Natok]

Hrajlmak watched as the Cadaver stretched and contorted. The segments of his morphology shifted and elongated as it awoke. He stood back as it absorbed its surroundings and slowly re-positioned. The questions accompanied its curious face, almost as slowly as it had awoke.

"You, Cadaver.." Hrajlmak spoke in his deep, gutteral voice. "Are a Prodigy". Hrajlmak gestured toward the weakened Chief, "You are a Draelvasier. Bred from the very flesh of our great Chief. You are one of many, yet unique."

Bralor proceeded to find curiosity in the blood flowing through him. The Energy. The Force. Hrajlmak poked his veins with his bloody claws. "You hold great power, Cadaver. The Cosmic Energy within us all is a gift given to the Aeravalin, something you have. The energy you must feel is one that can be manipulated and bent to your will.. To destroy or to bring great power to yourself.".

Hrajlmak's scaly maw came to a close. The Cadaver continued to associate with his surroundings, learning every second. It didn't take long for basic necessities to grip him and become evident. The Cadaver was hungry. He was doubtless famished after months laying in death.

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] - [member="Bralor Azkaroth"]​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Eyes held the motion of the inquisitive Drael that lay awoken upon the slab. What had once been dormant, sealed behind a deathly catatonic state now sat well aware of itself and very much so alive on the slab opposite his own. It was a success, some would say by blind luck. But the Chieftain of the Bryn'adûl knew it was their perseverance and ability to endure that gave them what they yearned for.

​Tathra staggered, attempting to move felt like a misstep - a miasma of blood and busted gut slithered inside, every muscle and tandem felt disjointed and torn. His face winched at the pain, and even those felt ragged and stung. His entire body was wrought with excruciating agony, the Shamans moved to cushion his frantic lack of balance. Tathra pushed, and pushed hard. The Shaman jolted back, thrown back into the slab with another force to bruise but not break. In this state, the Chieftain simply lacked such brutal force.

Pushing forth, Tathra marched with decidedly paced movement as he leaned against the slab before gesturing for those who had gathered to remove themselves from the prodigies vicinity. Hraljmak stood adjacent to him now as Tathra stood, observing what this trade had birthed. Faded glowing orbs looked down on Bralor.

​​"I am your Forefather, Creator and Commander. Heed my words above all and you will thrive. You are the culmination of great effort, Bralor Azkaroth." Tathra struggled to articulate, but forced the words out as if no struggled withheld further speech at all. Certain expression pressed on Bralor as Tathra examined him.

​| [member="Bralor Azkaroth"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] |​

 

[Bralor Azkaroth]

A Cadaver. A prodigy. A Draelvaseier. Is that what he was? He understood those words though didn’t understand how, with nothing to reference them to. Strange that he had these thoughts, or any thoughts at all, and yet he had knowledge of them. How he did know though he knew not. He snorted amused at his thoughts turn of phrase.

Cosmic Energy? One that could be manipulated with his will. Bralor searched out with his mind and thoughts and felt the energy, that he spoke of. It was like a muscle. Bralor flexed his will causing a flash of light as he harnessed the unknown force. A Force it was indeed, one to be explored.

“The Energy is... present, all around us and yet intangible” Bralor spoke as he stretched through the particles that made up everything.

Bralor turned to the being with the biggest presence in the room. His Forefather, Creator and Commander. So he was created by this one. Created to harness the Cosmic Energy as the Shaman had stated. Heed his word and thrive, was what the Forefather would have him believe. To what purpose? Was he to be a weapon, or tool?

“What is my purpose Creator?” Bralor asked. “Why have I been given this Cosmic Energy?” If you are my Forefather should you then not teach me? If my Commander, to what would you command me to do?”

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The prodigy was inquisitive, his presence ebbed and flowed between what was and what would be - his form was but the manifestation of his essence as his spirit pressed upon all within sight. His power was immediate, unmistaken. But that power was but a fevered dream - wasted without direction and intellect.

​Tathra stood unaided even in his weakened state, a gleeful pride tethered to his features as the prodigal Drael spoke. He would not be some hapless abomination of wasted strength, no. His mind was already alight with question & wonder.

​"Your purpose is our own, to save this reality from those long bereft of strength. We are one, all Drael under the Bryn'adûl. You will have many Masters but none beyond what you can achieve." ​His exhaustion was apparent, yet pride radiated from within. His form was tarried, but his spirit remained unencumbered.

​"Rest now, Bralor. The time for training will come, for now; rest. Your fate is yet to be propounded by others. Remain, for now that is all you may do."

| [member="Bralor Azkaroth"] | [member="Hrajlmak'Natok"] |​

 

[Bralor Azkaroth]

Bralor took in a breath through his nostrils, and immediately started coughing at the overwhelming sensation of the amount of scents, in the air. This new existence would take some getting used too. Even basic sensations were a new experience. The fact that he had conceptual understanding of language, but not of physical sensations of which to measure or compare to.

Bralor searched his surrounding trying tog et his baring as he did so. The creator seemed tired a primitive part of his brain noted that weakness, the same way he would notice prey. Perhaps the weakness could be exploited to his advantage. Although having noticed the creators weakness made Bralor aware of his own vulnerabilities. He himself wasn’t at full strength, he was new, inexperience had very little knowledge of his place in the world or how to impress his mark on the world, perhaps become a creator himself. That was an intriguing thought. To get their though the creators first command made sense.

“As you wish my creator… rest would be advantageous”

[member="Tathra Khaeus"] @Hrajlmak'Natok