Public Building the Foundation | The Primeval

[Primeval Narrative]

Building the Foundation
​

The Primeval had returned. Or rather, the idea of the Primeval. Alas, the once mighty superpower had been reduced to a few hundred followers and zero fleets or armies for their grand conquest. Beasts of burden and hives of doom were they're only hope of regaining control of the regions they had lost during the great schism.

Without any means of manufacturing warships, or providing their ground forces a means kd transport to conduct their crusade, they're was no crusade. But, as faith would have it, the Black Prophet forsaw the mighty Kuati Drive Yards, which had produced some of the galaxy's finest vessels since the begining of space travel. And within a single starship, the true believers struck like a viper, preparing to sink it's teeth into a meaty treat...

Spoiler: Objectives

Objective 1: Get the Prizes! - The Kuati Drive Yards his home to a variety of warships but, the only ones with a limited amount of security are the Peallon III Class Star Destoyer. 8 of the powerful warships are being constructed and are baring completion. In the name of the gods, take the ships!

Objective II: Recruit! - Kuat is home to nearly a billion humans and aliens. There, amongst the homeless are the true believers. Convert them to our cause! Preach the words of the Black Prophet. But, be careful to evade the Kuati Patrol whom have become parinoid due the level of civil unrest caused the recent battle between the Grayson Imperium and the Republic.

Objective III: Bring Your Own Objective - The Primary purpose of this story is to tell a story. What's your story? Interact with use. Fight us. Let's enjoy the freedoms of writing!

 

[Karra Tor]

Since Karra had first stepped back into the galaxy, she had felt the need to do more and be more, as a person as well as a healer. In times like these, people needed all the help that they could get and there just wasn't enough to go around, so she wanted to do something that could give people a sense of hope again (in her own way at least). Kuat was a host to not only warships and Star Destroyers, but Frigates, Freighters, and all other types of vessel, so it was in the spirit of cooperation that she had traveled there representing the Silver Jedi, looking to purchase a ship for retrofitting. Though it was unlikely, she also thought about getting a specialized ship built from scratch as well, but the credits she had would only go so far.

While it was true that she could have gotten a ship from one of her fellow Jedi, the Silver Jedi needed all the allies they could get right now, cooperation was always a good way to strengthen relations and expand territory - the further they could reach, the more they could help, the better the Galaxy became. She had already met with an official, clad head to toe in her robes with her walking staff by her side, and was looking through the inventory of ships they already had ready or in development. From here, she could see out into the shipyard, brimming with the kind of activity you would be more likely to see in a community center or city, it still felt weird seeing that kind of thing in a spaceport. Space was always a void to her, people were irregular...then again, irregular was going to be a watchword for today...

((OOC: Mostly here to observe and interact, maybe have a play fight, have fun everyone )))

 

[Gorogoth]

Objective 2, Recruit
Location: Katosha Village - Outside the Ancestral Burial Grounds
Population: 6,000
NPCs: Background, Primeval Preachers, A few Guards and Worse.
Tag: Any
Early Morning, Cloudy.

And so the future grows. Kith and Kin planted.​

Words had been disjointed, this language not yet whole to his mind, but it showed significant improvement in Gorogoth’s time spent with the black prophet. Each word came with a certain power to it, and bestial charisma that might be surprising from such a twisted terminus creation, clad in prophets golden armor atop his exoskeleton. Standing in front of a growing crowd, all manner of aliens, some farmers, some refugees, simple men and women but all down on their luck in this particular small settlement.

Raising his hands high, the air moved around them, a subtle gesture in the force.

“....So was third and final act, saw grand vision. HALRORMALENTH raising galaxy from apathy of chaos. War and torment leave all ruin, and yet HALRORMALENTH have answer. Creation, life. Duty, Responsibility Faith” At least those were the words given to him by those beyond the rim, the hive understanding them as continuous action toward something greater than a single drone, man, woman or child. It was almost like a sith lord was in his ear... kethenites never die.

“Come children, faithful, raise from ashes of creation. Will to Follow? Food, Shelter, Clothing, Warmth, Place. Ancestors, line of creation, from gods to...” he touched his own armor and then passed a reef of plants to a child. "Lay unbroken within."

While a few of the aliens looked engaged, usually the weak or the homeless who wanted food, because food was being given out. Various robed and hooded figures were giving gifts to the coming faithful, blankets, water, nutrition. Also though there were many here who appreciated the ancestral respects being paid to their family lines from some of the primeval present, because on Kuat that mattered. The speaker had stopped clear of the burial grounds, but it was those with him that understood to bring specific gifts tailored to each large family here, given to a senior member, some refused of course but most accepted even if just to be amiable.

The response was mixed certainly but left to his own devices, Gorogoth and the greater swarm was growing in understanding the concept of faith. He’d been told about what family was, the word honor but these were hollow concepts in the greater scheme of things, a hive didn’t understand family or line, but it understood duty or service to greater.

Service to Halrormalenth, and those who he hit a chord with most were the most down on their luck, or the religious willing to debate with him.

“Your gods, not our ways.” One such religious surface dweller interjected... getting access to the surface for an off-worlder had not been easy, and it had not gone unnoticed, or unchecked. The world was a lush paradise outside of the industrial zones, and it was here in this simple, isolated community that the seeds of faith could be sown anew.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

The Black Prophet of Balagoth was not limited by the needs of others to possess ships in order to traverse the stars, but as the ghostly visage of Zambrano exited Hyperspace from its long-travel from Primordia it recognized that many left untouched by the divine did not have its level of freedom in the galaxy to come and go where it was needed. It also knew Kuat was a famous shipyard always in the midst of some process of work and production and had been for thousands of years. In Zambrano's former reality, this was true to the extent that it eventually became a prominent production facility for the Primeval along with the Time Forge in the Chiloon Rift. There was an error in its assumption, however, as it was unfamiliar with the history of this galaxy and the events that had transpired over Kuat these past few years while the Black Prophet had meditated to procure its galaxy-wide broadcast to the faithful.

Kuat Drive Yards was damaged goods, and whatever ships they could possibly receive from there would be equally damaged, or at the very least not fully complete. The intelligence gathered for their mission was based on false pretenses, and the sparsely populated religious zealots that followed the likes of Zambrano and Deviant Val into the void to acquire Star-Ships for their glorious crusade had few means of knowing the true state of Kuat until the moment they arrived. None of this though greatly concerned the Black Prophet.

Of all the orbital dockyards and technological marvels of Kuat, the only thing that concerned a Prophet or a Host Lord and in most cases even a Warlord was the people behind the machine. If there was something any of Zambrano's three titles needed more desperately than ships, it was bodies, and minds. So despite all the glory of KDY even in its battle desecrated state, though it did mark a small amount of surprise in the banshee as it passed them by, Zambrano would puncture through the atmosphere of the small world with a bubble of the vacuum surrounding the waving arms of the Primeval echo which descended further until finally, it reached the surface directly beside the one known as Gorogoth as it preached the praises of Halrormalenth and received doubters...

 

[Gorogoth]

Objective 2, Preach It!
Location: Katosha Village - Outside the Ancestral Burial Grounds
Population: 6,000
NPCs: Background, Primeval Preachers, A few Guards and Worse.
Tag: Zambrano the Starweird
Early Morning, Cloudy.

While Gorgoth’s preachers understood the value of symbolism and fallen things to be made whole. The Kuat shipyards were one such creation of individual parts, beyond the understanding of the prophet on what creation meant. The Kethenite Terminusborn knew only service to a natural order, not vast metal bodies floating through the void between hives.

“Means offered.” Preachers around them continued to provide blankets for the neglected refugees, the service as they would be known brought a very large pot with them, and began making a stew from local ingredients, some of the locals were beginning to help inspired to do a small part for their full bellies and repay others. People of faith providing for those who lacked was a powerful motivation. “Method served.” Gorogoth continued raising his hands, the force energy around them only moving slightly given his level of training but enough.

But.... he was facing a proud Kuati noble and her small Skakoan escort who believed her own beliefs above question or reproach. “The great book of the Boolmide, says we each await passage through the Gates of Grontessiant, where the four seers of the cyclops judge those who are worthy. No where does it speak of your HALRORMALENTH, or the god of creation.” There was a murmur from the simple village volk, who were still busy eating or cooking the offerings of course.

“Imperfect beings we are. Awaiting our Elders judgments, when we are worthy” One of the Skakoan behind her interjected adding with a nod, his bulky pressure suit giving his species away.

“Believe in separation from divinity? Age decide when faithful?” Gorgoroth’s broken basic language questioned. Age didn't decide who was worth. From above, the golden-clad prophet turned to watch the descent, and with many of the preachers, present knelt before the black prophet’s arrival to the surface. One difference was primeval wasn’t rejecting the faithful, like many religions did, holding some form of split where only a few were given hope of a savior that never came. Zambrano the Starweird

A couple of guards, dressed in simple robes carrying pikes remained standing for the grand entrance of the star herald, but the rest of the small gathering of Primeval knelt, alongside some of the refugees and homeless here in the middle of nowhere. There was complete silence as he arrived, even the Kuati noble held her tongue.

"Star-Herald comes."

Middle of nowhere. Starting from pieces. Where small things became great ones.

 

[Zambrano the Starweird]

Zambrano's sunken eyes fell and observed the Skakoans spouting doubt, professing the faith most common to its kind. One which it has previously encountered when it first conquered their world. This would be a story worth telling, as it would demonstrate to them the truth of Primeval supremacy. The Banshee swirling its arms around it in constant motion, a faint breeze emanating away from it as it pushed the air out from its center, looked to Gorogoth and nodded to it and the other faithful who knelt in respect.

"Star-Herald is a fitting title for a believer of Nogras, as it is fitting for this body to be Halrormalenth's, the powers apparent to me belong to Sargon, and fitting for these bodies," One swirling arm of the Black Prophet swept itself before the villagers, "To know the changes of Balagoth. Fear not the end, for it is your birth. Hate not your imperfect bodies, for rebirth shall bring you new ones. See not the stars, for She hides It in darkness. Think not, for, in the beginning, It did not when all of creation came to be." The voice that echoed in the minds of the congregants pierced through their eyes as they looked upon its face, and though the Primeval quavered slightly they did not look away, even in tears they endured. The Skakoans though, unused to the black tongue of the Prophet knelt now before it, covering their ears or their eyes, but unable to escape. All they could experience was the pain of truth.

The Black Prophet paused its sermon of telepathic shrieks, which came to its recipients as a voice just above a whisper. It had learned many years ago, that to speak more loudly would result in the unbelievers unable to hear the words of his sermon, only the pain of truth. For others who relied on them, the words themselves were important, lest they take on the path of truth in the wrong direction. So, to grant a reprieve from the words so easily misconstrued, a thin fingered hand passed once more in front of the Starweird before the Skakoan villagers. Images swirled into their minds, the texture of needles behind their eyes as they saw.

"Years ago, I visited the Power Mounds of the Elders in the Clouds of Cormelish, they too doubted me. I read your Book of Boolmide, and opened the Gates of Grontessiant to the Threshold of the Hidden Realms. There, your figures were found, and in all of them, the Primordial reeked. They were fantasies, illusions cast by Nogras to protect your "Eye of the Albino Cyclops", which in truth is the deep abyss of Sargon. The purification was the touch of Balagoth upon me, the "Swirblies", the Lord Being, and the Four See Seers... all of their bodies the quivering flesh of Halrormalenth. The Great Rift is obscured by the Primeval Gods, and its many paths have lost them to us, as your people were lost. Words and thoughts leads us astray, fear and hatred distract us from our quest. Be silent, be thoughtless, fear nothing and hate nothing but your mind and its cowardly thoughts. Feel the truth and look upon me, and you shall be made more holy than a written word has ever brought you!" Pain broadcast itself within the alien creatures, and their test of faith began, as the other Villagers observed and only faintly understood the whispered pain they were receiving. The Black Prophet, of course, had no intention of killing the Skakoans, and could not perceive what the difference would be between their life and their death. If they lived and forevermore professed their faith to the Primeval, it would see it as no different than if they had died to be reborn among its people. There was no malevolence in the actions of the Black Prophet, no malice in its voice... it was its simple flaw that for all its good intention it could not comprehend the suffering it caused simply by existing.

"Prophet Gorogoth, you honor my presence. The faithful among us, do they have means of travel?" The painful whisper would now find itself within the partial mind of the body before him.

 

[Gorogoth]

Tag: Zambrano the Starweird

Black Prophet spoke of many things that Gorogoth could only partially comprehend. Beginning, End, Creation. The connected hive mind and swarm focused on events unfolding and grew its understanding. The mind couldn’t think in disconnected parts, all was hive or void, until it had found the primeval. Now there was the concept of hive, faith, void, the primeval being faith, the black prophet and the new homeworld being the focused center of it all. Small pieces of fractured understanding coming together in a great consciousness of force energy and connected service to gods, purification through sacrifice and the cycle of life.

Pain in the mind. Physical pain was understood to be a necessary truth in creation and renewal. Enduring the legacy it left within his unconscious. There was a dip of his golden head. “Metal machines brought faithful traversing void, few but large.” The concept of large, small and distance understood by him, whereas most terminus would only understand void or hive. “Buried behind holy dead, vessel, faith in vessel's metal.” Faith in metal was ambiguous but it was something about the construction that was holy and revered, sanctity in the force protecting it, and… if the Black Prophet could see behind the burial ground, the top of a ship was covered loosely by dirt, cloth and ritual drapings having a special significance to this place. Faith in the metal, it was iconic holding great symbolism for the people of this place, perhaps the spirits of the dead too, but could it still fly?

After the response to his words and as the black prophet addressed those assembled in their minds, a low growl came from Gorogoth, the beginnings of a chant, like monks might do in reverence to start. Strangely severely others from around him picked up the given note. A gift of a voice in his twisted form was not expected even to the hive creature, life echoing out of his throat raised a small dying flower to show signs of life again. A few others around with aptitude or willingness contributed. The first blessing of Halrormalenth perhaps, and a sign the god was pleased with their efforts to revive the true faith, a growing power of its own in this place? Perhaps just the combined will of the force, and their focused attention, it mattered not.

The chant remained low, quiet and in the background, the Black Prophet, their Starheld had found his Halrorm Chorus marking the moment as his grand visage moved between those kneeling. The low quiet chant would stop when the Star-Herald spoke next, only carrying on as was fitting, if there were breaks of long silence when it could break free into reverence for their gods, and their prophet before them. Like perhaps in his walk toward the ship? Gorogth would follow where the prophet led regardless as was the will of their gods, and the calling to faith.

Unknown to Gorogoth much of the hive sung in their own way, a note carried across the stars, and a chorus for Balagoth sung from insect and creature all in their own way. From the tiny gatherings under the earth, to the man-sized creatures atop a mountain.