Cage the Beast! [The Primeval]

[Triss]

​

Ravelin Slave Market​

Bastion, Primeval capital​

Theme​

​

"Drink!" a creaky voice said from the shadows, while a wooden ladle was extended through the bars. Water inside was both warm and filthy, like something scooped out from the sewers. The dipper was then pressed against the face of a chained man, right against his lips framed by a thick dark beard and mustache. He turned his head sideways, wet hair plastered against his face, and let out a subdued grunt.
"Very well. Get me the whip." the same rusty voice sounded and retrieved the gloved hand through the bars.
"A whip can do him no harm, Cersus. Besides, he'll be up for sale soon. Nobody wants to buy bloody merchandise." another voice sounded, a bit younger but still crispy. Sounds of doors closing, steps trailing away, and the enslaved man was alone again.

Einar Shadowmane would not drink from the chalice of his encarcerators, not even if failing to oblige meant certain death. His mouth was dry like the wastelands of Rattatak, having his last drink of water from the crystal clear stream on his homeworld day before yesterday. He had not eaten nor slept, but silently peered into one single point. His feral green eyes were glowing with rage, like those of a direwolf which had falled into a hunter's trap.

The hunter became the hunted when spacers raided Midvinter in search of labor force to be sold to the mines. Valkyri were strong and long-lived, thus highly prized among slavers, if you managed to catch one. The last thing Einar remembered was his face against the snow right after he had fallen, a tranquilizer dart piercing his upper thigh. A few hours later he woke up in darkness of space, locked up in heavy chains. Was it betrayal by his own kin, once again? Shadowmane did not know, nor did he try to find some logical explanation. His mind was completely blank, reduced to that of a wild animal.

A short while later, his master returned heavily armed and took him to the slave market, where he would be sold to the highest bidder. Seemingly unaware of his destiny, Shadowmane followed obediently, with sounds of chains dragging across stone pavement.
"Etiedes, you may finally buy your mistress that house on the shore she wanted." someone said.
"If the price is right, my dear Cersus, I'll have so much credit I may even buy my wife one." came the reply, followed by irritant laughter.

They slowly ascended onto a large wooden stage, where clamor of the market was to be heard. Sentients were shouting in many toungues, none understood by the captive Valkyri. He was placed to stand in the middle, with feet apart at shoulder's width.
The same voice crispy voice announced: "Behold the mighty Valkyri, beast of the snow. Tamed by Etiedes the Proliferous, for your convenience and entertainment. A worker in the mines or perhaps a gladiator? The choice is yours. How much for this feind?"

Einar Shadowmane, of Clan Shadowmane, the first of his name, stood in front of squabbling crowd. Six feet and ten inches tall, a giant among men, with muscular shoulders as wide as frozen fyords of his home planet. Clad in nothing more than rags wrapped around his chiseled abdomen and hanging from sides like rotting draperies in a long forgotten castle, he wore chains around his neck, wrists and ankles, with a hook connecting them to the floor. With head dipped down and dark, wet hair covering his face, Einar remained calm like a predator stalking game from a bush. His robust chest rose rythmically as he inhaled the damp, warm air of Ravelin.

"No blade can harm him!" voiced Etiedes the Proliferous and drew a knife from the ornamented sheath strapped to his oversized belt and inflicted Einar with a deep cut on the chest. Almost instantly, Einar's hand was on his windpipe, grabbing the chubby merchant by his neck. He lifted him with one arm into the air and growled like a bear. Green eyes flashed in fury before Valkyri's pearly teeth were sunk into man's neck, ripping through flesh to bite out his larynx. Like a rock-lion kills his prey, Einar ripped out the merchant's voicebox and spat it out into the audience. The thing flew through the air, splattering against the pavement. Blood dripped out of his mouth, over his beard and onto his chest in bestial frenzy. Growling like a ranchor, he twisted and turned the chains, trying to liberate himself. Chaos ensued, with guards pouring into the market square from all side streets.
The cut Etiedes had inflicted was slowly beginning to close; if Einar was to live another few minutes, his wound would heal completely.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"] (and any Primeval witches that would enjoy shopping )

 

[Boethiah]

Slavery.

Few respected the sale of souls. To The Primeval it was all flesh and bone, no more nor less than animals waiting to be butchered and consumed. Whether that was a reality readily accepted by those being sold themselves was another story... Perhaps.

The commotion in the market did not go unnoticed, the ever watchful eye of the Bleeding Sun defended Bastion from all threats internal or otherwise. Anja was walking down the streets with a compliment of guards when the uproar sung loudly over the tall steelcrete buildings. The sun overhead began to set slowly and send Ravelin into its night, the shadows of her soldiers grew longer as they turned towards the marketplace in attention and marched off to deal with whatever insurrections that had been ignited. The witch herself followed close behind, curiosity first and as a leader second.

Few knew who Anja was even on Bastion, the Host Lord kept quiet and was secluded behind armies and priests; only rarely did she emerge as who she truly was. The Umbaran's footsteps echoed softly against the pavement and the sway of waist was subtle in the commanding posture of her stride. By the time she did arrive her guards were already on the scene and asking questions, her eyes wandered through the crowd even as they moved about chaotically until she saw something that intrigued her. A very tall man with a wound that was visibly healing, he seemed to have been the cause of this commotion.

The Captain of her personal guard approached, "what should we do here, Your Worship?" He asked for orders. The guards under him remained idle but their eyes watchful.

Anja did not hesitate, she knew what she wished to be done and gave the order regardless of the consequences. "Bring me that man and kill the ones who are trying to subdue him." Her calm voice was still loud enough to be heard over the sound of screams and yelling, the soldiers under her command began to fire into the crowd -- barely careful not to hit the tall man.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

By sheer muscle power, the Valkyri managed to rip the chains out of the footing and swung them across the stage which was now swarming with guards armed with electrically charged pikes. Hard metal smashed against armor, sending bodies flying into mud like rag dolls. Einar gnarled, gargling blood of his victim out of his mouth, his impeccable white teeth in stark contrast with grueling reds that dripped out of his feral maw. More akin to beast than man, Shadowmane jumped from the railing and onto the ground, his weight hitting earth causing a slight tremor. He then rose to his full height and just as he was about to literally rip one of the guards in half, blaster shots were heard from across the square. The crowd began to scatter quickly, leaving Einar in the very middle, chains still dangling from his limbs.

With clenched fists he watched guards encircle him, several blaster guns and rifles pointed in his direction. If they all fired at one, Einar Shadowmane would be no more. That much he understood. Savage eyes glowed in an eerie emerald hue as they settled upon an approaching figure which slithered across and through the perimeter formed by royal guards. By now, the crowd was gone and clamor was distant, almost inaudible.
"What is your name, slave?" inquired the Captain of Lord's personal guard, his finger lightly resting on the trigger of his blaster.
"No name for...you, human." Einar grunted, his tone heavily laced with Runian accent.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

The crowds of people dispersed, leaving the square and heading deeper into the city. Nearly a dozen corpses littered the floor, and nearly just as many wounded struggled to climb to their feet; two of her guards put them out of their misery one by one.

Anja approached the lone slave, he was tall enough to stand above the heads of all her soldiers leaving a clear picture of his stature for all to see. To say the least, the Host Lord was intrigued. Stepping through the line of solders she stood in the center with him, no security at her side -- just her. Of course; her guards would not hesitate to open fire should he attempt to harm her but even then they were the least of his worries. He Witch who was sometimes known by the locals as the 'Butcher of Bastion' could defend herself just as well. Still she stood not nearly as tall as he did, she was average in height and size, boasting no extraordinary muscles. The only distinctive features were the pale of her skin and eyes, the marks of an Umbaran.

She peered into him through perceptions beyond the physical world, whatever she saw was left to her but what she did see held great favour for the slave whose life was now in her hands. Taking two steps closer she tilted her head subtly upward, "I am not human." It was her own way of asking if he'd tell her his name, or if perhaps she'd have to steal it from him...

She was clad in her ceremonial armour. It covered her chest and shoulders, left her arms open except for two light bracers at her wrists. A skirt-like protrusion of a green robe dropped to her knees which were just as naked as her forearms and met two steel boots that stopped just above the ankle. Her hair was dark and hung loose behind her, a simple necklace of no valuable gems or metals hung around her neck.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

Those who had nothing to lose felt no fear. Einar was already dead to his kin, the Shadowmane lineage forsaken when his brother still rocked in his cradle. For years, he lived on the outskirts of Valkyri society. Blood of kingslayers ran in his veins, boldness of his late father fervorously alive in him. He was not easily intimidated, having spent most of his adult life in the wild; the oddly dressed woman approaching him instigated no reaction out of him. Yet her presence felt potent in ways he had no words to describe, an odd familiarity reverbating across his sensory array. Her substinence was organic, yet latent, like poison ivy draping the trees of Midvinter. The shackles he wore clinged together as muscles tensed in an almost reflexive manner, a few pulsating veins protruding outwards on the sculpted surface of his arms.

He then took a secure step toward her, leaning in to bridge the difference in height between them. His movements were everything but sudden, just to make sure trigger-happy guards wouldn't blast him to oblivion. Damp strands of hair swayed forward as he brought his face directly in front of hers, so close she could feel his own breath on her pallid skin. Einar's orbs were almost glowing in malachite hues, their sole intention to bore deeply into the eyes of this woman.
"Neither am I." he said in a deep half-whisper, angular jaw tensing. The wound he suffered mere minutes ago was now a fading scar, well in the reach of her hand.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

Just as he, Anja wasn't one to be intimidated. She had been through a lot, many dangers and many wars; truly there weren't many trials left to test the wit and strength of this witch. He was intriguing enough that she knew that she wanted him alive and unharmed, if possible. Turning back she paced away from him as if she had seen enough but right as her guards moved themselves to allow her through she stopped. The guards did not return to their position, offering the path should she take it.

Without turning around she spoke, "You will live, for now. Whether you choose to live nameless or with purpose... That's up to you." As she finished her last words she walked through. The guards went to grab the slave, whether he would go willingly or fight it was up to him and should they succeed he would be lead to follow.

The sun was setting down beyond the horizon, the orange sky turned a pale blue and the white specs of starlight slowly revealed themselves to the surface dwellers.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

Guards were too many and too armed. The armor they wore, Shadowmane would never even leave a scratch if he decided to claw his way through her entourage. Not before they'd blast holes in him the size of Iego. One of the guards tried to tug the far end of the chain which was connected to Einar's wide neck. Stumbling backwards, he growled like a wild bear and pulled forward with full strength, the man who tried to leash him ending up face first in mud. Several blasters were pointed at him in a mere instant, yet the Valkyri subsided. He simply would not be dragged around in chains anymore. All loose ends of shackles were left on the ground and began trailing behind him, leaving long meandering lines in grime of Ravelin streets. Einar followed his captor with head raised, curious fern colored orbs glaring at the world around him. Strange species he had never seen before, traffic above them, shops, bars and restaurants. He had no idea where he was, although he heard the word Bastion a number of times during his time aboard the transport ship that brought him here.

A group of women leaned over from the porch just as they were passing by, their luscious eye grazing on the stature of the barely dressed giant that walked before them. They whispered to each other, some of them giggled mischeviously and pointed fingers, while one pressed eyelids of one eye together. A complete novice in non-verbal communication, Einar knew not of the intricacies of body language.
"Hey, why don't you give me a call when you get washed up, hon?" a blonde woman said, the rest of the group she belonged to cheering in laughter. Clearly, they were ladies of the night, but Shadowmane cared little for this invitation, despite them looking like they were not going to charge him a single credit.

"Where are you...taking me?" he asked lowly, twitching his upper body to chase off a persistent fly that kept landing on his back. Indeed, he was all filth and crud, the scent of sweat and earth mixing with a subtle note of moschus. He smelled like a male Valkyri in his prime, testosterone oozing out of his every pore.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

The night extended over the sky like a black blanket encrusted with polished pearls, the sound of life outside of the city was faint and the bustling of people inward grew quieter as curfew was enforced in most districts. Of course there were plenty of establishments which ignored such laws and The Primeval simply didn't do too much about them, the logistics of such was currently beyond their capacity for now. The long walk back to the Imperial Palace did not offer too much inspiration, the pavement bruised by the march of armies beneath their feet was not the smoothest road to take.

At first she did not offer a response to his question, it was almost melodramatically planned as she decided to wait until the moment the 20,000 meter long structure that neared 3,000 meters high came into view. The Imperial Palace on Bastion ,built by the Fel Dynasty as the seat of an Empire until their reconquest of Coruscant. "To the halls of Emperors, or at least the resting place of their rotting bones." She clearly did not offer much respect for the builders of this world or the marvels they left behind. Anja was not appreciative of worldly desires, luxuries, or comforts; she was the Host Lord and her divine task was all that mattered in the end.

Sheer size played tricks on the eyes, the massive palace seemed much closer than it actually was and stressed the mind to think that the body was walking in place as the short and scattered buildings became sparse as they neared the ramparts. The heart of Ravelin, the palace was much to be desired of any galactic ruler... All except the one who held it, perhaps the Gods were just ironic that way? Or maybe the irony was all coincidental, regardless of why or how the singular truth remained. Bastion was not under the rule of despots or imperialism.

​

​

Their path did not carry on too far, only about twenty minutes from their destination they were. It would've been easier to take a shuttle or a speeder but judging by Anja's physique it probably wouldn't be hard for him to guess that she endured easily even in the toughest conditions. So in that respect walking long distances was a breeze.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

Shadowmane never witnessed a man-built structure so grand and colossal. Even him, a giant among men, was dwarfed by the edifice that was the seat of Fel dynasty. When the palace came to view, his mouth was left half open in sheer awe. Yet no words escaped him. Would this be his final resting place or his home, he wondered. If this woman intended to kill him, she would've done so back in the square. Why expend time to traverse so far for a simple act of his disposal? Either way, he was ready for whatever fate had installed for him. If these stones were to be stained with noble Valkyri blood, so be it.

He too did not mind the walk, having spent most of his adult life hunting for game or running away from predators on Midvinter. Einar could run and walk endlessly if need be, the gargantuan muscles of his legs flexing with each step he took. Fresh air, on the other hand, was a welcome change from stale atmosphere of cell where slavers kept him. He took deep breaths, broad chest dilating further.

"Shadowmane." he voiced in a deep tone, just as they passed the enterance gate into what seemed to be the main building, mammoth columns supporting an arched ceiling. Dark jade hues prevailed in the interior, reminiscant of colors of semi-precious gems. Floors were made of impecabbly polished marble stone, like surface of a lake. He looked underneath him to witness his own reflection.
"Einar Shadowmane. That is my name."
Years had passed since he last time uttered the name that envoked disgrace among the Valkyri. In these halls, the name meant nothing; he was not the son of a chieftain, the child of throne usurper Hrothr Shadowmane, nor the brother of Dair, aspiring Jedi. Here he was nobody. And nobody can become an instrument of the dark.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

The entrance into the palace was indeed a sight to behold, build centuries ago it still manages to eclipse most constructs on any world; even Coruscant. Anja maneuvered herself towards the throne that once held Emperors and Empresses, rulers of the Fel Imperium and masters of the Imperial Remnant alike. They were times when legions marched throughout the city of Ravelin and great fleets of white fluttered above in the night sky.

Only now Bastion served a purpose far grander yet humbler than its past. It is the seat of The Primeval, for now, and through it the palace became a temple for the Gods, serving a greater purpose. As the woman sat down she looked to Einar once again, her eyes mandated something as she scrutinized him. "Einar Shadowmane... I will have you unbound and you will no longer remain unkempt. You will become a warrior in my service, an example of truth and authority, an arbiter of this holy court." She spoke loudly so that all in the room could hear.

She remained silent afterwards before continuing, "you will carry out judgement be it as an executioner or mediator but do so with all your strength and power." What she saw in him was purpose.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

Such a resolution was not to be expected, not even in his wildest dreams. Mere hours ago he was just about to be sold to trafficker who would've undoubtedly sent him off to the gladiatiorial pits where he would meet his doom by battling most hiddeous of monsters. Yet, fate had installed for him a different path, put him in service of a regent who's power he had yet to become aware of. For the first time in his simple life, Einar Shadowmane was presented an opportunity to transcend his meaningless existence and join a cause far greater than he could ever conceptualize. Perhaps this was all handiwork of the gods the regent spoke of, a truest confirmation that their presence was real?

If there was anything this artless Valkyri knew, it was honor, deeply imprinted into his genome by hundreds of thousands of years of Valkyri culture.
He abided by it in all circumstances, even when traversing the perrenial forests of Midvinter alone. When presented with honor, he would be subdued.

Shackles clanged against the floor as Einar knelt on one knee, armed propped on it. If anything, Shadowmane knew how to bow before royalty. His dark mane completely covered his face, long greasy strands of hair reaching almost to his shins as he knelt.

"What you see before you is your's to command." he voiced in an abyssal tone, yet he did not rise to his feet - "Do as you please."

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

Respect was not something taken, nor was it won, it was a mutual understanding between two. You could not respect someone who didn't show respect for you or what you represented, in Shadowmane's eyes she saw a need for something. Was it absolution, revenge, or something else entirely? She did not know for sure but as he took a knee she saw in him a burning fire, on that if unleashed upon her enemies would cause devastation. Anja moved her hand intricately, telling him that he was allowed to rise.

"You may be just a stranger, Einar but here on Bastion we are at home... This is ours, all that is around us." She gestured to halls within the palace but more so in essence the city it commanded.

Continuing, "I'm sure so you have questions and in time they will have answers but I must ask you of something already, a traitor to me has fled these walls and hides on Dantooine... I need you to find him and kill him."

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

The Valkyri rose to his feet, standing taller than any guards in service of the Host Lord. Men could hide behind layers of beskar, embed themselves into cortosis-weave like some decrepit crustaceans, but inside they remained soft. Einar had mastered survival without the aid of trinkets, without false security brought about by a artfully engraved chest plate. He florished in a world without blasters or glowblades, pervaded by clenching claws and razor-sharp teeth. None of these left a mark on his grimy, albeit immaculate skin. No scars, no lacerations of any size or form, not even where bare metal grinded against his wrists. Those wounds were healed even before he stepped into the palace.

"A name." stated the Valkyri coldly, his viridian gaze glowing in the darkness of his bony brow - "Give me a name and I bring you a head to match it."
Shadowmane was not a man of many words, nor many questions. No part of him wondered about his whereabouts, the palace, or even the woman before him. Curiosity killed the cat, that much he had learned during childhood.
Was she to send him off right away, with him still reeking of excrements slavers had him bask in? Einar had no real preferences between remaining savagely unkempt for the rest of his life or being wrapped into the finest of silks money could buy on Bastion. The Host Lord would decide.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

Anja would give him more than a name, "[member="Jost Nasscal"], he used to lead the Defense Forces on Bastion before we took the world. Despite his pledge of loyalty it seems he took a small fleet and fled but that his fleet was destroyed and he marooned on Dantooine."

She remained seated in the Throne, not much like royalty though. She took the entire concept of an imperious stage for granted. There was no need for such formality to the Host Lord, it was all worthless in the end -- just dust slopped together until it became stone. The palace itself was remarkable, even she could not deny that but its former purpose was slowly ripped away and replaced with one that was pure and without a lust for power or greed for conquest.

The Host Lord had one last thing to add, "You will be transported to the world by one of our ships, from there it is up to you to find and kill the man but I have a small request... I have been told it's just past breeding season for Kath Hounds, I would like you to return with a horned pup."

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

The name she gave reverberated in his ears, deeply imprinting itself into his memory. He would seek and destroy this infidel, and drag his sorry remains to Bastion. To find a human in the wilderness of Dantooine was a small feat for his attuned senses, as very few knew how to keep a low profile in places where scent of flesh only served as an invitation for a bloody feast. With the deepest of bows, he accepted this mission and then embarked on a trip across the universe to swear allegiance to the Primeval with blood of a heretic. Without a single spoken word, Einar let them take him to the planet and requested no weapon other than a curved knife he would use to steal the pup from the Kath queen.

A week had passed until Shadowmane returned, bearing two gifts. As soon as he set his feet upon Bastion, he requested an audience with the Host Lord. The Valkyri returned covered in dust, his dark mane entangled with bits of grass, grime once again his second skin. He would bath as his master instructed, but not before he delivered his offerings. But now he marched through the halls of the palace, his right hand carrying an improvised pike. Atop of it was an impaled head,dried spinal cord and blood vessels flowing underneath it like banners. The dreary expression of beheaded traitor reminded of a gargoyle adorning temples; it looked like he died in much pain. Einar simply ripped an entire skull out of his neck, with nothing more than his bare hands. He then pricked it upon a lance he made out of wood, simply to keep animals away from his trophy when hunting for Kath pups. In the dry atmosphere of Dantooine, the head began to petrify, acquiring a greyish-green hue instead of immediately rotting. The face of Jost Nasscal was still easily recognizable.

In his left hand, he carried a Kath pup, white as snow and with beady red eyes, securely cradled between his biceps and chest. Albino Kath were the rarest and the strongest of their kind. Shadowmane held the tiny beast ever so gently, making sure that the puppy was comfortably snuggled into his hair. The baby beast was asleep after being fed raw meat, sighing and gargling in delight every now and then. Einar kept his steps light not to wake the tiny horned fellow as he made his way to the throne room. An ensemble of guards escorted him in, walking him to the royal seat.
"Shadowmane returns, your Holiness." one of the guards announced when Einar stepped forth. He handed the pike over to guards, who did not know what to do with this gruesome gift. The Valkyri then knelt in front of the throne and ever so gently scooped the puppy from his embrace and offered it to the Host Lord, his head dipped in utmost deferrence. The albino pup woke up and blinked, then made the most adorable squeal as it yawned. Einar remained motionless, waiting for her to accept his gift.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

Anja was impressed by the lengths he went to achieve the two objectives she had provided.

The traitorous captain was now dead and Einar brought with him a Kath Hound as white as snow with two perfect, adolescent horns which represented its future strength. Clearly this pup was going to be a strong, powerful beast worthy of fear and respect amongst enemies and allies. Anja rose from her throne, stepping forward and stopping in front of Shadowmane.

"You did well, Shadowmane," she observed the tiny creature which awoke with a curious gaze to its new surroundings; understandably different from the open plains of Dantooine. The dark halls of the Imperial Palace were no place for beats to roam but with proper care and training this one could become something far more--something better than it was.

From there she observed momentarily before speaking. "This Kath Hound would be an excellent addition to our retinue; you should keep it and make an extension of your will." She gestured for him to rise to his feet.

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

The hound would become a loyal companion, protector of the Holy See and the woman that occupied it - that much Shadowmane could guarantee. He had an almost natural aptitude in training and controlling animals, understanding them on a very primeval level. Somehow, Einar managed to instinctually influence behavior of non-sentient creatures, by simply extending his own will towards them. He had no idea how he learned this skill, so he simply assumed it was something he was born with, very much like rapid healing or the fact he could move wooden logs by sheer power of mind.

"He shall be named Kleng, which means claw in language of my people." he uttered as he rose to his feet and brought the pup back into his arms - "May he grow strong and serve the Host Lord."

His emerald gaze finally rose to meet the regent's cold orbs. Rou had specifically instructed him not to remain unkempt as a brutal savage she found in the pit, but he did little to abide by that specific directive. Several weeks worth of dirt was plastered across his immaculate skin that amalgamated together with sweat to form a thin film. A bath was in order, preferably with a lot of soaking to dissolve the grime.

"The pole." he stated briefly, without turning to the guards - "Stick it in main square. So all see the traitor."
Arbiter of this Holy Court, she said - an arbiter he would be.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

Einar was becoming a fine warrior in her service... As Arbiter he was entrusted to uphold he Host Lord's justice and enforce her word as law.


"Shadowmane," she began, "I will entrust in your the authority of an Arbiter. Take up the sword in our name, defend us with all your strength, and exact justice upon those who'd slight the Primeval." She walked down the hall, gesturing for him to follow her as she did.

Anja lead Einar through the palace in all its splendor, the great architecture of the Fel Dynasty remained as a reminder of Bastion's history and power. The path they walked was a long one, and it took many minutes before they arrived precisely where she intended to go. Exiting the main structure they entered a central garden, a massive garden. In the center of this itself was a temple of sorts that burned red with embers along its forges. Here the greatest weapons were forged utilizing the greatest secrets in smithing.

"I believe you'll be needing a weapon, yes?"

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]

 

[Triss]

Indeed, Shadowmane had become proficient with both sword, bow and pike, during his years of exile on Midvinter. He had no choice but to master the art of killing, most of the time using weapons which were far from pristine. As a Valkyri, he could appreciate fine craftmanship in the manifacturing of weapons, with his people making somewhat of a ritual out of it. He thus listened intently when the Host Lord mentioned armament. He then looked at his hands, which he used to literally pluck the head of a traitor out of his shoulders.

"Sword. Axe. Spear." he murmured lowly, viridian eyes fixated at Lord's lithe form - "I have no preferences."
A familiar scent reached his nostrils, that of molten metal and steam produced when blades were dipped in ice-cold water to cool. The procedure was ancient, but unsurpassed by any modern method of smiting. The Valkyri believed this was how the gods forged their weapons, in the everburning womb of the earth. He made his first sword when he was just seven years old, a dagger as a gift for his late mother.

His thoughts drifted back to Bastion when his gaze found Host Lord's cloudy irises.
"An Arbiter. Why me?" he asked with slight disbelief, as the woman before him exercised more trust towards him than he could currently handle.

[member="Anja Aj'Rou"]

 

[Boethiah]

The forging techniques here were ones originally kept secret by the Fel Dynasty when they ruled their Empire. The Imperial Knights were well-known to have wielded lightsabers, but many also had force-imbued blades and other more ancient designs, each having their own benefit over the other. Anja herself preferred such weapons; there was less to go wrong when one didn't have to rely too much on technology. A good sword needed only to be swung by a competent wielder, but lightsabers required more levels of maintenance and additional training to utilize.

When Einar asked her why she'd chosen him to be her arbiter, her mind nearly went blank. Wasn't it obvious why she picked him? "If I picked anyone for this position it would make it meaningless. But you... Your blood is special, it's different. You embody the struggle of nature against the technocrats, of instinct versus the oppressive regimes of civilized worlds. You're not a beast, but you haven't forsaken the one inside of you." That was the reason he was chosen. Because he didn't give up what made him of his kin, he was pure at heart.

Each species in this galaxy goes through a stage where they sacrifice parts of what make them who they are in order to gain unity and cohesion. That is social development, but the Valkyri seemed different... It seemed that by embracing their nature they've become stronger in their own way and it was something Anja could appreciate; defiance of order. To have someone who defied order be the one who upheld it was the ultimate embodiment of justice. "One whose nature was not to bring about order could never do so selfishly."

[member="Einar Shadowmane"]