Crowning of a Qer'ak

[Nicair Claden]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kUB_YtrkZc​

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The War of the Iron Will​

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It was long in coming, but it was challenging for Nicair to acknowledge that the time had finally arrived. The Sociph soon to be under his command had been trained both by himself and other select instructors. His native people were untempered iron filled with impurities. It was his task to forge them into something stronger, to hammer out the weakness and lack of discipline. The training he put his select few guard through was considered hellish by any imagining.

The Sociph weren't physically predisposed to cardiovascular endurance. They were durable and could take any beating sent their way, but he needed warriors that could be his bulwark against the encroaching tides. Loyalty, as much as the Sociph were able of such a thing, took respect and consistency to breed into them. His guard would follow him into combat and protect him, if for no other reason than he promised them glory and a challenge. For this he borrowed the old Sociph term Qer'rus meaning Iron Soul. In millennia past the Qer'rus were an order of warriors that viewed the paragon of the Sociph race, Qerak, as a conqueror of self. An unstoppable force of will. His warriors needed this view and this mentality if just to survive the training Nicair put them through.

His original view of his own species was far different than what he had learned of them through careful study and integration. They were a proud people with more willpower than they knew what to safely do with. Independence and freedom mattered to the Sociph more than anything else, their slaves didn't count as Sociph. They valued metal and its forging more than the lives of their slaves. It was the give and the destroyer of their people. Without their iron they wouldn't have survived but with it, they almost wiped themselves out on more than one occasion.

It took him time to adjust to their ways. When doing business, a Sociph would stand almost nose to nose with their business partner to show what trust they were capable of. While seated their eyes would be fixed on the other's to show focus and attention, unclouded by thoughts of malice or deceit. Though, a Sociph could lie just as easily as tell the truth, but it was a practice the species had developed in order to function. Though Nicair, while a Sociph himself, didn't necessarily feel discomfort at someone being that close, his training and vigilance sent warning signals the first time a Sociph closed that distance. He broke a couple of the other man's ribs on approach. He apologized.

When a Sociph feels they feel fully and extremely, their anger is rage and their affection is passion. There are no half measures for their kind, as is evident by the myths and legends of old civilizations brought low by their passions the Tarish speak of in their huddled masses.

Nicair's brother [member="Jack-ei"] helped him become more accustomed to their ways. The Sociph were treacherous, deceitful, and dangerous. But this didn't mean they had no culture, no society, no rules. They were an enigma, and Nicair was to be their new ruler.

His army was in place alongside technology adjusted with Mandalorian armaments. He was to lead a people that did not want to be led, a people who felt distaste for everything that was not them, and a people who would more than likely hate him for what he was about to do. But it was time for the Sociph to enter the galaxy, and they needed a ruler with an iron heart to do so.

 

[Nicair Claden]

Part 1 - The Forge​

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It would be a brutal war, such was what Nicair told himself in his preparations. The Sociph were not known for their mercy, such a thing was often considered a sign of weakness among their people. If it was ever shown, there were strings attached, debts to be paid, and favors to be called in. If a Sociph knows they are on the losing side, the chance of their switching sides increases if just for the sake of saving their own skin. Nicair was not on the winning side, he wasn't to be on any side. He was to an unknown man with nothing more than rumors being spread about his existence. It was the task of he and his army to instill fear into a species that is incapable of experiencing the emotion. Their work was cut out for them.

Watching his men train in both the already vicious combat of Antisoch while using the more tactile and coordinated strikes of Mandalorian warriors was a sight to behold. There was but one rule amidst all the savagery: you help your partner back up to their feet. Could he just as easily have had them train with simulation dummies or holograms? Yes, but there was a camaraderie the Sociph needed to feel for each other. He knew they never really would, not the way a Mandalorian feels it for their vod. But they had to like those that suffered with them in Nicair's Crucible were kindred spirits subjected to the same forging. They could be as selfish as any other Sociph outside of the training arena; but inside it, on the battlefield, they had to know the strengths and weaknesses of the warrior standing next to them. For both their sake's they had to know how to defeat the rest of their comrades.

"That one there. Who is he?" The Sociph tongue was coming remarkably easy to the man, even more so that it was a vastly different style of language than either Basic or Mando'a. It was as if he'd spoken in before. [member="Regor Kalanic"] seemed no small amount of surprised at his progress.

"Teurit is his name. His partner is Suv." The physically larger Sociph was helping Nicair watch over the training. In part for interpretation for certain things Nicair wasn't yet fluent in, another part just for his own amusement. He'd never encountered a creature like Nicair before. Disciplined Mandalorian warrior and a vicious killer rolled into one. Perhaps Antisoch was rubbing off on its prodigal son. The only thing Regor needed to concern himself with was when to tell Nicair the man was a descendant of the strongest warrior Antisoch had ever seen. A concern for another day. For now they needed to win the encroaching war.

Nicair was moving before the older Sociph had finished speaking. Teurit wasn't helping his partner up. Mistake.

"Teurit. Why aren't you aiding your Forge-Brother up?" It was a term Nicair had come up with. They didn't have to like it, but so long as they were under his command and in his Crucible they would respect it and those that carried it. The native Sociph stared at him, Nicair didn't avert his gaze.

"He's strong enough to lift himself up, just like me." Regor seemed curious to see how Nicair would respond, their was an air about the man. It was as if his anger was radiating more than seen. Intriguing.

Nicair swept Teurit off his feet. Any attempt the Sociph made to rise to his feet Nicair eliminated. A swept out leg or a posted hand. At times doing nothing more than putting a boot on his chest or neck.

"If you weren't so proud and let Suv aid you up your enemy would be dead. You wouldn't be. In this training hall your partner holds your life in their hands just as you hold theirs. If you don't feel you are being pushed hard enough to need to be aided up to your feet, then so be it." He gave one last push with his foot, sending Teurit to his back once more. He turned his back on the man to address the rest of his retinue, not yelling, but not speaking normally either.

"What say the rest of you? Are you not being challenged? Those in green put your partner on your shoulders and start running. I will tell you when to stop."

He could feel the man's approach more than hear it. In the blink of an eye Teurit went from attempting to grab Nicair from behind to splayed out in front of the Mandalorian with a fresh bruise from Nicair's fist on his cheek.

"Almost. The day you succeed will be the day you can stop training. Now start running."

Regor seemed blatantly amused.

 

[Nicair Claden]

Part 2 - Puddler​

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It was a fact that not every soldier or warrior is cut out for the training they undergo. Individuals drop out, sustain injuries, or die in the process. For this operation, delicate that it is, only the last option was an acceptable one. There could be no leaking of information. Injuries were taken care of and dropping out wasn't an option available. The Sociph didn't experience loyalty as other species do, it had to be put into them, forged into them. Puddlers, in metallurgical sciences, were those individuals who turned pig iron into wrought iron for the purpose of forging. It was an important task and one that could produce thousands of pounds of extra material. It was also a dangerous task and lowered the life expectancy of those doing it due to the fumes, heat, and strenuous labor. Most didn't get past their late 30s.

Nicair had to be a puddler for these men. Had to turn the impure pig iron of their bodies and wills into wrought iron that could be used and forged stronger. He hadn't trained this many people at once before, it was proving to be challenging to be everywhere at once. Regor aided him in supervising the training. After all, the success and skill of these warriors was just as much if not more valuable to him than they were Nicair. The older Sociph had sunk a good deal of money, time, effort, and risk into this operation succeeding.

What would become his personal retinue that would both serve alongside him and aid in the training of other warriors, had divided itself into two main groups: those that accepted his command, and those that didn't. The Sociph being what they are, most fit into the latter category. Talk of compensation and being allowed to kill across the galaxy only served to inspire so much loyalty and acceptance. It was taking time, but more and more were beginning to understand the use of Nicair's methods. Those that didn't, and never would, he would find other uses for.

He was leading them on a longer run around the facility. Finding the right balance of different kinds of conditioning was a challenge. How much running should be done in ratio to how much muscular conditioning. On top of that, how much striking and grappling should be done to improve their close combat conditioning. The balance of anaerobic and aerobic exercise could be challenging enough with one person, let alone with around the fifty he was attempting to train at once. It was only natural that some would perform better in certain areas while others would lack in one form or another. Nicair wasn't really a fan of running, he used it more as a way to build red muscle fibers in the legs and maintain an efficiency of movement while building cardiovascular strength with grappling or heavy pad striking.

For soldiers and warriors, however, the ability to cover ground quickly and efficiently was a necessity for the long-term health of the army. The Sociph enjoyed hit and run tactics, ambushes in particular as their bodies were physiologically primed for quick and brutal attacks. Lung strength had to be built for such warfare to be perfected. He'd often run alongside near the back as it gave him the ability to monitor a good number of his warriors. Teurit, however, was lagging behind. The man was improving quickly in his striking and close combat, but his cardiovascular conditioning and mental fortitude left much to be desired. Nicair slowed his pace to match the man.

"Teurit, do you want to kill me?" He spoke while he ran, it taught him pace and timing.

"No."

"You did, and you still do."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're not... Sociph... you're... outsider. Qerak laughs... at you... taking his... place." Qerak, he'd heard the name before and knew enough that it was the root of both the word qer and Qer'ak, the title he was being primed to take up. Last he knew, most who genuinely believed in the figure were seen as outcasts and cultists. He was more of a story, and old god, patriarch of the Sociph.

"When you catch me you can show me what Qerak would want."

At these words and this challenge Nicair quickened his pace.